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bates--boy · 11 months

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"Well, shit! Looks who back, y'all!" Came the booming voice of the shop owner, Maurice, as he threw his arms in the air, the towel in his hand swinging. He then crossed his arms, watching the young man walk up to him. "You decided you wanna grace us with your presence again, superstar?"

"Naaaah, it ain't like that at all!" Peter laughed. "I've just been busy a lot. So much shit goin' on, not enough time, gotta keep gettin' that bread."

Maurice snorted and shook his head. "Listen to this big man here. 'Gettin' that bread'." He draped an arm over Peter's shoulder and led him to the display walls. "What can I do for ya, man?"

Peter eyed the rows and rows of grills, from the silver solids to the golden heart-shaped open faces, to the emerald honeycomb. He passed his tongue over his own setup, the rose gold caps with tiny diamonds on his canines, pristine even after all this time. "I was gonna ask for a touchup, but I think I wanna switch it up."

Maruice looked up at the displays, too. "Something caught your eye? Or do you wanna customize?"

"Customize...?" Peter crossed his arms and tilted his head. His gaze drifted along until something caught his eye. He went over to the corner of the wall, bending down to eye the sample as an idea started to form. "Yeah. Yeah, I wanna customize!"

"Cool, cool!" The shop owner gestured with his arms open. "Come and step into my office, young man..."

The customized fronts, come to find out, were going to take two weeks to get to Peter. Peter wished he had known about that bit of information before all of the glee and excitement of seeing a model of his personalized fronts on the screen, a thing of opal gems set in white gold plating and one of the canine caps is a heart-shaped open face. Well, it was something he could look forward to. In the meantime, Maurice squeezed and wiggled the new work that took an hour to set in until Peter was ready to bite the gloved thumb and fingers right through the latex.

Maurice let go of Peter's teeth and started taking off his gloves. "Alright, man, ya all set!"

Oh, thank god, Peter thought as he rolled his aching jaw. He rubbed at the soreness as Maurice held out a mirror for him.

"It's all good?"

Peter took the offered mirror and pulled his lips back to bare his teeth. He turned his head from side to side, watching the light catch on his new fronts, the shine on the silver plating, the winking of the dozens of tiny diamonds on the fang-like canine caps.

Despite it not being what Peter wanted, he still smirked at the mirror, saying, "It's perfect!"

"Good, good, man." Maurice handed Peter his invoice. As the two shook hands and pulled into a hug, he told Peter, "'Ey, don't be a stranger around here, 'kay? Stop by any time."

"I will, I will," Peter said when they pulled apart.

Peter took his invoice to the front desk to make his payment and shoved the receipt into his pocket as he stepped outside. He passed his tongue over his teeth again, wondering how weird he looked doing that to passersby, and finding that he did not care. He started down the sidewalk, looking around at all the storefronts, windows alive with activity like television screens broadcasting so many different shows. The dance studio with folks of all ages in the middle of a lit as fuck gweta routine, and the scent shops boasting thousands of body oil, incense, candle, and body butter products; the African-fusion family café with what Peter guessed was the owner's son working the host stand during the weekend.

And then there was the hair shop, flooding Peter with unwanted memories as he watched a man with the sharpest fade leave through the glass doors. He could see some of the familiar faces from before, the women who would oil Caleb's hair, the men who would shave a neat line along Caleb's edges, the boys who would let Caleb play with their games while he had his hair done so he wouldn't make a fuss.

Peter brushed his hand over his own hair, the buzz cut now grown into a layer of thicker, fuzzier blanket. Well, since I'm here... Peter thought as he crossed the street.

Many of the shop workers' faces turned to the door as the alarm chirped, and fewer still, the familiar ones, the ones that stuck around, lit up.

"Peter!"

Peter smiled at the heavyset woman coming at him, her arms open wide and the gems sewn into her towering gele twinkling. "Candace, girl, how are you?!" he called back as the two folded into an embrace, rocking and swaying.

"I'm good, sweetie! Oh, it's so good to see you! How have you been?" She pulled away and held Peter at arm's length. "Where have you been? And where's that precious baby boy of yours?"

Peter let his arms fall to his side and shook his head. "He's gone. I had to give him back to his mother."

Candace's face fell, as the shop filled with a series of "Aw, man" "I'm sorry, dude" and pitying tongue clicking. She gently cupped Peter's cheek. "Oh, sweetheart..."

"It's fine, though, it's fine," Peter was quick to reassure her even as his heart started to feel like it was cracking all over again. Maybe it was a mistake for him to have come here. "I mean, it was a long time ago, and as long as he's happy with his actual mom, it's all good."

"It's still too bad." Candace let Peter's face go. "I know how much you loved that little boy."

"Like I said," Peter said with a shrug, "It's for the best."

"I guess so." Candace started guiding Peter further into the shop. "What can we do for you, today?"

"I was actually looking to get a hair cut." He patted his head. "I'm not liking how this one looks."

"Hair cut. Gotchu!" Candace turned to the barbering side of the shop, calling out, "Azi! Sweetheart, your booth is free, right?"

"Yeah, Ma!" Azi called back. To Peter, he nodded at the far wall and told him, "Go see what you want while I clean up."

"Thanks!" Peter followed Candace to the grid of photos, eyeing both the men's side and the women's.

"You know," Candace said, "My grandbaby, Azi's son, is a really big fan of your songs."

"Oh?" Peter looked down at the woman out of the corner of his eye, hearing a very businesslike tone in Candace's voice.

"Yeah. He and his friends are always making those TikTok videos with your songs and the songs of that other man. What's his name?"

"Mickey V?"

"Yeah, that's the one! Anyways, I had wanted to contact you about maybe paying you to do a show at his birthday party?"

I don't really do private shows, anymore, Peter had wanted to say, but kept that to himself and said, "Aight, I can do that. You, me, and Azi can talk about it." He pointed to one of the pictures. "I want to have number twelve."

"Number twelve!" Candace called over her shoulder. She placed a hand on Peter's upper arm. "I'll give you our mobile numbers and we can text."

"Sounds good," Peter said. He smiled briefly at the woman as she returned to her chair and went over to Azi, settling into the seat and letting the barber cape fall around his shoulders. When he heard the buzz, Peter squirmed and pursed his lips. He had thought about growing his hair back out, missing the length that he could play with, and regretting that he ever cut it off in grief for Naseem, of all the goddamn people in the world. But he mostly sat still, watching the clippers with the red attachment slide over his head...

Goddamn, Peter could actually feel the breeze on his scalp as he stepped out of the shop. And it felt so nice! He looked over his shoulder, waving at the people inside, and stared down at his phone to make sure that the phone numbers were saved properly into his contact list. Shoving the phone into his pocket, Peter made it just a few steps before yet another marvel caught his eye. On a high transparent stand, against a crisp white background with lights beaming down like a museum exhibit, was the newest white and sky blue Air Jordan KOs.

Peter rushed right into the shop...

#droid noodles ( writing )#hetalia #hws sealand #life thus far ( story )

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 4 years

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holy anxiety batman

[[MORE]]

you'd think that, like. AFTER a meeting where i shared the data i've been gathering (half-assedly and procrastinatingly-reluctantly) for half a month, when i'm being thanked for it, i would feel Relief, right?? except. i just yeeted off the zoom meeting and recognize these jitters and trembles as Anxiety, cuz i def feel like I just faked my way through it, even though i didn't?? it just didn't require a ton of effort so it FEELS like i'm swanning my way through on Imposter Syndrome??? mega oof.

#text #personal #anxiety #work #ril #ugh seriously this Sucks #Why Am I Like This #its literally not hard it just takes like 20min #but it was such a Big Deal to carve time out for it in my brainspace #im never gonna be able to go back to regular work again what have i done #i need to take a walk #i need to print out a tax form too but oof i dont have a functional printer rn #fedex office i guess???#aaaaaah #then i gotta invoice my hours too #and the fraud feels will INTENSIFY #hnnngh

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softboywriting · 3 years

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Meet The Parents | Billy Russo

Summary: You introduce Billy to your parents and it doesn’t go as well as you hope. [Billy Russo x F!Reader] [Assistant!Reader Trope] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] [Problematic Parents/Divorced] [Parents Fighting] [Language] [Flirting] [Flashback/Nightmare]

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is a follow up to my first fic Little Moments but can be read separately as a stand alone story. I may be doing several in a series with these two.

---

The office is quiet, and has been for the whole day. Billy has been out at a client meeting since you got in. Anvil is becoming quite popular in the private military market, having taken on three new contracts in the last two weeks. You're proud of Billy, he works hard to win over his clients and offer top of the line service. As the primary contact for all contracts and placements, you've gotten busy too. More business means more expenses, and more employees to keep track of. You don't mind, it keeps you active and engaged. There is nothing more you hate than just sitting around staring at the wall or watching cat videos for the billionth time.

"Hey sweetheart."

You glance up from your work and see Billy closing the office door behind him. He's dressed up, black and grey patterned silk shirt, expensive black suit, the tailored jacket over his arm. He looks positively delicious if you do say so. Those shirts are the best thing you ever convinced him to wear.

"Hey yourself. How'd the meeting go?"

"Shitty." He sneers and tosses his jacket on his office chair. He begins unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt to roll them up to his elbows. "The guy brought his daughter."

"Okay? What does she have to do with anything?"

Billy raises his eyebrows in an 'are you shitting me' expression. "His daughter is a model. Not naturally talented mind you, paid for by her daddy. Clearly he thought havin' her there would sway me into acceptin' the number he offered for the contract you wrote up. Like he's doing me a favor."

You stand and walk around the desk, eyes going up and down his chest. "You didn't do anything did you?"

"What kinda man do you think I am?" Billy walks you back against your desk, pinning you in with his hands on the top behind you. He drops his head to yours and stares at you with those dark endless eyes. "You think I'd fuck around?"

"I know you won't, you're too gone for me." You run your hands up his back and he arches against you. "Did she try?"

"She tried. Even sat on my lap."

"In front of her dad?"

"Mmmhmm." Billy drops his face to your neck and mouths at your skin. "I don't mind a little show and tell but even I got boundaries. Parental peepshows are off limits."

You laugh softly and he brings one hand against your lower back up to pull you against him. "Take it easy. You know the rules. No relationship stuff while I'm on the clock."

He groans, pulling his head back to look at you. "I need to touch you though. I don't want her lingering on me."

"I know." You step out of his hold and he lets his hand drag across your back as you escape his grasp. "Just another hour okay? I've gotta wrap a few things up."

Billy pulls his tie loose and unbuttons the top of his shirt. "Why did I ever make these rules?" He sinks down in his chair and spreads his legs, lolling his head against the back. He really is such a tempting little tease. How could you resist a man like that? Truth be told it's hard.

You take a seat behind your desk and focus your eyes on the invoices on screen. "You made them because you want Anvil to remain professional and not a playground."

"Bullshit."

"Your bullshit."

Billy bites his lip and gives you that look. The one that says he isn't to be messed with, that he's gonna get what he wants no matter what. And oh it's so tempting to get up and go sit on his lap in that chair. It's always been a fantasy of yours. One you haven't gotten to full fill due to his rules. He's really only cockblocking himself.

"C'mere."

"No, Billy."

"C'mon, be bad. Break my rules."

"No! You're such a jerk!" You laugh and he chuckles playfully. "We have dinner with my parents after this anyway. I'm not breaking your rules and getting all messy before we go see my parents. You hear? Parents."

"Always such a good girl."

"You like it."

"Damn right I do." He pushes up out of his chair and crosses the office to cradle your head and press a chaste kiss to your temple. "I'm gonna go home and get ready. Anything you want me to lay out for you? I think you've got a few things at the apartment."

"The blue dress. I picked it up from the cleaners last week with a few suits. It should be in your closet."

"The one I bought you a while back for the client dinner?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that a little revealing for a parents dinner?"

You raise your eyebrows and he narrows his eyes.

"You're a monster." He presses his lips to your ear. "If you keep teasing me I'll have to put you in your place."

"I guess I'm a glutton for punishment."

"Oh sweetheart, you have no idea what you're askin' for." Billy kisses your cheek and steps away. "Playin' with fire will get you burned."

You smile innocently. "See you later."

"You're terrible." He goes to the door and stops, looking back once more. "But I love you."

"Love you too Billy."

"Ugh," he groans, slapping a hand over his chest. "Say it again."

"Love you?" You giggle and he acts even more dramatic, pretending to swoon against the door. "What are you doing?"

"Being you."

"Wh- you son of a bitch! Get out!" You throw your squishy stress ball at him and he cackles as he runs from the office. What a child.

_____________________

"Oh, this is your boyfriend?" Your mother asks in actual surprise. As if you weren't meant to have a man that looks like Billy Russo. Truth be told you had never dated anyone half as attractive, not to you anyways. "He's so...well dressed."

Billy takes your mom's hand and kisses it politely. "We're all well dressed here ma'am. You look lovely too."

"Thank you." She flushes and giggles.

Billy gives a warm smile and tugs you closer. His hand on your back is radiating heat, its comforting. He knows you're tense. This dinner will be a strain on your nerves and he had been warned how difficult your parents can be.

"Your father should be here soon. I told him not to be late." Mom says huffily, eyeing the doors to the restaurant. You've met up with her outside and you're currently waiting for your dad to arrive. Your parents have been split for ten years and it's been hard, but not as hard as it would have been if they had divorced when you were still a young child. Well, you like to think that anyways. They waited, held on to their shit until you were graduated and old enough to understand that some people don't remain in love.

Billy leans in and presses his lips to your ear. "Are your parents going to fight? This place is very nice, I don't want to cause a scene."

"It'll be fine. They can hold it together for a few hours. I hope. Just don't mention their personal lives. It's a sore spot for mom. Dad isn't single anymore."

"Gotcha."

"Sorry I'm late." You turn and see your dad walking towards you. "Some asshole parked his Rolls Royce just on the line and I hardly squeezed into the only spot open beside it."

Mom scoffs and rolls her eyes. She bites her tongue but you know what she would say. Some comments about his truck being too damn big and a gas guzzler.

Dad puts his hand out for Billy. "You must be the lucky guy!"

Billy takes it and smiles a beautiful, toothy, shit eating grin. "Billy Russo, the asshole who parked his Rolls Royce a bit close to the line."

The way Dad's face turns pale and then red with embarrassment makes the whole evening worthwhile up until then. "That's yours?"

"One hundred percent. Bought and paid for."

"That's a beautiful piece of machinery. Expensive."

Billy leans his head on yours. "I only go for the best."

