#its a slow tuesday i need a hobby
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The historic corruption trial of ex-Chicago Ald. Edward Burke restarted Tuesday with the questioning of more potential jurors, who so far have been asked everything from whether they know what ward they live in to the names and breeds of their dogs.
One thing the jury pool did not see as they assembled in the 25th Floor ceremonial courtroom for coffee and donuts Tuesday morning: The large wall display featuring famous public corruption cases at the Dirksen U.S. Courthouse, including former Illinois governors Rod Blagojevich and George Ryan.
Per the request of Ed Burke’s attorneys, the display, part of larger montage about the court, was covered up with brown paper and cordoned off by a black screen so Burke’s jurors don’t see it.
It is likely that jury selection will stretch into Wednesday, U.S. District Judge Virginia Kendall said from the bench as the proceedings began Tuesday.
Burke’s family, including his wife Anne and at least one of his sons, sat in the front row alongside a priest who attended to support the former alderman. Burke swiveled in his chair and smiled broadly at them as they arrived.
Anne Burke, a former state Supreme Court justice, examined a printed copy of a spreadsheet with details about each prospective juror.
Among those questioned Tuesday morning were a social worker who works for an Alzheimer’s organization and a mother of seven who loves NASCAR. A Wicker Park man in his 20s said he already knew a little about the Burke case.
“I’m not sure how impartial I could be,” he said, a little shyly. The judge said they would discuss that at sidebar.
Jury selection got off to a slow start Monday, with attorneys questioning only 20 of the 53 prospective jurors on Monday’s panel. The rest of that group will be questioned Tuesday before another panel of 50 is expected to get its turn.
Kendall has said they need to get about 44 people who make it through “for cause” strikes before proceeding to the next phase.
Among the citizens questioned so far who could decide the fate of a legendary Chicago political figure: a part-time butcher, a Chicago Public Schools teacher, and a retired IRS agent with a passion for roller skating.
The son of a Democratic ward boss and alderman, Burke, 79, served more than 50 years on the City Council and allegedly ran the Finance Committee like his own personal fiefdom before his office was dramatically raided by the FBI in November 2018.
[ From Chicago machine maestro to indicted alderman, Ed Burke’s corruption trial follows half-century of clout ]
When the judge Monday asked the potential jurors if anyone knew Burke, a woman raised her hand and said she knows him from “the country club,” presumably meaning the Beverly Country Club, which was staked out by the FBI as part of the investigation. Kendall said they would ask about it more specifically when it’s the woman’s turn to be interviewed.
The judge and attorneys delved deep into jurors’ hobbies and personal lives, down to their favorite “Ted Lasso” characters and the names of their pets.
Prospective jurors who live in Chicago were asked if they knew who their alderman was. Generally they answered that they did not. A few said they had heard of Burke, but didn’t know details about his case.
Burke is charged with 14 counts including racketeering, federal program bribery, attempted extortion, conspiracy to commit extortion and using interstate commerce to facilitate an unlawful activity.
Burke’s longtime ward aide, Peter Andrews Jr., 73, is charged with one count of attempted extortion, one count of conspiracy to commit extortion, two counts of using interstate commerce to facilitate an unlawful activity, and one count of making a false statement to the FBI.
The third defendant, Cui, 52, of Lake Forest, is charged with one count of federal program bribery, three counts of using interstate commerce to facilitate an unlawful activity, and one count of making a false statement to the FBI.
All three have pleaded not guilty.
At the heart of the indictment are more than a hundred secretly recorded meetings and phone calls allegedly showing Burke using his elected office to win benefits for himself, mostly through business for his private law firm.
Burke’s defense team, meanwhile, will try to show that Burke’s maneuvering was nothing more than politics as usual. In fact, Burke is not charged with performing a single official act as alderman in exchange for anything of value, and some of the projects he allegedly put his thumb on the scale for weren’t even in his ward, his attorneys have argued.
The crux of Burke’s defense will likely be to knock down former Ald. Daniel Solis, who was caught in his own corruption scheme before agreeing in 2016 to become an FBI mole and secretly record Burke and others over a period of nearly two years.
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My Trip to Fiji | Stories From a Film and Journalist Student
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On June 25 – July 2, I was one of the 6 students who were chosen to go to Fiji to write stories based of the aftermath of the Cyclone Winston. When I was first told about this trip, I immediately was interested, not only because I’d get to visit another country, but it would be good for my portfolio and I thought ‘why not give it a shot’. Just saying, the idea of me doing this was scary and minimal at best at the time. Why would someone like me, a fangirl, a wannabe YouTuber, get selected to go to Fiji to do such serious task? I signed up for it and hoped for the best.
Remember when I said that the university accepted my portfolio because of my old blog? Well, I was accepted for this trip because I know my way around the use of a camera + YouTube. Yeah… it was my hobby that got me into this gig (as well as my decent grades of course). I was worried because I’m not like the ‘hardcore journalists’ that my peers are, I’m just a kid at best. But my friends told me that I could do this so that gave me the confidence boost I needed.
Plus there was that promise I made and I need to prove myself that I could call myself a journalist.
June 25 | Sunday | Departure
We all arrived at Sydney International Airport at 8 am and the traffic was annoying, but we managed to make it on time. I was freaking out and getting really nervous. All of my Phandom friends were asleep but luckily, someone was online and I was able to talk to them.
And that person was GetLazy’s Chris Crow (thank you time zones).
He managed to calm me down since I was getting stressed and really nervous. There is this joke we share when it comes to travelling where ‘during arriving in another country or just being confronted by boarder security/customs, the officers would ‘probe’ us‘.
It’s a reference to a Daniel Howell YouTube video. He told me that and it made me smile and that did the trick… until he asked me the government system of Fiji. That’s when I panicked again.
Funny that should be said since Sydney’s boarder security literally had its eyes on me. I was sent to the manual security test, I had the brand new electronic metal search (and thought my sock was carrying something illegal) and Fiji Boarder Security because they asked me a bunch of questions and I had to fight my introvertism to answer them correctly.
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When we arrived in Fiji, the airport had views of the mountains and it had that ‘rural aesthetic’ surrounding it. We were greeted with some Fijian music and the temperature was as cold as Sydney’s autumn/early winter.
This will be and exciting 7 days.
June 26 | Monday | First Day of Work
Day 1 and it’s a full on road trip from Nadi to Rakiraki. Long drives in the cars + capturing stories for 2-3 students, it was hectic. We all pitched in to help each other and the landscape is just majestic. It’s very rural (as expected) and it just reminds me of my family road trips back in the Philippines. The food was also good, like I enjoyed eating the hotel food and my peers were really interesting as all have different personalities and stories. It was a slow bonding moment and I got to know them more.
This was also the night when I was able to video chat an online friend for the first time. It was really cool to see their face on video and despite it being short (due to time zones), I cherished that moment. My roommates however had to hear me laugh and my explanation on how much of a weeb (anime/Japanese fan) I am.
June 27 | Tuesday | My Story
Day 2 and I got the reputation as the one who crashes during the car ride. You see, I have mild motion sickness so I will tend to fall asleep in the car. Reason for this is based on my bus rides when I was in primary school back in the Philippines (not a good story). We went to the Rakiraki Markets to work on my story on the farmers and the seeds that the Australian aid provided. It was flourishing with various produce and we spoke with 3 farmers.
We then visited a school and it was the most fun experience as the students were just so happy to be in front of the camera. I was even able to get some inspiration for my story as well. Visiting the school was an eye opener since these kids appreciate everything they’re given and they’re being taught topics that none of us would learn until we reach high school.
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We then arrived in Suva, the country’s capital city. And I FINALLY GET A HOTEL ROOM ALL TO MYSELF!!! Not that I don’t enjoy having roommates but there are things that I rather not them knowing… like submitting my vocals for the ‘LazyTown Forever’ project. I was also glad that I got a queen bed all to myself, so I was able to sleep like a starfish.
Later that night, we went to a karaoke bar and 3 of my peers and I sang our hearts out. I was surprised that they have OPM/Tagalog music in Fiji, I was able to warm up my vocals with Narda. We sang a bunch of other songs and one of my friends started to laugh on the floor during one of the performances. I did sang a song and dedicated it to someone who is really close to me (but the full version will never be released because I was looking back at the footage… nope).
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My throat ended up being a bit rusty the next morning, thank goodness for throat lozenges.
June 28 | Wednesday | Embassy Day
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Day 3… Embassy Day.
This day was serious business, so serious that we are required to wear the school shirts that were given to us before the trip. My friends know how much I was dreading for this day since despite me being mature enough to go, I’m still a goofball.
We visited the University of the South Pacific, the university that students from various islands attend to (eg: PNG, Fiji and etc). Their facilities are really interesting and the have their own radio station! Love it! We also visited Australian Aid to interview the people who helped during the storm and made our way to the Australian High Commission.
Not much happened on this day since once again, it’s all ‘serious business’.
June 29 | Thursday | Sunset Day
We also visited a few luxurious hotels and I was able to do some horseback riding, an activity that I enjoyed doing when I visit Baguio back in the past. There were 3 types of packages – half beach, full beach or a cave tour. The cave tour is basically we visit a cave on a horse and we have a tour guide with us. The story behind the cave (from what I was told) is that there was a war between 2 villages and all the women and children hid in the cave for protection.
I wanted to do the Cave tour but due to time constraints, I can only do the half beach… which was still cool. I was sharing photos to my friend of mine and they thought that the idea of horseback riding is scary due to the angle on how I was taking the selfies.
You see, I have this friend, who I like, and he likes me back, and only a handful of very close people know who this person is. And asides of my plans to take beautiful pictures of this moment, I wanted to video call him so he could see it with me. To me, sunsets are when time slows down and I think it’s very romantic thing to watch it with someone who’s very close to you. The thing was, there was a time zone issue so he was unable to see it. Its ok since he likes the photos and I didn’t ‘fully ask’ him to watch it with me, I gave hints, but I still wished he was able to see it with me.
Just one cheesy romantic moment… is that hard to ask?!
June 30 | Friday | Cloud 9 + Clubbing
Day 5 was our ‘reward day’ for all our hard work and efforts. So to celebrate, we all went to Cloud 9 and clubbing after. So the day started when we travelled to Denarau to go to the ports. There, we signed a lot of paper work before our boat ride to location. The travel time was around 45 minutes and we got wet.
You see, Cloud 9 is a floating bar in the middle of the ocean and the water is really clear and really warm. I slightly regret not bringing my swimming gear but I don’t care, I rather take pictures. I wasn’t a fan of swimming. I mean, I used to be but my family has been forcing me to do the activity too much that it pretty much lost it’s appeal.
Then I got seasick. I got really dizzy thanks to my motion sickness and I was unmotivated to eat or drink. Luckily, one of my classmates has Neurofen on her and I took a nap which did help me recover.
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During my resting period, my journalism teacher decided that it was a good idea for me to make some new friends. So we befriended 2 university students from Scotland. One is a law student and the other studies economics. The guy who studies economics, he’s also a small-tuber and we both chatted about making videos and what not. He noticed my camera that’s laying on the ground and asked me about the brand and how often I take photos. I showed him the photos I took the day before on the sunset and he like them.
My classmates then tell me that he was actually flirting with me.I freaked out, reason being… because I like someone else. I didn’t want to believe that but there was lowkey shipping and my journalism teacher thinks that it’s a good idea for me to be more open with him and flirt with other people. None of these people know how uncomfortable this makes me (and none of them knows that I’m demiromantic). My classmates invited them and some British students to come to dinner and clubbing with us.
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I didn’t want to believe that someone was actually flirting with me but a part of me enjoyed the attention (a bit). I wore a dress because I knew I was going out and who knows, someone might be brave enough to talk to me. Everyone saw me and they were like “Oh… Erielle is out to impress someone… perhaps it’s Mr Scotland”.
Maybe I was planning to do some flirting. Maybe I dressed up because I want someone to flirt with me. Maybe I wanted to break the laws of being ‘demiromantic’ and be brave to like someone for other reasons than their personality. I thought my first experience clubbing, I would get drunk and get really hyper that people might enjoy that ‘hidden version’ side of me. Maybe drunk call my friend and say stupid sh*t.
But none of that happened.
Instead, I was sitting awkwardly with 2 orange vodkas and the guy who I met in Cloud 9, no interest on me whatsoever. He didn’t talk or say anything. No one went close to me (thank god cuz it was like a jungle out there) and I just felt… out of place. This made me realise that clubbing isn’t for me and what everyone told me about ‘looking attractive’ is total bullshit. You don’t need to look attractive or ‘dress up’ to let people like you.
The person who I was currently crushing on at the time thought I was worth a shot and was willing to know more about me (despite him finding me in the most millennial way possible… online [sorry mum and dad]).
July 1 | Saturday | The Final Night
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Day 6 and my Seed Story started to take shape. My journalism teacher liked it and I just have to put on the final touches when I arrive home. We first visited the Sleeping Giant and went on a nature walk. Not much could be said except it was a nice relaxing walk but since I had a DSLR on me, I was struggling to catch up. Next up was the Sabeto mud pools which was near the Sleeping Giant (a mountain range). While most of my peers went to do a mud bath, my journalism teacher and I decided to have a Fijian massage. It was really relaxing and afterwards, I got to know more about the venue that I will write a story next week or so.
None of us wanted that night to end.
July 2 | Sunday | Arrival
Day 7 and it was time to leave Fiji.
We arrived at Sydney, 4 of us planned to find a way to be in the same Digital Journalism class together next year, we said our goodbyes, and returned home.I arrived at my bedroom… and fell asleep.
My trip to Fiji was one of the most fun experiences I had this year as it was my first time traveling alone to another country. My first impressions when going to this trip was an idea of going to different villages but I was mistaken. Fiji has so much to offer and it was quite a shame that it ended so quickly.
What I learned during this trip is to be prepared. I realised that I should have brought out my own mic when recording my stories as it would save me the trouble from having terrible sound and fixing it in post editing. I also learned that studying in university isn’t enough. You need to be exposed/immersed on what you’re learning. When working on my story, as well as helping others with their stories using my camera, I was exposed to various situations like I was on the job and everything was mostly hands-on work.
What I found challenging in the trip is my social skills. I’m an introvert and I hardly socialise with others. This trip requires mass socialisation with both the locals, the other tourist, and the staff and students that came with us. Most of the time, I needed to get out of my shell and I had to interact with these people rather than just starring on my phone all day.
Yes, I will admit that I was on my phone during some parts of the trip and I did isolate myself from others during a few days but I also did try to push myself to talk to others.
What I enjoyed the most in this trip the bond me and my fellow peers and staff had during the 7 day trip. We were all different in multiple ways that no one was similar with each other, meaning we all had our own different story and different ways on helping each other out.
Basically, the whole trip was very enjoyable that it’s quite hard to find a favourite.
This whole trip was a very transformational experience for me. I was exposed before of the developing lifestyle when I travelled to the Philippines but being hands-on and interacting with the locals just puts everything in a whole new perspective. When we visited the school in Rakiraki, I saw that these kids are being taught about ‘anti-rape’ and ‘drugs’ in such a young age and they appreciate everything they currently have. I also realised how much hard work everyone in Fiji has done in order to get back on their feet and how they appreciate the little things they have, own, and received. I learned that I should be more appreciative with what I have and know that there are people who are really grateful to what very little they have.
Overall, this trip was very moving and I had a blast. I’m considering doing it again when I reach third year. Asha and Margot were both amazing as lecturers. I made some new friends and we plan to be in the same Digital Journalism class in third year.
I’m very grateful to be part of this experience and hope to do it again sometime in the future.
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Late Night HCs
Bucci Gang Edition
TW: nothing too extreme, just a little bit of hurt/comfort stuff sprinkled right here and there.
Bruno Bucciarati
► Bucciarati typically doesn't stay up late at night, he has work and would squeeze all the amount of sleep he can get on his free time.
► Unless he has a lot of things in mind.
► It doesn't matter whether it's a work-related problem, his past, a random thought, or just generally his worries about his future. It will keep him up.
► He'll definitely need someone to be an outlet but if no one's available, he'll just stare at the night sky and distract himself with the moving clouds or finish some of his work until he's too tired to think of anything.
► If you happen to be in the same situation and same place that night though, then make sure that you take care of the trust he has for you when he was at most vulnerable and he will do same with you.
► I personally headcannon Bucciarati to be the type to like those kind of conversations since i highly doubt that he has been so vulnerable in front of anyone besides Abbachio ever since he joined the mafia.
► And even then, he's mostly the one who lifts the spirits up and not the other way around since he's the leader.
► So expect to hear things and words you wouldn't expect to come from the Bucciarati you see everyday come spilling out of his mouth, it'll be a lot.
► Pat his back or better yet, give him a hug and brush his hair while doing so. He needs it a lot since he hasn't really got one after his family fell apart.
► "I feel so much better now, thank you. I'll make sure not to forget about this night. "
Leone Abbachio
► The night owl of the gang.
► Staying up until 3AM is nothing new to this man, hell, he could even go on a whole day without sleep if he has a lot of things that's bothering him.
► He's the opposite of Bucciarati, he prefers to shoulder his intrusive thoughts alone. It'd take some great amount of effort and trust to make him talk and let it out.
► What he does during those times is either using his stand to replay certain memories that could either worsen his guilt or put him at ease, or just drink until he passes out but most of the time, he does both.
► He could also be listening to some music while he does so but if he's feeling guilty for making Bucciarati concerned about his frequent drinking, then he'll just listen to music and hope that he'll fall asleep and not just keep his eyes closed until the sun rises.
► It works, kind of, but even without alcohol driving him to sleep, he'll always be tired. His sleeping schedule is seriously messed up because he never really cared about it in the first place.
► Would sometimes go out for a walk. Leone is fond of the city's peacefulness when everyone is asleep, with the only thing keeping him accompany is the cold air and the dim light of the lampposts.
► Secretly still has his police uniform and would occasionally take it out just to stare at it or talk to it in a not-so-kind of way as he sees his younger self in it.
► Gets dragged in whatever shit Narancia and the others are up to if he gets spotted. Mostly it's just for a movie night behind Bucciarati's back but Abbachio knows better and expects the unexpected when it comes to the gang.
► Knows what everyone does in late night if they're still up and has seen a lot of ungodly sights.
► Whether it be seeing a sleepy Mista and the pistols chanting a weird prayer to a bowl of cereals or Fugo being dragged out of his room by Narancia, Leone knows it.
Pannacotta Fugo
► Just like Bucciarati, Fugo rarely stays up late at night and if he does, it's usually just because he's busy.
► Fugo has hobbies like painting and reading, everyone in the gang knows that. It's just that he gets carried way too far sometimes and loses track of time.
► Who could blame him though when the book he's reading is just too interesting or the painting he's currently working on is almost done, right?
► On extremely rare occasions where something unpleasant enough to keep Fugo up at night happens, he'll bundle himself in his fluffy blanket like a butterfly in its cocoon.
► He always does this back when he's still living with his parents, it makes him feel safe from anything that's haunting him.
► And if it's neither his hobbies or problems that's keeping him up, he'll just hear Narancia whispering outside his door or Mista throwing pebbles at his window.
► For the first few times the duo did this, Fugo was still able to resist until he just can't anymore knowing that they wouldn't leave him alone all night.
► "Well, this isn't so bad. "
► He says as he enthusiastically tosses a popcorn into his mouth with his eyes glued all over the lit screen of the TV.
► Movie nights, along with sneaking out to go the nearest convenience store, became a common thing between the Torture Dance Trio™ ever since then.
Narancia Ghirga
► The type to wake up in the middle of the night and think "Hmm... Everyone's asleep, let's commit robbery tonight!"
► Fugo's sleep paralysis demon.
► Would literally not hesitate to steal chocolate bars with Mista and probably does 3AM challenges with him too.
► Never runs out of ideas to keep himself up at night and is the one who comes up with everything but what he does still depends on his mood.
► If Narancia's feeling a little too lazy then he'll just sleep and most of the time, with music keeping him accompany. But unlike Abbachio, he purposely doesn't wear headphones just to annoy Fugo whose room is right next to his.
► If he's feeling like it, he'll straight up just invite the others to watch a movie or play videogames even though Bruno has already made it clear not to use the TV after 11PM.
► But just as he likes staying up at night doing crazy things with the boys, he also uses his energy left and free time to self-study, as surprising that may sound.
► He may hate reading but he takes advantage of the fact that his brain is much active at night and he doesn't want to depend on Fugo too much. After all, he dreams on going back to school and he's more than willing to be capable enough to do so alone and pass without the other teen's help.
► Will cuddle anything that's near him while he studies but if you give him a plushie, it'll be instantly his favorite and he would definitely use it as a study buddy.
Guido Mista
► Alright, let's be honest here, this dude wouldn't even stay up if it weren't for his bros.
► 5 seconds lying on the bed and he's already knocked out for a good 10 hours if there's no work he has to do for the day. Make it 8 at weekdays thanks to his mafia-related responsibilities.
► He sleeps like a log so only a combination of shaking him up awake with Fugo and Narancia can make him rise from what seems like a two year coma but is really just a normal tuesday night.
► Will pretty much join Narancia at anything he does but since his last three brain cells are obviously still as half asleep as him, he won't be able to remember that much the next day.
► And once he's out of the room and is already sitting on the couch with the guys, Mista's the type to fall asleep halfway through the movie.
► You can't blame him though, it's 12AM and it seems that Fugo got to choose what movie they'll watch since Narancia already got to choose the other night.
► Unless they're playing videogames or are going out then he won't be acting like a slow ass PVZ zombie with a fried brain. Actually, he'll be hella active if that's the case.
► Active at grabbing every snack each second, that is.
► Actually, it's the pistols who does that but oh well, it's not like Mista's innocent too.
► "I swear it's not me who ate all of our groceries for this month! Right, guys?! It's the pistols! "
► And that, everyone, is how Guido blew their little rendezvous without even trying.
Giorno Giovanna
► There's not much to be said about this boy since just like Mista, Giorno goes to bed early as he makes sure he still gets the proper amount of sleep.
► He already has a lot of things to deal with at day so of course, by the end of it, he'll be exhausted.
► Nights before exams are excluded because although he may seem like he skips class sometimes, Giorno still knows his priorities.
► Only when he became the head of the mafia did he really started to lose sleep as great power comes with great responsibilities.
► It took a LONG time for Giorno to adjust to a lot of things cause come on, he maybe resilient but he's still a 15 year old teen.
