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i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend · 4 years ago

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The Art of Love (Part 7) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day Weekend my loves! I’m finally getting back into this story. Hopefully I’ll be able to finish it up soon, but no promises. lol but I hope you enjoy. I wanted to get this out because this year the dates actually line up lol so here we are.

Summary: You and Steve host his mom and Bucky for dinner.

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader (Eventual), Bucky Barnes, Sarah Rogers

Rating: K+

Warnings: None. Fluff . Idiots

Word Count: 1968

Divider by: @whimsicalrogers

Main Masterlist | The Art of Love Masterlist | Broken Hearts and Robot Parts Masterlist (Companion Fic)

You were unable to tear your eyes away from Steve as he tugged his shirt off and tossed it in the hamper, though you rolled your eyes when he laughed at you. It wasn’t until you heard him singing Sexyback that you huffed and turned back to the dresses.

You stared at your remaining options. You couldn’t help but smile when you came to a decision. If you were right, you knew exactly why it was his favorite. After you packed away the rest of the dresses you flopped down on the bed scrolling through your notifications.

“Did you make a decision?” Steve asked as he exited the bathroom, dressed in his jeans and white tank top but barefoot.

You gestured to the closet where the blue wrap dress hung next to his shirt.

Steve looked at it and grinned.

“My favorite.” Steve laid on his side next to you, propping his head in his hand. “We really should go back to California soon.”

You rolled on your side to mimic his position.

“I’d love that. Ooh maybe in the winter though because it’ll be nice and warm,” you giggled.

“That’s a great idea.”

You dropped your gaze from his and started tracing the pattern of his bedspread.

“What’s going through your head, sweetheart?” Steve asked as he covered your hand with his own.

“Just going over what’s left to do for tonight.”

“Everything is all set. There’s nothing left for you to do except to get ready.”

“How long do I have?”

Steve glanced at his phone.

“About an hour.”

“Okay, that’s probably enough time to make myself presentable,” you fretted.

He cupped your cheek, focusing your attention on him.

“Sweetheart, please stop worrying. You are always beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Nope. It’s my professional opinion. Are you doubting someone who almost has a bachelor’s in fine arts?” he demanded haughtily.

You giggled and rolled your eyes, shoving at his chest.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love me for it,” he beamed.

“That I do.”

“Why don’t you go take a shower. Take your time and relax. I even bought the candle you like.”

“Summer storm?”

“Yup.”

“You’re the best.”

You kissed him on the cheek as you climbed over him to go shower.

The shower helped calm your nerves and when the water ran cold you wrapped yourself in the fluffy towel Steve had bought just for you and padded back into the bedroom.

You kept the music on low as you got ready, fixing your hair and doing some light make up. When you were satisfied with your appearance you tugged on the dress and slid your feet into the low heels. The final touch was the silver necklace of a dancer that Steve had bought you for your first showcase.

“So how do I look?” you asked as you stood beside the TV.

“Beautiful.”

He patted the spot beside him on the couch and you happily joined him. He immediately twined his fingers through yours.

“I’m really glad that you’re here with me tonight. I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Steve.”

He brought your hands up so he could kiss your knuckles you couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at your lips. Your shower and primping had taken less time than you expected so you and Steve passed the time watching the Good Place.

You were tucked neatly into Steve’s side as you waited for his mom and Bucky to arrive. As his nerves mounted yours seemed to recede and you rubbed soothing circles over his knuckles.

“Relax, Steve. It’s your mom and Bucky. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“There’s a lot to worry about. The three people I love the most are all going to be in the same place.”

“I thought you weren’t worried about me meeting your mom.”

“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about me. The three people who have the most dirt on me in the same room. Yikes.”

You rolled your eyes.

“You know I live to lift you up. But I hope she brought baby pictures.”

“You’re awful.”

“You love me.”

“You sure about that?”

“Not a doubt in my mind.”

He pulled you closer and kissed the crown of your head.

“Good because I do. Mmm. You smell good.”

“I smell like you.” you giggled. “I forgot my shower gel.”