"Well you know I-"

"Oh shut up already, let's go inside." Mom says and grabs your dad's arm. "Always babbling on about shit when we've got things to do."

"Y'know what-" the conversation fades as your parents head into the restaurant. You're glad. It is bound to be petty anyways. Always was with them. Bickering children they should be called.

"Relax." Billy says in your ear, hand traveling up and down your side. "I can win over your parents for one night."

"You could charm anyone into anything and I've seen as much. You're a silver tongued sn-"

Billy catches your jaw in a light hold and presses a kiss to your lips. Your hand slides up into his hair and he grins into the kiss. "Easy now. We've not even gotten seated yet."

"Your fault."

"Usually is."

____________________

You stare at yourself in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Dinner wasn't going so great and you had barely made it through an appetizer and drinks.

Your parents couldn't stop arguing, Billy was trying his best to charm them but apparently they're uncharmable, and you were left to play referee for your parents against each other or them against you and Billy.

It is a whole mess and you want to just leave, just walk out say fuck everything and go to Billy's apartment and go to bed. You haven't even had a chance to tease Billy like you were planning, hell, you've barely gotten a word in that wasn't defending him or fielding your parents insults they continuously hurdled over the table at one another.

The door rattles on your left and you clear your throat. "Occupied!" You shout and it stops.

It's a single use bathroom, not a multi-stall type set up. So the person outside would just have to wait until you were done having your crisis. Maybe not so fair to them but you'll be damned if you won't let yourself have a moment.

The handle turns and you back into the sink as the door opens. To your surprise it is Billy, not some worker with a key. "What the-"

"Your parents are insufferable. How the hell did you grow up with them? I mean I was in a group home and a few of the adults weren't great but holy shit they weren't my parents."

"I'm sorry."

Billy closes the door and shakes his head, taking your hands in his. "Don't be sorry for their actions. Never apologize for anyone but yourself."

"I knew this would happen. I just thought that maybe...I don't know...maybe they'd be different. Maybe they'd be proud of me, of you, so they would get along for two fucking hours."

"Sweetheart, you're nearly thirty, you're still seeking your parents approval?"

You laugh joylessly and bite the inside of your cheek. "You don't understand. You can't understand."

Billy brings your forehead to his lips and he rubs your back. He's always so affectionate with you, careful to hold and to love you like a man who never received it himself so he wants to make sure those he loves receives it tenfold.

"I understand seeking approval, but there is nothing you need approval for. You're an adult with a good job, a place to stay, an outstanding boyfriend with his own company. I'd say you're doin' alright honey."

You let out an actual little laugh, and he does too, bumping his nose against yours. "You're so full of yourself."

"You like that?" He bumps again, eyes on yours. "I said it to get you to giggle."

"You know it's a little true."

His lips meet yours in a warm tender kiss. "Confidence is sexy."

"It is."

"I could tell your parents there's a work emergency." He slides his hands over your ass and pulls you flush against him. "A real pain in the ass employee is causin' trouble."

You smile into his lips and he smiles back. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

He chuckles softly and cradles your head to his chest. "You can't choose how your family acts. Remember that. It's up to you to decide how you act, and if you want to deal with them."

"I know."

"Do you?" He runs a hand over your hair, tangling his fingers in the strands briefly.. "I know it's different for you, I can distance myself easier since I didn't grow up with proper parents. Maybe I'm cold, or indifferent but-"

"Stop." You dig your fingers into his side and he falls quiet. "Don't compare your childhood to mine. It's not fair. I don't want you to begin resenting me because-"

Billy gives you a look that is all warning and it silences you instantly. "I would never resent you for having parents and growing up like a normal kid should. I ended up in a shit situation and that is no one's fault but my own mother's. She is the only person I will ever resent." He softens, leaning in and kissing your nose. "Do you wanna ditch or go try to make something of this dinner?"

You swallow harshly and look at the door. Ditching would be easy, but the repercussions would be insufferable. Your mom would never stop calling about it, your dad would hold it over your head forever. It would be more of a disaster to leave than it would be to stay. No matter how valid the reason.

"We'll stay. I can try and redirect the conversation."

"That's my girl." He pats your cheek. "Proud of you."

"T-thanks."

Billy takes your hand and interlocks your fingers with his. "I'll take care of it. I can get them to shut up."

"If you can get a word in."

"I have my ways. Don't worry."

You cut him a look as you exit the bathroom and head for the table. "What are you-"

"Don't worry." He presses against your ear and guides you down to sit at the table.

Your parents are still bickering.

"Hey!" Billy says firmly with his hands on the table, not a yell, but enough to get his point across and the attention of your parents but not many others.

"Yes?" Mom asks surprisingly quietly.

Billy smiles and it's all venom, beautiful venom. You know this look, these eyes, that deadly grin. He isn't fucking around and the way he can express that so physically subtly astounds you. "The arguing is going to stop. The petty comments are going to stop. We're going to sit here and have conversations like adults, or you can leave and your daughter and I will have a nice dinner."

"Wh-" Dad starts but doesn't get any further.

"I am not goin' to repeat myself." Billy stands up straight and raises his eyebrows, daring your parents to say another word. The tension is thick, you can hardly breathe. Never did you think you'd have to witness Billy being like this with your parents of all people.

You grab a roll from the basket at the center of the table and pick at it. "How's work been, Dad?"

Dad clears his throat. "Good, busy. People always need an electrician for something. I did a school the other day, new classroom."

Billy sits beside you and lays his hand on your leg, thumb stroking your skin gently. He leans in and whispers "I told you don't worry." He turns his attention back to your parents. "So you're an electrician? Contractor?"

"Yeah, I work for Mundun Electric. Union job, pays well."

"And you?" Billy looks to your mom.

"I'm a medical receptionist. Clarke Center Hospital."

Billy smiles. "That's incredible. You're both hardworking people it seems, I see where she gets her work ethic. She's incredible, the best I've hired for Anvil."

You chew your lip and look down, flushed. "You're just being nice."

"I'm serious." He holds your hand up and kisses your knuckles. "I admire your dedication and the hard work you've put into making Anvil a success. Without you, I don't know where I'd be. Probably buried in paperwork."

"So you work for Billy? That's how you met?" Mom asks and you nod.

Dad raises his eyebrows.

"Dad, don't start."

Billy cuts a glare at your dad. "Don't start what?"

"Nothing." Dad says nonchalantly, eyes going to somewhere else in the room. "I just think inter-workplace relationships are never a good idea."

You squeeze Billy's hand and he just smiles oh so sweetly. "Dad, it's fine. Billy and I are both professionals. If things don't work out we'll make it work for the sake of the company."

"He'll fire you and you'll be looking for a job yet again." Mom pipes up, rolling her eyes. "See, things like this are why you can't hold a career."

"Mom!"

"Alright." Billy says firmly. "We're done here. Ma'am, sir, with all due respect you can both go fuck yourselves."

"Excuse me!?" Dad bellows and your mom looks flustered at the use of language. "You have no right-!"

"Actually I do." Billy stands and guides you to stand with him. "I'm going to love and care about your daughter the way she should be. You two are self absorbed monsters who should have never had a child, let alone forced the one you had to live through a loveless marriage. The fact that you cannot manage to sit here and have dinner with her and myself, which mind you has left quite a first impression, is sad and disappointing."

You grab his hand and you're shaking. You don't even know what to say. It's like Billy is telling them everything you've wanted to for your whole life.

"C'mon sweetheart." He puts his arm around you and guides you out of the restaurant. You know there are people staring but it's fine. It's over now.

"I'm s-"

"Uh uh." Billy puts his finger to your lips. "No apologies. Here." He shrugs his suit jacket off and puts it around your shoulders.

"Thanks."

"You wanna get out of here before your parents come out. Go get some burgers or something?"

You can't help the little smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth. "Pete's Diner?"

"Anywhere you like." He takes your hand and walks you toward the parking area. "Fuck this fancy bullshit anyway. I never understood the food they serve."

"Me neither. A hamburger and fries with a big ole pickle is good enough for me."

Billy opens the passenger door for you. "You're a girl after my heart y'know that?"

"I think I already have it."

He leans in and kisses your forehead. "That's for damn sure."

_____________________

Midnight you wake up crying. A nightmare, a reoccurring one as it would be. Though it is more of a twisted memory than a nightmare in actuality.

You are always around seven or eight years old, it's nighttime, you've been in bed for an hour and still not asleep. Downstairs your parents are awake, their disembodied voices float through the old floors. Their voices grow louder, shouting, screaming at each other. A glass shatters and you crawl under the bed. Footsteps come closer in the hall, heavy and slow.

The dream shifts. You're not a child but an adult. Under the bed is smaller now, the footsteps grow louder. The door opens and you scream when your foot is grabbed and you wake up crying.

"What's wrong?" Billy asks, sitting up in bed abruptly and turning on the light, hand instinctively going for the nightstand where you know a weapon is stored.

You had stayed the night, both of you decided it was best to stay together while you decompress from your tragic meet the parents dinner. Didn't matter in the end though. The nightmare still came.

"Just a bad dream. I'm going to get some water." You push back the blankets and plant your feet on the cold floor. It's a nice shock to the system, reminding you this is reality.

Billy's arm snakes around your waist. "Care to share with the class?"

"It's nothing. Just a nonsense dream about old crap."

"Your parents?"

"Yeah. Um, just a dream." You yawn and pat his hand on top of your stomach. "I need water."

"Grab me a bottle?"

"Sure."

You end up in the kitchen, looking out at the New York skyline. His place is so beautiful. It's luxurious, and you can't get used to it. You lean on the island and sip a bottle of cold water from the fridge. You don't think you belong here.

Then the dream comes creeping back in. Rationally you know that dream is never going to become a reality. Not with Billy around.

"Hey."

You look back to see Billy walking in with his sleep pants low on his hips. He scrubs a hand over his face before meeting you at the island.

"Sorry, I just got caught up in the view."

"It s'okay." His arms wrap around you and he presses his face to your neck. "I love you." He whispers softly into your skin.

"Are you alright?"

"Mmm."

You thread a hand into his hair and scratch at his scalp. It elicits a hum that's nearly a purr against your back. "Do you ever feel like you don't deserve this? Like everyday you can't comprehend that you're loved."

"I didn't think I could fall in love before I met you, yeah. I'm familiar."

"Oh."

"Wasn't expecting that?" He chuckles, flexing his fingers against your tummy.

You shake your head and he kisses along your jaw. "Billy, stop," you giggle as his short beard tickles your skin.

"No way." He starts walking you back away from the island counter and toward the bedroom. "I've got a disease and if I don't kiss you all the time I'll definitely succumb to it."

The two of you tumble onto the bed and he straddles your hips, mouthing at your neck and chest relentlessly.

"It's three in the morning. We need to go back to sleep."

Billy hums and settles on top of you, nose in your hair. "Sleep is for the weak."

"Then I'm weak." You trail a hand up his back, fingers flitting over his shoulder blade. His skin is so soft, so warm. "Thank you by the way."

"For what?"

"Being here when I had a nightmare."

"Of course." Billy pets your hair, stroking it down against the pillow. "I've suffered my share of them alone. I'm glad you were here so you weren't."

"Me too."

"Go to sleep." He kisses your cheek and rolls off to the side. His arm curls around you and pulls you close. "Love you."

"Love you too."

_____________________

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

#billy russo #the punisher series #the punisher #the punisher netflix #billy russo x reader #ben barnes characters #the punisher fic #billy russo fic #billy russo fanfic

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

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Hades and Persephone

Summary: Rachel works at her family’s bookstore where she’s surrounded by stories and myths all day. So what happens when Camden Town’s myth, Alfie Solomons, walks in.

//Totally inspired by Hadestown, who am I even kidding?

The little bell above the door jingled as someone entered. Rachel was hidden behind a stack of books so she couldn’t see who was coming in the bookstore.

“'Morning!” She called brightly so they knew the store wasn’t empty.

Heavy footsteps walked across the creaky, uneven floorboards accompanied by the soft brief thud of a cane. Along with the footsteps was the clicking of toenails on the wood, the clanging of metal, and the distinct sound of a dog panting.

“You allow dogs in here?” A gruff voice asked.

“Oh, uh, sure.” Rachel rounded the front counter to greet the customer properly.

Alfie Solomons was the myth of Camden Town. The bogeyman, the shadow in every alleyway. His reputation was menacing and nearly everyone in the community had a story about him.

And yet, he didn’t quite look the part of a monster. He was a bit intimidating in the flesh, but he was just a man. A bit shorter than she anticipated, yet well-built and wearing simple clothing.

The dog beside him gave him a more humane look about him. The dog was big but had a kind eye to him and as he panted and slobbering, he appeared to be smiling.

Rachel was a little frightened to talk to the man, even if he did appear less wicked in person. “I-that’s a very nice dog you have.”

“Yeah, thank you. Name’s Cyril.” Alfie peered at the young woman. “You’re not usually here, are ya? Never seen you ‘fore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m the owner’s daughter, Rachel.” She didn’t know why she was apologizing.

“Right, well your father gave me a book and it was utter shit,” Alfie replied.

The comment made Rachel’s spine tingle in fear. Would a bad book warrant Alfie to do something in retaliation? Would he burn their store down? Kill her father?

“I’m sorry I could refund you or-”

“S’alright, love, just wanted something better.” He walked further into the bookstore, looking around the shelves of new and used books.

“Oh.” She let out a soft sigh of relief. “Well, what do you like to read?”

“I like good books.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, don’t we all?”

He turned into one of the aisles to scour the bookshelves. Cyril followed obediently.

“Do you like fiction?”

“Yeah.”

“Historical fiction?”

“Sure.”

“Well, we have new works. All Quiet on the Western Front. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

“Hm.” He grunted, still browsing the shelves. “What’s that about then?”

“The war if I’m not mistaken. Many people have enjoyed it, my father hasn’t been able to keep it in stock for very long but we just got some new copies.”

“Nah, nothing like that.”

There was a hint of bitterness in his voice and Rachel could only surmise that he was a veteran. “Further back then.”

“Sure.” His heavy boots trailed through the store, studying titles on the spines of books.

“I may have books on the royal family’s history.” She turned into the aisle only to see him disappear around the corner into the next one. Another grunt told her she was still heading in the wrong direction, so she put out a wildly different option. “Antiquity?”

It seemed to pique his interest. “Anything good?”

“Well, I’d only suggest good ones to you, I know you don’t like bad books.” She found him in the next row of books.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well, not anything too long, yeah. M’very busy.”