► Not only does he have towers after towers of work but i like to imagine that he still continued his education and used some of the things he learns in class in the mafia, specifically in classes like history or geography class since as a boss, he has to know every nook and cranny of Italy.
► Not to mention that emergencies happen and he always has to be ready to give out orders, even if it means being woken up at 1AM.
► God, help this child because all the things mentioned above are just an understatement of what happens on the first few months of being in charge of Passione.
► "So this is why Diavolo looks like he's about to explode whenever something goes wrong huh. "
#I'm writing for the gang again hell yeah#jjba#jojos bizarre adventure#vento aureo#golden wind#jojo's bizarre adventure#narancia ghirga#narancia#narancia x reader#leone abbacchio#abbachio x reader#bruno bucciarati#bruno buccellati#bucciarati x reader#guido mista#mista x reader#pannacotta fugo#fugo x reader#giorno giovanna#giorno x reader#||»•norange.writes
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Initial inquiry
cw: Stalking, masturbation, Illumi bugs you, think that’s about it! Enjoy the part
Previous part: here
First part: here
With the most necessary information under his belt and no jobs yet, Illumi went to your home and set about watching you. From what he'd found out and what his brother had told him, you didn't have a boyfriend or partner, although you had been on a date the night he'd run into you, so he couldn't be entirely sure of your relationship status just yet. For the first few days of surveillance, Illumi stayed in a tree in your front yard where he couldn't be seen, simply learning how often you left your home and who all came to visit, which wasn't a lot. Then, he moved closer to your home and watched you through the windows for a few more nights, being extra careful to not be seen.
Some part of him was relieved to find you didn't get up to anything, no visitors came, no parties were held, the most risque thing he saw you do was walk around your home in nothing but a thigh length (f/c) robe. He could easily break you of that bad habit.
Finally, after about two weeks of watching you, the tall man was confident in your reclusive life style. The most social he'd seen you since the party was when your friend, someone named (f/n), came over for a night or two, but they were a college student, only around for the weekend, so he wasn't worried. All he had to do was wait for Tuesday night to slip into your home when the place was dark and quiet.
Carefully, Illumi maneuvered through the window of your back room, expertly avoiding any obstacles or noisy foot holds as he slipped into your home. From there, it was simply a task of being careful as he slithered through your home, placing listening devices and covert cameras that would allow him or his brother to watch you while on jobs or at the estate. He also was sure to find your favorite, most worn accessory and bug it with a spy cam and listening device, just to ensure he could keep track of you even if you did leave your home.
With the bugs placed, Illumi decided to simply look around. Your home was a mess, littered with clothes and garbage from snacks and drinks you'd had, little tools for your hobby, stuff like that. What a slob he thought as he examined a pair of boots that surely weren't yours stationed by the door with a hum. I didn't see anyone aside from that friend come by in the two weeks I've been here, surely she's not in a relationship serious enough to have work boots left here. He thought, but despite the assurance, the sight of them still bothered him. Not only was it a strike to his pride as a thorough, observant assassin, but it just...bothered him to see a potential man's shoes amongst the collection of slippers and shoes you had.
He brushed the feeling away though. If there was a romantic partner he somehow didn't know about, he'd just kill them, simple as that. contemplation for why he was so certain with that decision would have to wait for later, for now, he continued his exploration. After all, if you really did have a man in your life, surely there'd be more evidence. However, after checking your laundry, the few pictures he could find of you and other people, and your phone, Illumi was satisfied that the boots were nothing. Though, after putting your phone back in its spot near you, he was faced with a bit of a different dilemma.
There you were, laying on your back in bed before him, peacefully asleep in, judging from the bit of bare thigh he could see peeking from beneath your mussed blanket, a pretty meager sort of pajamas. Just leave. Before she wakes up and finds you here. He told himself, but it was as if such an innocuous part of the body put him in this weird hypnotic trance. Despite knowing he shouldn't linger in a place where he'd so easily be seen, Illumi just found himself staring at your (s/c) thigh, a strange urge to reach out and touch it nagging at him from the back of his mind, fueling a powerful fire in his gut. He pushed these urges away though, finally forcing his dark eyes away from the bit of skin he could see and leaving your bedroom.
He shook his head once back in your living room, pushing down the lustful thoughts that were now bubbling up. You can't do anything to her. He chided himself, If you did you'd leave evidence and she could report you. However the logic didn't help to quell the hormonal waves eating at him.
This was one thing he disliked most about being without a wife. He didn't dislike being horny, he understood it was a primal need that not even he could repress, but without a wife to take care of these needs, it just left him with two options, either leave it until it eventually dies on its own, or go the disgraceful route and get himself off. He usually went for option a, it sucked the most but he felt like masturbation, while satisfying and quicker, was a waste of perfectly good DNA. However, tonight he didn't exactly have the patience to wait, so he bit the bullet and decided to sit in your bathroom and just get himself off.
Your bathroom was messier than he would like, but he had no time to bother with that. He sighed and just shifted his pants down to free his hardening cock. Then, with another soft sigh, Illumi began stroking himself at a slow, steady pace, allowing the dirty thoughts that were now swirling around in his mind to linger and grow. It wasn't a mystery why Illumi responded the way he had, aside from the fact he hadn't exactly had a woman recently, you were no where near unattractive, he'd seen enough of your curves in the dress he'd met you in to know that, so he had no problems in finding thoughts to fully stiffen his member further and add to the pleasurable friction his hand provided. So, he just thought of doing things to you, mainly imagining your fairly plush thighs squeezing around his cock while he slowly thrust in and out of them. He also let his thoughts drift into different areas, fantasies of breeding you, of holding you down while you squeal and plead for him to stop, making you beg for him to cum inside of you, so many things easily came to mind pertaining to you, maybe a concerning amount of thoughts. Nonetheless, it worked to reach his goal. Before long, the waves of euphoria that clouded over his mind reached their peak and he couldn't restrain a low groan while his dick twitched and released spurts of virile cum onto your bathroom floor and a pair of (color) underwear you'd left on the ground.
Illumi took a moment, letting out a breath and letting the warm, slightly shaky feeling fade before he focused on listening for any sounds in your home. Luckily you hadn't seemed to stir, so he had time to pull his pants back up and grimace at the splatters of jizz on the floor. With a sigh, he crouched down and just used the pair of panties he'd soiled with his seed to wipe up the evidence. He would've used toilet paper or something, but the (color) underwear were undoubtedly ruined, so he just used them to clean up the rest and than wrapped them in toilet paper and pocketed the disgraceful evidence. After that, he decided against further lingering. It was getting to be morning, and he didn't want to have another reaction like that where he was more likely to be caught. So, he left through the same way he'd come in.
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*KOTLC incorrect quotes*
Anyways, a long list of incorrect KOTLC quotes, feel free to use these for anything if ya want!
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Glimmer: Arson? Oh, you mean "crime brûlée".
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Fitz: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.
Fitz: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.
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Keefe, holding up his class notes: And then this doodle of a burrito because when I first read Aristotle, I thought it was pronounced like “Chipotle”.
Marella, in shock: Wait a minute, is it “Chip-o-tottle”?
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Sophie: I wasn't hurt that badly. Elwin said all my bleeding was internal, that's where the blood's supposed to be!
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Police Officer: You have the right to remain silent.
Marella: I choose to waive that right!
Marella: *screaming*
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Brant (whoops sorry bout this one): Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don’t answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.
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Sophie: I would never say that my best friend is a bitch and I don’t like her. That’s not true… Biana is a bitch and I like her very much!
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Lex, Bex, Rex: If I can't cause tiny bits of chaos every day, I think my body will shut down.
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Keefe on Tuesday: *glues a dime to the sidewalk* Heh heh heh.
Keefe on Wednesday: *walking down the street* Ooh hey! A dime!
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Forkman, to the squad: And remember, if I get harsh with you it is only because you’re doing it all wrong.
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Keefe, tearing up the room: Where are they?
Keefe, looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?
Keefe: Somebody moved my E.L. Fudges, and now I am going to run away again.
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Tam: Your existence is confusing.
Keefe: How so?
Tam: Your presence is annoying, but the thought of anything bad happening to you upsets me.
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Sophie: I have one foot in the grave but in a kind of fun flirty way, the way one might slip on a fishnet stocking.
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Linh: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by an spontaneous musical number.
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Dex: Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.
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Sophie: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities.
Sophie, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor.
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Dex, to Stina: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.
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Sophie: My life isn't as glamourous as my wanted poster makes it look.
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Dex: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one, Wonderboy.
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Marella: As someone who has a long history of not understanding anything, I feel confident in my ability to continue not knowing what is going on.
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Fitz: I'm a firm believer in "if you're going to fail, you might as well fail spectacularly."
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*out grocery shopping*
Linh: *takes a free sample twice*
Linh: Robbery and fraud. I am a Rebel (TM) .
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Sophie: Sometimes I wonder if I’m hearing voices.
Sophie: Then I remember that’s the last bit of sanity I have trying to get me to fall asleep at a reasonable time.
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Sophie: Does anyone know how to relax? Asking for a friend.
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Demon: Hey, I took your soul last month and-
Tam: No returns.
Demon: *sobbing* But it's making me sad...
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Dex: So, according to my university, it is, quote, “my responsibility if there is an internet outage to contact the faculty and the department.”
Dex: Now, if you’re a critical thinker like me, you might be wondering one thing.
Dex: HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO EMAIL THE DEPARTMENT?!?!?!
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Tam: Hey, what’s the name of the other guy who lives with Tiergan?
Linh: His cats' names are Walter and Rose.
Tam: That's not what I asked.
Linh: That is all the information I have.
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Keefe: Ro, remember when you said you weren’t going to interfere with my love life?
Ro: No, that doesn’t sound like me at all.
(alternatively, Alden)
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Linh: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!?
Tam, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.
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Marella: I'd roast you, but my mom says you can't burn trash.
Marella: *slow-mo walks out of the room*
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Biana: I'm gonna get my piolet's license. I've already got a driver's license and a cosmetology license, that's two of the big five licenses.
Fitz: The big five licenses?
Biana: Driver's license, cosmetology license, pilot's license, fishing license, and… license to kill! I can't wait to get that one.
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Dex: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.
Fitz: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Biana, do you think I have anger issues?
Biana: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.
-
Keefe: So how’s the food Sophie made?
Fitz: It's great! Compliments to her.
Keefe: *goes to the kitchen*
Keefe: You're adorable.
Sophie: *blushes*
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Biana: And now for a gay update with Linh and Marella.
Marella: Getting gayer.
Biana: Thank you, Marella.
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Sophie: Hey, do you know the password to Keefe’s computer?
Biana: I love you, Sophie.
Sophie: Aww, that’s so swe—
Biana: No, you misunderstood, the password is "iloveyouSophie".
Sophie: Oh, no numbers? Not very safe.
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Fitz: Hey, Biana, are you free on Friday? Like around eight?
Biana: Yeah.
Fitz: And you, Tam?
Tam: Umm... yes?
Fitz: Great! Because I'm not. You two go out without me. Enjoy your date!
Biana: Did he just-
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Sophie: Do you cook?
Biana: I made a cake once.
Fitz: Yeah, it was good.
Biana: Really?
Fitz: Don’t make me lie twice, Biana.
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Dex: Nice rock.
Keefe: Thanks, Tam gave it to me.
Tam: I threw it at you!
Keefe: Isn’t he the sweetest?
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Juline: I just had a long talk with the triplets about hitting and now they are yelling “it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence” before hitting each other.
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Sophie: I made you all playlists!
Sophie: Tam, yours has only heavy metal and punk, and is dark like your soul.
Sophie: Keefe, yours has sad songs and blues to pair with your crippling depression.
Sophie: And Biana has the ABBA Gold album.
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Fitz: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel.
Biana: An optimist sees light at the end of the tunnel.
Dex: A realist sees a freight train.
Tam: The train driver sees three idiots standing on train tracks.
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Mr. Forkle: For self defense reasons, I'm going to pretend to be a burglar and you guys have to act wisely.
Biana, Keefe, & Sophie: Okay.
Mr. Forkle: If you don't want to die, give me all your money.
Biana: Bold of you to assume I have money.
Keefe: Bold of you to assume I don't want to die.
Sophie: Bold of you to assume I can die.
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Sophie: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.
Keefe: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.
Dex: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.
Marella: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.
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Biana: What’s it like being tall?
Marella: Is it nice?
Sophie: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?
Fitz: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.
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Stina: You have friends and I envy that.
Marella: You're welcome to share my friends.
Stina: *looks at Dex and Sophie*
Stina: I don't want those.
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Della: Tommorrow's garbage day.
Fitz: I can't believe you made a whole day dedicated to Alvar.
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Linh: Bottling up negative emotions is bad for your health, so you shouldn't do it.
Tam: I know, that's why I bottle up all my emotions, both positive and negative, so it cancels out.
Linh: Th-that's not how that works-
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Marella: Do you want to know your gay name?
Linh: My... my gay name?
Marella: Yeah, it's your first name-
Linh: Haha. Very funny Marella-
Marella: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.
Linh: Oh- oh my god.
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Glimmer: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.
The Black Swan: Those are wanted posters!
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Biana: Are you mad?
Tam: No.
Biana: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?
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Keefe: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.
Biana: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.
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Biana: *on the phone* Hey Fitz, do you know my blood type?
Fitz: Of course, it's A+.
Biana: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-!
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Fitz, to Sophie: Are you ready to commit?
Sophie: Like, a crime or a relationship?
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Literally Anyone: Hey, aren’t you Sophie Foster?
Sophie: You a Councillor?
Literally Anyone: No.
Sophie: Then yes, I am.
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Sophie: I typed "bitch" into my GPS and guess what? I'm in your driveway.
Stina:
Sophie: Vroom vroom, come out already.
Stina: I’m gay—
Sophie: Not what I meant, but cool.
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Keefe: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset?
Sophie: No, I said "Keefe, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.
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Mr. Forkle: I’m not so sure you’re stakeout material.
Sophie: I’m a chronic insomniac, I was born for this.
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Juline: I only have two emotions: exhaustion and stress. And I’m somehow always feeling both simultaneously.
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Marella: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*
Marella: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.
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Biana: Maybe the true treasure was friendship all along. But I hope not, because I can’t spend friendship on new clothes
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Dex: Do you want to play 20 Questions?
Fitz: Sure!
Fitz: Whats your favorite color?
Dex, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you like men?
#kotlc shitpost#kotlc incorrect quotes#kotlc memes#kotlc sophie#kotlc dex#kotlc fitz#kotlc marella#kotlc linh#kotlc biana#kotlc tam#kotlc glimmer#kotlc black swan#kotlc neverseen
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Never Too Late 2
Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)
This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.
Note: Things are... going. But I’m doing my best.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
It was about time you started doing something. Past due, you’d say. Your body was screaming for it. You were no longer the college grad who could sit and eat potato chips to her heart’s desire. Or the thirtysomething in denial of the looming 4-0. No you had stepped upon the threshold and you felt and saw the changes which came with another decade.
And yet, the simple act was daunting. Your old beat up sneakers squeaked as you descended the stairs of your building to the street. You wore a pair of thin track pants you’d bought years ago on the unspent whim of a New Years’ resolution. Your sports bra was new and uncomfortable; the tank top a bit too tight for your liking.
You did your best to stretch outside. You kicked your foot up against the brick and lunged a few times forward and back. Your muscles were stiff from inactivity; from years of neglect; from time. You hopped in place as worked up to your departure.
You began at a slow jog. You reached the first corner out of breath.
You were old. Accept it.
You continued and wove your way to the park where few others paced themselves around the fountain and winding paths where happy owners walked their happier pets. Another breather as you gasped. The sweat gathered under the cotton shirt and created a humid tent in the pants.
You gripped your hips and stared ahead. Keep going. You pushed off your heels and bent your arms as you fought your way through the tension in your chest, the burn in your lungs, the ache in your knees. One day at a time, it would get easier. You hoped.
You wondered how you’d manage to fit in your new regime on workdays. A morning run would mean even earlier days; likely shorter nights. You’d have to make it work. You didn’t have another ten years to wait around; if you did, it might be too late to change.
You were tired. Of the years passing like second. Of the tedium. Of nothing happening. Of failed hopes. Of pointless relationships and temporary stability. You weren’t where you wanted to be and you’d likely never get there but there were other desires in life. Other achievements to be made.
Your mother could resent you for your singleness; your lack of familial bliss. She could not begrudge you entirely. Not if you bettered yourself. Not if you turned it around and tried. Not if you set aside your passivity for proaction. Because it was your life, not hers.
When you got back to your building, you were ready to collapse. The old elevator was still out of order. It’s old grated doors marked with an X of tape and a handwritten sign. You dragged yourself up the stairs and stumbled inside. You downed a glass of water and splayed over your single armchair. Your heart slowed as you flipped on the television and checked off day one in your newly downloaded app.
👟
Day two. Exhausted and still sore, you made yourself go. You had an hour before you had to be back to shower and ready for work. The day seemed even longer ahead of you. Eight hours at a desk in pain, dealing with the frustrated public. It was worse than you could imagine. Your night was spent with an ice pack and half-dazed.
Day three, four, five. A tic in your phone which barely felt worth it. Six almost saw you giving up as you ambled around work with splints in your calves. Seven, another day off, but you still had work to do. You pulled on your freshly washed track pants and a loose tee. The last days of summer approached but the heat had yet to relent.
You took your usual route to the park. You stopped at the entrance and stretched a second time. You found it was helping. The pain was duller, the aches less spread out. You set off and found your step. A week and you could already see the ounce of improvement. Well, inside more than out.
You measured your breaths as you neared the curve shrouded in trees; leaves still lush and aromatic. Soon enough, they’d darken and drop. Time was like footsteps. Each one forward took you further from where you were and yet you could feel like you were standing still or come to a startling stop that left you hurtling into the void.
Like then. Your worn treads slid over the ground as you collided with the unexpected runner coming your way. Your eyes had been above him, staring at the rounded tree tops and their sprawling branches. On the early morning hues that cast the sentinels in a placid mural.
You stumbled back, your hands reaching back to catch yourself but you never met the ground. Two thick hands caught your upper arms and steadied you. You looked up, both surprised and not by the face staring back at you. Both familiar and not. After so long in the city, the last two weeks had seen as many run-ins with Steve Rogers. More, now.
“You,” He smiled as he slowly released you, his fingers tickled your arms.
“You.” You echoed dully.
“Small world,” He chuckled.
“New York isn’t that small,” You said. “You must think I’m some weirdo.”
“Or maybe I’m the weirdo?” He ventured. “Didn’t peg you as a runner.”
“Wow, thanks,” You scoffed. “And I’m not. Well, wasn’t. New hobby.”
“New?” He raised a brow.
“One week,” You shrugged. “Not much and I’m sure once it’s cold, I’ll go back to my sloth,” You said. “Uh, sorry about… wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Not at all. Neither was I.” He smiled.
“Well, I, uh…” You looked past him, “Have a lot to go.”
“Can I join you?” He asked. You squinted at his eagerness.
“Weren’t you going…” You pointed over your shoulder.
“I just do circles,” He said. “Doesn’t really matter which direction.”
“I’m not very fast.”
“It’s not a race.”
“Alright,” You threw your hands up, just wanting to get it over with. “But if you feel like leaving me behind, don’t think it’ll bother me.”
“Come on,” He turned so he faced the same direction. “It’s always easier with company.”
You exhaled and righted yourself before you fell back into a jog. He kept pace beside you. You could smell his sweat. You tried to keep your breathing quiet.
“I used to run with my pal Sam but… he joined a gym.” He said. “So, new hobby?”
“Hobby is putting it… nicely,” You huffed. “More like trying to make up for my own laziness.”
“It’s never too late to make a change,” He preened. “You got any other hobbies? Maybe something you enjoy more?”
You glanced at him. Your chest hurt but you didn’t want to slow down.
“Cross-stitching? Tetris?” You offered. “Nothing special. Just… life.”
“How’s work?” He asked.
You were silent as you kept running. You listened to the sound of your foot falls as your breath came faster.
“I--” You came to a stop and turned to him as you touched your side. “Forgive me for being a bit--confused but--” You gulped. “Don’t you have friends? Super friends?”
“Co-workers,” He said and his hands went to his hips. “Oh, maybe you already have enough friends then.”
“Look, I’m forty, I work the same job I had sixteen years ago, I live in a box, and I’m falling apart,” You shook your head. “Not many people are trying to be my friend. All my friends have families; obligations.”
“Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common,” He grinned. “So we should be great friends.”
You frowned. His optimism was irksome. His refusal to be rebuffed more so.
“Friends?” You repeated darkly.
“Maybe just running buddies?” He suggested. “I do get a bit lonely out here with just the chipmunks.”
“Steve.” You uttered.
“And I think you need someone to keep you on the right path, hmm? I’ve been told I’m a great motivator. Bit of a hard ass but I’ve got a talent and I use it.”
You considered him. He was right. An app wasn’t going to keep you going forever. Already, you were tempted to drag the little icon to the bin. Already you were tempted to sleep in. Already you were succumbing to failure.
“You sure?” You asked.
“What time do you usually run?”
“Well, weekdays, I head out at six, back home at seven, then off to work,” You explained. “Weekends I get an extra hour of sleep.”
“Alright,” He turned and set off. You followed. “I can’t promise every day. Lots of work out of town but weekends at least.”
“You really don’t--”
“Maybe if you start saying yes, you’ll find what you’ve been looking for,” He intoned.
You grumbled and pressed your lips together. He was right. You hated that he was. Something about this man both intrigued and disturbed you. He was kind but with a hint of pushiness. You just couldn’t decide if his insistence was merely clueless or something more deliberate.
👟
Another week and the mornings were easier, though the days continued to drag. Steve met you again on Monday and Tuesday but Wednesday he was gone. You didn’t mind so much but he returned on Saturday. He waited for you at the park entrance, a wrapped box in his hand. You were curious but not nosy.
You slowed as he greeted you.
“Hey,” He smiled. “I didn’t realise until after I’d gone that I had no way to tell you I’d be away.”
“It’s fine.” You assured him. “Think I managed just fine on my own.”
“Work,” He said. “But a quick mission so I can’t complain.”
“I saw you on the news,” You looked towards the fountain that stood further inside the park. “I figured.”
“Still, I think maybe… I’d like a more direct line.” He pulled out his phone as he kept the box under his arm.