“Yeah but it’s your shampoo. It’s the perfect combination.”

You were interrupted by keys jangling and the door swinging open.

“Honey, I’m home.”

“Hey, Buck.”

“Hey, Smudge. Hey, Stevie.”

Neither of you moved from the couch as he hung his jacket up and walked into the kitchen.

“God it smells great in here.”

“Bucky Barnes, don’t you dare eat anything to spoil your appetite.”

“But I’m starving,” he whined.

“We’re having appetizers as soon as Steve’s mom gets here. Just wait.”

Bucky pouted into his beer as he sank into the opposite end of the couch.

“I promise it’s worth it.”

“I’m sure it is, doll”

“You’re too sweet, Buck. What did you do today?”

“I spent most of it at the hospital. A spot on their Saturday shift opened up so I took it.”

“Aw that’s great. You didn’t think you’d be able to this semester.”

“I know. I’m really glad. There’s this really sweet girl who just is amazing.”

You and Steve shared a smile at the excitement and fondness in his voice.

The three of you chatted, until your nerves got the best of you and you moved into the kitchen to triple check everything for dinner. The boys trailed behind you, but stayed out of your way.

Your eyes snapped to the door when it buzzed and you tracked Steve as he went to greet his mom. Bucky used your distraction to swipe a grape earning him a rap on the knuckles with a cheese knife.

“Hands off, Buck.”

“Aw come on, doll.”

“No more.”

Bucky pouted but kept his hands to himself as you retrieved the glasses from the cabinet.

Steve was laughing when he opened the door with the one and only Sarah Rogers trailing behind him. She smiled brightly when she spotted you and Bucky. You quickly wiped your hands on the dish towel and hurried to greet her.

“Hi, Mrs. Rogers, it’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s lovely to see you, darling. Please call me, Sarah.”

Once Steve took her coat she leaned forward to kiss you on each cheek.

“Hello, James.”

“Hey, Aunt Sarah,” he grinned around a mouthful of cheese.

“Buck!”

“Sorry, Smudge!”

Rolling your eyes you headed back into the kitchen.

“Can I get you something to drink, Ma?”

“I’ll just have some water.”

“Regular water or seltzer water.”

“Regular please, dear.”

“Sweetheart do you want anything.”

“Water please.”

You retrieved the charcuterie board fiddling slightly trying to disguise the gap Bucky’s munchies had left. He had the good grace to look apologetic when you glared in his direction.

Sarah had made herself comfortable in the arm chair and Bucky took the chair and a half across from her leaving you to sit beside Steve on the couch. He patted your knee before taking your hand as he had earlier.

“How was your Saturday? Did you work today?” Steve asked.

“No, I’m off this weekend. I went grocery shopping. Needed to stock up on a few items. It was a mad house though.”

“Really? It was quiet when we were there,” Steve hummed.

“We were there at like 6:30,” you pointed out.

“True. And it was getting crowded when we were finishing up.”

“I wonder why.”

Bucky and Sarah gaped at the two of you.

“You two really do live under a rock in that arts building don’t you?”

Sarah laughed at Bucky’s observation.

“Why? What are we missing?”

“There’s a blizzard coming tomorrow. Everyone was stocking up before the storm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Uh huh. It’s been on every news station for a week. What have you been doing?”

“Avoiding my phone at all costs,” you admitted.

Steve shrugged his agreement. “I’ve been distracted.”

“Well, I hope you got more than just food for tonight.”

“Yeah, we’re all set,” Steve assured his mom. “We’ll just hunker down here for the next few days.”

“Absolutely. It’s not like we were planning to leave for the next couple of days anyways,” you agreed.

“Oh did you two have plans for the holiday?”

You squirmed under Sarah’s amused but expectant gaze, not wanting to give her the wrong impression.

“Tomorrow is our annual Lord of the Rings Marathon. We do it every year,” Steve explained with a grin.

“How did that come about?”