“What about a collection of myths?” She offered; glad she was finally narrowing down what he was really looking for. “I find they can be enjoyable but not very tedious to read.”

He turned to look at her, curiosity in his eyes. “You sound very educated, anyone told ya that before?” He wondered.

“Well, I…” She shrugged. “Figure growing up with an infinite number of books around me would teach me a thing or two.”

He only grunted in response again. “Rare to find a very educated girl ‘round here. Your parents must not be very Orthodox, letting you get wild ideas from whatever book you can grab. Y’know there are some very scandalous books out there, love.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “I’m aware, but every book has at least some little tidbit of information we can take away from.”

“And what do you think I’m gonna take away from these myths you’re offering me, aye?”

“The Greeks used gods to highlight man’s true nature in all its forms. Their gods were more relatable, better suited to explain how the world came to be, and how it works. So, I suppose it’s a commentary on mankind.”

He seemed impressed with the way she spoke, his brows lifting. “Right, well I’ll be the judge of that, won’t I?”

“I suppose so.” Rachel turned so she could look through the store’s catalog and find the book.

Alfie lingered by the front counter as she looked. He rested an arm on the counter and leaned over to see Rachel’s little setup. She had a cup of tea that was quickly cooling beyond consumption next to a book that had a ribbon in place as a bookmark. Curious, and a little neglectful of common courtesy sometimes, Alfie reached over the counter to pick up the book and see what it was.

This Side of Paradise. By F. Scott Fitzgerald.

Alfie read the dust cover with a frown.

Rachel returned with the book and saw him examining the book she was in the middle of.

“You like books ‘bout the war?” He asked, not looking up when she walked over.

“I wouldn’t say I like them but there’s a lot to learn from them.” She said, a bit taken aback at how at home Alfie made himself with her things.

“Yeah? Like what?” He turned the book over a few times before setting it back down next to the cup and saucer.

“The-I apologize but were you in the war?” She asked hesitantly. The last thing she wanted to do was try and assert her opinion on the war when she was in the presence of a veteran, especially if the said veteran was a notorious gang leader.

“I was a captain.” He made himself busy by looking around the rest of the shop, never meeting the shopkeeper’s daughter. “I wasn’t promoted by obedience or anything of the sort. I was promoted because I kept me men in line and I weren't dead. I don’t pretend to know why the fuck we were over there or what I gained from it. But that’s where I was for a number of years of me life.”

Rachel wondered if he had always been the way he was before the war or if fighting had disillusioned him. Nevertheless, she was certain that in all the stories she’d heard of Alfie, she never once heard that he was a captain in the war. “I suppose I won’t know what you know but I learn what I can from books like this.”

Alfie didn’t respond to that. “That for me?” He pointed to the book in her hand.

“Oh, yes, this is what you might like. Although, please let me know if there’s something else you wanted me to suggest for the future.” She handed the collection to him and went behind the counter to ring up his order.

“Right.” He examined the book like the one she had been reading, turning it over. “So your parents are Jewish then?”

Rachel paused as she was writing up the invoice. She wasn’t sure what she had said that would warrant the topic of religion. “My mother is, but my father isn’t.” She explained.

“Ah, another good Jewish woman snatched up by a Christian.” He tutted.

“He doesn’t believe in God.” She shrugged. “It’s the one thing they never agreed on.”

Alfie looked mildly amused. “And what about you? The half-theist, half-atheist?”

“You said I sounded well-educated. But I don’t have spiritual answers.” She smiled slightly. It was a strange conversation to have with a customer but she was oddly enjoying it. Alfie kept her on her toes, it wasn’t some mind-melting boring conversation about popular books. He was intrusive with his questions but almost in a well-meaning way even if he came off a bit gruff.

“Well, how about that.” He snorted. “I suppose books don’t have those sorta answers do they? Just scripture.”

“I do find it interesting that you’re a spiritual man who is buying a book about a polytheistic culture.” She said, continuing with the invoice.

“Well, figure you can read about it, right? Ain’t much of a sin if you know it’s utter garbage. It’s entertaining, innit?”

“Hm.” She nodded. “Eighteen pence.” She handed him the receipt.

Alfie dug into his coat to retrieve some coins. “What’s your favorite book, then?”

“I don’t have one.” She took the amount from him and put it in the till.

“Aye? Girl with infinite number of books at her disposal doesn’t have a favorite book?” He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think that was possible.”

“I don’t pick favorites. They’re all different so why compare them?”

Alfie didn’t respond again. He looked down at the receipt. She had carefully written out his full name. He was certain that although she had given her name, he hadn’t returned the favor. “You know who I am then?”

“Pardon?” Rachel shut the till closed.

“Never mind.” He shook his head and pocketed the receipt.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rachel was minding her own business on her balcony. She was tending to her flower boxes trying to keep the little flowers alive in the smoke of London. It was her quiet time before opening up the shop downstairs. But there was a certain someone who didn’t care about store hours.

There was a sharp whistle from the streets below. “Oi!”

Rachel turned with her watering can in hand. “Oh, Mr. Solomons, good morning.”

“Gotta bone to pick with you, Miss Watkins!” He shook the book of myths towards her.

Rachel was a bit amused, albeit terrified. She didn’t recall giving him her last name. But the way he stood there with a grumpy look on his face made her stifle a giggle. Cyril was beside him, as per usual, his tongue lolled out as he happily panted.

“We open at nine, Mr. Solomons.”

“Right, well I’ll make sure that our conversation is over before nine.”

“Alright then.” She set her watering can down and ducked back inside. “I’ll just be a minute.” She called out the window before shutting it.

“Rachel, who’s that shouting outside?” Her mother was sitting at the breakfast nook with a cup of tea.

“Just a customer, mum, I’ll handle it.”

“You don’t have to open for another hour.” She reminded her.

“It’s alright.” Rachel assured her and went downstairs to the shop. Pulling out her keys, she opened the front door up. “Come on in.” She allowed Alfie and Cyril inside. “Was there something wrong with the book?” She asked.

“Have you read the one about Hades ‘n Persephone?” He asked.

“Yes, that’s a fairly popular one.” She agreed, not sure where he was heading with the conversation. But she allowed him to lead as if it were a dance.

Alfie set the book down on the front counter. “S’bullshit, innit? I mean, what am I supposed to think ‘bout it, aye? Ain’t romantic, ain’t heroic. Just a right shame, innit?”

“I mean…” Rachel shrugged. “It’s tragic. Lots of Greek stories are tragedies.”

“But he lets her out for however many months, yeah, so what? I’m supposed to think he’s some sorta hero for letting her go then locking her back up again?”

“Every piece of writing is supposed to elicit a reaction from the reader. I think this myth has done its job with you.” Rachel pointed out, not sure how else to placate him. She couldn’t exactly change a myth to suit his needs.

Alfie snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Do you sympathize with Hades or Persephone?” She went around the corner to tidy up a bit as they spoke.

“Who could sympathize with Hades, aye? Fucking god of death, ain’t he? Not supposed to sympathize with men like that.”

Men.

The use of the word men was very telling to Rachel. So, she probed deeper. “Hades isn’t the god of death really. He is the god of the dead and he’s the god of the underworld. The Greeks didn’t see him as evil, but they didn’t want to attract his attention either.”

“So, what makes him evil was kidnaping a woman,” Alfie concluded.

“Yes, but there was humanity in him. Didn’t you see that?”

He scoffed and picked up the book to flip through it carelessly. “Ain’t seeing any humanity here.”

She gently took the book from him and turned to the myth. “Go now, Persephone, to your dark-robed mother, god, and feel kindly in your heart towards me. Be no so exceedingly cast down; for I shall be no unfitting husband for you among the deathless gods. And while you are here, you shall rule all that lives and moves and shall have the greatest rights among the deathless gods. Those who defraud you and do not appease your power with offerings, shall be punished for evermore.” She read the passage.

Alfie’s brow furrowed. “He still did what he did.”

“Yes, but the Greeks were dramatic.” Rachel shut the book. “If you’d like me to find you another book…”

“You knew who I was the first time we met.” He interrupted her with something that had been weighing on his mind.

“Well-yes. I’d heard a lot about you. It’s nearly impossible not to hear anything when you live in Camden.” She shrugged.

“You weren’t afraid of me though.”

Rachel lost her train of thought when their eyes met. Before, he had been flitting about the store so she hadn’t been looking at him long enough. But now, well now she could see the ocean in his eyes. Just enough of the shop’s lights got under the wide brim of his black hat to reveal his true eye color. They were certainly green but there was a wave of blue running through them as well.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she went completely silent on him.

“Oh uh…no. I guess not. Why do you ask?”

He just chuckled; a bit bewildered. “You’re braver than most men are, love.”

“Should I be afraid of you?”

“Well, s’pose I ain’t the god of death or the dead, or whatever you said.” He looked amused, almost like her blind bravery was funny. “Don’t make me a saint though.”

“You’re only a man.” The words sounded foolish when Rachel heard them out loud, but Alfie seemed to enjoy her candor.

“Fucking hell, you’re something else, ain’t ya? Must be that half-Jewish half-atheist in you.” He shook his head and ran a hand over his beard.

“Maybe, Mr. Solomons.”

“Yeah, well you can call me Alfie.” He said, suddenly becoming a little less intimidating than he usually was. He was certainly struck by the young woman. So much so that it threw him off balance.

“Did you get the sense that Hades was lonely? The Greeks paid him no attention because they were so fearful of him. Perhaps he thought that if he found a woman to give him comfort, he wouldn’t be so lonely and he wouldn’t care if people were afraid of him. Now he didn’t go about it a good way, but maybe that’s why he did it.”

Alfie cleared his throat and shoved a hand in his pocket. She was getting right to the root of his being, passing through all his barriers and finding a nice cozy place in his heart. He was fucked. No one had ever gotten through to him so easily, if ever. “You get lonely all ‘round these books?”

“Always,” Rachel admitted with a shy smile. “When I was younger I used to use books to escape but now I’ve learned that life is just too hard to escape when you’re older.”

He fidgeted, scratching his cheek and messing with Cyril’s leash. “Yeah, I suppose I could understand that.”

Rachel could almost hear the words he wasn’t saying. I get lonely too.

“If-well I s’pose it would be nice to have someone to talk to ‘bout books. Can’t find enough people like that, now can you? So maybe I could stop by every so often, keep ya company.” He offered as if he was doing her a favor. When in reality he was being a bit selfish.

She smiled sweetly. “I’d like that.”

“Right.” Alfie took the book of myths. “Well, I’ll finish this and let you know what I think, ‘bout the rest of them, aye?”

“Alright.”

Alfie gave her one last look before leading Cyril to the door, letting the bell jingle as they left.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe

PB Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons one shot #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #tom hardy #tom hardy character #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy fanfiction #one shot #peaky blinders one shot #hades and persephone

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readyplayerhobi · 4 years

Text

Flower | 13

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, slight smut

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Anxiety, low self-esteem, discussions of sex, mention of (f) oral sex, sexual anxiety

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I hope you all enjoy this! As usual, if you do...please reblog and leave me a comment! Or send me an ask letting me know your thoughts, I’m glad you’re all loving Flower!Hobi!

; Flower Masterpost

Staring at your computer screen, a deep sigh leaves you as yet another email notification pops up in the corner. Clicking on it with as much enthusiasm as you’d give towards picking up a slug, you watch as it directs you back to Outlook and brings up the email. It was from your boss, who was literally sat across the small room from you, asking you to call a client and check whether they were still available for a meeting tomorrow.

Pursing your lips, you bring up her previous email that includes the client’s contact details and input their number into your work phone. Holding the phone between your cheek and shoulder, you tap your pen against your mouse as the dial tone fills your ear.

You really hated your job. 26-years-old, with a degree and you were just stuck doing the work people better paid than you didn’t want to do. Chewing on your lip, you contemplated looking at the list of job sites you’d begun to frequent lately, wondering whether or not you should apply for a new job.

The prospect of a job you actually loved and enjoyed was so foreign to you that it felt almost like a mythical unicorn right now, but you knew they existed. Hoseok loved his job, despite how everyone berated IT departments in every company. So you knew that there was something out there for you.

But what was it? And how could you get it when you had no relevant experience in...well anything except for the modern day equivalent of pen pushing? Some days you were rushed off your feet doing everything for your boss, acting like a secretary, personal assistant and administrative assistant all at once.

Getting tea and coffee for work meetings, sitting in and taking notes, writing up meeting notes and distributing them, arranging meetings and visits and so much more. It was all boring and dull. The very idea of doing this for the rest of your life was simply unimaginable but you just...couldn’t get the courage to put yourself out there and apply for something better.

You were afraid of rejection and you were even more afraid of getting accepted for a job and then finding out you couldn’t do it.

Almost without even thinking, you talk through with the client and make sure that they’re still okay for the meeting that was prepared for tomorrow. As soon as the phone clicks back into the cradle, you’re opening a response to your boss and sending her a quick email to let her know that it’s still on and that you’ve checked the room is still booked for them.

And then you just sit there a moment, staring at the screen and wondering what to do next. You had some menial tasks that needed to be done; photocopying documents for their meeting, forwarding invoices and so forth. But you just didn’t want to do any of it.

That was nothing new though, you never wanted to do anything at work.

A sudden flash of colour out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and look over to where your phone lay on the desk, just above your keyboard. One of the only good things about this place was that no one complained about phones being used as long as you were doing your work too.

And the green that lights up the screen can only mean that someone has sent you a message on WhatsApp. Licking your lips, you glance up at your boss before unlocking your phone quickly and clicking onto the app.

Upon seeing Hoseok’s name your grin turns even broader, feeling a little better already. He didn’t often text during the work day, often being far too busy to waste time on texting. Unlike you, he was permanently busy.

Hoseok [13:38pm]: Guess who got promoted?

Hoseok [13:38pm]: It’s me! I got promoted :D

Smiling even wider, you quickly texted back as pride fills your chest. Amazing how you’ve only been dating for four months yet you feel so happy and proud of him already. You’d known that he had a meeting today with his managers and he’d been a little worried, unsure whether or not they were going to be laying people off or not.

Y/N [13:39pm]: Yaaaaaaaaay. Can you boss people around now?