“Are you asking for my number?”
“In case anything happens,” He said. “I mean, we’re not strangers.
“Sure, but…” You wetted your dry lip with your tongue. “Okay. Um, I don’t have my phone on me but I can give you my number.”
“Great, I’ll text you.” He unlocked his cell and carefully keyed in your details as you recited them. He replaced the phone in the strap around his bicep. “There. Your very own on-call hero.”
“Right,” You nodded slowly.
“Oh, and…” He grabbed the box from beneath his elbow. “Happy belated birthday.”
“What? Uh, I can’t. You already--”
“A cake? Really. Everyone should have a cake on their birthday.” He held out the gift. “And presents too.”
You looked at the small square box. You chewed your lip and shifted your weight on your feet.
“It’s really nothing special.” He urged. “If you’re wondering, July fourth,” He pointed to himself. “So you’re in the clear.”
“Steve--”
“I already got it and… it’s not really my colour,” He shoved it closer. “Please.”
You slowly took it as you gave a quiet thank you. You carefully slipped a finger in the crease of red wrapping paper and tore it open. A dusty pink smart watch shone back at you. You blinked and looked up at him.
“The guy at the store said you sync it with your phone and it can count your steps and all that. Send you reminders.” He rubbed his neck. “I thought it would be useful. Especially when I’m away.”
You tilted your head at him then looked back to the clear plastic window of the box. It was expensive, you could tell.
“It’s… a lot.” You said.
“It’s a gift. It’s not about the price tag,” He shrugged. “Come on. Try it on.”
You scratched your hairline and muttered. You went over to a bench and sat as you worked at opening the box. You took out the watch and admired its round face. He offered to do it up for you and you turned your wrist over. He secured it and you held up your hand as you looked it over.
“You like it?” He asked. “They had gold but I liked the pink.”
“Nice color,” You affirmed. “I guess… I guess I can use it.” You lowered your arm and hid the watched with your other hand. “Thank you.”
“It’s nothing. It’s what friends do,” He stood and gathered the packaging. “You don’t need all this, do you?”
“No,” You stood. “Thanks.”
He tossed it in a bin surrounded by hedges and you neared.
“Well, should we get going?” He asked.
“Yeah. Maybe an extra lap today?” You said. “Push myself a little.”
#steve rogers#dark steve rogers#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader smut#dark steve rogers x reader#dark!steve rogers x reader#fic#au#dark fic#dark!fic#series#never too late#mcu#marvel#captain america
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Come Down to the Black Sea
Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.
Rating: Teen, unless I chose to post the later chapters. Then things get all dirty and stuff.
Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki. So, there’s that. Foul language, as always. Slight struggle.
Hello, please take my garbage. This was originally a discord exclusive ficlet that ended up too fucking long. I meant to post it a while back but got distracted. I’ve read over it and I hate it a lot more than I did originally, more than I can really convey, but I feel bad for not posting anything story related for a while and maybe some folks will enjoy this. I promise I edited, I swear. Never thought I’d write something like this. Ever. and by ‘like this’, I mean no filth less than 500 words in. Either way, here it is.
“What would an ocean be without a monster lurking in the dark? It would be like sleep without dreams.”
The sea is as much a constant to you as the gentle breeze that blankets your little port town. Every action you take daily in some small way reminds you that not so far away, the unforgiving tides are lapping hungrily at the shore and the restless ocean waters stir miles from the coast. Every breath you take is somewhat tinged with the briny smell of sea salt and slight sulfur. Seafood stalls and restaurants dot the coastal region, making up a large portion of the diets and employ of the folks who make their homes here.
Yet, for as big of a part of their lives as it is, there is so little known about it.
The ocean’s mysteries are as vast as her expanse and as deep as the trenches that lurk within her depths.
Children are raised on cautionary tales, made acutely aware of the ever-present dangers of life near the open water. Rip currents and drowning, sailors lost at sea and boats that never make it to harbor. Hostile creatures that make their nests within the darkened deep beyond the pale of human experience. These things are often as mysterious as they are tragic and leave behind loved ones mourning not only the loss of lives, but the answers they’ll never have.
Sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if your kind has gotten just a bit too comfortable near the seaside.
You’re not the only one that thinks so.
It’s not by any stretch of the imagination to consider humans a loud and overwhelming presence. They dominate any space they come across, often having little to no regard for any other living creature and imposing their will on anything unfortunate enough to cross their path. Once tranquil steads are trampled, native creatures baited and hunted, and soon there’s no semblance of the beauty that once existed. Humanity leaves behind an impossibly large footprint that destroys whatever is caught beneath its crushing boot.
The ocean is no exception.
Sailors, whalers, and fishermen blot the waters, disrupting the natural cycles of the creatures that make their homes beneath them. Garbage, rot, and other various forms of filth are callously dumped and left to drift. Human hubris has seen the death of the coral reefs, the extinction of entire species, and even radiation left to leak and poison everything in its path.
The only place safe from the fecund shadow of destruction that looms wherever humans may roam are places far too treacherous to facilitate their survival.
You’ve come to believe that maybe beings that are forced to breed in that darkness grow to harbor a grudge against that which pushed them there.
Your little seaport city has always been relatively calm. It attracts enough tourists to keep it economically stable, but not so many as to make it a cultural hub. The signature beaches are only mildly clogged with tourist trap giftshops, and while the sands are busy, there’s not so much foot traffic as to make it unpleasant to visit.
Things have run relatively smoothly for your hometown, at least for the majority of your life. There’s the one-off oddity every now and again, but for the most part, it’s a fine place to live. The native folk are kind enough, and there’s decent opportunity for growth. Still, life always left something to be desired; some greater need that tugs at you and calls you toward the ocean.
Watching the fishing vessels come to and from the bay can be calming. What started as a time wasting hobby as a child has turned into a nightly practice. The marine layer makes it difficult to see early mornings, and the incessant chatter of tourists and their screeching younglings make it difficult to think during the daylight hours. It didn’t take long before the boats mattered little, and it was the time alone you valued. You’d curl up in the still-warm sand, gazing out into the horizon and watching the moon rise high above the waves, listening to the sound of the ocean and losing yourself in its subtle song.
Even as adulthood inevitably sought you out, you found time for your solitary moments that existed between no one but you and the horizon.
It brought you a sense of peace. No matter how much time passed, a part of you stayed anchored to the beach.
Yet, nothing stays peaceful forever, especially near the rocky shoreline.
It started with a missing boat.
It was the talk of the town. A small schooner had gone missing just off the coast and never returned. A band of brothers had set out for a weekend voyage and by Tuesday, no word of them had returned to shore. It had made the local news, pictures of the men aboard flashed across the screen, all smiling faces and sunburned skin. They were experienced sailors, raised on the waves and having spent more time in a boat than they did on land.
Surely, they were fine. Everyone hoped for the best.
At least until pieces of the boat washed ashore a week later, no sign of brothers anywhere.
That incident was the first of many.
Early morning swimmers began to disappear without a trace, divers vanishing without warning. More and more boats failed to make it to harbor despite calm conditions, and soon some people rejected the water all together. The missing persons board was filled with more macabre grinning faces that served as reminders than ever before, and inevitably, people became paranoid.
Superstition gained favor over logic, and tales spread of a malevolent being plaguing the coast began to spread. Children were warned against playing in the tides and tourists begin to shy away from the port. Locals and witnesses talk amongst each other, claiming to see a pair of vicious, glowing red eyes from deep within the water after dark.
Those who denied the possibility shunned those who fell into the myth, claiming that it was clearly boat lights and that folks were too finicky. There was no mysterious sea monster, only misfortune and the loose lips of idle handed fools.
Still, that didn’t account for the sudden surge in disappearances nor did it explain why no remains were ever found.
The mysteries intrigued you, but you worry little for the danger. While you weren’t entirely sure what to think, you never stepped far into the ocean on your nightly visits, mostly only skirting around the water’s edges and observing. Superstition be damned, this was the one place you felt a sense of utter calm and peace. You’re not disturbing the sea or her inhabitants; only sitting by her and admiring her beauty.
You mind your business along the beach and you think that keeps you safe, but that doesn’t spare you his wrath.
A lonely night walker, you loiter along the sands and drag your feet through the wetness. You never let the water flood past your ankles, opting to squish the damp muck beneath your toes instead. He watches you, just out of his reach and still so close. Rage simmers in his chest and his fingers twitch, longing to rip you apart, feel your heartbeat as it slows and ceases beneath his fingertips. He doesn’t dare try his luck against the surface, but you infuriate him.
Time and time again, he’s tried to lure you out.
You never fall for it, though he can tell by the way your eyes linger on the ocean a tad too long that you're curious. If he cared enough to place it, he'd say you look sad, maybe a little forlorn. After all, who comes to a deserted beach alone at night that isn't?
Always the same section of sand, always the same look on your face. You kick at the particles stuck to your grimy feet like it'll sooth whatever repressed emotion you're stewing in, and he can't help but scoff.
Humans are completely ridiculous.
Still, he watches, determined to see you inhale deep the waters around you while what little light you have left in your eyes leaves, same as the rest of your kind that has fallen prey to his deadly actions.
Night after night he waits, and night after night you resist. You don't fall for his tricks, even the ones that beguile the seasoned sailors. It's curious, he'll admit. No matter how longingly you look at the ocean like it could offer you something you need desperately, you never give into the temptation to wade just a little deeper, just take a few fucking steps forward. Perhaps you come from a sea fairing family who had elders that warned against the seduction of the low night tides, or maybe your primal human brain still holds an inkling as to what dwells deep beneath your world, but either way, it agitates him more than he'd like.
He's always had a wanderlust and never sticks around the same sections for long, but the fact that you've been evading the watery grave he dug just for you grates at him. He finds himself waiting moonrise after moonrise to see your form emerge, wracking his brain for ways to trick your feeble human mind into his waters. He's better than you, in every sense of the word. This shouldn't be this difficult.
If he didn't know better, he would say that you know. You never quite look directly at him, but your head is always turned in his direction, as if you have some sixth sense of his location. He doesn't like it. Even though you're the one in the sights of a predator, it makes him feel like a goldfish trapped in a tank. You piss him off.
But eventually, one night, his patience finally pays off.
Warily, you perch yourself on some rocks that stray into the ocean. You don't even dip your feet in, which, while not ideal, would have been enough for him to work with. Instead, you sit with your arms crossed over your knees, same distant grimace on your face that you sport every night. You seem hypnotized by the reflection of the moon on his waters, hardly blinking or even really breathing except for the occasional despondent sigh.
The thing that stirs you from your daze is a flash of silver just under the water beneath where you're sitting. At first you think it's a fish, since it's not uncommon to see them around when all the beachgoers retreat for the day, but the eerie luminescent glow is unlike any fish you've ever seen before in a life almost wholly occupied by the sea. You watch intently for a moment, hoping to see it again, but give up when all that greets you is the deep, murky blue of sunsetted waters.
Still, once you pull your eyes from the gently splashing waves, it catches your attention once more. You're curious if you're just seeing strange broken reflections of the moon, but that wouldn't explain why once you offer it your attention, it disappears.
You keep your eyes down and stare long into the water, and eventually it appears again. Long and stringy, it’s definitely unlike any fish fin you've ever seen. It's incandescent almost, reflecting the silvery light of the moon with an oddly hypnotizing pearlescent glow. You’ll admit, it’s strange, but what alarms you the most are the two crimson eyes staring up at you from beneath the tangle of silvered webbing.
You almost recoil, but you're anchored in place by some hybrid mix of fear and curiosity. The urge to scream becomes paralyzed somewhere deep in your throat when a thin, gangly arm reaches up and grasps at the craggy surface of the rock before your feet. It looks… human... or at least it would, if it wasn't for the slight iridescent sheen of the skin- if you look closely, you can almost make out what appears to be scales and a thin fin that runs the expanse of the forearm. Thick, slimy webbing coats the inside of each finger, becoming more apparent as long claws stretch and crawl toward your retracted legs.
Those maliciously alluring eyes draw closer and closer to the surface and soon enough, you can make out what appears to be a face somewhere just under the waves staring right back up you.
Another hand joins the one currently clinging to the rock and the figure hoists itself up partway from the water, and soon you're face to face with...
Well, you can't really say what.
You were right, it's human. He's human. At least… half human?
Drenched white hair slicks back just below his shoulders and clings to the sides of his face, beadlets of water sliding down from the wintery strands down to what appears to be a pair of gills that encircle the rounds of his neck. There's something akin to black fins parting the slicked hair where his ears should be, but even that's not enough to pull your attention from the perverse scarlet eyes burning into yours from behind the severely salt-chapped flesh of his face.
Unnatural hue aside, they’re utterly petrifying, and while something deep in your body tells you that you should run, you can't bring yourself to move from the spot.
He pulls himself up a bit, lithe torso exposed as he lazily rests his head on his finned forearms by your feet. His body language is completely contradicted by the obvious hate in his expression, which only makes it even more difficult for your brain to try and decide what in the fuck you're supposed to do in this situation.
What the hell is he?
You try to ask, but the shock of seemingly stumbling upon a possibly malevolent supernatural creature in the dead of night has caused a severe regression in your speech capabilities. The only thing your mouth is capable of producing is a series of incoherent babbles and sounds, hands shaking as your resist the urge to touch him to see if he's real or if you've been slipped some form of extremely powerful hallucinogen.
He studies you briefly through pale lashes and you could swear you see him roll his eyes before a prolonged blink.
I'm sorry, is this not the expected result? He's looking at you like you're the weird one in this scenario?
Regardless, he lets you stare at him and allows your feeble human brain to come to terms with what you're seeing. Amazing, how quickly your kind forgets you don't exist alone. He draws the line, however, when you finally find the ability to go to poke his fins. He swats you away with an unnaturally quick movement from his slippery, wet hand and you stare at the water spots he leaves behind like it's the strangest shit you've ever seen.
"Are you often so rude as to touch strangers, human?"
You skitter back on your ass, eyes wide and disbelieving even as the truth stares you back with a mocking expression. His voice is raspy and graveled, cracking from what you assume is disuse. It takes you a moment to process his words, despite being absolutely certain that you’ve heard them.
"Holy fuck, you're real!"
"Just grasping that, are we?"
"What the fuck are you?"
His face contorts and his lips lift in a snarl, revealing the extremely sharp looking fangs on either side of his mouth. Okay, so that might've been extremely rude. He's obviously sentient, so maybe saying something so brash and offensive wasn't really the way to go.
"Sorry, I mean -fuck - I've just never, uh-" You clear your throat awkwardly, still trying to decide whether or not to bolt. He watches you through tautly narrowed lids, and you get the feeling you should tread very carefully. Whatever emotion it is you see in his face, it certainly isn't patience.
"Are you a..." What would you call him? A mermaid? A fish-man? A sea spirit? It doesn't quite matter, since he doesn't give you time to finish your line of thought.
"Your people have no word for what I am." He speaks the words almost bitterly. "But just because your kind doesn’t acknowledge me doesn't mean I don't exist."
You're not entirely sure if you should apologize on behalf of the human race or admit yourself into a psych ward.
"What, uh, what should I call you... Um, sir?" Smooth. But you're not really sure what to say here. What exactly are proper honorifics when it comes to situations like this?
"My name," He sighs again, as if it's some great chore to introduce himself. "Is Shigaraki."
"Okay, Shigaraki," You say his name, trying to get the hang of it as it rolls off your tongue. "It's nice to meet you- I think?"
He pays your attempt at polite conversation no mind at all.
"What are you doing here, human?"
Okay, he's curt and to the point. Good to know. He seems to have very little consideration for your bewilderment, despite being the one that demanded your attention in the first place, which isn’t necessarily a good thing when you don’t really know how to answer his question between the confusion and the sheer oddity. To be frank, you can’t muster much of a response.
"Just... sitting here?"
"No, I mean what are you doing? Every single night, you come here, you look at the sea for hours. Why?"
His pointed tone demands an answer, seeming irate or even provoked by your harmless nightly activity.
"I don't know." For some reason, the question frustrates you as well, mainly because you really don't know. The ocean soothes you, even if you're just spectating it. It's too busy during the day, packed with tourists and teenagers yelling and bounding around in the sand, and while you're happy they're having a good time and all, the voices are impossible to drown out. Even the sea seems to protest their presence, the tide becoming higher and higher and more rambunctious until it almost forces the invaders out. More than once, folks have almost drowned for being too stubborn and refusing to cut their beach day short despite the obvious danger.
It seems to calm itself at night, waves gently washing ashore instead of slapping angrily at the feet of anyone treading the sand as if it's trying to coax them deeper only to pull them under.
"You don't know?" It seems more like a statement than a question, and it's an unimpressed statement at that.
"Yeah. I don't really know. I just like being here, I suppose." You shrug, letting your arms fall limp at your sides. It could be the shock, but somehow, you’re actually managing to carry on the conversation with him. "Is there something wrong with that?"
Something flashes in his eyes, and it sends a shiver down your spine. Once again his body language drastically contradicts the vibe you're getting from him. He leans back casually in the water, and just beneath the edge, you see something slick and shiny flutter where you're certain his legs should be. "I guess not. But if you like it here so much, why don't you ever come in?"
"I-I don't know... The water is dangerous at night..."
“Is ‘I don’t know’ all you know how to say?” He gives you a derisive smile, mocking your tone while swimming graceful circles back and forth in front of the rock with an inhuman grace that sets you on edge. "Don't tell me you're scared, little human."
"I'm not scared, I'm just not stupid."
He runs his tongue over his fangs and something akin to a smile crosses his features. "Sure you're not. A little girl like you could never be afraid of a little water."
He's taunting you and you know it, but the way his eyes stay locked with yours as he swims around and around and around is making you feel a little dizzy...
"I'm not afraid-"
"Come in then."
He dips into the water and disappears, and despite knowing better, you find yourself leaning over the rock to see where he's gone. He's waiting for you just under the waves. You can see the fluid flap of an ebony tail glimmering in the moonlight, silver hair haloed around his head. One clawed finger beckons you toward him, and you can feel yourself leaning further and further.
You're willing yourself to draw back, but the closest you can come is ceasing your forward movements. Even as you try, you can't pull your eyes away from his, staring unblinkingly up at you and glowing that foreboding sanguine shade that cuts even through the darkness of the waves.
'Come in, little girl. Show me you're not scared.’
His webbed hand threads up through the rippling surface, ready and waiting for yours.
You can't help it.
You reach.
You feel the slippery surface of his scaley skin interlocking with yours before something in his expression morphs into something wholly ominous and knocks you from your stupor. His magnetic eyes darken, sinister snarl hinting through the smile he’s straining to keep. This isn’t a serene sea creature playfully helping you face your fears; the ill intent is written on his face too prevalently as his mesmeric movements lure you toward the water.
This is a predator, one determined to sink his teeth deep into your neck and steal the life from your still beating heart. You can feel it as his grip begins to tighten on your own palm.
Whatever spell he might have been casting has been broken if only just enough for you to shake yourself free. He's almost fully closed his fingers around yours before you jerk sharply, yanking your hand away. In anticipation of your movements, he thrusts up and out of the water, sharp claws digging hold into the skin of your forearm. You cry out from surprise more so than the pain even though the tips of his pointed talons slice open your skin with little to no resistance.
Fangs bared and enraged, he’s clearly livid now. All facade of relaxation falls away as his tail flaps furiously trying to pull you into the water with him. He's strong, but your will to live is stronger. The layered skin of your knees breaks as it scrapes against the jagged rock, body thrashing and desperately try to release yourself from his unyielding grip
"Let go of me!"
"Get in, you little brat!"
"No!"
Falling backwards and trying to use your weight as leverage, you do your best to kick the creature off. You land a few good hits on his lean chest, but it's not enough to fully dislodge his grip. It takes a well-placed, hard slap to the side of one of his headfins to finally stun him. It was a last-ditch effort, but oddly enough, it works.
He instinctively releases you in favor of cradling his tender, damaged fin. It isn’t long before he realizes his error and comes to his senses, but it gives you just enough time to pull away. He snaps forward several more times in pure, seething rage, fingers clamping around nothing but air in his failed attempt to seize you once more.
Sputtering and hissing, he even crawls partway onto the rock as you're furiously backpedaling away from the water to save yourself, giving you good look at where his hips meet the sleek scales of his pitch-black tail. It’s fascinating, beautiful even, but your body knows better than to slow to give yourself a better look. The split-second flash in your memory will have to suffice, coupled with the sheer and utter terror that will no doubt be permanently ingrained in your memory from this encounter.
His inflamed face and vividly gleaming red eyes that watch you with palpable hate written in his expression are the last thing you see before pushing yourself up on your haunches and sprinting away from the sea as quickly as your little human legs can carry you.
He watches you run, slamming a fist down on the rock in frustration and spitting out curses. He almost had you. He was so fucking close!
Once he manages to calm himself, he allows himself to coax the sore fin on the side of his head. Its thrumming in pain, overly sensitive to the touch. It was like you had known just where to hit him to make it hurt. Yet, as angry as he is, he can't deny that you're interesting.
"You can't escape me, girl. You'll be back."
The sea calls to you, and you can’t resist that call forever. You can’t resist him forever.
#Shigaraki x reader#Tomura Shigaraki#Shigaraki#Hey Ho What the fuck is wrong with me#Siren Boy just wantsta love you I swear#It aint my best but I really love the sea right now
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Tuesday: Crossing The River
note: here we go, part two of my 'A week with Chris' drabble series (part one here) again, COVID doesn’t exist bc this is my escape from reality
I wrote a bit more today. enjoy :)
words: 1.2 k
warnings: none
(Monday, 8:33 pm)
Hi, this is Chris. Meet me tomorrow morning, 9:30 am, at NY City Hall. I’ll bring coffee, you bring your walking shoes. I’ll see you there.
+++
(Tuesday)
Getting up at 8 am wasn’t exactly your preference when you had a day off, but the way to City Hall took its time, especially considering the location of your apartment in Upper Manhattan.
You walked the short distance from the metro station, and when you arrived, Chris was already waiting for you. He was bundled up in a coat to fight off the chilly morning air. You had never seen him in anything else than his work attire so at first, you were a bit perplexed, it was almost like witnessing an animal in the wild. Still, he looked rather cute, but what looked even better were the steaming cups of coffee he was holding.
“Good morning.” You greeted him, stifling a yawn and grabbing the offered drink. You gulped down two huge sips, without caffeine you weren’t a good company at all in the morning.