Hoseok [13:40pm]: I already boss people around

Hoseok [13:40pm]: Now I just have another department to boss...and more money :D

Y/N [13:41pm]: I is jealouz

Y/N [13:41pm]: (;﹏;)

Hoseok [13:42pm]: I still can’t get over how you text sometimes, honestly

Hoseok [13:42pm]: ANYWAY, it’s more money to spend on youuu :D and Kasumi

Y/N [13:43pm]: Hush, more money for you to spend on gigs

Hoseok [13:43pm]: :O don’t tell me how to spend my money >:[

And then you get a photo sent. Your phone’s setting means that you need to accept it before it downloads, image pixelated at first before becoming high quality. Clicking on it again, you frown momentarily before your eyes widen and your throat goes strangely dry suddenly.

He’s in an all black suit; black jacket, a silk black shirt and a skinny black tie to compliment it all off. It makes the hint of tattoos you can see pop vividly with their colours over the top of his shirt collar and the bit of wrist you can see on the hand that’s pointing at the camera. And it all complements his dark hair wonderfully, today actually styled properly and pushed up elegantly to reveal his forehead and let the astonishing beauty of his face be seen properly.

His face though, isn’t the pure sex his body is emanating. Instead, he’s got a comical expression in which his face is scrunched together, lips pursed in faux anger to go with his last text. But you don’t care, you can’t care.

Hoseok in a suit is...oh god. It’s everything, and you feel things for him suddenly that you’ve never really felt for anyone before from just seeing a picture. You...want to do things to him, right now.

The strength of your reaction actually makes you pause, looking up from your phone as you assess yourself to try and comprehend what you feel. And what you wanted was for Hoseok to send you a serious photo of him looking like that.

Y/N [13:49pm]: You’re in a suit?

Hoseok [13:50pm]: Yeah, manager meeting

Y/N [13:55pm]: Can you...send a serious picture?

Hoseok [13:56pm]: ...you want another selfie of me?

Y/N [14:00pm]: I mean...you don’t have to

And then you get another photo sent through, causing you to swallow thickly as you download it. You end up biting your lip harshly as you try to stop yourself from making any kind of noise out loud. No one had noticed that you hadn’t done a lot of work in the last fifteen minutes, but they would notice if you made the kind of noise that wanted to erupt from your throat.

Hoseok had evidently known where your thoughts had gone from your awkward text back to him, and he’d pulled out all the stops for you. Part of you wondered where on Earth he was that he could take pictures like this without getting strange looks from his colleagues but an overriding part of you didn’t care.

Because holy shit, your boyfriend was ridiculously fucking attractive and how in the hell had you pulled him?

This photo has him in almost the same angle, only two of his fingers frame the pink tongue that pokes out of his mouth, white teeth pressing against the back of his tongue ring while his eyes are dark with intent. There’s no playfulness in this picture, at least nothing that could be done in public.

No indeed and you squirm slightly in your seat, contemplating the wild fact that you were horny at work. This has never happened before and you didn’t really know that to do! But how could you not be? The way Hoseok was looking at the camera was the exact way he’d looked at you all three times he’d gone down on you so far.

And he knew it, given his suggestive pose with his tongue. In fact, you’re suddenly sent back to last week when he’d gone down on you in bed. You still weren’t even remotely comfortable asking him to do anything like that yet, but apparently he’d been wanting to so you’d shyly agreed once more.

Not that you were opposed to it or anything.

But those eyes he was giving the camera are the exact same he gave you from between your legs. And that just was not fair, because what were you supposed to do about this in the middle of work? You had just under three hours left to work before you left and he wouldn’t even finish till six.

Y/N [14:07pm]: Handsome

Y/N [14:08pm]: Are you still staying over?

Hoseok [14:10pm]: That’s all you gotta say to that, you wound me. And yes, be around 7

Y/N [14:11pm]: <33

Putting your phone down, you stare at your computer screen that has gotten three new email notifications since you got distracted. You don’t click on them though...instead you just chew on your lip, tapping your fingertips against the desk slowly as you think.

Maybe tonight...maybe…

The quick rapping on the door lets you know that Hoseok is finally here, half an hour late. Opening the door to him, you don't even get a chance to say anything as he brushes past you, kicking his shoes off and apologising profusely.

"I'm sorry, they kept me an extra half an hour 'cos some idiot basically broke his laptop and then there was traffic so I haven't been able to go back and change." He's taking his coat off, hanging it up on the little rack on the wall before looking at you and letting out a deep sigh.

"Oh I'm so glad to be home. Today has been so fucking stressful, maybe I should have turned down that promotion and it’s not even been a full day." You don't even get time to consider the fact that he just called your place home because he's suddenly leaning forward, giving you a quick kiss before moving into the kitchen.

Watching after him, you simply stare in bewilderment. You're not entirely sure that you could speak right now, hit by the double whammy of his slip of the tongue and his clothes.

It was true that Hoseok had pretty much spent the last month near enough living at your place, only going home a day or two a week but you hadn't realised he'd felt that comfortable here. You felt a shy warm happiness bubble in your chest at the thought though, looking down at your hands as you bite your lip to stop smiling like a little girl.

But what really turns you into an excitable mess is his outfit. He's still wearing the suit from earlier, his hair tousled from where he'd obviously been running his hands through it in the stress of his work.

And if he'd looked hot in his photos, he looked damn near sinful in person.

Which is why you simply watch him with wide eyes, moving into the kitchen slowly and resting a hip against one of the counters as he peers into the slow cooker that you'd set up this morning before going to work. It was just a simple beef stew with a hint of red wine, the scent delicious but you found that wasn't what was making your mouth water.

Not tonight.

"So...I didn't...know you had a suit like that." The words are incredibly stilted, sounding unbelievably awkward in your mouth and you inwardly cringe. Particularly when you see Hoseok stiffen, ever so slightly beneath the delightful black fabric that outlines his lithe body beautifully.

You knew that Hoseok had been incredibly patient with you. Probably more patient than most men would have been, not even slightly pushing you and making sure that you are completely comfortable with every moment. He didn't ask for much and you often felt bad that he seemed to give up so much in exchange for the eternal patience he gave to you.

But he didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to thrive on what little advancement in your relationship he could get. You still got shy when he gave you oral obviously, but you were far more eager to say yes compared to the beginning.

And tonight...tonight you wanted to finally let him get the pleasure he’d willingly denied himself to keep you comfortable. Especially when he looked like that.

It wasn't just a 'giving him a good time' too because you like him, a lot, but also because quite simply...for the first time ever...you wanted to have sex with someone. You desperately wanted to find out what he felt like inside you. Feel him thrusting within you and in turn explore him to find out what made him jerk, made him twitch and made him moan.

Oh god yes, you wanted to hear him moan. The very idea of him making those kinds of noises because of you was intoxicating and you squeeze your thighs together, fully in the knowledge that you were probably wet already.

You have no doubt that Hoseok can tell there’s something different, an unusual kind of tension in the air as he turns around slowly, brow raised. Glancing away, you find yourself playing with the label of a Coke bottle on the side, fingers picking until it came away.

Part of you wanted to be brash and forward, boldly tell him what you wanted but as soon as you consider doing it, it felt like an iron band wrapped around your lungs. Breathing was made a lot of harder suddenly and you couldn’t get any words out, your limbs feeling cold and tingly with nerves and anxiety.

Oh how you wished desperately that you could be a bolder person because you just knew that you weren’t at that level of confidence yet with him. Even if you felt no expectations from him. You just weren’t there, and that’s why you were hoping he’d understand and take the lead once more.

And Jung Hoseok, your wonderful boyfriend who you still believe is far too good for you, does so. You have no idea how he knows that you want to do more than cuddle or talk, no idea how he can tell that you’re struggling to get across your desires but he does.

He smiles slowly, the corners of his lips turning up in a smirk at first before turning into that beautiful smile that makes your heart flutter. Moving slowly, he walked over to you and you press yourself into the counter, eyes widening as you took in the long and loping stride.

Without so much as a word, he stands firmly in front of you, leaning forward just enough to place his arms on the counter, trapping you between them. You can feel the heat of him, the way his leg’s brush against yours with how close he is and the way his jacket slides along your stomach slightly. Combined with the fresh scent that was so unique to Hoseok and the dark look in his eyes, you felt completely overwhelmed by him.

Overwhelmed, in the best way possible.

Leaning down, Hoseok moves close enough until you feel the tip of his nose brushing against yours, the movement deceptively soft given the sexual tension that’s so thick between you both. Biting your lip, you force yourself to remain quiet to see what he does.

“I have more suits than you might realise baby. Why? Do you like it?” His voice is annoyingly light, innocence laced into every syllable that matches his perfect, angelic face too well. Smiling, his eyes widen ever so slightly as he waits for an answer but before you can even say anything, his arms move a little and you feel them pressing against your waist.

“Y-yeah, it...it looks good.” You stutter out, body heating rapidly as you lick at your lips, mouth absurdly dry. And before even realising...you’re pressing your face against his black shirt, feeling the soft silky material rub at your cheek while all you can think of is what the firm chest beneath it looks like.

Hoseok seems to pause for a moment before his hands move to rest on your hips, hesitantly stroking along them. Almost instantly you cringe forward, the feel of his hands so foreign and a subtle panic rushes through you as your mind screams at where he’s touching. The place you dislike on yourself, the place society has taught you isn’t beautiful.

But he touches you with so much care, light and gentle. He doesn’t push further with you, simply let the moment hold despite how tense you both are. You know what he’s doing, instinctively understand because he’s done this your whole relationship so far. He’s letting you get used to him, decide whether or not you feel comfortable with what he’s doing...what he’s offering.

Pressing your ear to his chest, you close your eyes and inhale deeply, shakily as you fight the demons of insecurity over yourself and your previous sexual experiences. Originally, you’d considered perhaps returning the favour to him and giving him oral sex. But now, hearing the strong beat of his heart and the warmth that has comforted you for many nights now...now you want more.

So you let him know, in that quiet and shy method that he must have become so used to. Your own hands tremble slightly as you move your head back just enough before you press them to his chest, hesitantly just letting yourself feel him like this for the first time. And then your fingers move to his collar, the top two buttons already undone.

Finally, finally you glance up at him, feeling unbelievably frightened that he might push you away, decided he didn’t want it. Didn’t want you.

It had been years since you’d done anything...you knew this and he knew this by now. But you knew that he was far more experienced, so experienced in fact that it scares you a little. You felt like you’d be judged against others and found wanting, even if you knew that Hoseok wouldn’t do that.

“Hoseok,” You start, words meek and quiet. “I...erm, I want...I mean...I don’t…”

And Hoseok moves his hands to cup your cheeks, smiling at you sweetly, so sweetly. It’s so reminiscent of when he’d gone down on you the first time and you get the urge to suddenly cry at how caring he is. How lucky you are.

“It’s okay. I know...you’re not hugely experienced and you’re not confident. That’s fine, I don’t expect anything from you. We don’t need to do anything, I was just teasing. If you want, I can just go do-”

“No. No, not today. I don’t...I don’t want that. I want...I want you.” This time, the words are a tiny bit more confident but rushed out. “I just...sex...I’ve never really...understood why people like it. You know? It just...felt okay. Maybe it was me but like...yeah, I mean...you know. It was…rushed and you’ve done so much more than me and-” Now it’s Hoseok’s turn to interrupt you, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he lets out a shushing noise.

Suddenly, surprising you entirely, he backs away and gently takes your hand to lead you back to the couch. Without a word he gets you to sit down before doing so himself, taking both your hands between his own with a quiet sigh.

“Okay, I just...want us to talk for a moment, so that neither of us get confused or offended or anything. So...yes, I’ve had a lot of sex, I won’t deny that. It doesn’t mean I’m gonna judge you though. You’re my girlfriend, the vast majority of everyone else was not. I’m incredibly turned on by you and I wanna beat my chest like a neanderthal knowing you want me too. I know you’re shy and you’re not confident of yourself, which is just plain wrong by the way because you are unbelievably beautiful. I just...I don’t want to move too fast for you and have you regret it. So...talk to me. Please.” You’re sure this man really isn’t real, because surely no one really existed like him in real life.

“Why are you so patient?” You blurt out, brow furrowed in confusion and he looks just as confused for a moment before smiling.

“Because being pushy doesn’t get me anything? Except upsetting you and making you close up. And then if you do anything for me, then it’s because I’ve pushed and pushed until you feel forced to do it. So I’m patient. I don’t really mind, I like your company and it’s strangely rewarding seeing you slowly open up to me. I’m not doing anything for an ulterior motive.” He’s so earnest that you can tell he’s being honest but it still confuses you.

Not that you’re going to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

So inhaling deeply, you squeeze his hands and gave him a tight smile before talking. Something about Hoseok has always been comforting and reassuring, like he won’t judge you and you know he’ll be the same this time.

“I haven’t...slept with anyone in years. You’ve probably realised or...maybe I told you. But...well. I mean,” Your hands feel so clammy in his. “It wasn’t really good? I never...you know, with anyone. It just...felt fine. Good enough that I’d do it again but not so good I actively wanted it. Thought something was wrong with me because of that. I’ve accepted there isn’t...maybe even wondered if I was asexual for a while or something. Maybe I still am? I don’t really know. I just...I like you...a lot...and I like doing...things with you. I’ve never...you know…”

“Orgasmed?”

It’s a simple word and he says it so casually but you find yourself squirming at it, feeling warm and embarrassed about it. Not only talking about orgasms but also admitting that you’d never had one during sex before. So you simply nod, unable to get the words out and frowning in frustration at yourself.

“Hey...hey look at me,” Hoseok says gently, squeezing your hands till you do as he says. “Don’t feel embarrassed about it. It’s not something to feel bad about. This probably isn’t what I should be saying right now...but I’ve had a lot of sex, with...a sizeable amount of women. Do you know how many times they orgasmed during sex?”

Frowning, you wonder momentarily whether you’re meant to feel better with the knowledge that he’d been with a lot of women. Or that some of them had even orgasmed with him. But you sensed he was trying to make a point, and Hoseok had never been cruel.

Slowly, you shake your head.

“Not that many of them to be honest. I wish I could boost my ego and say I have a 100% strike rate but...I don’t. Sometimes girl’s would cum, most of the time they didn’t. I had to go down on them or something. And I’ve never had a single woman orgasm from penetration alone, they all needed some help. What I’m trying to get across here to you, and very badly because there’s nothing less sexy than hearing about your partner’s...escapades but...please don’t think that you’re always meant to orgasm during sex. Sometimes you might, sometimes you might not. I know that for some women, they just enjoy the feeling because they can’t get there. Sometimes, I don’t even orgasm. I’m not in the mood or something or I get bored...or I’m too drunk.”

That makes your eyes widen in shock and surprise. You hadn’t even though guys could just...not orgasm during sex. It made you realise how little you really knew, and suddenly you felt a little embarrassed about your lack of knowledge about sex. But he wasn’t being condescending or demeaning, so you decided to take the plunge and ask him.

“R-really? You...I didn’t know guys...I thought you just always did.” Hoseok laughs at that, looking so attractive that you can’t help but bite your lip. Even though you’re having a serious conversation with him, you still can’t mask the desire you have for him. Damn him for looking so good in a suit.

“The vast majority of the time? Yeah, it’s no problem. But sometimes like...I’m too tired to bother anymore and I just don’t want to carry on. Sometimes I’m a bit stressed and can’t get there which then leads to anxiety that I’m not. I try not to take it to heart but...you don’t need to be embarrassed. If you wanna orgasm then we can definitely try, if you don’t feel like it, then we don’t need to. It’s entirely up to you, I swear.”

Silence falls between you both and you stare at your hands, swallowing thickly. He’s offering you so much, and part of you feels bad. But at the same time...you want to just enjoy him without the stress or anxiety of not performing like you thought you were supposed to.

Clenching your jaw, you make the decision and nod your head to yourself. Yes, you were doing this.

So without a word, you grab onto this small flame of confidence he’s lit within you and let go of his hands, instead using them to grip the lapels of his jacket and pulling him forward. His eyes widen for a second and he lets out an ‘oomph’ before you’re kissing him.

It’s not pretty at first, almost painful from the force and you both take a few seconds to reacquaint yourselves with each other before it finally starts moving smoothly like usual. Only this time, the kiss is far more intense than anything you’d had before with him, almost as if you were trying to devour each other with the force and intensity.

Pulling away momentarily, you look at him and groan softly at the desire in his eyes. You’ve seen him in moments of pure lust before, but he’s bordering on unrestrained here. And you want that, so you pull him back in, moulding your lips to his own and feeling the tingle of excitement that runs through you.

“Not here, not here. Please, I really wanna fuck you on your bed.” Hoseok gasps out as he pulls away once more, trying to avoid your grasping hands with a breathy laugh.

You don’t even question it, getting up quickly and practically tugging him into your bedroom in your eagerness. The sheer laugh of delight he gives you as you do so invigorates you, bolstering the confidence that’s spurring you on and you hope it lasts.

Wrapping your arms around his neck and tugging him into a kiss once you’re in the safe haven of your bedroom, you prepare to trust him with your insecurities once more.

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

TW: Rant, TW: Anxiety:

Y’all can scroll past if you want, I’m just ranting about my new job and the god-awful, entitled, public.

So I made it through (almost) two weeks of work....key word almost...without crying. 🥲✌🏼

I’m just getting my new dose in my system of my antidepressants and like idk I was just not having it today. It was chill till like 2pm and then like 5 people came in at once and there’s only me and an 70(?) year old architect there and he was helping one couple meanwhile I had to greet and help the others. But it’s only been two weeks right? So I don’t know SHIT. And this couple asks me where a stool they bought is and I was like I’m not sure? Here’s some other fabrics and stool styles though. And then the bitch in a snarky voice goes “can’t you look us up in your invoices? It was about 12 years ago that we bought the stools that were here. And I was like.....this place is old fashioned and has a typewriter. I had to look through hella handwritten invoices from like 2011-further to try to find their purchase. I totally didn’t find it btw. And my boss handed me a book to show them cuz I can’t look up a 12 year old stool on the company’s site, and he said “oh that’s discontinued” SO THEY CAME IN WANTING STOOLS THAT WERENT EVEN AVAILABLE ANYMORE. No fucking wonder I had no idea what they were talking about? Like Jesus fucking christ. Anyways, I ran around the shop like a chicken w my head cut off cuz there’s about 100+ design books/catalogs, and they wanted to see a specific one and it was near them the whole time. 🥴 I had to walk-of-shame my ass over there and say “oh here it is. Look through these and see if you find any others you may like. The ones you had were discontinued.” And the bitchass husband is all loud and when his wife points to some he says they’re ugly and he like gave me an annoyed look and I was in my head like: I will actually throw a sculptor at you if you act like a douche. Like I was hangry too. They all came in right in the middle of lunch. But anyways. They were kinda demanding and rude and obviously I got flustered and stressed cuz I don’t fucking know enough yet. And trying to help other people despite winging the whole thing. Then I failed to get a number and shit and then my boss tells me we have to go next week at like fucking 6/7pm (we get off at 6, so no paid overtime) to their house to discuss stool options. And I’m scared cuz like they were kinda rude, or at least the bitchass husband was. And me having social anxiety and just general anxiety disorder in general I was so DONE within that like 2 hour span. I felt like I couldn’t do anything right. I’ve never worked retail before so I’m obviously terrible at both sales and talking to people and idk it was just a lot and I gotta go back tomorrow. 🥲 I’m too nice for this but oh well.

#I treated myself w Starbucks tho so it’s ok I guess but I still feel like a shitty employee #like I forgot to fill the waterfall fountain up too ugh 🤦🏻‍♀️#the look of disappointment on his face lmao #tw: rant #tw: anxiety

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rainbow-femme · 3 years

Text

The problem with none of the supervisors in my department having actually worked in this department before, or done my job, is they have no idea how it works so they make big promises to the client without asking us if it’s plausible and are shocked when it can’t get done, which they’d know if they’d worked this position or asked someone in it

Because I could have told them that it’s not possible for us (me) to confirm every open item in one afternoon, namely because there’s too many but also because the client uses an insurance carrier that you can’t confirm online with so we don’t have an easy way to check in a limited amount of time. Like this carrier literally says their website cannot be trusted as accurate and should not be used to confirm that something was done. And the client will only pay for the cheapest version which is confusing and has minimal information. I could call but I can’t get 60 items confirmed on the phone in 3.5 hours and I could email but that will take 5 days. So I gotta find some invoices and try to get as many cross references as I can but it won’t include anything done today because invoices only reflect what was done last month and before

So now I gotta try and do the impossible while getting nothing else done all to get in trouble for not meeting the impossible standards I could have told her would not be met, or she would know can’t be met if she’d worked this position

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keepingthehopealive · 3 years

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Got an email from my psych and got excited for a very split second that maybe I could see her after all this week, but quickly realized it was an invoice for copay that have now restarted (insurance was covering due to COVID) which was less than fun, but I knew it was coming and also fully realized my hope I could see her was not rational because it was an emergency that I assume won't be miraculously solved today and her schedule is limited to 3 days a week rn so...false hope, but it is what it is. Definitely considering calling out of work, but that really isn't an option and I also don't believe it would be a good choice as my job is good for me and I have my boss who is one of my best friends and in general it's a good environment, good thing in my life minus some recent tension (that has improved drastically when someone in power who should not have been given said power, had said power taken away recently). I don't disclose as much to my boss about my mental health since that was a boundary she set and I want to respect that, but she does bring me comfort regardless and does give me grace and room to have hard days and is a constant support for me. (insert whining and sadness of her upcoming 2 weeks off and soon to be move that I am preparing myself for soon to be decreasing hours..maybe...and maybe her leaving all together, but gotta stop going down that train before it actually happens, although may I should start preparing myself too...lots of spiraling thoughts tonight clearly). May or may not start writing more here again, but trying to not put expectations or obsessive plans that will only cause me more obsessions and pain. Missing my comfort dog, nervous about the return and my ability to help him. Worrying about failing him/ the rescue. So devastated over a *needed but super excruciatingly painful termination with P*. Trying to pull myself from these spirals, but also not caring or wanting to. Feeling that this is *bad* but also not bad enough. I hope I get some rest tonight, but if I'm doing this to myself do I even deserve the rest.

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marble-soda · 4 years

Photo

ADOPT

Hey everyone, sorry I haven't posted too often, my hands are quite injured and I can't draw for too long, so, sorry for those who've been waiting for their commissions, I'm working on them slowly, I really need to get some money today because I gotta pay something this friday and I need to send the money today in order to have it for friday, I hope I can sell this adopt today!

MAY 20th - 08:00 p.m. Check the countdown below c: Time countdown: https : https://www.timeanddate.com/countdown/generic?month=5&day=20&hour=20&min=00&sec=00&p0=155&font=cursive

-If somebody bids in the last 30 minutes of the bid, the bidding will continue 30 minutes extra per bid, to avoid sniping

-PLEASE, PLEASE DO NOT BID IF YOU’RE UNSURE THAT YOU WANT TO BUY THIS CHARACTER, BID ONLY IF YOU HAVE THE MONEY TO PAY RIGHT AWAY, if someone bids and declines it or hides their comment THEY WILL BE BLOCKED instantly, if something happens with the winner, the bidder behind them will win it, if for some reason someone bids outside of the bid section, just continue the bid by replying to the last highest bid. WINNER WILL RECEIVE NSFW REF AS WELL (MALE) -SB: $40 -AB: $150 -Min bid increase $5 -Paypal only -Payment must be done as soon as the auction has ended please! -The winner must send me a PM with their paypal address for me to send them the invoice and then the files -Winner can change anything they want about the character (THE WINNER, NOT ME, THE CHARACTER IS BEING SOLD AS IT IS, I CANNOT MAKE CHANGES ON IT ATM) -The winner will receive super high resolution (5K) file of the ref as well as the psd. (the psd is for future updates on the design if needed, DO NOT use it to make more characters) -If you want to AB you must send me a note with your paypal address asap or your bid will be deleted shortly

BID HERE

#furryart #furry adopt #my art #furry fandom #furry #anthro #adoptable

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dammit-stark · 4 years

Note

Ooo ooo, an au i loooove is flower shop au! Where one character runs a flower shop and flowers with symbolic meanings are used- ugh the fluff/flirting potential 🥰🥰

fun fact: i’ve somehow managed to never write a flower shop au before this??? which is absurd bc it’s a friken classic so this was super fun I really enjoyed this hehe

SEND ME YOUR FAV AU AND ILL WRITE YOU A DRABBLE :)

...

He knows that it’s Pepper’s birthday. He knows because she told him a week ago, pointedly inserted it into all of his various calendars, threatened him with violence and selfish resignation as his assistance. He knows it’s her birthday.

Still, the morning of when JARVIS alerts him that he forgot to get Pepper a present, it catches Tony by surprise.

“Fuck,” He says, rubbing his face as he sits up in bed, “JARVIS, what am I supposed to get her?”

“I’m afraid you did not program me to be able to advise on gift giving, sir,” JARVIS replies, and Tony, his infernal creator, knows it’s said with joyful malice, “But if I may suggest something. Miss Potts has expressed an appreciation for fresh flowers in the past. Sir.”

Tony sighs, pulling on the nearest pair of pants, “You’re a life saver, JARVIS. Send Pep a happy birthday message, will you?”

“Very well, sir.”

“I’m gonna get some flowers. Don’t tell her I forgot.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony grabs his keys and opens the front door, stopping with one foot over the invisible jamb, “And stop mouthing me, JARVIS. You might sound polite, but I programmed you, I know when you’re sassing me.”

JARVIS is tellingly silent. Tony closes the door behind himself.

So, flowers. Flowers. How hard can flowers be? He passes four flower stands on his way to the burger joint he likes a block from the tower, and he’s positive there’s a quaint little shop the next block over. Surely, he can figure this out.

Except when Tony gets to the shop, a pink and blue awning hanging over him like an insufferably ironic storm cloud, he’s at a complete loss.

Would she like pink or blue? Roses or carnations? Tulips? Lilies? Daisies? Something yellow? Maybe something orange like her hair? Would she be offended by that? Probably. Isn’t there a green thing she likes? Surely, she’s mentioned it before. It’s gotta be somewhere in the recesses of Tony’s unfocused brain, somewhere.

He’s standing at a loss in front of a vibrant display that looks distinctly like the photoshop color picker exploded.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I help you with something, sir?”

“Don’t call me sir.”

“Sorry?”

“I get enough of that from my robots, I don’t need it from- attractive flower salesman. Hi. Tony Stark. Nice to meet you.”

Aforementioned flower salesman blinks, and Tony notes with satisfaction the dee blush high on his cheeks.

“Uh, can I help you find something?”

In a moment, Tony’s moving again, hands fluttering, mind whirring, mouth working without the rest of his body’s knowledge, about as per usual. He picks up a colorful bouquet of various wild flowers, smells it, and puts back with a scrunched nose, “I need a birthday present for my assistant. Something that says ‘Thank you for being in my life. No I didn’t forget your birthday, see. Love you’.”

The salesman looks at his shoes when he talks, nodding, “Well we have a variety of flowers that can express love or lust. A mauve carnation, for example. Or coriander is a lovely way to express the same sentiment. Red roses obviously mean love, and calla lilies symbolize beauty. We can assemble you a beautiful bouquet with these if you would like.”

Tony scrunches his nose like he smelled another disagreeing flower fragrance, “I don’t think you understand. I was thinking of something a little more.. platonic. More gratitude and friendship than sex and love.”

Steve’s head shoots up from the spot on the floor that he had been all but staring a hole through, and his eyes are wide, “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. We don’t really bat for the same teams, if you know what I’m saying.”

The blush returns to Steve’s face, but there’s an excited, hopeful glint in his eyes. And when he speaks, the words come out faster, rushers “Daffodils and peach roses then,” He says with confidence, “Appreciation. Yellow roses, too, maybe. For friendship.

Oh! And we can’t forget about alstroemeria! Better known as Lily of the Incas, they’re beautiful flowers that are most popular in bouquets for platonic love and friendship. What do you think?”

Tony smiles, and Steve’s breath audibly hitches, it’d almost be funny if Tony wasn’t so wooed by all the flower talk, “That sounds great. I’ll take all of it in one big, gorgeous bouquet.”

Steve moves behind the counter, “It’s gonna be pricy.”

Tony’s responding grin is knowing and cool, and his eyes squint minutely at the corners with this joyfulness, “Don’t worry. I can cover it. How fast can you get it done? Can we make this happen today? I know it’s last minute, but this’ll really save my butt.”

Steve reads down the long list of invoice orders ahead of him. He looks up to tell Tony that it’s impossible and- “Give me two hours.”

Apparently his heart (and eyes, and dick) put Tony at the top of the list. Tony has no idea, just smiles cheerfully, and nods, pulling out a shiny black credit card from his back pocket. Steve had always thought the black card thing had been a myth, an urban legend made up by money-grubbing banks and capitalists, but when he slides the card through the machine, it doesn’t bounce.

“Alright,” Steve says as he hands the card back, “I’ll see you in two hours.”