“Not an early riser, huh?” Chris laughed. “Don’t worry, my plans for today will wake you up in no time.”
“So, where are we going?” You asked, feeling slightly more present now, the coffee and fresh air had done the trick.
“You and I.” Chris said. “Are going to cross the East River. We have this really nice thing called the Brooklyn Bridge, maybe you’ve heard of it.”
You rolled your eyes at him, he was being rather cheeky considering the early hour.
“Very funny. Doesn’t that take forever.” You groaned. Walking wasn’t your number one hobby, and from where you were standing now, Brooklyn looked like it was an eternity away.
“It takes about an hour, each way.” Chris replied, and as he saw your shocked expression, he continued “Come on, that’s no distance at all! We can take a break once were on the other side, and then we go back. The way back is much more impressive because your facing the skyline.“
So he was planning on doing both ways. Great. Accepting your faith, you quickly emptied your coffee, silently praying that the walking shoes you had chosen were as comfortable as they looked.
+++
The walk was actually really enjoyable. There was soft spring breeze in the air and the sun was shining, creating bright reflections on the East River below you. You took several stops to take pictures, and Chris even reluctantly agreed to pose for a selfie.
You were talking animatedly about everything and anything, falling into a slow, but steady pace next to each other. Chris was still slightly annoyed about having to take the entire week off, but you tried to cheer him up.
“Look on the bright side, you wouldn’t be able to enjoy this beautiful day in such great company if you had to do the show tonight.” You joked, and he smiled down at you.
“I have to admit, the company is pretty good.”
Your heart did a little jump at his words.
+++
After fifty minutes, you arrived at the Brooklyn-sided exit of the bridge. Chris led you down the pedestrian walkway and around some corners, until you arrived in a beautiful park located directly at the waterfront.
“And this.” Chris exclaimed. “Is what we came for.”
You knew exactly what he meant. Stretched out before you was the most beautiful, picturesque view of the Manhattan skyline you had ever seen.
“This looks like a damn postcard.” You whispered, more to yourself, but Chris heard you anyway, laughing in agreement.
“It’s the best perspective you’ll get. I love the skyline; every building has a story.” He replied, looking across the river with an almost wistful expression on his face.
“Come on then, Mr. Tour Guide, I walked all the way here, now I want to hear some of those stories.”
“You’re quite demanding.” He chuckled. “Alright. You see the grey, slim one over there.” Your eyes followed to where his finger was pointing.
“That’s 8 Spruce Street.“ he explained. "They built it in 2011, there are apartments in there, offices, even a school and a kindergarten. Imagine, the kids don’t even need to leave the house.” He grinned at his own joke.
You studied the skyscraper, and the way the sunlight got reflected by its countless windows. “It’s beautiful.”
Chris shrugged. “To me, it’s cold. It has no personality, no history. If you look a bit more to the left, the white one with the green roof? That’s the Woolworth building, it got built in 1913. Back then, the owner paid the whole 13,5 million bucks for the project in cash, imagine that. It’s neo-gothic, if we were closer I could show you all the little details on the facade. See, that’s the kind of architecture I like. I hate how they’re plastering the city with those soulless glass towers. But I guess that’s the course of time.”
Both of you were silent for a second, and you looked at Chris before bursting into an uncontrolled fit of giggles.
“Oh my god, you just sounded like such an old man, I am so sorry.” You snickered, trying to stop laughing.
Chris gave you a hard glare, and for a moment you felt dread in your stomach, fearing that you might have offended him.
“Oh my god, Chris, I’m so-“
He grinned at you. “Gotcha. Come on, how about the old man buys you some ice cream before we head back?”
“Ice cream in March? You’re mad.”
+++
“Oh my God, Y/N, stop nagging, we’re almost there.” Chris called over his shoulder to where you were dragging several feet behind him.
“I can’t.” You whimpered. “It hurts.”
Your originally comfortable walking shoes had turned into an absolute nightmare about halfway across the bridge. You were sure that by now there were several blisters on your feet, every step was painful like hell and you still had about half a mile to go.
“We can’t just stop here.” Chris groaned, looking at you with a mix of annoyance and pity. “I parked my car at City Hall, can you make it there somehow?”
“I don’t know.” You said through clenched teeth as you tried to take another step.
“There’s only one way then.” Chris sighted heavily, taking a step closer and crouched down in front of you.
“What are you waiting for, hop on.” He said.
You almost couldn’t believe what he was implying.
“You want to take me piggyback?”
"Do you have a better idea?“
You didn’t, and so you carefully climbed onto his back, trying to ignore the funny looks the other pedestrians were giving you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you were surprised how broad and muscular they felt.
Your initial embarrassment about the situation quickly faded as Chris continued to talk to you as if everything was perfectly normal, something you were incredibly grateful for.
He carried you effortlessly, his steps didn’t waver even once. You were impressed and also a little bit turned on by his strength, trying to ignore the warm tingling feeling at where his huge hands were holding onto your legs.
+++
“Alright, here we are. Get some rest, and I’ll text you again tonight.” Chris spoke as he pulled up in front of your apartment building.
“Thanks again, for the ride, and well, everything.” You said, still a bit embarrassed about what had happened earlier.
Chris just shrugged, giving you a warm smile.
“Don’t worry, it was no big deal.”
You spent the rest of your evening cooling your blisters, excited about what the plan for tomorrow would be, and even more to see Chris again.
to be continued…
#chris Cuomo#chris cuomo imagine#Chris Cuomo fic#chris cuomo fanfiction#chris cuomo x reader#cnn#cnn anchors#cnn fic#imagine#Drabble#fanfiction
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Letters from Ganymede: Tuesday 11th July, 1876
Ganymede Cavendish, a recent graduate from the Royal Academy of Arts, catches the eye of an anonymous benefactor.
Mr Smith will offer Mr Cavendish food and board, all the artistic supplies he might require, and space with which to work: they shall never meet, and Mr Cavendish will never know Mr Smith's true name. The only recompense he desires is that Mr Cavendish create beautiful art, and that he write his sponsor a letter each week, keeping his benefactor apprised of his progress.
Having always been lonely, but now feeling alone, Ganymede begins a slow descent into madness.
An extremely gay reinterpretation of Daddy Long Legs, with heavy inspiration from Dracula and the Picture of Dorian Gray.
Also on Ao3 and Wattpad.
Dear Mr Smith,
I should like first to offer my apologies for not having written to you sooner, for I know part of the circumstances of our agreement are that I write you each week I avail of your sponsorship, and certainly the week begins anew each Sunday, so I am overdue.
Of course, I must thank you again for your kindness: I am sure I quite embarrassed you with my initial response to your letter, gushing over as I did with praise for your charity and your person, no matter the extenuating terms, but even some weeks later I feel no less overcome by my gratitude, nor indeed my admiration of my benefactor, anonymous as he might be.
I had thought the journey would take but two days, but instead it took four: the first mischief that became the coach you sent to convey me was a sudden snap of one of the front wheels’ spokes, making the whole of the carriage tilt abruptly to one corner, spooking the horses. This was on a long, empty road some hours north of Birmingham, and once the driver, Mr Thornwell, had calmed the horses from their frenzy, I had to ride on to the nearest inn some forty minutes’ further on, that I might send someone back to assist him.
I confess, Mr Smith, I am extremely uncomfortable on a horse’s back, but Mr Thornwell disliked very strongly the idea that I should remain alone with the coach itself on such an isolated road, and luckily, when I arrived at the inn they had expected us, and readily sent a young man off with another wheel to assist Mr Thornwell forth.
By the time all this business had been completed, of course, five or six hours had passed, and we had lost the warmth of the day and would, in some hours, lose its heat as well: although summer yet gives us some bountiful sun, Mr Thornwell reluctantly advised that we should stay the night in the inn rather than merely lunching there, as had been the original intention, and we took a room together.
He is a very interesting gentleman, Samuel Thornwell – I was so very enthusiastic in rushing about to pack my things into his coach that I kept stumbling on the uneven step outside my previous lodgings, and he insisted – most gallantly – upon assisting me in packing all of it away, and was very quick indeed with a joke. I don’t know that you have ever met him, Mr Smith, for he had informed me his services had been requisitioned by letter alone by a gentleman bearing your name, and that he had no previous knowledge of you, but that payment had been given up-front.
In this case, perhaps I ought describe him to you – Mr Thornwell is a handsome fellow, a little below six feet in height, and although he looks at a glance to be quite the square and serious sort (his beard is certainly quite serious, and kept as keenly in check as I would only imagine the beard of a groundskeeper in command of neat hedges), he smiles very freely, and was quick with all manner of joke and pun as we packed away my things.
On the first night we spent together, I had been quite focused upon some sketches of the cities and towns and landscapes through which we had passed, and sat upon the floor of the inn and worked like a demon with my chalks, focused most fervently upon my work that I should recreate all the sights I had seen before they dripped out of my head like so much overflowing water. Undeterred by the acute concentration with which I devoted myself to my work, Mr Thornwell spoke very freely, with a great manner of charm and gregarious spirit, to our hosts in the inn, and when they went away, he spoke for my benefit, although I said very little in response to many of his anecdotes, and merely laughed and smiled along with them.
Mr Thornwell informed me that he was in possession of a wife and three children, of whom he was very proud indeed, and that in his free time he and his eldest son, Sam, spent a good deal of time focused upon philately, which he informed me is the study – and often, the collection – of postage stamps. It seemed to me at the time to be quite a queer hobby, but Mr Thornwell spoke very well on it, and with a great deal of enthusiasm about the different varieties of postage stamps and their designs, and he said a good deal of the enjoyment in receiving letters themselves was in the postage affixed. Strange indeed, but there is naught that creates such light in the world as another man’s unfamiliar passions.
On the second night, in this inn we had not intended to stay at, I was not quite so plagued by a need to note down every sight I had taken in that day, and once I had penned a few sketches of the fields I had observed on our way, we sat together beside the hearth in the inn.
“I must apologise for my laconism last night,” I said, sipping at my ale and looking at my companion, the handsome planes of his face lit by the glow of light beside us. The only light in the room came from the fire, with the rest of the candles dimmed, and I leaned in toward it, for the night was rather cool. “I have only a little while to really capture the details I want in scenes before they begin to fade from my recollection, and I saw a good deal of beauty in our journey, and wished very much to sketch it down.”
“Oh, I took no offence in it,” he said mildly, with a wave of one hand. “You are of an artistic temperament, I can see, and your art is quite important to you, no doubt.”
“Oh, yes, yes, quite.”
“Is that the reason,” he asked, suddenly curious, “that you are travelling so far north? Heatherton is so small a village it is not even upon maps – when we reach the last inn on our journey, we are to ask directions from our host there, that I might ferry you further on.”
I had not known this, and was quiet for a moment, gazing into the fire. I was quite curious about Heatherton, for in your initial correspondence it was communicated to me as but a modest settlement overlooking a bay, and I was excited indeed to see it, as I am to see any new place of mystery. I am not, Mr Smith, well-travelled – until now, I have never left London.
Misinterpreting my silence, Mr Thornwell said swiftly, “Please, I did not mean to pry into your affairs – merely that this is an errand quite odd, and quite unlike any I have pursued heretofore. I ought have kept my questions to myself.”
“Oh, please, Mr Thornwell, you have caused no offence,” I assured him softly. “John Smith – the gentleman from whom you received the request for your services – is my benefactor. I have just completed a course of schooling in the arts at the Royal Academy, and Mr Smith, having observed the exhibition of my work in the years I have been a student, wrote to me some weeks ago and offered to sponsor me in further artistic pursuit.
“He suggested that I should take my place at his home in Heatherton that I might be free to concentrate upon my work without the distraction of the city’s bustle – and has offered, most graciously, this sponsorship and space to work, although we have never been acquainted before now.”
Mr Thornwell observed me with fascination, his lips pursed loosely together, his brow furrowed very deeply, that several lines appeared in the surface of his forehead. “Indeed?” he asked, leaning toward me. “Is he very rich, this Mr Smith?”
“I suppose,” I said, although the question offset me, for I have long been taught it is impolite to discuss such matters. “Certainly, it strikes me that he is very kind, and evidently, a great supporter of the arts. My tutors informed me that the Academy has received donations previously from Mr Smith, and knew him to be quite devoted to his support of the arts in all their forms.”
“Hm,” Mr Thornwell said. “And he sponsors individual artists, also?”
“If he has done so before, it has not been another member of the Royal Academy,” I said quietly, with a delicate shrug of my shoulders. “But his donations to the institution go back over a decade – I have no doubt in his support.”
“For how long will you stay in Heatherton?”
“Oh, a year, perhaps two. My medium is sculpture, and I work in marble – it is my intention to sculpt a representation of the Titaness Euryphaessa, the wife of Hyperion, with her three children in orbit of her: Helios, Selene, and Eos.”
My companion looked at me somewhat blankly for a moment, and then said, with perhaps manufactured brightness, “You are a Michelangelo, then?”
I flushed with embarrassment, feeling the heat burn in my blushing cheeks, for it was a painfully lofty association – though I know that it is true that many people might not know another sculptor in existence. “Not hardly,” I said hurriedly. “I could never hope to match such skill in any mode of art, but like him, I do sculpt in marble.”
“It must be very expensive, stone like that,” he said, with a low whistle. “He won’t make you quarry it yourself, I hope? I mean not to impugn your strengths, Mr Cavendish, but you hardly seem fit for such work as that.”
I laughed, and shook my head. “I do not believe he plans to put me to such labour as that, Mr Thornwell, no. He shall provide me a workspace and materials, room and board, and a small stipend as recompense for my work, as though he is not already giving me enough.”
“All that,” said Mr Thornwell wonderingly, “for one sculpture? That is all the recompense your Mr Smith demands?”
“Well, I shall produce other works of art, in my placement here,” I said, feeling quite embarrassed for reasons I did not – and still do not know – how to put into words. “I shall paint, I expect, but being a finer sculptor than I am a painter, I shall no doubt create smaller sculptures, too – there are beautiful things to be wrought in clay or wood, as well as marble.” Mr Thornwell did not seem convinced, and thus I added, almost blurted out, “And, of course, Mr Smith asks that I should send him correspondence.”
Mr Thornwell regarded me in bafflement. “Correspondence?” he repeated.
“I am to write to Mr Smith once a week, informing him of my progress, and to tell him of my moods and my experiences in the week having passed. He will never reply to me, he informs me, but it is important to him I should write to him, that he knows I am taking seriously the terms of his sponsorship.”
“Rich and lonely,” said Mr Thornwell – pray, Mr Smith, do forgive him – and I gasped.
“Mr Thornwell,” I chided him. “It is not so uncommon that a young man should send his sponsor reports upon his progress.”
“Perhaps,” said he, “but queer indeed that he should not reply to them. You say you have never met him?”
“Never – and Mr Smith said in his first letter to me that I likely never shall. He is not an artist himself, he said to me: he appreciates artists.”
My hand, at this moment, slipped to my jacket pocket, and lingered over the point where your letter to me was folded therein: I hope it will not embarrass you, Mr Smith, to note that I have read that particular line of your letter to me (Mr Cavendish, I am no artist, nor am I a poet, nor anything else. I have never and will never create anything, except love and enthusiasm for the artist, that heavenly being that serves as our modern Creator.) some thousand times since I first received it.
“You are young,” said Mr Thornwell musingly, “and quite beautiful. Being young you have sufficient energy to take on even the most exhausting projects; being beautiful, you understand beauty, and are thus well-poised to create it.”
I was silent, for this praise embarrassed me, and seeing this, Mr Thornwell took pity on me, and we retired to bed.
The next day, being as the weather was milder, the sun hidden behind thick cloud, he invited me to sit at the front of the cab with him – although I was no longer enclosed by the walls of the coach, sitting very close beside Mr Thornwell, I was able to benefit from his warmth, and our conversation kept me quite occupied as he travelled on.
We came to the inn where he had been advised we should be able to take direction to the village of Heatherton. The previous two inns, the Duck and Feather and the Coach and Horses had been venerable old pubs, very warm within and quite homey: this establishment, the Stone Post, was colder, and our hosts there were not nearly so sociable. I did not hear the name of our hostess, but that she was the sister of our host, but I knew his name to be Jude, and he never gave me his surname.
He and his sister surprised me, when first I saw them, because they almost seemed to be statues brought to life: both Jude and his sister were pale as white marble, with exaggerated emphasis in the shapes of their features. Each had heavily lidded eyes, carefully crafted lips, fine bone structure, and they moved as though some invisible conductor was coaching them through the ballet of their life, silent and effortlessly graceful.
I did not see Jude or his sister smile once: they were each possessed of a silent, frowning stare that made one take pause. Jude is, I would estimate, of the same age as me, somewhere about the region of twenty-five, and his sister somewhat younger, but he did not speak to me as much of a peer.
He scarcely spoke at all.
Leading me up the stair, he brought me to the room I was to take lodging in that night, a very large room that even then seemed quite cold, and I suggested that myself and Mr Thornwell might share a room together rather than being given separate lodgings, for it looked very cold indeed, and Jude gave me such a strange look that I felt very wrong for asking, and then fell silent.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and I tossed and turned the night through in the cold room, but when I went out into the corridor I saw no evidence of Mr Thornwell or our two hosts, and there were no other guests at the Stone Post that I knew of, and I quickly retired back to bed, for the corridor was even cooler than my bedroom. It occurred to me that it was quite strange that the only owners of the establishment should be two people so very young and seemingly so opposed to human contact, and as I turned this thought over in my mind, the most lurid of theatres playing out in my mind, as so often happens – of them perhaps being tragically orphaned, or something similar.
I slept, then.
In the morning, I was very sorry to hear that Mr Thornwell had been taken ill, suddenly caught with a fever, and as Jude’s sister attended him, Jude said to me, with a sort of quiet, grim determination, that he would take the coach forth to Heatherton in his stead.
I objected, of course, for I was worried indeed that my new friend should be so ill, and begged that I should be able to sit with him or even just check in on him, but the Stone Post siblings were vehement I shouldn’t go anywhere near him, lest I suffer the same fever he was afflicted with.
I quite forgot myself, so distracted was I as we came out to the coach, the horses already having been hitched in place, that I nearly climbed up to sit before the cab with Jude – never has a man looked at me so severely, and I felt almost as if Jude had struck me a blow with his eyes alone. They are such a funny colour, Mr Smith, a sort of brown that is so light as to be very near to gold, and they invoked in me a feeling most uncanny.
It was some hours travel to Heatherton in the coach from the Stone Post, as I’m sure you know, and yet despite how keen I was to look out of the window and make a note of the journey, particularly with how overcome with concern I was for Mr Thornwell’s good health, I fell fast asleep. I could not say how it slipped over me, for it caught me by certain surprise, but I suppose that exhaustion does these things to a man, no matter his pressing concerns.
When I woke, bleary eyed and disoriented, still in a somnolent haze, Jude was standing silently at the cab’s open door beside me, staring up at me. My luggage had already been packed away inside.
“You are very kind,” I said as I noted that my travelling chest and boxes of materials had already disappeared from the back of the coach, and Jude followed my gaze, looking, impassively, to the coach’s trunk, where all my things had been neatly tied before we had set out.
“Wasn’t me,” Jude said, and climbed back into the cab, taking up the horse’s reins. Before I could so much as say another word, he was riding off, and I was left in the yard of the house, alone, with my coat very loose about my shoulders and my carrying case held limply in my hand.
Left alone in the front yard of the house in Heatherton, I looked about at the stone walls, the half-open stable empty of horse or goat, the shed piled high with firewood. The house itself surprised me in its size – I confess, Mr Smith, when you had offered me lodgings, I expected somewhere quite modest, perhaps with a wider space to make into my studio, but it seemed to me to be almost like a manor. It was some storeys higher even than some of the buildings I worked in at the Royal Academy, and very wide indeed – the orphanage in which I grew up was quite a small one, and I have never really had cause to visit anyone else’s home.
The door was ajar, a key in the lock, and I took it loosely from its keyhole, stepping into the house proper, and closing the door behind me, putting the key in my pocket.
The lamps within were already lit where needed, although a fair bit of daylight was still coming in through the windows, and waiting for me upon the end table in the hall, where there was a case waiting for some calling cards – and the idea itself quite delighted me, for I have never been called on before – was a note.
Dear Mr Cavendish,
Your luggage has been placed in your bedroom, which is south-facing on the third floor, that you might have a pleasant view of the bay below. Mr Smith has advised us that this would likely be your preference, but that if you desire, you ought select any of the other bedrooms which brings you the most pleasure.
The supplies and equipment you have brought with you have been placed in your studio, which is also on the southside of the building, and can be accessed from the ground or first floor.
Other locations of note ought be the master bath, which is on the third floor, in the room adjoining the master bedroom; the library, which is on the second floor; and the dining room, which is on the ground floor, in the second door ahead of you on your right.
Mr Smith has advised that you are to explore and make use of the house at your leisure, and that while you reside here, you are to consider yourself its master.
Dinner will be served at seven o’clock this evening in the dining room; you might take what you please from the kitchen and its pantry that adjoins it.
Welcome to Mnemosyne’s Rest.
There was no signature upon the note, though I presume it was from the house’s staff – which, again, surprised me, for I had no idea I would have staff attending to me, and I confess, the idea made me quite giddy and uncertain. Perhaps you will think me very foolish, Mr Smith, but I have really only ever read about households with servants in novels, or heard about them in conversation, and it never really occurred to me that I should ever avail of such services.
When my father died, I was left a small apartment in London, which I inherited upon reaching my age of majority, and I have lived there alone throughout my education at the Royal Academy. In the orphanage, all we boys slept in one room together, ordinarily between ten and twelve of us, and I confess, it was a great relief when I became a man and was able to live alone, without so many breathing mouths creating such a racket all around me, and yet—
Perhaps you will think this very strange indeed, Mr Smith, I do not know, but I have always found the idea of living with servants, when one is a fellow without family or attachment, to be one as comforting as it is mysterious – surely, it would be a balm to any lonely man, to know that there are others living in the house in which he rests?
Perhaps I am a fool, I do not know. No one has ever told me so – but then, perhaps I am so foolish everyone I have ever met has thought it quite obvious, and not thought it worth saying.
I hope I do not bore you.