When Tony opens the front door to leave, he wiggles his fingers in a funny goodbye and disappears back into the New York streets. He’s starting to be glad he forgot Pepper’s birthday in the first place, even if she potentially hates him forever for dropping the ball.

Two hours later, Tony returns, and the bell on the green painted door to the quaint shop rings as he enters. Steve is nowhere to be found. A grumpy-looking, long-haired curmudgeon mans the counter instead.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up an order for Stark,” Tony says with a charming smile, one hand coming down to slap the blue painted countertop.

The florist, his name tag reading BUCKY :) in big, ironic letters turns around still frowning, and roots around for Tony’s bouquet. When he turns around, he’s holding two bouquets. He sets them both on the counter. Tony stares at them.

“I’m sorry,” He says, pointing at the redder one of the two, “I only ordered one.”

Bucky points with malice at the unfamiliar bouquet, “Yeah, I know. Apparently this one’s on the house. It’s from Stevie.”

“Stevie, huh?” Tony quips, the corners of his lips turning into a smile.

“Steve, yeah.”

“Tell Steve to call me then. So I can thank him.”

Bucky shakes his head, looking boring and maybe even irritated. He points at the on-the-house arrangement, “His number’s on the card.”

Tony smiles and scoops both bouquets up into his arms.

“You guys really have great service,” Tony jeers, and Bucky continues looking unamused and uninterested, “Thanks, Bucky!”

When Tony gives Pepper her gift, she’s duly impressed by the thoughtful layers to it. Tony proudly tells her what all the flowers mean.

She watches him dubiously from over top the crest of flowers, “So who told you what to get me? Who do I really have to thank?”

Tony shakes his head and refuses to think about JARVIS or Steve (just in case Pepper secretly has mind reading abilities, you can never be too safe), “I did it all by myself, Pep. Come on, give me some credit.”

She still looks suspicious, her nose in a lily, but eventually she nods, “Yeah, sure. You pass. Even if you didn’t think it up yourself, there was obviously some forethought since you can’t just go out and get a custom bouquet the same day. Good job, Tony. You’ve set the bar for next year.”

Tony groans.

It’s quarter to eleven, and Tony’s been staring his own bouquet, carefully placed in a genuine crystal vase on his kitchen counter, for almost an hour now. He finally gets up the nerve to google the symbolism surrounding the flowers and-

They’re all variations on lust or pining. A couple that have alternate meanings of love that Tony tries not to dwell on. He carefully punches the number into his phone and presses dial.

“H-hello?”

“Did I wake you up?”

“Who is this?”

“Tony Stark from the flower shop this morning.”

It sounds like something is dropped, something fumbled, and Steve’s a little breathless when he finally speaks, “Did you, uh, get my flowers?”

Tony’s smiling even though he knows Steve can’t see him, and it’s all kinda ridiculous, but he sees that beautiful bouquet in his kitchen and sees red roses behind his eyes, mauve carnations dancing in his vision, “Yeah,” He says, smiling like an absolute idiot, “I should give you some daffodils in exchange, I appreciated them so much.”

Steve snorts, and Tony imagines him smiling too.

“What? Is that not how it works?”

“I’m glad you appreciated them, Tony Stark. I meant it.”

Tony feels a feeling in his stomach, something like purple lilacs rising through him.

“Wanna go for dinner sometime?”

He imagines Steve’s smile looking like a field of daisies.

“I’d love to.”

#Stevetony #flower shop au #drabble #ask

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monster-bait · 4 years

Text

Monster Match — Baptiste the Rougarou x F Human, SFW

Monster Match for @kwat01

You could see them, just ahead, at long last.

Normally, the sounds of squawks and chirps accompanied your work, leading the way as you followed with your camera, but not this assignment.

Not the cajun flamingos.

The colorful birds were nearly silent, making only the odd low grunt, none of the ebullient chatter you’ve come to expect in your years working for the nature magazine. The spoonbills were foraging in the brackish shallows of the swamp; white heads bobbing and weaving, searching out food in the murky water as the fan boat drifted.

It was a perfect evening–the air was thick and balmy, as you’d determined it always was, here in Terrebonne Parish, and the bayou was perfectly still. Overhead, the sky was awash with color as the sun slowly set, leaving a rosy, crimson flush to add to the backdrop of your photos, matching the brilliant plumage of your elusive subjects. An ancient live oak, draped in spanish moss, dipped her long branches into the water, and the only movement was that of the birds.

As you waited, the perfect shot presented itself: one of the birds reared up, flapping its wings, and two of its fellows followed suit in a brilliant display of color that you captured with a rapid series of clicks.

When you turned back with a beaming smile, Baptiste was watching you with one of his own.

He’d told you about bayou magic, and damned if he wasn’t right.

You’d arrived in Louisiana more than a week earlier, with little more than a duffel and your camera gear, used to traveling light and in a hurry. Your accent set you apart, as it did almost everywhere, but you discovered the only people making the same tired “shrimp on the barbie” and dingo jokes were tourists announcing how excited they were to be in Nawlins, walking around with beads around their necks and blinking souvenir cups from the Bourbon Street bars. Everyone else was too busy living their lives to pay you any mind.

The drive from New Orleans to Terrebonne Parish took less than an hour in your rented car, always an adventure in different countries, although finding a guide turned out to be slightly more challenging. The contact that had been set up through the magazine had bailed sometime during your transpacific flight, and the message from your office had been to “feel out the locals.”

Wildlife photography was easy peasy over here in the colonies, when compared to the hassles and dangers you’d encountered in parts of Africa and South America, but the few offices you’d dropped into seemed reluctant to take you on.

Roseate spoonbills, diamondback terrapins, and the ubiquitous alligators were your main focus for this trip, and you’d be back later in the season, to capture the critically endangered red wolf…but you had let it slip that you were very interested in another wolf you’d heard about; one that made the wild hogs cower and the gators keep to their swamps.

The stories had come to you during your initial research on the area, via online message boards: nested threads buried deep within innocuous conversations about the local fauna. A creature with claws like steak knives and teeth to match, one that prowled the bayou beneath the light of the full moon each month, leaving a trail of slaughtered hogs in its wake. The people on the message board seemed grateful for the beast, for the hogs were dangerous and a nuisance, and you were intrigued, having never heard of anything like the creature, nor the name they called it.

Rougarou

You had typed the unfamiliar word into your search bar enthusiastically, eager to find something potentially more interesting to search out and photograph…but the results yielded you nothing but legends; a cryptip, a monster creature of myth, a story taken from France to Nova Scotia and passed down from the Acadians as they resettled in the bayou. That doesn’t make any sense! You couldn’t believe that it was all a hoax, not when people seemed so sincere about the wolf-like creature. Maybe it’s just a red wolf, maybe some giant hybrid…

You’d mentioned your interest in finding this rougarou to the genial woman who ran the first tour operation you’d visited…had watched the smile freeze on her face and her eyes harden. It had hardly been a surprise when she announced just a few moments later that all of her guides were booked and she couldn’t help you. It had been a mistake you’d only made once, but evidently some sort of old-fashioned phone tree had been activated, for none of the local travel and tour outfits seemed particularly interested in giving you the time of day after that.

Except for Baptiste.

A fifth generation Acadiana cajun, as he proudly proclaimed, you’d found Baptiste in a small luncheonette in Houma, as you groused on the phone to your editor back in Melbourne. Or rather, you thought ruefully, he had found you.

‘I don’t know what to do, Ray! I’m telling you, there’s something bigger here than turtles. It’s a wolf as big as a man! How has no one heard of it, I don’t understand! But none of these people will talk to me. I don’t even know how I’m supposed to find the spoonbills as this point.”

“Excusez-moi, miss…I couldn’ help overhear that you’re in need of a guide? There’s no one in Terrebonne Parish tha’ knows the bayou half so well as me. Baptiste Thibodaux, for your service.”

He was tall and broad, with an unhurried way of moving, and the blazing afternoon sun had winked on his dark brown hair where he’d followed you to the sidewalk, bowing with a flourish of his hand. He had a languid smile and lovely hazel eyes, bright in his smooth, latte-colored face. You conceded that it was amazing luck for every other guide in the area to be refusing your call, leaving you stranded with this handsome stranger who professed to know the parish like the back of his hand.

You were immediately taken with him.

Over the course of the next several days you’d shot terrapins sunning on rocks, gators blinking thoughtfully from brackish shallows, and some slithering snakes you hadn’t even planned for, all in tucked away little corners and forgotten waterways. The spoonbills were a bit more elusive, at least, for what you were looking for. “Anyone can see one or two pecking for garbage in a drainage ditch on the side of the road,” you explained. “I want to see the flock.”

The time spent together was interesting and companionable, and you found yourself enjoying the time away from home far more than you had on any other assignment. You learned about life on the bayou and Cajun traditions, that his grandfather had been the one to teach him all of the hidden nooks and crannies when he was a boy.

“Save up your toys, boy. We’re gone fishin’,” he imitated as you laughed. “Ol’ Alexandre knew it all.”

Each day you pressed him for information about the mysterious rougarou, and each day he danced around your questions with a smile.

“Can’t say I’m friends with any wolfman out there in the swamps,” he’d chuckled the second day he’d taken you out, after you eagerly told him about the things you’d read and the creature you sought. “Sure you’re not thinkin’ of some red wolves?” You’d flapped your arms in frustration, and he’d laughed again. “There’s magic in the bayou, chèr…just gotta know where to find it.”

Everywhere you went, you questioned the locals, grilling busboys and mail clerks alike. As you’d experienced with the tour outfits, the townsfolk met your questions with uneasy evasiveness. If they’d laughed at you, had flat out called you crazy, you might have let it go. As it was, their shifty eyes and changed subjects let you know that you were on to something, and the whole town was in on the coverup.

“Why you interested in some ol’ wive’s tale anyway?” Baptiste asked with that slow smile, the sixth day he’d taken you out on his fan boat. “Come see, chèr.”

He smelled like pipe tobacco and worn leather, with a splash of bay rum, and the intoxicating trio made your stomach twist and bunch when you leaned in close to follow his outstretched finger.

He had been courtly and charming every day, and you’d lying to yourself if you pretended you weren’t wildly attracted to him. You’d made mention that afternoon at the small restaurant where you’d met for a late lunch before heading out for the evening that he would need to invoice his time so that you could forward it on to your Melbourne office, and he’d scoffed at your words with a wave of his hand.

“Saints alive, you’d best save the ink writin’ up that invoice. Showing a beautiful woman around my home is a pleasure, not a job, chèr.”

As you followed the sightline his long finger pointed out, your breath caught in your throat. There, snuffling at the base of a tree, was a red wolf. Few in numbers, rare to be spotted, and not seen in Terrebonne Parish in decades, but somehow Baptiste had known just where to go.

The wolf froze, spotting you bobbing in the water, but you continued to click as its hackles raised. Baptiste was silent beside you as gleaming fangs were bared.

A sudden breeze from the gulf lifted your hair, carrying your scent to the wolf on the rocks and the creatures beyond, further alerting them to your presence, when without warning, the red wolf lowered its head, whimpering. The sudden change in its demeanor caused you to whip around, expecting an even more dangerous predator slinking up behind you, but there was nothing there.

Nothing but Baptiste’s eyes, glowing like flames in the growing darkness.

Your breath had caught for the second time that evening.

Raising your camera once more, you took advantage of the solitary wolf, until it backed slowly into the brush, melting into the shadows.

“That was incredible,” you’d exclaimed that night, still bouncing giddily on the tips of your toes. It normally took weeks setting up a shot like that, yet you’d glided up to the bank easy as you please, taking the shots you needed. “Thank you so much, I can’t believe you knew just where to find him!”

You’d stood on the stoop of your rented room, gazing up at his wide, white smile, feeling a frisson of heat move through you. You should invite him in…the heady smell of leather and bay rum caught your nose once more as you stepped closer. He had a scar, you saw, cutting through his eyebrow from his hairline, running in an uneven line across his cheek to disappear into his dark hair once more, just above his ear. Baptiste grinned down, taking your in his own with a delicate touch. The feeling of his thumb running down your palm nearly turned you inside out, but before you could act of your desire to invite him in, your hand was raised to his mouth, his lips lightly gliding over your knuckles and released.

“Tomorrow we’ll be findin’ your spoonbills, chèr…then you’ll kick your feet up, Acadiana style.”

It wasn’t until later that you’d pondered on the unnatural luminescent glow of his eyes in the darkness.

Breakfast was at the little diner up the block the next morning, and when the waitress who’d been giving you the stink-eye all week ducked her head as you entered, you weren’t at all surprised. When the same waitress stopped by your table to refill the hot water for your tea, you’d raised an eyebrow.

“Have you talked with Adeline Boucher yet?” the woman hissed. “She’s the one who can tell you what you want to know.”

“I remember I was seventeen, “ the old woman sighed wistfully.

The Fair Oaks retirement community was where you finally tracked down Adeline Boucher, a silvery-hair octogenarian with a bevy of tales to tell. It had taken the better part of an hour to get her back on track with your line of questioning, but what she revealed had been exactly what you’d been trying to unearth since your plane had touched down.

Teeth and claws, long and sharp and lethal; a painful looking change beneath the bright, white moon, leaving a wolfish creature in the place of her sweetheart, on a night more than sixty years earlier.

“Alex was so handsome. Always a perfect gentleman, you know. We would have gotten married, if my parents hadn’t sent me away. Didn’t want me raisin’ any babies with the curse. I had a good life, and it’s too late for complaints…but Alexandre Thibodaux was my first love.”

The spoonbills continued to graze through the shallows, dozens of pink streaked wings and bobbing white heads, beneath the crimson-streaked sky.

It was perfect.

“We should head back, chèr,” he murmured, once you’d lowered the camera for the final time. “You don’t want to be missin’ your first fais do-do, do you now?”

The boat bobbed in the water, and you nodded. He was right—you did not want to miss your first fais do-do. “What if I stay?” He was close, close enough to feel the heat of his body and smell that intoxicating smell, but he still wasn’t nearly close enough. “What if I stay through the end of next week?”

His smile was a bit sadder, but he maintained eye contact as your hands drifted to his shoulders. “Well…I’m afraid I’ll be a bit indisposed form most of next week.”

You nodded, already having checked the date of the full moon. You’d been searching for what had been there all along, and now that you’d found it…it didn’t matter at all.

“I’ll be back then. To shoot the wolves, it’s already scheduled.” When he reminded you that you’d already captured one of the elusive wolves on film, you shrugged. “There are other wolves I’d like to get to know better.”