I know in your letter you requested that I should treat these letters as a diary to you, or perhaps as a confessional, and pour fourth my soul, but I have never kept a diary before, and I am not a Catholic, and to be very honest indeed with you, Mr Smith, I do not know that I am in possession of a soul at all. They seem to be allocated to the most interesting of people, and I am no such thing.
Once more, I must thank you for your kindness – I was a man quite uncertain of my bearings, when my graduation from the academy loomed, uncertain as to where next I should go, and you have given me not only your sponsorship or your kindness, but a sense of purpose I might not have gotten, otherwise.
And— Pray, Mr Smith, do forgive me if I overstep my bounds, or if I speak too freely, or if every letter I pen to you is quite a lot of nonsense. I have never written to anybody before, and but for schooling exercises as a youth, the practice is one quite foreign to me. Perhaps I thought thank you for this addition to my experience of the world, as well?
I have not yet conducted my exploration of Mnemosyne’s Rest – oh, what a name, Mr Smith, I wonder if it was you that named it? – for as soon as I came into my bedroom, the south-facing one – and you were correct in your estimations, Mr Smith, the wide windows create such a beautiful view of the bay below, with its grey-and-white cut waters, and its view of the cliffs, and its picturesque, dark-sanded beaches, and I should never want any bedroom other than this one – I sat down at my desk to pen this missive to you, that you should not think I was ignoring my obligations to you.
Thank you.
Once this letter is finished, and I have let the ink to dry, I shall send it off to you post-haste – and perhaps this evening, I shall pen another letter to the Stone Post, asking for news of Mr Thornwell’s condition… Ah. But that is a thought for later.
Yours with gratitude overflowing,
Ganymede Cavendish
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He Was a Satyr Boy
Rating: Explicit
Relationship: Satyr X Female!Human
Warning: Fluff, Respecting boundaries, Penetration, Satyr and human relationship, Critical Role mentioned, timid or shy characters
Word Count: 8604
A shy Satyr catches the interest of the cute comic book store girl
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Today is slower than usual. Generally, comic book stores aren't super busy on a workday but today was especially boring. I've gotten all my work done around noon leaving several more hours of my shift left to fuck about. I lean against the glass counter near the register and look over the empty store. I huff and try to entertain myself by reading the posters around the room for the hundredth time.
Reading the green lantern motto for the 6th time I'm ecstatic to hear the chime of the front door. Looking over I see a satyr walk in. I immediately notice his antlers protruding from his curly brown hair. He is a skinny man, not particularly tall. Might be the same height as me if I were to guess. An inch or two taller. He is sort of cute, not my normal type but still eye candy. Especially wearing a fitted hoodie and loose pants. He has a softness to him, a gentle aura.
I don't call out to him, welcoming him to the store. I just watch as he shoves his hands into his pouch then looks around way too much. As he walks further inside he catches my eye. He gives a curt nod then walks around with his head down. I watch as he paces through each aisle before stopping at the books. He skims through them and picks out two. He cradles them close to his side then makes his way to the register. Only briefly glancing at me he sets the items on the counter.
"This all," I ask. He glances up and nods.
"Yes, this is all. I don't have money for more, your stuff is expensive," he sort of rambles. Edge of my lips quirks at him. I scan his items and wait on him to either pull out a card or cash. He fumbles with his pockets to his loose pants and pulls out a wallet. He produces a card and swipes it to the machine.
He pays and a receipt prints. I push the books to him and hand him the paper. He doesn't say anything as I pass him his things. He takes them quietly and nods before heading to the door.
"Have a nice day," I surprise myself by calling out. It seems to have startled him too. He looks over and gives a nervous smile.
"You too." With that, he leaves. I watch till the door closes, a little captivated by his departure. When I finally look away to the now empty store I hardly notice to half-smile gracing my face.
I'm a little confused to see him the next day around the same time. The store is a little more full, normal for a Tuesday since there is a sale going on for comic books. Perhaps that's why he is back? I try not to pay him any mind as I ring up people but I can't stop glancing at him curiously. He wonders around the store, catching eyes with me a few times. This piques my interest even more.
I barely listen to the man rambling on and on about god knows what. I give him a few nods but couldn't care less. I keep glancing over his shoulder at the nervous satyr browsing the store. I'm not sure why I'm so inquisitive but he is keeping my attention. Perhaps its why he is back after saying he had no money. Or the fact he isn't even looking at the comics that are on sale. What could he possibly need?
I lose focus on him when someone comes up with a question.
"Do you guys have any captain marvel comics," a stout woman asks.
"Far-right wall, under the popular section," I point behind her. I hope this is the end of the conversation but sadly it isn't.
"Oh. Can you show me, I didn't see it over there," she gives an apologetic smile. I look over at the satyr, then back at her.
"Yea, come on," I walk from around the counter. I lead her to the right wall. She keeps asking questions even when I found the box for her. She draws on so long my coworker works the register and checks out the satyr. I see he bought another DnD book, Just the one. He leaves before I even get back to the counter.
I don't see him the next day, hardly surprised. I actually don't think about him, having no reason to. My fascination is but a product of boredom mixed with seeing someone so cute. I've never seen him before, knowing most of the people around the town. It's rare to see someone new and even more rare to see them two days in a row. Still, it seems he is gone now.
I think as such till I see him Thursday. I don't notice anyone walked in as I clean the glass countertop. It isn't until he sets his item down beside me that I acknowledge him. I give him a confused look for a second, wondering what he is doing back here.
"Hi," he curtly smiles, "I forgot the monster guide." I look from him to the book, another DnD guide.
I look back up at him," so you did." He nods as I grab the book. I scan it and prepare the machine for him to pay. I watch him pull out his wallet, I felt the need to fill the silence.
"You know we hold campaigns here every Thursday night," I cock a brow at him. He seems to startle before staring back.
"Oh," he tilts his head. His hair brushes over his forehead and the corners of my mouth quirk.
"They are run by Steven who set it all up, anyone is welcome. Starts tonight around 7, if your interested," I inform.
"Oh, thanks but I don't think that would be good for me. I'm busy around then but thank you. I appreciate you telling me. I guess you figure from all the books I've bought that id be playing this but it's just to read. I don't actually play, I've just been watching a campaign online. I wanted to follow along, you know," he rambles. I don't feel like interrupting, just resting my elbow on the counter. "It's a good show, very funny. I don't know if you have heard of it, but you might have. Its a bunch of voice actors playing DnD, so they get to use their acting skills to bring the characters to life. It's super neat," he continues.
"Critical role?" I cock a brow.
He grins widely, "yea, do you watch it?"
I tilt my head and regard him," not really." He deflates, it almost makes me wanna lie just to get him to ramble some more.
"Well, it's worth a listen. Even if it's super long," he collects his book off the counter," well ill see you around. Bye." I wave then he turns and walks out. I watch him the entire time, huffing in amusement when his antlers scratch against the door.
I stand back up with a little smile, "what an adorable man."
I stay a bit after, organizing some of the figurines in the displays. I know I'm sticking around just to see if he shows up, I'm not going to convince myself otherwise. I'm also not surprised to see he doesn't show up. Which is fine, it was a bit last minute so I can't expect him to not have plans.
It is a surprise when he shows up next week.
The week was slow and I hardly thought of the cute satyr. I noticed he hasn't been back since last Thursday but that was the extent of my thoughts. By Wednesday I've forgotten him, mostly.
Thursday night comes and I'm sorting through the comics for ones that don’t belong. I hear the gang setting up near the back. Getting the table together and their items out. I finger through the thin booklets, pulling out any that wasn’t Batman. I lose focus when I hear the bell at the front door. I look up and chuckle when I see the satyr. I stop what I'm doing and head over. Noticing immediately that he was fidgeting. He was looking around a lot and bouncing from leg to leg. He stops when he catches my eye.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I was a little confused about where the campaign takes place. I looked on the website and it said that it happens in the store, which is what you said, but I don’t know where in here it is and I didn’t want to just walk on in and wander around," he nervously laughs," it is tonight right?"
my lips quirk," Yes." I won't elaborate, seeing if he will talk some more.
"Oh, good," he looks behind me then back at me," I've been looking through the books. Good reads, it's so elaborate. Still, it’s a lot to learn. I tried to do a crash course on them last Thursday but I was too worried id make a fool of myself. So that’s why I didn’t show up, I didn’t want to be the one asking all the questions. It would take away from the fun of everyone else. I mean I still might ask questions, there is a lot to learn. I hope that no one minds a newbie joining. I really studied, which sounds weird to study for a hobby, but I was nervous. You know, I might actually just watch, or come back later. I don’t want to take the fun from everyone else." I listen to his ramblings, cocking a brow as he tries to talk himself into leaving. Deciding to help him out I step beside him so we are both facing the room. I notice that he is just an inch or so taller than me.
"Come on," I nudge his shoulder then walk ahead. He startles but follows along, keeping his hands in his hoodie pockets. I smirk to myself as I lead him to the back. Once we turn the corner the patrons perk up. All of them looking towards us curious. I glance over at the satyr and see he is hiding in himself. Bunching his shoulders and ducking his head into his jacket. I nearly coo at the sight.
"Who's this," Steve asks with a friendly smile. I don’t answer but nudge the Satyr to speak up. He jumps, staring over at me shocked before looking back at the group.
"Uh, I'm Jensen," he nods in greeting," hello." I quirk a smile at the greeting. Jensen.
"Well, howdy there Jensen. What brings you to our little hobble," Carley asks before anyone else could. Jensen looks from her then back to me. I nod towards the group as encouragement.
"I'm here for the, uh, campaign," he nearly stutters. I find myself taking a step closer to the poor lad. Matt notices and passes me a glance, raising a brow. I pay him no mind and wait for Jensen to join the group.
"Well that’s great, we always have room for another traveler," Steven shouts jovially," please come sit." I look from the gang to Jensen, content with his wide grin. He walks forward and takes a seat between Matt and Steven. I take one more look at the lads before turning to leave.
"Would you like to join," Carley calls. I turn to face them, the words 'no' ready on my lips. I'm a bit surprised to see Jensen practically begging me with his eyes. Watching me with bated breath for my answer. I'm still ready with the 'no' but looking at him makes me want to change my mind.
I have never played with the group, having been invited nearly every night. I generally have things to do and rather get home quickly once they finish up. It's not like I have anything pressing at home, I just rather be there. I begin to doubt my choice, near caving just to get to spend time with the nervous Jensen.
"Ok," I answer shortly. I nearly smile when I see Jensen's little grin. He has a cute smile.
"Really," Matt tilts his head. I don’t answer but walk towards the table. I grab a chair from the wall and sit on the opposite end of Steve. I look at the three's suspicious faces, knowing they are probably trying to figure out any reason why I'd choose now to join. Of course, the genius bunch looks towards Jensen and piece together their own theories. I'm not above admitting it, I want to hang out with him. He is cute and I find his rambling adorable. Depending on how tonight goes I may develop a crush.
The night goes alright, everyone was boisterous and engaged. Everyone seemed to have fun, including me. Jensen was shy at the start but grew into his own as everyone kept him included. I appreciated that. I didn’t want to be the only one trying to keep him out of his shell. Id hates to look over and see him cave into himself with nerves.
Around two hours later the gang packs up and says their goodbyes. I walk away before they could start interrogating me, getting started on the work I put off. Once I hear the chime of the bell I head back over to the table, startling when I see Jensen still packing up. I grin to myself and head over, sitting across from him.
He looks up and smiles," Hey." I nod in greeting," man those guys are so nice. The woman, Carley was it, she gave me some of her dice. They look so cool, got a holo look to it. Reminds me of opals, it's so cool." he holds the 20-sided die up and rotates it back and forth. Showing off the rainbow reflection on it.
"So ill take it you had fun," I cross my arms and lean back in the chair. I smile at him, feeling his own grin to be contagious. He looks from the die back to me, his toothy grin making me feel gushy.
"Yea, it was so grand. Steven has such an imagination on him, this wasn’t what I expected at all," he leans onto the table with his elbows," I can't wait to come back and partake in whatever the next adventure will be. I might try being a sorcerer next time. That is if we are allowed to change our characters. I like mine right now but I do wanna experience the other classes. Does he do different campaigns every time?"
"Yes," I nod.
"That’s great! I'm so glad I came, I was so nervous that I paced around my apartment before coming here. I figured since I just moved here it wouldn’t hurt to make some friends but I was nervous mostly for that reason, not knowing anyone. It helped that I know you, I was really banking on you being here. If you weren't I would have probably walked out," he nervous laughs, looking at the table," also thanks for joining, I could tell it isn't something you usually do."
"No problem, it was fun," I answer honestly.
We chat for a little longer before I have to shut down the store. He leaves shortly before, promising he will be back next week. I find myself getting a little giddy at the idea of seeing him again. Tonight went well, I think I can confidently say I have a crush on him.
He visits twice before Thursday, one of the days I heard from Matt when he was the one working. The day I got to see him was nice, we chatted a bit before it got busy and he left. Along with his two visits, I've been getting the 2nd degree from Matt.
"So you like him," he cocks a brow as he lounges against the counter. I shrug noncommittedly, knowing it's going to rowel him up. He drops his head back and groans at my non-answer," Don’t give me that. I don’t know the last time you were interested in someone, I've only heard stories of your past boyfriends. The tall hunky lads with more muscles than sense. So excuse me for wanting to boy talk with you." I pass him a glance, debating on being a prude with my thoughts. It was none of matt's business on who I liked and didn’t like. Still, I'd admit that the idea of gossiping is tempting.
"Yes, I have a thing for him," I bite my cheek to stop from smiling. I don’t need him poking fun just yet. He startles at my words, perhaps shocked I even said anything.
He twists around and leans his elbows on the table," I was just teasing before, I didn’t think you actually wanted him. He is so not part of your portfolio, he is so timid and lithe. Hard contrast to your previous interest." I pass him a cheeky grin while pretending to read the magazine in front of me.
"He is cute, and I think his ramblings are adorable," I answer. Matt deadpans at me, not really getting what I'm saying.
"You like his ramblings? What happened to the woman who dated big bulky men, hell the last dude I heard you dated was an orc. Like how would you go from something that big to someone like Jensen," he tilts his head trying to catch my eye. I glance at him but continue to look at the pages.
"I just like him, not everything has to be dissected and viewed from every angle. I think he is cute and I enjoy his company," I answer bluntly. Not everything has to be over analyzed to its basic form. I don’t have to uproot my childhood to figure out why I find Jensen so attractive. I just do, and that’s ok.
Matt doesn’t like my answers but he leaves me alone after another five minutes of arguing.
Thursday comes quickly to my joy. The gang sets up and Jensen shows up shortly after they do. I watch him walk from the door straight to the back, resting his bag on the table as he too sets up. I stay in the corner, finishing up my work. I'm content on just sitting this one out, but of course, if he asks I can't say no.
"Where is she," Jensen asks as he looks around.
Steven looks up at him," she is working. She generally doesn’t contribute to these things."
"Oh," Jensen looks dejected. I actually feel bad for having to work. I guess if I rush I could come over for a little. I bite my cheek as I try to figure out anything I could close early.
Around an hour later I make some time, skipping out on stocking for the night. I can just do it tomorrow anyway. I step around the bookshelf and watch the table from the sidelines. Listening to Steven paint the picture, then the gang reacting. I watch Jensen for a bit, smiling a little as I see the enjoyment on his face.
I startle when Carley calls outs," You just going to stand there or you going to sit down?" Everyone turns to me, only Steven turns back to the table.
"Oh hey," Jensen grins," Come, sit." he pulls out the chair next to him. I walk over and take the offered seat, not missing Matt's big smile.
I spend the next hour listening to and watching their game. Keeping quiet on the sidelines just enjoying their jovial behaviors. The mission comes to an end, leaving on a happy note. I stretch and get up before the others could begin packing. I wave to the group and go back to closing.
I count out the register as Jensen stops by the counter," Hi." I finish off the set of ones and give him a friendly smile.
"Hi," I say back.
"Watcha doing," he rests his elbows on the counter.
"Counting out the drawer, make sure I'm not missing anything," I answer as I count out the twenties.
"Are you the manager here or owner," he asks. I get what he is doing, trying to start up a conversation. I appreciate the company, so I answer.
"I'm technically a manager, but it feels like I'm the owner most of the time," I shuffled up all the money and places them back in the drawer.
"Why is that," he watches as I close out the register.
"I do everything here. I make the calls, stock the store, fix the store, advertise for the store. I think the owner just wanted to own a comic book store but not actually run one," I walk around the counter and to the backroom. Jensen follows, staying at the door when we get to the office. He keeps me company as I deal with the paperwork of the day. Dealing with return receipts and new stock.
The night feels like it goes by quickly, probably Jensen to blame for that. He is nice to talk to. Once he comes out of his shell he is funny. Still rambles but it's with fewer nerves and more just enjoyment of the topic. I finished up my work about twenty minutes ago but I didn’t want to send him away just yet. I'm content listening to him talk about his job as a Graphic Designer. He seems to be very passionate about it, grinning widely as he talks.
The conversation starts to die down as we both begin to yawn. I look over at the clock and see we are forty-minute past close. We both decide its time to leave. I walk him to the door and he waits for me as I lock up. I turn back to him and prepare for goodbye.
"Well, today was nice. Thanks for chatting with me, I didn’t mean to make you stay so late. I know I tend to talk too much, I get it can be a little annoying so don’t be scared to tell me to shut up," he tries to laugh but it’s a little self-deprecating. I watch him for a minute, probably making him feel uncomfortable.
I find myself sputtering out the first thing that came to mind," Do you wanna go out sometime?"
He startles, "What?"
"Do you," I point to him," Want to go out with me," I point to myself. He still seems lost.
"Uh," he short circuits, not really getting what I'm saying. He looks uncomfortable and I can't lie, it hurts a little.
"Hey, you don’t have to. It's ok if you don’t," I try to give him an out.
He shakes from his stupor, "No, I want to. I'm just a bit shocked."
I regard him curious," Shocked? Why?"
"well," he rubs the back of his neck," its just-because- you know."
I smile," No I don't think I do know."
"Its cause- because," he huffs," Because you are you. The super hot comic store girl. I didn’t think you would like me." I can't stop my chuckle. I've never had a guy assume I wasn’t into them, especially when I feel I've been obvious.
"Well, I do. So would you like to see a movie this weekend," I try again since he never really answered.
"yea," he grins widely," I'd love to."
I give Jensen my number and tell him to write. We depart with dorky grins on our faces, leaving for our respective homes.
The weekend comes quick and I meet Jensen at the store. We walk together in a bit of awkward silence. I can basically feel his tension rolling off him. I can't help but try to think of ways to relax him, make him feel comfortable. So I ask him about his job and he takes the in. This seems to work until we make it to the theater. when we go to sit his tension rise again. I try to keep the conversation going but when the movie starts its harder to keep him calm.
I watch him out the corner of my eye the entire film. He fidgets his hand in his lap, not really focusing on the movie. I feel bad he cant enjoy this. I'm running out of things to try, so I go for broke and grab his hand. I interlock my fingers with his and rest them on the armrest. His grip is a bit tight so I rub my thumb to his skin in an attempt to calm him down. Surprisingly it works, he loosens his grip with a sigh. He gives me a quick squeeze then leans back in his seat. I go for broke again when I lay my head on his shoulder. He jumps but doesn’t do anything to push me away. I will take the win.
The movie ends and it wasn’t that great. Probably should have picked a better one. Still, I had fun, only because it was with Jensen. After we got up he grabs my hand again and we walked out together. It was sweet, which is something I never had with my exes. They were a bunch of dumb jocks looking for their next nut. It was fine at the time because I wasn’t expecting much but it was unfulfilling. This, with Jensen, feels good.
We walk back to the store where we chat under the awning. With a brief hug, we part ways, making plans on the phone for another date. I sit in bed that night smiling like an idiot, not wanting to put the phone down till I nearly pass out on my own.
We go on a few more dates after that, nothing getting too intimate besides a kiss on the cheek. We see movies, go out for dinner or go to one of our places to cook. Then every Thursday we talk for hours, even texting once we got home. I like him a lot.
One day while talking at the store he kisses me. I'm startled when it happens, he gets embarrassed and tries to back away. I don’t let him get far and kiss him. Since then the relationship has gotten more intimate. Spending dates snobbing anywhere private like a pair of teenagers. He shocked the gang one night when he kisses me hello. They all had their guesses but we never gave them answers. Since then they have taken to picking fun of us, trying their best to get us to blush. Of course, I was a little harder to crack than Jensen. Still, it was cute to see him get all flustered. Sometimes I joined in on the teasing and give a big kiss to his cheek.
As much touching as we have done we never have gotten around to discussing sex. It was becoming more prominent as some make out sessions left us both a bit bothered. He never initiated anything so I didn’t push, it was fine. But one night while we are sitting on my bed talking he surprises me.
We lounge on my bed looking through his phone at videos he saved. One thing leads to another and we start making out. I have my fingers buried in his soft curly hair, my other hand petting over his chest. I want to badly run it under his shirt, feel his skin on mine. I don’t try to push my luck, wanting him to take the leap.
His fingers clench at my hips making my insides burn. He hesitates in the kiss, but not stopping as his hands play with the hem of my shirt. He slides them under my shirt, gliding them over my hips up to my waist. I find myself gasping and leaning back. Our breath mingles together as I wait for his next move. I can feel his finger shake as he tries to move up but he can't bring himself to do it. I resume petting over his chest, leaning up and kissing his cheek. Telling him in actions that it's ok to go on.
He gains some of his nerves and smooths his hand over my skin. Petting and groping up to my bra. His breath stutters as his thumb timidly traces over the fabric. His breathing stops when he hooks a finger underneath, sliding over till his index touches my boob. He sucks in a gasp, pausing his hand as he catches his breath. I continue kissing his neck and petting his hair. Giving him all the time he needs.
Jensen rests his head against mine before moving to cup my chest. He sighs, tickling my head with his breath. His palms are warm against me, if not a little sweaty. He gropes softly, rubbing his thumb over my hardening nipple.
"so soft," he mumbles to himself. I peck his neck in answer. He continues to grope and squeeze, content in just this for the time being.
Soon he leans back and tugs at my shirt. Asking with his eyes if I could take it off. I don’t even hesitate, I lean back and pull the clothing off. I throw it onto the floor. When I look back at Jensen I nearly laugh, he is captivated by my nearly bare torso. I grin at him as I lead his hands back to me, hinting at him to take my bra off on his own. He catches on and fumbles to unhook the back. He manages well and helps pry the straps off my arms. He tosses the bra off the bed and doesn’t take his eyes off me. He reaches for my chest, watching as his fingers rub my nipples. I leave him to go at his own pace, sighing at the sensations of his hands. He surprises me by leaning down and taking me into his mouth. I choke on my words as his tongue swirls over my bud. I pet along his head, tugging softly on his hair when he sucks on me.