His lips were warm against yours, a hand at your waist and another in your hair, as you chased the giddy sense of anticipation that had cloaked your entire visit to Terrebonne Parish. You would be back, you’d be unable to stay away.

As your mouth moved against his, the spoonbills took wing. The silent air was rent by a hundred flapping wings, brilliant color taking to the sky, and you were unable to hold in your laughter, leaning against Baptiste’s warm side.

Bayou magic.

Monster Matches available on ko-fi!

#Exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lover #rougarou #terato #monsterbait writes #monster match #monster matchmaker

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andrea-lyn · 4 years

Note

For the holiday prompts- I love cheesy fluffy Hallmark Xmas movies, so one of these but insert Malex? Maybe Alex is a famous singer who is alone at Xmas cause his family sucks and the only people he surrounds himself with are people who work for him. Of course he's lacking the Xmas spirit cause he doesn't usually do holidays. He stumbles into (or gets stranded in) a small town and meets Michael. They fall in love and now Alex has this found family and is reminded of what's really important !!

I’ll Be Home For ChristmasMichael/Alex, Hallmark AU“What do you mean I can’tbring it in? The engine is rattling!” Alex protests. He’d taken the phone fromhis assistant when clearly no progress was being made. “I rented it from you, Ineed a new one!” The agency tells him that they’re very sorry, but being thatit’s the holidays, they have no other cars available.

The best they could do was to send him to the auto repair shop in town and promiseto reimburse him when he returned it. When Alex Manes had made it big on the music scene, he thought he’d be donewith these types of situations, but here he is, as frustrated as ever. He’s notsure who he wants to blame here, but he’s pretty sure this one comes back tohim. He’s the one who’d wanted to spend Christmas in Roswell after his fatherand brothers had waved him off, too busy with their own plans to have Alex forthe holidays.Instead, he’d come to a place that held old memories.He hasn’t been here in years, but when his mother had still been alive, thishad been her absolutely favorite place, and it’s why Alex had wanted tobe here. If he’s going to survive the stupid holiday season, he might as welltry relaxing somewhere that his mother used to love – not that he enjoysChristmas, because in the Manes family, it’s just another holiday where yourfamily lets you down.“Find me the auto repair shop,” he directs his assistant, hanging up the phoneand pinching the bridge of his nose. She nods frantically and takes his cell from him. “Yes, sir, but um…”Alex narrows his eyes. “What?”“It’s just, it’s the twenty-first?”Alex stares at her, not sure where she’s going with this, but he’s not about tointerrupt. He waits and stares at his young assistant.“You said that I could head out today to start the drive back, so I could spendChristmas with my family. Because it’s really important to me,” she says,starting to look nervous. “I can find you all the information you need, but ifI don’t get going soon, I’m not going to be able to make the drive up to SantaFe to catch my flight. I…um…” she’s near to babbling and looks close to tears,as if Alex is that much of a grinch that he’d prevent her from spending timewith her family.Shit, he’s not that bad, is he?

He knows that he’d struck it big a few years ago with some of his solo stuff,but he’s tried as best as he can to keep grounded. Maybe it’s just that hedoesn’t get the point of these holidays and it reflects in hismanagement style. They don’t decorate his house or his trailer, no one isallowed to suggest Christmas songs for Alex to cover, and his team getsbonuses, but they’re not Christmas gifts.“Yeah, of course,” Alex agrees, hurrying to make sure he doesn’t sound like anasshole. “I can take care of the car. Just give me the information and I’lltake care of it. Small town like this, there’s nothing else to do, right?”She looks almost relieved enough to cry, which kind of makes Alex feel like anasshole, because is he really that much of a bad boss that his staff thinksthat he’d deny them going home to their families for the holidays, just becausehe doesn’t see the point of celebrating with his own?“Just tell me where I’m going,” Alex says.The last thing Alex is expecting is to be told to go to a junkyard lot,but here he is. He’s adjusting his leather jacket and sliding his sunglasses upto the top of his head, watching the whole town flock to the Christmas treemarket that Roswell hosts once a year while Alex stands there beside his rentalcar, keys in hand, wondering who the hell here is supposed to look at his car.“Excuse me?” Alex calls to the man in a Santa hat, working near the cash. He’scounting bills and swaying a little to the music that’s playing over theloudspeakers nearby. It’s blaring out, drowning out the sound of thetownspeople milling around. Alex reaches out to touch the man’s shoulder,trying to get his attention. “Are you the owner?”When the man turns, Alex swallows with an audible click.“Yeah!” says the most handsome guy Alex has seen in ages. Under the Santa hat, goldenhoney curls spill out like they can’t be contained, and when he grins, his eyesactually look like they sparkle in the lights. “Hey, hold on, you gotta just…”He closes his eyes. “Can’t miss my favorite part here.”Alex is so confused, but then the guy croons along to the music playing overhim.“Baby, all I want for Christmas,” he sings, loud and not off-key, butdefinitely not with any talent that would make him famous. He opens his eyesand points to Alex, hands over his heart as he draws out, “is you.” Alex rolls his eyes, which is the normal human reaction to that, but he alsocan’t help being somewhat charmed.“And all I want is my rental car fixed,” Alex retorts, jangling the keys.“Well, that’s me,” he says. “Michael Evans,” he says, reaching out to shake hishand. “Certified mechanic, temporary tree-lot runner, and mediocre singer.”After he shakes Alex’s hands, he takes the keys. “What’s wrong with it?”Alex gives a bewildered shrug, because if he knew, he’d try and fix it himself.“I don’t know. It’s rattling?” Michael looks him over like he’s debating what he’s about to say. He looks overhis shoulder to the other people manning the cash booth (a couple of women anda guy), then back at Alex. “Okay. Give me the keys. I can look at it during afew breaks, but it means it’s not gonna get done soon. You going to be okay ifyou stick around?”What other choice does Alex have? Beyond that, what else had he been planningto do?In order to go see his mother’s old haunts, he’d need to get a taxi and this feelslike the kind of personal thing that he wants to do on his own.“Fine,” Alex says, waving a hand to let him have the car. “I guess I’ll just…”He turns and stares at the trees, hears the holiday music, and looks at all thepeople decked up in red and green. It’s like the holiday spirit puked on thearea around him, but if this is what he needs to tolerate to get his car fixedby the town’s handsome mechanic, he can deal. By the time he turns around, Michael’s gone, but the women at the cash are eyeinghim with a speculative eye, which means Alex has probably been clocked. Heheads into the trees to get lost before this ends up an autograph session,winding his way around and finding a bench near a trailer near the back of thelot. He digs out his phone to text Kyle about where he is and the updates on hissituation, scrolling through texts and emails to pass the time. He doesn’t evennotice that most people have left with their trees because he’s started tolisten to some demos to give them approval, taking advantage of the time to gothrough them. It must be hours before the car is done, but Alex doesn’t actually notice thetime passing. The tree lot isn’t the worst place to spend an afternoon,especially in a quaint and quiet town like Roswell. Michael comes to get him eventually. “Hey!” he calls over to him, wiping offhis hands. He has to duck through the trees so he can hold out the keys to him.He’s still wearing the Santa hat, but his shirt bears a few new grease stainsnow. “Thanks for waiting. I know this place can be a bit much,” he admits. Alex stands, prying the air pods out of his ears. The sun’s gone down, so thejunkyard is illuminated by twinkling lights and the stars above cutting throughthe light pollution, and Alex’s instincts are to complain that he shouldn’thave to wait around like this, but on the other hand, what else is he supposedto do in Roswell?“You’re Alex Manes, aren’t you?” Michael says, handing over the invoice for therental company. “Sorry I probably ruined your eardrums earlier,” he jokes. “it wasn’t so bad,” Alex admits, standing and taking the invoice from him. He’sstill just as handsome now – maybe even more, because he tugs off the hat andhis curls spill loose with it. The soft twinkling lights highlight the anglesof his face and the softness of his lips and god, Alex wants to kiss him morethan he’s wanted to kiss anyone in recent memory. “So uh,” he manages, findinghis voice. “I’m new in town. What’s a guy do to entertain himself in Roswell?”“Well,” Michael says. “If you’re okay with waiting ten more minutes, you couldcome to dinner with me and my family?”That’s way more than Alex had been anticipating. “I…”“You’re not intruding. They’ve been curious about you since you turned up,”Michael says, and Alex’s mind flashes back to the people at the desk staring athim. “Besides, Liz’s family owns the local diner and you can’t leave Roswellwithout a meal at the Crashdown. You should come, have dinner with us. That, orI’m gonna bring it back to your hotel, but one way or another, we’re gettingyou to try it,” he warns.Alex laughs in protest. “Okay! Okay, I’ll come to dinner with you.”Michael’s smile is as beautiful as the rest of him; so is the way he breathesin and then holds it, like he’s trying to hold onto a little hope, before helets it out. “You won’t regret it.”Alex absolutely doesn’t. That one dinner turns into lunch the next day, then it becomes Alex hangingaround the junkyard with his guitar, singing his half-written songs whileMichael works on cars. With the tree lot packed up, it’s back to normal, butMichael keeps up the lights and the sound system still plays carols. “Myparents and siblings love Christmas,” he’d explained with a warm grin. “I loveit too.”“I don’t get it,” Alex admits, “The holiday spirit. I guess because my motherdied when I was so little and my father’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.Half the time, he wasn’t even there because he or my brothers were out of thecountry on a mission. For me, Christmas was just another week that I didn’thave a family.”“That’s really sad, you know,” Michael says, and pries his guitar back fromAlex. He sits in the back of his pickup and nods to him. “Come on, you can’thate it so much that you won’t at least sing along,” he coaxes, playing theopening chords of Winter Wonderland, and when Michael gets to, “a beautifulsight,” he winks at Alex, which makes him flush.He ducks his head down and sings with Michael, listening to how their voicesharmonize together and sound so right. It all feels right. It feels perfect. At least, right up until the moment Alex’s other life comes into town and burnsit to shreds.Alex is starting to love his lunches at the Crashdown. He’s made friends ofMichael’s friends and by now he’s in tight with his family, and they’ve alltaken him on as a project, sympathetic to the fact that he’s alone onChristmas. He drinks at the Wild Pony every night, then meets Michael forbrunch before he goes to work. Liz makes sure he’s well fed, Maria keeps himdrinking, and Michael and his siblings occupy his time with holiday parties andchores. Right now, he’s in the middle of helping Isobel stuff Christmas cards when hehears a familiar voice.“Holy shit, you weren’t joking about this place being a hellhole.”Kyle Valenti, as loud as ever. Alex tenses up when he sees the hurt onMichael’s face. He rushes out to meet his manager at the door, giving him awarning look even as Kyle pulls him into a hug. He’d said those things when Alexhad first come into town – trust Kyle to repeat them now, after Alex has had acomplete change of heart.“Outside?”“Nah, I’m starved,” Kyle says, pushing past Alex. “Besides, we’re not gonna behere long, so let’s grab some lunch and talk.” Alex tenses up, but he leads Kyle to the only other open booth, which is theone beside Isobel and the others. He’s not facing Michael, which is for thebest, because he doesn’t want to see his face after that first insult. It doesn’t get better.Kyle’s as direct as ever. “So listen, we got a flight to Bora Bora,” he says,once lunch is delivered and he’s in the middle of eating fries like it’s hisjob. “The rest of us figured that it’d be shitty for you to sit here in Roswelland sulk in some stupid town…”“Kyle,” Alex warns.“And since you don’t do the holidays, it’s perfect. The resort doesn’t go infor the festivities, so it can be an Alex Manes special. Get drunk, find a hotguy to sleep with, and then back on tour in the new year.” Usually, any other year, he’d be eager to hop on a plane and do exactly asKyle’s listed. Kyle’s not wrong, that is what he excels at, but somehow thisyear is different. Staring at Michael’s curls in the booth over, he knows why,even if he doesn’t want to say it out loud. “Anyway,” Kyle says, finishing with the burger and laying down a few bills topay for his lunch. “The tickets are back at the hotel for you, okay? I’ll seeyou at the airport and then we’re Bora Bora bound,” he says with an excitedsmile, squeezing Alex’s shoulder as he bounds out, unaware of the damage he’scaused in the course of a thirty-minute lunch. Alex slowly stands, heading back to join the others, but when he gets there, itlooks like Michael is on his way out. “I…wait…”It doesn’t help. “You’re leaving, huh?” Michael says as Alex settles. “I get it. Why would youwant to spend the holidays in a stupid little town like Roswell when you couldbe off living the rock star life with drugs and sex in some tropicaldestination.” He hasn’t looked up at him, won’t meet Alex’s eye. “Shit, BoraBora, if I had that kind of money, I’d go too.”“Michael…”Michael digs into his pockets for crumpled bills to pay for his meal. It hitshim, belatedly, that it’s Christmas Eve. He’d spent so much of his life tryingto ignore the holiday and the one year he finds something he wants, reallywants, and he’s losing it because of his life outside of this town.“I get it,” Michael cuts him off. “We’re just a town you pass through, right?It was never going to be anything.” He stares at his boots, shaking his head,like he’s talking to himself. “It was never gonna be anything,” he repeats, andbefore Alex can protest, he’s gone.In the hotel nearby, Kyle’s waiting for him to pick up the tickets and leave. Tomorrow,this whole town will go have dinner with their families and curl up by thefireplace exchanging gifts. They’ll kiss under the mistletoe and drink spikedegg nog, and they’ll be happy in a way that Alex is only starting torealize he wants.He wants it. It’s not just the holiday spirit and that warmth.He wants Michael. He wants the man who’s sat with him at every meal at theCrashdown. He wants the man who tells the dirtiest jokes to get Alex to laugh asloud as possible. He wants Michael, who drinks with him at the Pony and thendances badly to the Christmas music Maria puts on, who wears reindeer antlersat the junkyard while he’s fixing cars, who plays the guitar while Alex singsfor him. He wants him and maybe he’s starting to understand the Christmasspirit, because he wants to shower him in love and gifts and kisses, butMichael thinks he’s about to leave to go to Bora Bora.“Hey,” Alex says, glancing over to Isobel, who looks at him cautiously -- likeshe’s deciding how cruel to be in return for Alex’s insults about the town. “Doyou have a guitar I can borrow?”His equipment is back in Los Angeles and if he wants this surprise to actuallybe a surprise, he can’t walk up to Michael and ask him for his. When Isobeldoesn’t answer, he figures that she’s trying to freeze him out, but Alexdoesn’t have time for it. It’s Christmas Eve, he only has so long to prove to Michael that he’s not theman that the world wants him to be, especially not right now.“Please, Isobel,” Alex begs. “I need to win him back.”That seems to do the trick. “If that’s the case, Maria can help,” Isobelsuggests. “The Pony’s always got music nights, and if it’s to win over Michael,then I think she’ll be okay loaning it out.”“Thank you,” Alex exhales in a rush, kissing her hand before he bolts to thePony to get what he needs. He has to show Michael that he’s not Alex Manes,rock star. Right now, he’s just Alex Manes, who’s a guy wanting to prove thatthere’s more for him here than there is on some island.By the time he gets to the junkyard, it’s started to snow. Big heavy flakesfrom the sky obscuring the stars, but it gives the world a glow, especiallywith the junkyard lights. Alex can see that the lights are on inside theAirstream and Alex heads over, standing under the twinkling lights a few feetfrom the door. He’s performed in front of thousands of people before, and yet he’s never feltas nervous as he does right now. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas,” he begins without the guitar, adding in thechords after, and playing as he sings. It’s the first holiday song he’s evercovered that wasn’t with Michael playing guitar for him, but when the Airstreamdoor opens and Michael steps out, Alex knows it’s the most important song he’sever sung in his life.Michael looks stunned to see him, but he steps down into the snow. He’s onlywearing a cream sweater and a pair of sweatpants, no jacket to speak of. Thesnow lands in his curls, dissolving as he gapes at Alex, open-mouthed. The cover he’s doing is slow and sweet, but the only thing that matters is thechorus to Michael’s favorite song. “Baby,” he sings, barely more than a softplea, “all I want for Christmas is you.” He doesn’t sing anything beyond that,cautiously putting the guitar down as he approaches Michael. He waits for a signal to stop.Alex looks for a twitch or a flinch. He looks for a single sound that wouldtell him that Michael doesn’t want this, but by the time Alex crosses the fivesteps separating them, he hasn’t seen a single one, which is why he feelsconfident grabbing Michael’s face with both his hands and kissing him under thetwinkling lights, snowflakes cascading towards the ground.He’s on the tips of his toes, like he’s desperately eager to make this kisslast as long as it possibly can, tangling his fingers up in Michael’s curls theway he’s thought about since the moment he met him days ago, and when he easesback, he’s still nervous despite the fact that Michael’s hand is tangled up inAlex’s leather jacket, like he’s going to refuse to let him go.“You’re an idiot,” Michael laughs fondly when they finally drift apart. “You’rechoosing me over Bora Bora? You don’t even like Christmas. You don’t even knowme!”He’s still not letting go.“This is the first time I’ve felt like I had a home or a family in years,” Alexgets out, his voice low and determined. “You’re the first person I’vefelt like myself around in ages. I think I’m figuring out that it’s not that Idon’t like Christmas, but I’ve never had someone to show me how good it can be.Fuck Bora Bora,” he swears. “I mean it. Michael, all I want for Christmas isyou, if you’ll have me.”Michael grins at him and Alex’s breath catches as he sees the lights reflectedin Michael’s eyes. “I’ve been dreaming of having you in about ten different ways,” Michael informshim, tugging Alex towards the Airstream as he wanders idly backwards. “I neverthought I’d get what I asked Santa for Christmas,” he jokes. “Maybe you’ve been a nice boy this year,” Alex suggests, traipsing after himwith a wide-eyed besotted look.Michael smirks as he steps inside, casting Alex a filthy smirk before he pullsoff his shirt. “Baby,” he says, and pushes Alex to the bed. “I’m definitely onthe naughty list for the thoughts I’ve had about you.”Naughty or nice, Alex thinks that they both got exactly what they wanted thisyear, and if anyone had told Alex that this is what he’d be yearning for at thestart of the year, he’d think they were insane. Now that he has it, he knowsthat the only madness would be not having this, not wantingMichael.With Michael finally in his arms, Alex isn’t going to let go.It’s rude to take back the gifts you’re given, after all.*It’s December 21st and Alex turns over in bed to see snow fallingoutside the window. He’s warm in bed, curled up with thick blankets, but despitethat warmth, he’s missing the body heat of someone pressed up against him. Heturns, with a whine of protest, sleepy eyes opening to see Michael sitting nearthe door, tugging on his boots, along with his denim jacket. “Wear the puffer,”Alex mumbles sleepily. “You’re gonna freeze out there in the tree lot all day.”Michael pulls on his other boot and wanders back to bed to give Alex a kiss onthe cheek. “I’m sorry, is my sleepy husband asking me to wear his expensivegifts?”“What’s the point of being a rock star if I can’t spoil you?” Alex asks,yawning in the middle of his words as he grabs at Michael’s jacket to try andpull him in for another kiss. “Your Santa hat’s by the door,” he mumbles, stilldebating whether he wants to go back to sleep.“Thanks, babe,” Michael says, adjusting the hat as it jingles and jangles.“Don’t forget, you’re on stage at noon to lead the carols,” he says, pocketinghis keys. Alex stretches his whole body out and stares at Michael with a happy grin,thinking about the days ahead and the activities they’ll be doing to ring inthe holidays. His house in Los Angeles has been sold, the fancy cars gone, andwhile Alex hasn’t stopped touring and has the same team supporting him, he’slearned an important lesson.It’s one thing to have a career that you love, but having friends and familyaround you at the same time makes life so much better.“I’ll see you there, Santa,” Alex promises, voice low and thick with the headypromise.“Thanks Mrs. Clause,” Michael teases as he goes, whistling a very familiar songon his way out, and as Alex falls back to sleep, the last thing he hears isMichael singing, “I don’t want a lot for Christmas…” under his breath, whichcoaxes Alex back to sleepy warm and perfect dreams about the life he’s made forhimself.