He laves attention on both sides, taking his time to both enjoy and make sure I enjoy it. I feel the all too familiar weight in my stomach, my crotch throbbing with need. I know better than to force anything but its starting to get hard too. I'm happy when he takes another step, pushing me back and crawling over me. He leans down and captures my lips, giving a rather fierce kiss. He continues to cup my chest with one hand, seeming to not be able to get enough. I press my luck and slide one of my hands down his chest, sliding under his shirt and feeling his warm stomach. He gasps into the kiss but doesn’t react. I continue moving up, pulling up his shirt as I go. He lets me, even leaning back to take the clothing off himself.
Once the article is removed he smiles down at me before kissing me again. I return the kiss but turn away so I can get a good look at his newly revealed torso. He pecks down my neck as I pet along his chest. I go up to his shoulders then going slowly down over his pecks, rubbing his nipples as I go past. He licks over my neck before sucking on my skin. I gasp with a grin then trace my nails over his stomach. I chuckle when he sucks in a breath, his stomach clenching as I near his pants.
He stops his assault on my neck, waiting patiently for my next move. I reach over his hips, sliding into his pants as I do. I feel his soft fur, raking my fingers through it as I pet his hips. He rests his head against my neck, watching my hand between us. His antlers rake against the headboard but neither of us pays it any mind. I cautiously run my hands towards his front, keeping my pace deliberately slow in case he wants me to stop. He doesn’t react, perhaps not even breathing as I reach towards his cock.
When my fingers are finally touching him we both jump. His antlers thud against the wood startling me. I pause my hands near his dick. He takes a minute to catch his breath before leaning down and pecking my shoulder. I take that as a sign to continue. I reach down and wrap my fingers around him. I hold him then wait for any signs he wants to stop. His breathing is shallow and rushed, his posture tense. Still, he kisses my shoulder, nuzzling his face to my neck.
I stroke him in a loose grip, enjoying the feeling of his hard cock. He is a well-hung satyr, staying on par with a lot of my exes. He is thick but perhaps averagely long. He is warm and I can feel something wet running down from his tip. I'm curious what he would taste like.
Getting too caught up in the feel of him I don’t notice his whimpers. For a moment I think they are good till he lifts his head away from me. I look at him from the corner of my eye, stopping my motions on him. His eyes are clenched and his breath is still shallow. It doesn’t come out even but in ragged, scared patterns. He looks more than a little nervous.
Without much thought, I retract my hands from his pants. Petting up his stomach and chest to his neck. I tilt his head towards me and give him a peck on the lips. He squints open his eyes, I finally get to see the fear in them. That decides it.
I roll him off me and lay him on his back. He follows without a fight, looking at me curiously and worried. I give him a smile before reaching for my blanket and throwing it over us. I lean over to my nightstand and grab the tv remote. I lay down beside Jensen, laying my head on his chest. I rest my hand on his stomach then turn the tv on.
He doesn’t say anything as I boot up YouTube. He is still breathing hard but he has rested his hand on my naked back. I pull up my unfinished video then fully rest against Jensen. The video plays and I can feel him perk up when he realizes what we are watching. I've been watching Critical Role so we had more to talk about, its not a bad show but its so long.
Soon Jensen relaxes and watches the show. At some point, he started petting my back and holding my hand on his stomach.
"Thank you," he mumbles. I turn my head and look up at him. He adjusts and looks down at me. He looks calmer now, if not a little content. I hum in acknowledgment and kiss his chest. He hums too with a relaxed smile on his face. We turn back and watch the show.
We never say anything about what happened, it being pretty self-explanatory. He wasn’t ready, and that’s fine. We soon fall asleep half-naked in each other's arms. It’s a peaceful rest, best night sleep I've had in a while.
I wake up the next morning to the feeling of something repeatedly touching my face. I squint my eyes open as I feel something wet against my nose. I first see Jensen smiling at me. He leans down and places another kiss to my cheek then to my chin.
"Morning," he mumbles as he kisses my lips. I hum into the kiss, happy to return it full. I sit up and cup his face as we make out. It’s a bit sloppy for a morning kiss but ill take it. He reaches over and pets over my back, his cold hand causing chills over my spine. I gasp into the kiss making him smile.
He surprises me by sitting up and pulling me over his lap. I balance myself by holding his shoulders. The coldness of the room makes me shiver as I remember my lack of a top. Of course, Jensen doesn’t seem to mind as he slides his hands up my thighs, over my hips, on my stomach to my chest. He watches his hands as they cup me. He pinches at my nipples, smiling when I suck in a breath. He leans forward and begins kissing up my collar. Trailing licks and nibbles over to my neck then jaw. He drops his hands to my hips and grinds me down onto his hard cock. I startle at the suddenness, curious if not pleased with the turn of events. What a way to wake up.
Using whatever bravado he has gotten this morning he grabs my ass and squeezes. He huffs against my neck as he bucks up to my crotch.
"You seem excitable this morning," I gasp near his ear.
"I have a wonderful woman in my arms, what's there not to be excited about," he chuckles. I laugh with him before grinding my hips to his, relishing his groans. We go back to making out but this time he reaches between us and cups my crotch. I startle, sucking in a breath as he fingers me through my pants. He pets me a few times but decides it isn't enough. He slides his hand into my pants and touches me directly. Petting along my slit then diving his fingers inside.
"Very excitable," I gasp. He leans back against the headboard and watches me. Having a pleased grin on his face. A better look than last night. I can't help but lazily smile back, happy that he is comfortable.
His fingers pump and curl inside me, testing out every bump and crevice to see which makes me groan and gasp. I enjoy this different side of him, his smirk is all the more arousing. He adjusts his hold and gets his thumb to rest over my clit, giving timid circles. I try not to grind with him, not wanting this to end so soon. Just enjoying the soft strokes and pumping fingers. His other hand pets over my thigh, everything moving slow. He takes his time, just looking pleased to watch me.
I look down at his chest, my hands following my gaze. I feel his chest rising and falling quickly, his heart pounding at his chest. His face is calm despite his rushing blood and hard cock poking my ass. My fingers trace over his stomach and down to his pants. I feel the tufts of fur poking up, the happy trail disappearing behind his bottoms. As I play with his pants he slows his motions then removing his hand altogether. His face is focused but still calm. He rests both of his hands on my thighs, not moving or giving any indication of what he is feeling.
I hook my finger on his pants while keeping eye contact. I cock a brow in question. His lips quirk slightly, his emotions very different than last night. He nods his head while petting up my thighs a bit, fingers twitching with hidden nerves.
I sit up off him and pull his pants down to his knees, keeping his boxers on. I can't help but smirk at the tent in his underwear, feeling a little confident because of it. I reach for his bottoms but look up at him again, just making sure.
"I trust you," he mumbles while giving a nod. I grin like an idiot, feeling butterflies in my stomach. I hook my fingers to his boxers, brushing my nails against his skin. I pull them down just enough for his cock to spring out, slapping back against his stomach. I suck in a gasp, feeling a wave of arousal flow over my cunt.
"Oh," I gasp. I stare at his swollen member, appreciating its girth. His tip is red and wet, his shaft presenting a lovely prominent vein. I can barely see his balls, just seeing the curly hair flowing under his underwear. Using a finger I push his bottoms down more, brushing against his sack. He jumps at the contact, making me snap my eyes to him. He is chewing on his cheek, seeming a bit nervous. Not nervous like before but a little self-conscious.
He catches my worried look," I'm fine, just… you are staring." he looks away still chewing his cheek, his fingers fidgeting at his sides. I want to coo but I know it will embarrass him. Instead, I lean forward, my stomach brushing against his cock, and kiss his cheek.
I whisper near his ear," you just look so good, I kind of want a taste." his shoulders drop as his head thumps against the headboard. He clenches his eyes and groans.
"God," he drops his head to his shoulders," maybe later." I lean back to look him in the eyes but he is still tilted away from me. So I grab his antlers, guiding his head back to me.
I cock a brow," later?" he stares at me a bit wide-eyed, worried he said the wrong thing. To ease his tension I lean forward a peck him on the lips," I like the sound of that." he smiles. I take his lips for mine again, introducing my tongue to his mouth. He meets mine as his hands grab my hips. As our tongues mingle I reach between us and timidly grab his cock, worried he will reject me again. Not that I'm bitter about last night, I understand. It's just going to hurt the second time.
He gasps into the kiss, his fingers holding me a bit harder, but he doesn’t stop me. I grip him a little tighter and pump. Feeling the bumps and grooves of his cock, squeezing a bit at the tip. I feel his pre coat my palm, smearing it over his head then the top of his shaft. He bucks into my grip while forcing his tongue into my mouth. His hand reaches to the hem of my pants, reaching in and fingering my clit.
We touch each other, grinding into the other's hand as our tongues intertwine. Our gasps and groans feed each other's wants and desires. I feel on the cusp, my finish nearing because of his fingers. Yet I don’t want him to do it just yet, I want to cum on his cock.
I lean back from the kiss, stopping my hands. His fingers curiously stop, he watches me for my next move. I remove his hand from my pants, nearly whimpering at the loss. I sit up and shimmy out of my pants. He catches on and helps me remove the clothing before tossing them to the side. I rest back on his lap, my cunt sitting at the bottom of his dick. He looks at me with wonder and eagerness.
Curious, I grind my pussy over him, spreading my slick over his shaft. His head drops back as he groans. I watch him with a smile as I repeat. Grinding over him, feeling his warmth partially part my folds. His back arcs as he pushes his chest out.
"Please," he whimpers," let me be inside." I look at his hooded eyes, them begging me along with his words. I nod before sitting up and hovering over him. I look between us, grabbing his cock. I stroke him once or twice then positioning his tip to my entrance. I let just his tip slip in, my insides practically burning with the need. Still, before I can give in to my greed I check to make sure he is ok. I refuse to use him, he means too much for me to do to him what I did to my exes. He isn't just a body to me.
Our eyes meet, his hooded gaze is locked onto mine. He looks like he is in divine torture, biting his lips just waiting with bated breath. He passes a quick glance to where we are about to meet then looks back up at me. He nods once, telling me what I needed to know. Without preamble I drop down on him, taking his cock quickly.
We both cry out as we meet, sitting flush on his lap. I take a second to enjoy the stuffed feeling, resting my palms on his stomach. I watch as his head drops to his shoulder, his eyes clenching as he bares his teeth. I pet over his stomach, giving him a moment to catch his breath.
"Tight," he whimpers as he looks at me. I huff with a big smile. He grins at me as well, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
We sit there for a second as he catches his breath, I wait for his cue. It doesn’t take long for him to raise his hands and cup my hips. He grabs me and grinds me into him. We both suck in a breath, then he does it again. I get the idea and circle him, listening to his sharp breaths and tiny whimpers. I introduce a few short thrusts, using my thighs to lift myself. I watch as his eyes flutter close, his lips parting in a sigh. I ride him, using my hands to balance myself as I lift higher.
I set a fair pace, bouncing on him while gyrating my hips. I stroke over his stomach to his chest, feeling his racing heart. Watching his face contort in pleasure, each fall causing his mouth to part just a little more. I soon lean forward and kiss his cheek. Giving soft kisses under his eye then near his nose. He startles me when he wraps his arms around me. He sits up and begins to give shallow thrust upwards.
My breathing starts to get harder, panting near his ear as our bodies meet. I grind myself into his stomach, my clit stroking over his fur. I groan at the image of his fur flattening from my slick. I start to whimper against him as I feel my pleasure begin to peak. I rest my cheek against him, petting up his chest to his neck. I card my fingers through his hair, just barely touching his antlers. I squeeze my eyes shut as his cries increase my own. His noises spurring me on more.
"God, you feel too good," he pants. I can’t speak now, I just nod. I focus on the feel of his cock sliding in and out of me. Stroking my walls and reaching deep inside. I cry out louder on his next thrust, tugging his hair as I follow my peak.
I don’t have time to warn him before I'm clenching around him. I stop my falls as my legs give out. He chokes on a gasp, grunting into my neck. I feel some drool drip onto my shoulder as he bucks into my convulsing cunt. I slide my fingers up and grasp at his antlers, clenching them in a white grip. I cry with each thrust, falling apart over him. I barely notice when he stills suddenly, feeling something warm and hot inside myself. He lets out a long groan, bucking once or twice more.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, as do I. he holds me close, adjusting to relax his head to my chest. I still grip his horn tightly but I pet his back as I try to even out my breathing.
"Thank you," he still huffs.
"Don’t thank me for that," I laugh," I had fun too." he kisses my sternum as he too chuckles.
"Not that, but thank you for that too," he sits up, not before nuzzling one more time to my boob. He rests his head against the backboard and looks up at me with a fulfilled smile. "Thank you for giving me time," he clarifies. His hands slide down to my waist and keep me close. I stare down at him feeling happy. There is no other way to say it, I'm just happy.
"of course," I pet some hair out of his face," I wanted our first time to be comfortable."
"Most people wouldn’t have stopped," he nuzzles against my hand. Pressing a kiss to my palm.
"Then most people are awful," I joke," I couldn’t use you like that."
"And that why you are so wonderful. Even when it looked like my body wanted it you knew me well enough to see I wasn’t ready and for that I thank you," he leans up and kisses me. It's slow and wet, if not a little lazy. It's nice.
"I love you, Jensen," I find myself mumbling to his lips. He sits back abruptly with eyes wide. I watch him cautiously, feeling the heavyweight of panic in my stomach. Before I could say anything he buries his face to my neck, grinning widely against my skin.
"Aw," he coos," you don’t understand how terrific it is to hear you say that." the panic evaporates quickly and is replaced with a gushy feeling. I rub my cheek to his head, my forehead hitting his antlers. I can't stop smiling or blushing as he rubs his nose and continues to coo. "You beautiful woman, I love you so much," he kisses my cheek," Love you when you joined me in my first campaign. Love you when you held my hand at the movies, relaxing me when I was a nervous wreck. And I love you most when you didn’t force me last night, I will love you forever because you are just too wonderful." I hide my face to his shoulder as he peppers my face with kisses.
"stop," I laugh," my face is going to catch on fire at this rate."
"How can I stop? The cute girl from the comic book store loves me! I never thought id even get the guts to talk to you let alone have sex with you," he rubs his nose near my eye. His grin is wide and his heart still beats wild. I try to fight my smile but it comes out anyway. My teeth showing as my lips curl from ear to ear.
"I thought you were cute when I first saw you too, I wanted you then and now," I kiss his cheek. He shutters and slumps on me.
"You are going to make my heart burst," he mumbles near my ear," first you are kind to me last night, then you are watching Critical Role for me. Next you get me to trust you so much that we make love. And you tell me that you like my stupid awkwardness! God, you are too much." I nearly get teary-eyed at his words, making me feel like a saint when all I did was care about him. I definitely love this timid satyr.
"Do you work today," I wrap my arms around his shoulder. He slides his hands around my waist and hugs me close.
"No. Do you?"
"No," I kiss his neck," would you like to spend the day in bed?"
"I'd love nothing more," he quickly flips us over. I laugh as he settles above me with a big smile. He looks down between us and kicks off his bottoms. Quickly he catches my eye again and cocks a brow in question. I can't help but laugh before grabbing his face and kissing him again.
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PSA: you can withdraw consent at anytime. This is for both genders. just because a girl is wet, doesnt mean she is ready or willing. Just because a boy is hard, doesnt mean he is ready or willing. communication is important and No means No.
On that note, I really wanted to write a story where the guy wasnt ready. its always the girl not ready to take the leap but it happens to guys too. they arent always the cumbrains we mistake them for. sometimes they need time to trust and open up to a person.
Archive | Main Blog | Critical Role YT Page
#Satyr#satyr x human#monster boyfriend#monster lover#exophilia#Enigma-IM#satyr boyfriend#timid boyfriend#comic books#critical role#Jensen! satyr
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3/29/2021
Brain Dump 🧠
I’m kinda having a slow start this morning but it’s all good as long as I get my stuff done that’s what really matters I was really productive yesterday I finally cleaned my bathroom and vacuumed my room. I’ve been needing to clean the bathroom for a good minute now. I need to take the trash out today and I need to finish up the laundry but for the most part all I have to really work on is my fitness and taking care of the animals and my plants. Chore wise I’m getting more caught up I’m gonna work on cleaning up the porch today too. Rolando is coming back home today!! I’m excited to see him he’s been gone for like 5 days haha I’m not really sure what time he’ll be coming over to pick up Charlie (I’ve been dog sitting for him since he’s been gone) but I’m just excited that I’ll be able to see him at some point today. He’s really sweet and makes me really happy. I haven’t checked my weight yet so I’m not sure if I’ve lost or gained anything but no matter the case its alright. I’ll do whatever I can to be healthy today and I’ll do Day 5 of my workout videos today too. It’s gonna be an upper body and abs workout but after that I have a rest day tomorrow but I’m planning on going for a run. I really wanna get better all around. I wanna be a healthy person and I wanna start getting more serious with my health and fitness. I’m so close to being under 200 I just really need to do the extra work to finally get there. I need to be mindful today about what and how much I’m eating we’re low on groceries so I’m gonna do my best to pick healthy options with what we currently have. My Dad and I are suppose to go grocery shopping Tuesday since we’re both off work. I’m gonna make a list of foods to get and healthy dinner ideas because I feel like that’s where I mess up a lot is around dinner time. I’m feeling good though today I feel ready to be productive and make some progress in my goals. I’ll try to do some stuff I enjoy today too like maybe watching a tv show or playing animal crossing for a bit. I feel like I’ve gotten pretty out of touch with my hobbies recently so I want to try and get back into those if I can. Alright timer went off. I hope you all have an amazing day today! 💕
#brain dump#life update#my thoughts#vent#rambling#positivity#positive blog#positive thoughts#positivethinking#speak it into existence#law of attraction
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COLLEGE SOCCER PLAYER JEONGHAN
a/n: this is the first time i’m doing something like this so i am SO sorry if it SUCKS
a/n pt 2: i actually hate it but am posting for @viastro
so like college sucks dude
it sucks a lot
but college sucked a lot less when you had activities to participate in
luckily Yoon Jeonghan, local college campus crush, had a soccer scholarship
and with that soccer scholarship, he was able to attend college
without it he wouldn’t be able to afford it
and he couldn’t really even do the things he wanted
like get a part time job or hang out with his friends more often than he does
it was always soccer, soccer, soccer
that’s all anybody ever saw
“yoon jeonghan, soccer player”
most didn’t care about his dreams, his hobbies
it was always how he played soccer and how hot he looked doing so
only his friends knew what he actually wanted to do
he wanted to teach young kids about music
music was almost like a guilty pleasure for him
even if he was always seen with headphones, most didn’t know he was as passionate as he was about music
he was practically miserable but he couldn’t do anything about it
his best friends, joshua hong and choi seungcheol, often encouraged him to be more open about what he wants to do but
nobody really cared, jeonghan decided
so he minded his own business
he kept to himself and to his friends
he didn’t bother with dating as everyone on campus saw him as the hunky soccer guy and didn’t care to get to know him more
but because he didn’t seem to want to date
it made him more desirable
because you want what you can’t have 😌
anyways
he hides around the college campus alot
because girls like to follow him around and it creeps him out
rightfully so
and they all watch him during soccer practice
he just wants to survive college
but coincidentally
thats how he meets YOU
one day while hes double cheeked up on a tuesday afternoon
he has a free period
where he has to find a hiding place to study in peace
and as he’s hiding in the back of the library
you, the library assistant, find him
making eye contact with him, his eyes widen
you open your mouth to ask him something
and he rushes towards you, covering your mouth with hand
and desperately whispers
“PLEASE DON’T SAY ANYTHING I JUST WANT TO STUDY”
completely concerned, you removed his hand for your mouth
and give him a weird look
and ask him
“are you okay?”
he continues to beg you not to reveal where he is
and you agree,,, only because you want to walk away from the conversation asap
but as he explains in panic as to why he was hiding
your heart softened and offered him a new hiding spot
underneath your desk where you check out books
no one would be able to see him
and he agreed because for some reason he trusts you
(and he thinks you’re very pretty but he won’t admit that)
(yet)
and so he keeps you company until the library closed
and you say goodbye to each other
you don’t expect to see him ever again
but what do you know!
you’re friends with one of his friends!
and you guessed it!
mingyu!!
...
i’m joking of course it’s wonwoo
anyways
since you’ve met jeonghan you’ve developed quite the crush on him
no one can blame you!!! he’s so attractive i swear i’ll pee myself if he ever looks at me directly
but you never admitted it out loud
and so when wonwoo invites you to his party you’re hesitant but he insists because he wants you to meet his friends
and he wants to set you up with jeonghan because he can tell jeonghan has a crush on the “librarian girl who helped me hide from the crazy girls”
so when you arrive
jeonghan answers the door
to which the both of you look like
:o
*insert pikachu meme*
(i have it somewhere in my pictures but i have 17,178 photos and i am NOT going thru them all)
and wonwoo sees you and is like “y/n!!! :D”
and thats when jeonghan figures out your name because the two of you barely talked to each other
and you guys were too intimidated to get each others names
and he’s like
“ur name is very pretty 🥺”
and ur like
“omg thank you 🥺👉👈”
and he wants to BARF because god you are so PRETTY
and you ask him his name
and he answers
and you literally shit ur stomach out because
holy fuck this is THE jeonghan??? soccer god???
the one EVERYONE has a crush on???
and you helped him HIDE FROM THEM
you become even more nervous than you were originally
but jeonghan continues to talk to you and asks you questions about yourself
and you answer the best you can without sounding stoopid because you’re talking to JEONGHAN you can’t think straight
and you finally get to ask him questions
your go to is soccer because that’s what he’s known for
and you can tell
his mood changes when soccer is first discussed
you don’t know why
but you immediately changed the subject
to what he wanted to do with his life
which shocked him
like
someone cares enough to ask?
he doesn’t answer because he’s looking at you jaw dropped
and he asks you why you’re asking
and you’re completely confused and you answer honestly
“i’m curious about what you want to do?”
and he asks why you immediately dropped soccer after two questions and you again answer honestly
and he’s so shocked and so touched
that he hugs you
and whispers a thank you
and you return the hug because
he obviously needs it
and the night goes on
and eventually you say your goodbyes to everyone
but not before you and jeonghan exchange numbers ;)
you two text until you fall asleep
and text all day
and the cycle repeats
until about a couple months of getting to know each other
you guys officially hang out
and the entire time you guys are vibing
since the two of you became friends
both of your feelings for each other grew
and at the end of the hang out
the two of you are singing along to a song on the radio in a silly way
until a slow song comes on next
and he glances at you as you sway along to the song
and begins to sing softly
and your heart went OOPS
i’m in LOVE WITH THIS MOTHERFUCKER
he gets shy and blushy as he continues to sing
until the song ends
and ur clapping claiming he’s an amazing singer and that he should go pro
he just leans in and smooches you
you’re shocked for like a second
before you come to your senses and kiss him back
and bing bang boom yall are datings
which means you go to all of his games
and you get to wear his jersey
and his hoodies
and his clothes
and you get to hold his hand
he brings you food when you’re working at the library
when things are slow he comes to just hang out or study with you
and you’ll catch him after soccer practice and get a late dinner with him sometimes
you two are so cute and wonwoo takes all the credit for the two of you
seungcheol and joshua tease you two all the time but yall are just vibing its all good
pretty much all of seventeen calls you two mom and dad
and you’re constantly on the verge of fighting because
he still gets stalked occasionally
(he has to hold you back from swinging sometimes)
and although he’s still not as open about what he wants to do
you helped bring a part of him out
and he’s given you a family away from home
#seventeen#kpop#svt#jeonghan#yoon jeonghan#boyfriend jeonghan#kpop au#dino#hoshi#joshua#jun#s. coups#the8#dk#mingyu#woozi#wonwoo#seungkwan#vernon#seventeen social media au#soccer jeonghan
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Keen
Summary: The Bartons’ Vow Renewal Ceremony, Bucky’s exasperation (among other things), and some peaches makes for a fantastic afternoon.
Pairing: Bucky x chaoticdumbass!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, sexual references.
A/N: 1.4k words. Written for @cake-writes‘s 1K Followers Celebration! Congrats, love! The prompt is based off this moodboard:
Bag of Tricks One-Shots Masterlist
It’s never the revealing outfits that catches Bucky’s attention.
The shredded tank top exposing a lacy bra— an exciting blend of sexy and sweet, or the skintight white dress from last Saturday’s outing that hugged so snugly he could see the cleft of your ass. He doesn’t bat an eye.
Silk robes and nothing else to mission debriefs. Boy shorts and a frayed crop-top emblazoned with a summer camp logo. Nothing. Once you answered your door in fishnet tights and a tank top, half pulling on shorts, and because Bucky was so used to it, he threw the book you asked to borrow onto your bed and left as if he never saw you.
Your clothing collection leaves very little to the imagination because frankly, you leave very little to the imagination. Bucky knows more about you than he knows about Steve and it would only make him uncomfortable if he didn’t know you for so long.
There is no filter between your brain and your mouth, and you have absolutely zero sense of propriety.
Between burping in the middle of dinner, clipping your nails and scattering them on the floor of Sam’s room when he irritates you, complaining openly about pissing out of your ass after eating an entire box of Triscuits, your prancing around in nothing but socks and a t-shirt doesn’t even register in his mind as inappropriate. All of that sounds like a Tuesday night when you’re applying a mud-mask and wrestling to get him to try it, too.
It’s the dress you wear to Clint and Laura’s 10-year anniversary that kills him.
A lemon-yellow and soft fabric with loose capped sleeves, flowing down to your shins and cinched neatly at your waist with a thin bow. The sheer material gives him a clear view of your legs inside when you dart through the beams of the afternoon sun.
It makes you look otherworldly and gorgeous. Delicate like you never are, and to his utter shock, it stirs him wild.
He finds himself situated between Steve and Sam and staring at the back of your head during the vow exchange. Your hair is still wet because you had overslept and sprinted down the road to get here on time. Luckily, the Barton’s had extra accommodations just a few miles away—Clint’s newfound hobby as a retired Avenger and rural dad. Unluckily, your heel broke off and you ran barefoot, dragging blood over the lush grass.
Water droplets collect on the nape of your neck and roll down into the fabric, soaking the back until it turns orange. He pinches himself because no way. No way is he thinking about dragging you behind the barn in the middle of a vow renewal ceremony and—
“Earth to Bonky!” Your fingers snap in his face. Three of your nails are chipped, and you shove your pointer back into your mouth, teeth nipping against it to tear it free. “Let’s get fucked up on some bubbly.”
He feels lightheaded because the cocktail hour has begun and that he didn’t even notice.
You grab him by the waist and lurch forward, throwing your broken shoes under the chair and pretending like they don’t exist.
Picnic tables are set for the guests, thin off-white linen tablecloths adorned with the exact kind of decorations perfect for a ceremony in the back of the Barton’s farmhouse. Eucalyptus dollars and dusty green lamb’s ears burst from the entwined centerpiece running through the middle of each tabletop. Creamy garden roses are placed sporadically along the length of the vine, split open peaches and blackberries lie waiting to be tasted on polished ceramic plates.
It’s beautiful.
Bucky couldn’t care less.
Your teeth sink into a ripe yellow peach matching that damn dress and its juice spurts from your mouth and down your chest in sticky trails. Bucky chokes on his champagne and spits back into the flute and both of you look like complete idiots who either need bibs or need to be quarantined away from the real adults.
“What is going on with you two?” Sam mutters behind a stiff jaw as his eyes roll from left to right, “Y’all embarrassing me in front of the ladies.” Bucky puts a hand up in apology and steers you away from Laura’s shocked sisters and over to the rolled-up cutlery where he slaps a cloth napkin over your sternum.
“I was saving it for later; I can get a little slurp-slurp if I bend down far enough.”
“Will you shut—please, it’s distracting.”
A furrow of your eyebrows shushes him as you slowly dab at the liquid on your chest. In your other hand, you hold onto the half-eaten peach suspiciously. Bucky tenses when you look him up and down, taking in his stiff posture and the way he is fisting the crystal glass in his hand. “You… okay?”
“Fine. They’re just... gross.” He grunts.
You quirk your head even further and narrow your eyes at the way he stands, weight pressed on one leg, arms crossed suddenly as if he’s protecting himself.
Bucky grumbles incoherently, stares off into the distance and finds interest in hay bales and chickens. He unbuttons the front of his blazer and straightens his spine, anything to stand a little taller and ground himself. His hands begin to fiddle by his sides, and he fixes his tie in a moment of unease.
The grass shuffles beneath your feet as you step in front of him, blocking the perfect view he had of a yard he longed to throw himself across. You hold the peach out in front of his face with an amused grin.
The glint in your eye tells him the kind of trouble he’s in. “This? Oh, Bucky, this isn’t gross… It’s actually delicious---” Your bottom lip is rolled between your teeth as you gasp and moan.
He glares straight through your face and into The Abyss. You are milking it.
“—Mmm.. oh god! Juicy.” A squelch breaks the silence as your mouth sucks the nectar onto your tongue, “Sweet. Tangy. Wet, and so soft...” Your tongue lewdly traces the corner of your mouth and up over the top of your lip. Maddeningly slow. “It’s kind of like eating…”
You place the fruit under your nose and plunge the tip of your tongue inside, flicking a few times at the edge of where the soft yellow flesh meets the thin layer of fuzzy orange-pink skin. “Kind of like eating pus---”
A hand spikes the peach out of your face and clear across the yard. When the two of you are finished following its trajectory as it pathetically rolls to a stop so far away it’s nearly gone, your heads turn back to see Steve hovering with a glower.
“Not. Okay.” He grits out, “Family event!” Steve yanks his thumb back to the tables where no one else seems to think anything of your absence, but granted, not everyone has super hearing. “Don’t make me come back here.”
Steve struts off with a final huff, giving Bucky a disappointed sigh—or perhaps a sympathetic one. Your smirk is barely hidden by the back of your hand as you watch Steve clomp away and then you erupt into laughter so hard you have to hold onto Bucky to keep yourself upright. Your wrist is splayed over his shoulder, forehead pressed to your own arm as you giggle.
Rising from your chest and mouth is the smell of ripe peach flesh, enclosing his senses completely. It is summery like the sun and the yellow of your dress. Ripe and sweet and tangy, just like you had said. Bucky licks his lips and groans when your breath blows over his neck.
“You think he--?” You ask quietly, turning so that the tip of your nose barely brushes against him.
Bucky shrugs. “Not like this is out of the ordinary for you.”
Another gust of air rushes down his back when you exhale, “True. Meet me behind the barn, Barnes?”
And then you’re off, extremely proud of yourself, bare feet sneaking away as quickly as possible so no one will notice your absence from the mingling. Bucky watches you disappear behind a row of trees and around the corner and shudders in excitement.
The two of you have been fooling around sporadically for the past month, but as you promised-- and he delivered-- nothing has changed. He still yells at you for oversharing, and you still clobber him with a box of Triscuits and a jar full of something for his face once a week. The only difference is that now sometimes he shows up half-dressed, too.
Bucky grins to himself as he takes a step after you. Then he pauses and heads the other way.
Five minutes later, he turns the corner and finds the dress that started it all hiked up over your hips and you erupt into laughter again at the sight of two peaches in his hand.
-
tags: @whothehellisbucky, @serpentbaby, @badassbaker, @alagalaska, @crist1216, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan
#marvel#mcu#fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x you#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#james buchnan barnes#reader insert#cake's 1k followers celebration
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Catalyst
a Prequel to the Nanny Affair
Chapter 2: Covalence
Need to catch up? Chapter 1: Acquiesce
Rating: 18+ (Mature Audiences only)
Word count: 3255(+/-)
Warning: language; sexually suggestive language; mention of physical abuse, drug abuse, assault and adoption
"Alright, Pine Shadow family, here are your finalists!" Principal Larson's voice booms over the gym speakers. One would think he's announcing a night of rough and rumble with the WWE rather than announcing the award winners for a middle school science fair. Regardless, his enthusiasm is contagious much to the science departments delight. "Let's give them a big Wildcat round of applause for all of their hard work!"
As the audience abrupts into cheers, there she sits, melting into her chair as her knees bounce feverishly in fear. Her French-braided hair accompanies a denim headband, keeping the stray strands of brilliant wheat out of her gray eyes. Against her mother's disgust, she picks at the rubberbands attached to the hardware in her mouth. In her young 12-year-old mind, the audience seems to be doubling--no, tripling in size.
She worries if her hard work will payoff with a shiny blue ribbon--if any ribbon at all. Mrs. Ferguson and Coach Kincaid gave her nods of approval when she created elemental silver from the glucose mixture and Tollen's reagent-- who wouldn't be impressed with a 6th grader with an advanced passion for chemistry? But still, she worries.
"And," the principal continues, "our first place winner is--" The anticipation thickens the air as every movement seems to propel through space in slow motion. Like a dramatic montage of Rudy sacking the Georgia Tech quarterback to clutch the W for Notre Dame, or an injured Danny LaRusso crane-kicking Johnny Lawrence to become the All-Valley Karate Champion: this was her field; this was her stadium; this was her Hail Mary. All of the hours of research at the library; all of the frantic trips to the hobby store; the redundant presentation practices; the late evenings followed by the early mornings accompanied with the inevitable break downs. It all came down to this.
"Our first place winner is… Brynn Schuyler!" The applause is defeaning as time seems to stop. Did she hear the principal correctly? The name sounded very familiar--like her own name!
"Brynn Schuyler!" Did she really just win the coveted first place ribbon at the science fair? She froze, her tiny little body unable to process the abundance of emotion she was encountering all at once.
"Where is Brynn?" Outside of being gifted her hamster and her mom letting her wear clear lipgloss, this is the most incredible day of her life--
She feels a tap on her shoulder. "Ma'am?" The veiled-look from her eyes washes away; the clouds around her head vanish. Reality hits. "Are you Brynn Schuyler?" She feels the warmth of rose flood over her fair complexion as the barista interrupts her morning ritual: reminiscing.
"Uh--yes," as she brushes her fingers over her brow, as if to create a shield to her embarrassment.
Smooth. Real smooth, Brynn.
She quickly brightens, extending her hands, "I'm sorry. That's--"
"Iced venti white mocha latte with a blueberry muffin… and two mini cinnamon maple scones?"
I don't know what would be nicer: reading out my order for everyone to hear or calling me a 'fatass'.
"--me. Yes, thank you," she whispers with gnashed teeth behind a courtesy grin. As she slithers back down into her seat at the local coffee house, Brynn hides the pastries in her backpack, keeping them well within her reach as she continues to work: scouring the wanted ads.
Next Tuesday makes four months of no job and no steady income. She has been on seven 'promising' interviews with no avail. She is able to keep her bill collector's away with her savings account, but even that was beginning to dwindle like her existence.
Brynn is a scientists, a chemist to be exact--or at least she was. Her love for science led her from the suburbs of 'the City of Brotherly Love' to the University of Massachusetts at Amherst where she studied education. Her dream was to impose the wonders of science on young minds as they experienced the physical world around them. But, after her personal observation of the devastation of Alzheimer's disease with her grandmother, she took an unexpected internship with the Massachusetts's Alzheimer's Disease Research Center. She realized she didn't want to just teach science; she wanted to do science. One Master's degree in Chemistry later, she was well on way to making a real difference in the world. Or so she thought.
'Benson's BBQ: Host needed'--maybe. 'Browning Steel: Welder with experience'--no. 'Bus Depot: driver wanted, great benefits'--no. 'Cutshall Clearance Store--stalker needed'-- surely they don't mean 'stalker', but they may need an ad editor.
She had scored the chance of a lifetime when she was hired on as one of the first female level I Chemists at the Lincoln Laboratory at MIT. She quickly graduated from fetching coffee, dry cleaning and business lunches for her superiors--also known as a research assistance--to finally being a project manager of her very own, very first multi-million dollar research study. But after twenty-months with no success, the funding was pulled on the project, the wind knocked out of her sails. The punches didn't stop there: her team of men threw her under the metaphorical bus and it was 'off with her head,' her moment of glory now over. She often feels foolish that she thought she could actually make a difference in the world; even worse, she felt agonizing guilt for being a woman that couldn't hang in a man's world, feeling as if she was responsible for a sudden shift backwards in equality.
'Danny's Barber Shop: receptionist'--maybe. 'Danny's Cake Decorating: baker'--no. 'Danny's XXX videos: call for details'-- uh, Mr. Danny has his dick in one too many pies.
Bzzt.
Saved by the text.
She giggles to herself in seeing she has a message from her roommate Jenny. Knowing that this is about to become a full-on text conversation, probably more suitable for an actual phone call, Brynn folds up her marked-up paper, and stretches her legs. She grabs her second scone, placing it into her mouth to hold as she piles her greasy hair into messy bun on top of her head, secured with a pen.
She swipes across her spider-cracked screen; the message: 'Turn around whore! ;-P'
"Brynny!" Brynn ducks as if she is about to be hit. "I thought that was your Corolla parked outside!"
"Jenny! You scared me!" She exhales loudly. "What are you doing awake? It's--" Brynn looks at her phone, "holy shit! Is it really almost noon?" She has no place to be; she just hates the feeling of time slipping by unnoticed, especially with her not being an active participant in life these days.
"I'm sorry, girl--"as she sits her coffee cup down at Brynn's commandeered table, "And you're right--I should probably still be asleep." She stifles a yawn, "I had a very busy night--"
"At the bar?" Brynn raises an eyebrow, "Or with Xavier?" her lips curling into a knowing grin.
Xavier is the first intact penis Jenny had ever been with--and she was loving it. It had been the topic of conversation during their 3AM chats this week, but when Jenny didn't come home from her shift at the bar last night, Brynn automatically knew Jenny must be exploring the new uncharted territory at his place.
"I didn't--I mean--" Jenny let's out a scoff. "Fine. Both."
A giddy Brynn scoots her chair closer. "Ooooo do tell."
"I--" Jenny pauses for dramatic effect, "happen to have a very--"
"Insatiable appetite? Ferocious needs?" Brynn giggles as she wraps her delicate fingers around her straw, gradually sliding them up and down its length.
Jenny clears her throat, straightening out her overall posture. "I was going to say, 'healthy sex life,' but since you have to be a thirsty bitch about it--" she leans in closely to Brynn, grabbing the remains of her scone. She flanges her lips around the breakfast pastry, fluttering her eyes closed, finally letting out a soft moan when she takes a nibble. "Oh honey, he was ferocious." She draws a sip from her hot coffee before lowering her voice. "And he satiated my appetite very… very… well."
Brynn jokingly sticks her fingers in her ears, pretending to be disgusted, yet squealing in excitement. Jenny playfully hits her arm as the two women uncontrollably giggle as they continue to enjoy each other's company.
Jenny Browder and Brynn Schuyler were a very unlikely pair. They met in undergrad in a entry-level sociology course during their first semester freshmen year. Of the two, Brynn was mature and focused, especially when it came to her education. Often times, she had to be the voice of reason with a newly uncaged and untamed Jenny who was more concerned with socializing and drinking.
Jenny was brought up in a strict, Fundamentalist household, the kind that saw dancing and playing cards as evil. She somehow convinced her parents that God was calling her to attend UMass after a life-long career of being homeschooled. It was 'Goodbye, long dresses,' and, 'Hello, Bombshell Bra.'
She never returned back home. Even when she failed out after Sophomore year, she packed up her guitar and headed for Nashville to become a star. The two friends had quickly turned back into strangers.
Brynn will never forget they day Jenny stumbled back into her life. In the midst of grad school, Brynn had volunteered at a free/low-cost community health clinic offered to lower-socioeconomic families. Jenny was waiting outside the facility, chain-smoking her last four cigarettes. Brynn was unloading testing equipment when she recognized a very familiar purple butterfly tattoo.
"Jenny?" Hearing her name, she instantly responded. She looked so different--older even, weathered. Her once-lustrous auburn hair looked as if it hadn't seen a brush--or soap, for that matter-- in weeks. Her eyes had lost their glow, surrounded by gray bags. Even though she kept her arms crossed in an attempt to hide it, her stretched-tight shirt boasted a growing bump. But, perhaps the most bothersome was the severely picked scabs, scratches, and bruises, littering her entire body.
They made cordial small talk until Greg, her alcoholic and abusive fiancé, honked his horn from his rusty Ford Ranger, notifying Jenny it was time to leave. Before she could run out on her again, Brynn quickly dug a pen and Post-It pad from her white coat, and wrote down her cell number. Truth be told, she never expected her to call.
Two o'clock in the morning about 3 months later, Jenny called. In his usual anger fueled by Wild Turkey, Greg had beaten her and forced himself on her until he passed out from the exhaustion of his stuper. But, something was different this night; something snapped in Jenny's brain. Enough. Her body was frail and bleeding; but her spirit was kindled, coming alive with courage, telling her she was not broken, telling her to fight. Fueled with what could easily be described as courage--or insanity--she stole $12 from his wallet and packed an old duffle bag with a change of clothes and a water-stained Post-It note.
At a gas station outside of Boston, Brynn picked up a very pregnant Jenny. They sat in the darkness, the cabin filled with silence and stillness; but the conversation was loud and clear: Jenny was terrified. Terrified to talk, terrified to act, terrified of her past and terrified to even imagine a future. Brynn reached over and grabbed Jenny's hand as they both quietly sobbed. They weren't freshmen anymore.
All of a sudden in the quietness of the car amongst all of the chaos, a baby began to dance. Waves and ripples fluttered across Jenny's abdomen; flips and tumbles quickly ensued, becoming stronger and stronger. They took her breath away for a moment, but quickly returned in the form of tiny giggles. Brynn's eyes sparkle with wonder as she gently places her hand on her friend's belly, gently rubbing circles with her thumb and fingers. Jenny places both her hands on Brynn's, guiding her around her bump, occasionally pressing deeply until finally they are greeted with a kick.
For the first time in a long time, Jenny wasn't terrified. Her head wasn't pounding from an incessant ache, a craving for just one more hit. Her body was breathing, healing in between the throws. For the first time in a long time, Jenny had clarity. And she was ready to talk.
Jenny got the necessary help she needed. She spent time at a battered women's shelter where she was safe and protected; she was able to receive prenatal care and some deeply therapeutic counseling. She even painfully detoxed from her methamphetamine addiction. But her biggest victory: she was beginning to forgive herself, allowing herself to heal.
Six weeks later, a very round and overdue Jenny gave birth to a beautiful red-headed, 9 pound 8 ounce boy. Her heart swelled with love--a love she had never experienced before--as they placed him right on her bare chest. Overcome with joy and tears, the new mom kept him safe and sound, snuggled in a blue receiving blanket in her healing arms. She had already missed so much--she didn't want to miss another moment: she wanted to remember how his chunky cheeks felt against her lips as she kissed him. She wanted to remember the gentle smell he had after his first bath. She wanted to remember that tiny, fierce grip around her finger, a grip that would extend past her finger and right around her heart. A grip that would never let go, even well-after she laid him into his new mother's arms.
Jenny Browder is the strongest woman Brynn knows--and probably will every know. Even while she was still rummaging through the train-wreck that was her former life, Jenny had the selfless spirit of a saint and the bravery of the finest medieval warrior. She had nothing of value to her name except for her battered heart; but being the mother of all mother's, she gave her last possession away. She knew that in order to give her son the world, she had to place him in a new world.
Jenny celebrated five years of sobriety last month, and has empowered many women throughout the New England area with her story, speaking at meetings and volunteering part-time at a crisis center. She reconnected with her cousin Sean and his husband Charlie a few years back; feeling a pull to be near family, she moved to Newark, a few blocks away from the happy couple. She now has a home--an apartment--of her own, a car, and a steady income, bartending at a local, lively bar called Annex. As an added benefit, she also gets to perform twice a month with the house band. Going back to school might even be in her future; but for now, she is happy to be living life again--even if that meant hosting a squatter on her couch in the form of her best friend.
"Any luck on the job front?"
Brynn blows a raspberry with pressed lips in her exacerbation. "Well, today's options include wearing daisy duke's at a BBQ joint, or becoming a baker--possible porn star--with a man named Danny--"
Jenny laughs, "Ewww, gross. Do I even want to--"
Brynn waves her hand in front of her face, erasing the air of the horrid idea, even if it was a joke.