#malex #2019 holiday gifts #michael/alex #roswell new mexico #holiday prompts #singer!alex #mechanic!michael #who was adopted into a good family #learning the true meaning of christmas #Anonymous

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onepdumpsterfire · 4 years

Text

Eviction

#1 in the modern living series

(Man is writing in third person hard for me. haha i might just change to first person for the rest of the series.)

Summary: Ace just wants the moving to stop, Sabo is the most responsible of the three and Luffy thinks m&m dominoes is bullshit.

Word Count: 1798

Ace . Sabo . Luffy . Sanji . Nami

Out in the countryside, where neighbors were half a mile away from each other, stood a house filled with memories long passed. Boxes littered its hallways as its normally rambunctious inhabitants sullenly grumbled their way through their belongings.

“This is stupid!” Luffy yelled while throwing down the blanket he was folding. “Gramps owns this place, they can’t just kick us out!”

“We’ve been through this, Luff,” Sabo said while gesturing at Ace to keep putting away clothes. “The city sent Garp invoices about the property, and since he’s never here the city just decided to go through with demolishing this place and build the extension of the highway here anyway.”

“But still! They can’t just kick us out!”

“Yeah. They can,” Ace retorted, once again giving up on folding. “It’s called ‘Eminent Domain’. They can take it if it’s for public use, and since we aren’t on the lease for the house we gotta wait till gramps gets back to get the money the city’s paying for the property.”

“... so we sold our house?”

“No, they’re taking it; but legally they can’t without giving us compensation for it.”

Pouting, Luffy huffed about how he didn’t see what m&m dominoes had to do with a highway being built on their home. “Don’t worry about it too much, Luff.” Sabo interrupted his disgruntled brother, “one way or another, construction already started. It’s too late to change anything.”

“Which brings me to my next point,” the blond turns to Ace, who averts his gaze to a far off corner in an attempt to try and remove himself from the situation. “They gave us until the end of the month and we’re already two weeks away! Have you even packed your room?” The question was more rhetorical than anything. Sabo already knew the answer, but if he didn’t antagonize his brother now he’d never get it done.

“I...have?”

“Why does your answer sound like a question? Y’know putting your clothes in the laundry basket doesn’t count as packing.”

“But they are put away,” Ace looked back at Sabo with a shit-eating smile and a pointed finger that dared the other to question him again.

“Have you taken down your posters? Or put away your covers and comics?”

Though, Ace should have thought better than to start a battle with someone who had an arsenal compared to his one bullet. “Were you just planning on moving without them?” Slowly, Ace’s finger deflated and cold sweat appeared on his brow.

The two had the same fight every time they had to move.

Ace hated moving, but in a military family, all they did was move.

It happened every few months and yet he could never be bothered to do it until the very last second, when everyone else already had taken all their stuff.

Garp thought that this might have been his way of rebelling against it, but one thing Ace hated more was being left behind; so he’d wait until his anxiety got too much and then pack in a panic.

Eventually, though, Ace started to plan to move out on his own. That’s when Garp, begrudgingly, told them they could move to a house he owned. To where Luffy grew up before Dragon (Luffy’s father and Garp’s son) left for the military to follow in Garp’s footsteps. Before all the moving started. Before Ace and Sabo were adopted by him.

It may have been a more rural area than the apartments they usually lived in but that meant there was more space for ‘outdoor adventures’ as Luffy put it. (Not to mention he really wanted to introduce them to the two neighbor kids he’d made friends with and still kept in touch with from when he was little). Nonetheless, the other two just liked finally having a permanent place to call home.

However, until after they moved did they realize that it meant they would get to see Garp less. Garp used to show up about every two weeks then every few months was moved to a new station, but now they’ll only get to see him whenever he had enough time to fly all the way to visit them.

As cold as it may sounds, they soon decided that they’d have to get used to it eventually and moved on pretty quickly. They were about to start their twenties, eventually, they were going to have to. (It wasn’t like he was around that often, to begin with anyway.) And with that, they moved to the countryside, though they would have never guessed that almost half a year later they were going to get an eviction notice.

The city thought there was no one living there, Garp having never answered the invoices or being there when they visited, so they moved on with expanding the city. But after the three showed up it had to be delayed. The city sent another notice that the three had to send to Garp, but this time it was telling them they needed to move out by the end of the month. At first, Garp told them not to worry about it, that he’d solve it. Though, one week later it became apparent that there was no way of changing the city's mind.

The three boys decided that they’d move into an affordable two-bedroom apartment that Garp helped them get. Though, after the initial month, they’d have to find a way to start paying bills and such on their own.

Sabo wanted to move out as soon as possible but if Ace kept up his usual antics, moving would have to go on hold until he could persuade the man-child to get a move on.

“Can you take this a bit more seriously?” Sabo wanted to continue to pester Ace until he did as told, but a sudden knock at the door stopped their bickering. “Just go pack your room.”

“Saved by the bell,” Reclining back on his seat, Ace ignored him once again, “We have like two days left, man. It won’t take long to pack, so I can just do it later.”

“I’m serious, Ace!” Sabo shouted from the front door before opening it up to see their red-headed neighbor.

“Hey Nami, they’re in the hall clearing out a closet.”

“Okay, I got some boxes in my truck,” she pointed behind herself.

“I got them, you guys start eating without me.” Sabo moved aside so she could come inside before exiting himself to get the boxes.

“I’m back!” Nami set the pizza boxes down on the kitchen counter, “and I brought food!”

“Food!” Luffy dropped what he was doing and ran to her side. ”Thanks, Nami!”

“Sweet,” jumping up, Ace walked straight to the fridge “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Your brother is getting some boxes from my car, by the way,” Nami said loudly, in the off chance either of them cared at the moment. “Greeeaaat. More boxes, just what we needed.” Ace commented sarcastically while handing out some sodas.

“Don’t be an ass,” Sabo came in holding three boxes stacked on top of each other, “I’ll put these in your room for when you start packing.”

“Do as you please your royal highness.” Ace jeered, “just so you know, if you come back and there’s no pizza, it’s your fault.”

“It’s right down the hall, I’m not gonna take long.”

“Yeah, but Luffy just tried to put three slices in his mouth.”

“Mook! Ah c-ah-n mut soar shlifesh im my mouf!” (translation: look! I can put four slices in my mouth!) That was Luffy gargling over a mouth full of pizza. “obbb!” (translation: oww!) And that was Nami hitting him on the head for talking with his mouth full

“Stop stuffing your face, and eat normally!”

“...Make that four...”

After their lunch, they all started packing everything into the U-haul moving truck they’d rented earlier that day, and finally, they called up Sanji to tell him they were on their way.

Sanji is someone Luffy met a couple of days after they’d moved into town, and pestered into coming over to hang out with him and his brothers. They’d all hit it off pretty fast after that, so much so that when their home was set to be demolished Sanji was the one who suggested they move into the same apartments as him and even helped them checklist everything they needed for first-time renters then offered to help them move in.

One long trip and much lifting later, everything they needed from the house was moved into the apartment and the rest of the stuff was either thrown away or kept in Nami’s shed until they could sell it in the flea market or a thrift store (this includes any of Garp’s belongings that weren’t sent to him.)

With exhaustion pulling down on her and an awaiting hour drive back to her home, Nami left the boys to finish the rest by themselves. “Alright, it’s getting pretty late so I’m gonna head out.” a chorus of tired goodbyes followed her to the door, “call me if you guys need anything.”

Getting up from his position on the couch they’d just dragged in, Sabo walked her to the door. “Yeah. Thanks, again, for helping out today.”

“Don’t worry about,” Nami playfully pushed at his shoulder, “but if you wanna repay me then how about helping me out in next year’s summer market?” Chuckling, Sabo agreed to her request.

“Hey! Wait up, I’ll walk you to your car.” Sanji went to stand next to Sabo, “I have class early in the morning and should get some rest.”

Repeating their goodbyes one final time, the two left the boys to their first night at their new home.

Bonus:

Immediately after they both left Ace fell asleep on the couch, already knowing what Sabo wanted them to do next.

“Oi, wake up!” Sabo shook him by the shoulders, “we still gotta put the bed frames back together!” though to no surprise he didn’t budge.

Giving a sigh of surrender, he turned to Luffy, “guess we’re gonna ha- oohoho both of you are pieces of shit.”

While Sabo was busy trying to wake Ace up, Luffy made himself comfortable on the floor next to Ace and fell asleep.

“Fine! Fine, I’ll do it myself.” The blond threw his hands in the air while walking away to a bedroom to re-build the bed frames. “I hope both of you get a crick in your neck.”

Ace and Luffy opened an eye to sneakily check if the coast was clear before high-fiving each other and actually falling asleep.

#modernlivingau #one piece #one piece luffy #one piece ace #one piece sabo #one piece sanji #one piece nami #one piece garp #monkey d. luffy #Portgas D. Ace #sabo the revolutionary #revolutionary sabo #black leg sanji #cat burglar nami

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