"Well, the perfect job is out there."
Yeah, yeah, yeah…
Brynn sighs, "Oh, Jen, you have to say that--"
Before she can hang her head down, Jenny interrupts the pity party, grabbing the remains of massacred muffin from Brynn's hand. "No, I don't. And believe me--" She stares warmly into Brynn's stormy eyes, "You are a catch. You are one in a million--"
"Are we still talking about jobs, or--"
"The perfect job is out there for you--trust me! We are one day closer to it." Not missing a beat, "Speaking of which--" Jenny rocks back and forth in excitement as her heart-shaped lips spread into a smile.
Oh, God…
"What are you doing tonight?" The words almost slur together like a waterfall crashing out of her mouth.
Don't invite me out. Don't invite me out.
"I think I'm gonna--you know--stay in, order out. Look for more jobs--"
"And feel sorry for yourself?"
Damnit, she's good.
Brynn sighs deeply as she lays her head down on her crossed arms.
"Well, it's a good thing we're not going out. You are just--" she lies, "accompanying me to work--"
"Jenny!"
"Brynny," Jenny fires back as both women compete in a staring--moreso glaring contest. She gives in first to the silly gesture, her look warming with affection. "Look, I-I know things have been have sucked recently--"
That's an understatement.
"You need this. It's time to join the world again. You can't just stay cooped up in the apartment all the time--"
"Um," Brynn clears her throat. "I do believe I am in a coffee shop right now." She smirks while delicately fanning her arms out in the air, as if she was showcasing a brand new car on a game show.
"C'mon, girl," Jenny whines, "You know what I mean. Just come up to the bar. Sit and talk with me. Keep me company. Meet some of my regulars. You will feel so much better about yourself--"
"You know I have nothing to wear."
12 pounds, fucking 12 pounds, and my entire wardrobe seems to have shrunk overnight.
"We'll figure something out--I promise! C'mon!" Jenny quickly bounds to the door with a sluggish Brynn in tow. "Besides," Jenny whirls around to continue, "You have a lot of miles left in this thing--" spanking Brynn's butt. Reflexively, Brynn immediately shields her pained bottom, her mouth gaping open. Jenny continues. "I've gotch'ya with shots all night. At least come window shop--it's Thursday night, which means the corporate hotties are shopping for some young ass--"
"Oh, yes. Because a one-night-stand and a raging case of chlamydia will cure my problems--"
"Hey, a shot in the ass, and you're good as new," Jenny jokes, making her apprehensive bestie crack a smile. "That's why I said, 'window shop.' Plus they're rich and love flaunting that they are rich. So--" Jenny shrugs her shoulders, "More free drinks for you!"
Brynn folds her arms across her chest, averting her gaze into the bustling traffic. She starts chewing on the sides of her mouth while letting out a long-winded sigh, clearly uncomfortable with the whole idea. The fact is she was embarrassed of herself, of what had become of her life. There she was, merely existing, living on her best friend's couch with no prospects--job-wise and love-wise. And now that her former-slender body sprung unwelcomed curves, she feels more comfortable in hiding--from the world, and from herself.
Jenny steps back out of her black sedan. She pushes her sunglasses back into her short hair, the sunshine illuminating her scarlet layers. She places her hands on her hips as she silently challenges her friend to a battle of wills.
Brynn feels her piercing gaze, but she can't bring her self to match it. Jenny never pushes her to do anything--and now, all she wants to do is help pull her depressed house-guest out of her mucky misery. And Brynn knows that she will be grateful for the night, especially tomorrow morning. She just needed the little shove.
Brynn breaks their silence with a long, drawn out sigh. "Okay."
"Yes, yes, yes!" squeals Jenny. She slides back into the driver's seat, adjusts her sunglasses and bellows across the parking lot: "Get in loser! We're going shopping!"
Brynn could only hope it was for a new life.
@choicesficwriterscreations
#the nanny affair#choices#choices stories you play#choices tna#pixelberry#tna sofia#tna mc#tna jenny#tna sam#tna robin
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A few more quarantine pics and the first week of FREEDOM
Just a few little joys that helped get me though quarantine:
This “Vitamin Water” is delicious. A very light version of gatorade. It’s so refreshing in the heat and humidity.
A sweet send-off gift from this girl❤️. I can’t even tell you how many hours that sky took to finish😆.
Spent many evenings painting while watching Parks and Rec. Watercoloring was a fun new hobby I picked up thanks to some paints Mom sent me with.
An authentic Sicilian meal thanks to ingredients mailed over from a dear friend in Italy!
Simple pleasures of a cup of coffee and quiet time post morning workout.
These along with many hours of virtual time with family and friends helped keep me sane and made the quarantine process not altogether unenjoyable.
✼✼✼✼✼✼
The much awaited phone call came Monday morning.. COVID test is negative and I’m free to leave my room!! Funny enough, as I was rushing outside, most everyone else was hunkering down in preparation for the coming typhoon. By the time I had walked over to the hospital and stopped by the post office, the warm salty breeze had turned into threatening gusts. I made it back just as the rain started, and by 1100 we were back in lockdown. So thankful for those couple hours to stretch my legs at least!
The typhoon itself was exciting! What a welcome to Okinawa. The wind and rain picked up and blew all Monday night, Tuesday and into Tuesday evening. At its worst, the winds were 57mph with 80mph gusts, so nothing like hurricane strength. But they sure made some impressive noises as they whistled then ebbed then crashed into the window with a snap. It felt almost like the building was being hit with a bullwhip. The pressure and force were incredible. Thankfully there was very little structural damage. Just some broken tree branches. Most of the buildings seem to be made of concrete and it sounds like things are just built to withstand the storms here.
When Wednesday morning rolled around, the weather was mostly clear and it was time to start the check in process. First up, take a driver’s test so I could be eligible to drive and buy a car. With license in hand, back to the hospital to begin the scavenger hunt of checking in.
The hospital is really a beautiful building. Set on top of a hill overlooking the ocean. It’s relatively new, under 10 years, and still feels shiny on the inside. It operates around 60-75 inpatient beds which feels cozy and welcoming compared to the large 250+ beds of Balboa.
Trying to look cute and professional on my “first day of school”😁.
Mostly check-in consists of a lot of admin tasks. Going to different offices, making sure my information is in all the systems. But the best part was meeting my new Division Officer and having an introduction to the Emergency Department where I’ll be working! I’m sure looking forward to starting. I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I’ve been at the bedside.
Thursday - more checking in at the hospital, breakfast burrito at the shoppette (easy, cheap, and surprisingly delicious: these could be dangerous😳). Test drove a car - first time driving on the left side of the road, yikes! Rubbed the tires against the left curb once but didn’t crash into anything. I loved the car! Plan to buy it tomorrow.
Friday morning spent at the hospital - mostly done with check in. Then bought the car! The process is a bit different: the seller and I went to the licensing office together then over to the insurance office where we had to wait in line for an hour in the hot sun - I sweat buckets, still getting used to the humidity. Purchased insurance and was given a temporary title while the official one is prepared, and that’s it! Came home with a Subaru Forester (I guess you could say I have a thing for Subies). A perfect scuba gear hauler and my current ticket to freedom - aka all the ramen 😋.
Back to the hospital to finish a couple things before the weekend. Then took my first venture off base! This was honestly terrifying. I had thought driving on the left side wouldn’t actually be that difficult. Which I think that part itself was pretty easy to get used to. But combined with trying to navigate narrow, ally-like streets, a whole new set of traffic signs, and street names I couldn’t read, it was a bit overwhelming. Thankfully the Waze app works well here. I think I’ll be pretty reliant on it for a little while.
I managed to make it to a ramen spot, pointed at something on the menu and found myself with this delicious bowl of ramen. Well worth any trouble it took to procure.
I also made it to the ocean this trip. This is one of the sea wall areas. There’s a nice walking path that runs for about a mile along this area. The water is so warm! I think it was 80ºF this day. Sure looking forward to going for a swim!
I stopped by the commissary on the way home to grab a few groceries. There was supposed to be another typhoon pass by over the weekend and I was running low.
In general, I’m definitely feeling more free but also a bit overwhelmed. I didn’t expect so much culture shock. As much as I love adventure, I think I’m realizing I’m not one who thrives in total transition. I’m excited because I know transition provides such an opportunity for growth, but I’m also very much looking forward to being more settled and having a place to call home again. I’m currently looking for apartments off base and will hopefully have one in the next week or two.
There are so many things I’m looking forward to doing here: learning to scuba dive, getting a dog, meeting friends, spearfishing, cooking, exploring all the restaurants and markets, and visiting historical sites. But I’m realizing it’s okay to pace myself a little. I think some of the things I learned during quarantine of slowness and Sabbath are really healthy and I want to incorporate them into my weekly rhythms now. Even if that means some days I choose to stay home rather than do a fun new activity, that’s okay. I have two years after all. No need to rush into everything.
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Smalltown Bringdown 2
Warnings: blood, violence, more to be added.
This is dark!biker!Bucky and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You begin your search for a new job but times are tough.
Note: Here’s part two. I’m planning on making this a relatively short series, think Eye for an Eye. I’m having fun with Biker!Bucky and next chapter should be🔥 To those who take the time to read, thank you. Love you guys!
Please, leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
The Birch Branch Bakery was just across the street from the Chipped Saucer. The old plaque beside the door read 'Est. 1887'. It had passed hands from one Hollorin to the next. Barbara, or Babs, Hollorin was the latest in the line of plump delicatessens. She had her father's rosy cheeks and boomong laugh. You faintly remembered the round old man from your childhood though he had long passed.
Babs smiled as you entered. She was rarely anything but cheery, certain to offer any child a sample of her famous chocolate mousse. You slid your resume across the counter and she offered you a taste. You passed.
"It's a long shot, I know," You said. "But Jimmy's clearing house… well really, just tossing out an old lamp."
"Oh, hon, you know I usually just hire students. I can’t offer many hours. No tips either."
"I know," You shrugged. "But I could find something else to fill in the blanks."
"I'll think about it, okay, sweets?" She took your resume from the counter.
"Thanks," You paused before the glass display. "Could I get a slice of lemon meringue? You know mom would kill me if I left without grabbing her a piece."
“Of course, dear.” Babs smiled and took the pie out from the stand.
She set a slice carefully in a box and tied a bow around it with string; the usual fare. You took it with a smile and thank you.
The door rang as you stepped out onto the street. Your last stop was the used bookshop/hobby store, Lloyd’s. You pushed inside as you balanced the box in one hand and greeted the old man sat behind the counter. Lucius was half off his stool as he bent over the model plane and carefully dobbed some clue along its body. His hair was streaked grey and black and lines betrayed a smile even when he was grimacing at a particularly tedious project.
“Hey, Lu,” You greeted as he looked up through his narrow glasses. “Just figured I’d drop by…” You neared and held the box against your hip and rested your folder on it. “Hand in a resume for good measure. I know, I know, not much going around but--”
“You not at the Saucer anymore?” He finished securing the wing and sat up with a groan.
“Not since a few days ago.” You slipped out a page and carefully placed it beside the toy plane. “We’ll see if I’m in the government’s lap by the end of the month, though.”
“Oh, dear, that’s terrible,” He took your resume and held it out as he tried to focus through his lenses, “That Jimmy’s a real slimy one. I’ll spare you my true thoughts, out of courtesy.”
“I’ll say it myself. He’s a bastard,” You added. “You know I never mind your language, Lu.”
“Certainly your mother didn’t like me teaching you all those pretty words,” He chuckled. “I’ll see what I can do.” He turned and set the paper down behind him on the shelf of unsorted books. “Might not be full hours but I could use a hand or two. Let me have a look at the books and I’ll get back to you.”
“Thanks,” You said. “Mind if I have a look before I go.”
“By all means,” He grabbed his tube of glue, “You always were my best customer.”
You nodded and headed back to your favourite section. He always had the most eclectic collection of biographies. A man in love with cinema, he’d given you a copy of Lena Horne’s memoir and stoked your own love for the past. Nestled in this shop was a peculiar array of nostalgia. A time you never knew but felt like your own. A childhood spent in the golden era with Astaire and Hayworth.
After a moment perusing, you chose a book on Tallulah Bankhead and headed for the counter. Lucius made no move to quit his gluing. You waved the book at him as you kept the folder and box under your other arm.
“On the house, dear,” He looked up briefly. “Your out a job and poor Tallulah’s been on that shelf for years. You give her a nice home. She’ll keep you good company.”
“Thanks,” You smiled and slid the book under the box as you adjusted your grip and moved your load in front of your stomach. “I’ll be back next week, Lu.”
“You will. I wanna know what you think of it.” He said. “She’s a special one.”
“Alright,” You chuckled and headed for the door. He cursed under his breath as he continued to fiddle with the model.
You found yourself back on the main street. The old clock tower struck one in the afternoon and you headed towards the library. A black speck caught in the corner of your eye; the same which had drawn you several times that day. It was as if the town’s spectre was following you on your tour. You carried on and ducked into the small alcove between the suit shop and the pawn broker’s. You heard Lloyd’s door open and close.
You waited, five, maybe ten minutes, until you heard it again. The same footfalls that had echoed your own. That you had shrugged off as an effect of the small town. It was easy to feel followed in a place like this. It was hard not to cross paths with the same person several times over. The soles scuffed over the sidewalk as they trailed your former steps and the shadow in leather passed you by. You emerged from the alley and huffed.
“There a reason you’re following me?” You asked.
Bucky stopped and chuckled as he pushed his shoulders back. He turned slowly, a smile on his face. “Am I?”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice earlier.” You growled. “Now, you don’t seem like you’re in need of employment and you’re not exactly the social butterfly of Birch.”
“I’m not?” He wondered. “People talk to me freely enough.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Talking?” You challenged.
“Well, I don’t get a chance to explore the town much,” He shrugged.
“And who would ever want to do that? You live here a week and you can retrace the map in your sleep,” You narrowed your eyes. “You still haven’t told me why you’re following me.”
“Can’t say that I am,” He stepped closer as he stared at the folder atop the small box in your arms. “How is the job hunt going anyway?”
Your nostrils flared but you didn’t answer. You could only watch as he opened the folder and slipped a copy of your resume free. He made a show of reading it before folding it and slipping it inside his jacket.
“Offer stands.” He said.
“Answer too,” You assured him. “If you’re so curious, I’m just now going to see my mother at the library. Save you the trouble of following me… you don’t seem the reading type.”
He grinned and tucked his hands in his pockets. “The pie will be a nice surprise,” He turned to let you through “Unfortunately, I do have to get back.”
“Mmmhmm,” You grumbled and slowly edged by him.
You felt his gaze on you as you passed him. The heat of it lingered as you continued down the sidewalk. You didn’t dare to look back. You knew he was watching you. The eerie sensation did not relent until you shielded yourself beyond the library doors.
💀
You waited three days before you followed up. Things moved slow in a small town but not everything. Change was stark, too. As you stepped inside the same doors as days before, you found your welcome not so warm. The tea shop, also a cafe, was the first on your agenda. Doris smiled and took your order but was evasive when you asked after your resume. It was much the same at each stop you made. A hollow weight settled in your chest.
Babs was her usual jovial self but paled as you asked if she had even part-time hours for you. She shook her head and muttered about low sales in a small town and all those other excuses. You frowned but accepted the rejection. You bought a half-dozen macadamia cookies and headed out. At Lloyd’s, you found Lucius amid several stacks of book as he raised his brows at the titles.
“Lu,” You greeted. “Hey.”
“You finished that book already?” He asked without looking away.
“Halfway there,” You said. “I was just… checking in.”
“Mmm,” He set a book in one of the neater stacks. “Yes, I supposed you’d be by sooner than later.”
You stepped into the middle of the mess and glanced around. He was sorting by author and genre. No doubt a new haul from a resident clearing their shelves. You took a book and placed it in its respective stack. He paused and looked at you.
“My girl,” He began hesitantly.
“I know, you got nothing for me,” You nodded. “Just like everyone else. It’s okay.”
“Well, that’s not what I was gonna say at all,” He reproached. “I don’t care what that goon says, I could use someone on Sundays and you’ll get a few hours Mondays and Tuesdays. Not much, I know, but I gather it could help.”
“Oh, Lu,” You smiled and squeezed his arm. “So… he… what did he say to you?”
“Some nonsense about books being flammable, like I don’t know,” He scoffed. “I got insurance on this place. My granddaddy was no fool when he opened this place. He wants to burn it down, he can go right ahead. My payout will cover fresh paperbacks and the newest gadgets. He’d be doing me a favour, really.”
“You don’t have to--”
“I seen it before. As young as you are, I know you have too.” He continued sorting as he spoke. “You should’ve never pulled that knife but were I a younger man and there, I might’ve done the same.”
“Trust me, I know it was stupid,” You uttered. “Especially now but… Artie’s heart was about to burst.”
“Artie’s been on the edge of a heart attack for six years. I’m surprised those brutes didn’t push him over it,” Lu shook his head. “You got a place here, dear. Maybe look for something online. I don’t know much, just enough to order stock, but I’m sure you could find something. Town like this and a man like him, you won’t.”
“Thanks,” You set another sci-fi novel in a pile. “I appreciate it, really.”
“I know it’s not much,” He frowned.
“No, no, I’ll make do,” You assured him. “But Lu…”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t go getting yourself hurt over me.”
“I’m an old man.” He winked at you and grabbed another book, “I’ll do whatever I want.”
💀
You stopped in front of your mother’s house. You were tempted to kick over the metal beast that greeted you. It wasn’t hard to guess at its owner. You held your key up and admired it. A nice long scratch along the gas tank? Maybe a tear in the leather seat? You weren’t that stupid.
You took your usual detour to the back. Ash was sitting at the back door, growling. He perked up when you came through the gate but didn’t move. He let you pet him but you kept him outside as you slipped inside. You listened as you kicked off your shoes to the voices in the kitchen.
“That’ll be her,” Your mother said. She was friendly enough but you sensed the tension in her voice. “You need sugar?”
“No, black is fine,” Bucky answered and the hairs stood on your neck.
You walked into the kitchen and ignored the man at the table as you crossed to your mother. She filled a mug with coffee as you set down the box of cookies.
“Mom,” You greeted her with a smile and turned to the unexpected and unwanted visitor with arms crossed. “What do you want?”
“Hon, be nice,” Your mother poked you as she picked up the cup. “He just came here to talk.”
“Here,” You turned and took the mug from her. “You guys done talking then?”
“Not with me,” She said quietly and whispered as she turned her back to him. “Don’t go starting more trouble.”
You brushed past her and went to the table. You set the mug down and slid it across to him. “Fine. Talk.”
“You know, Mel, I think I’ll take some milk,” He said over your head.
You rolled your eyes as the fridge opened and closed. Your mother placed the carton of milk beside him with a small spoon and retreated.
“Now,” He poured the milk and stirred his coffee slowly. “I just wanted to see how the job hunt was going.”
“I think you know.” You sneered. “Mom, can you excuse us for a minute?”
“I don’t--” She began but stopped. “I’ll go check on Ash.”
You waited for her to leave. You folded your hands on the table and glared at Bucky.
“How dare you come into my mother’s house like this.” You snapped. “You think you’re scaring me?”
“If I wanted to scare you, you wouldn’t have walked into such a peaceable scene,” He returned evenly. “I don’t do half-measures.”
“Don’t you threaten her,” You retorted. “You can hound me but I will not have you going after her.”
“I haven’t done anything.” He smirked. “Really, you are paranoid. I have offered you a job and I have even offered my personal reference to your prospective employers.”
“Bullshit,” You said. “I know what you’re doing. I told you, I’m not interested. I got a job.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow. “Where’s that?”
“None of your business,” You snarled. “Now thank you for the offer but I will again politely decline it. Thank you.”
“How much?” He asked.
“What?”
“How much is he paying you? I know it’s that grumpy old man with his books,” He scoffed. “Twelve hours a week. You think you can survive on that?”
“I think I told you no three times and I’m not gonna say it again.” You said.
“Sixteen an hour plus tips,” He took a drink of coffee. “People are generous when they drink.”
“Not interested.” You said through your teeth.
“Eighteen,” He countered. “Benefits too. You think Lucy gets her kids to the dentist for free.” You repeated yourself and he chuckled as he ran his fingertips along the stubble that lined his jaw. “Twenty.”
“You almost done your coffee?” You asked.
“You were a lot quieter in school,” He mused. “Didn’t realize you were so damn stubborn.”
“You need a waitress and you offering money like that, you can just head down to the Saucer and shout it out. They’ll be snapping at you.” You said.
His lips curled and he gripped the edge of the table. He took another gulp of coffee and cleared his throat. “I don’t know if you’re that oblivious or you’re playing with me.”
You were quiet. You stared at him dumbly. Heat crawled up your spine.
“I don’t want a waitress. I want you.” His jaw squared and his eyes sparked. “And while it was cute to see you holding that knife to my man’s throat, I can’t have you running around kicking dirt in my face.”
You swallowed and kept your expression staunch. “Not interested.” You enunciated the words carefully.
He clicked his tongue and tilted his head. He laughed darkly to himself and finished his coffee. His chair scraped loudly as he stood and took his coat off the back of it. He pulled the leather on as his eyes met yours.
“You just remember what happened to your daddy.” He intoned.
“I don’t remember him at all,” You said through the twinge in your chest. “Your club made sure of that, didn’t they?”
He growled and rounded the table. You looked up at him as his fingertips glossed over the tabletop. He leaned down until his lips nearly touched your cheek.
“You’ll remember your ma, though.” Your hand shot up and he recoiled, quick to catch it. He smiled as he squeezed your wrist. “You think about my offer one last time.” He said slowly. “You can come get your apron on Monday… or I’ll be dropping by on Tuesday.”
He stood straight and released you. He smoothed his leather jacket and strolled through to the back hallway. The door opened and you heard your mother’s surprised greeting and Bucky’s sickly farewell. Your mouth was dry and your heart raced as if you had just run a mile.
You stared at the old oval frame between the windows. Your mother under the arm of a man who shouldn’t have been a stranger. A man who you seemingly took after. Who, despite his absence, could teach you an important lesson; know when to stop pushing your luck.
#smalltown bringdown#series#Bucky Barnes#biker!bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#dark bucky barnes x reader#dark!bucky barnes x reader#dark!fic#dark fic#fic#mcu#marvel#au#biker au#captain america
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