“During Freshman year, I got really sick right around Valentine’s Day. And my roommate, and pretty much everyone else I knew had gone on this ski trip that whole week. Steve was worried about me so he brought me pancakes from the dining hall and chicken noodle soup and stayed with me the whole weekend. We watched a ton of movies, but somehow Lord of the Rings became a tradition.”

“That’s so sweet.”

“Yeah it is.”

You squeezed as his hand as he looked over at you with that soft smile you loved so much.

Steve patted his stomach and hummed as he sat back in his chair, nudging your knee with his. Bucky was wiping his bowl with the last of the rolls, and Sarah demurely wiped at her mouth.

“Dinner was absolutely delicious. I’ve got to say, Y/n, I’m impressed you’ve taught my son to cook.”

“I wouldn’t say I taught him. We more figured it out together. Poor Bucky had to taste test a lot of nearly inedible things.”

“Except her baking. That’s always been amazing,” Bucky piped up as he shoved the last roll into his mouth.

“Speaking of, I should get the pie in the oven to warm up or we won’t have dessert until midnight,” you fretted.

“I’ve got it, sweetheart. Just relax.”

“I’m sure the boys won’t mind cleaning up.”

You glance at Steve who nods encouragingly before hopping to his feet, squeezing your shoulders as he kissed the top of your head as he passed by. Bucky finished chewing and began to clear the dishes.

“Why don’t we move over to the couch?” she suggested.

You nodded and grabbed your glass and followed her, sitting next to the older woman.

“I’m so glad that we’re finally getting to spend some time together. Steve never stops talking about you. You’re clearly very special to him.”

You couldn’t help but look over at him, smiling as he elbowed Bucky out of the way at the sink.

“He’s very special to me too.”

“Thank you for taking care of him. I know he can get lost in his work.”

“He does the same for me.”

“I also have to say, you’re a beautiful dancer. I’m looking forward to your performance at the Showcase. It’s always been a highlight in the past.”

“Oh, thank you. I’m flattered.”

“I also saw that you and Steve were celebrating a new job last night?”

“Yes, I just joined the Howling Commando Stage Troupe as a dancer and assistant choreographer.”

“Oh that’s so exciting. Congratulations. Are you looking forward to it?”

“Yes, absolutely. They’ll send me the info for the summer series in a few weeks.”

“And how does one manage being a dancer and a choreographer at the same time.”

“The Howlies always mount two shows simultaneously, so I’ll be dancing in one show while I help choreograph the other.”

“Ah, I see. Well that is quite the undertaking, but I’m sure it will all be beautiful. You’ll have to let me know when opening night is. I would love to come and see you.”

Her earnest support caught you off guard.

“Of course,” you finally managed. “Thank you.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed !

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Update 3/15/2021: Hello, Lovelies. As some of you may have seen on the blog I have decided to suspend tag lists. If you would like to receive updates about new content please follow @naynay-writes and turn on notifications. Thank you! Xoxo, Naynay

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#Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x Y/n #Steve Rogers x You #college!steve rogers #College!Steve rogers x reader #college!AU

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verryberriess · 5 years ago

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Accept Me As Your Valentine’s | Rowaelin Oneshot

This is the first fanfiction I’ve ever written!! Thanks to my bestie @maastrash for the encouragement and helping me out :D I hope you guys like it!

Rating: T, mild swearing

Summary: February 14 was the one official day at Greenbriar where an individual could offer chocolates, flowers, or small gifts to someone they admire or want to express pure feelings towards. And Aelin had spent all night making chocolates for a certain someone...

Note: There is potential for the side stories to be written out ... let me know what you think!

February 14. Valentine’s Day. A tradition celebrated around the world where gifts and flowers are exchanged between lovers in order to express a physical act of love. Gifts didn’t have to necessarily be exchanged between lovers, however. Many, in fact, are exchanged between close friends and offered to those whom someone admires.

At Greenbriar High School, Valentine’s Day had become a popular school event over the years. February 14 was the one official day at Greenbriar where an individual could offer chocolates, flowers, or small gifts to someone they admire or want to express pure feelings towards. It was the ultimate event of courage for girls and guys of all classes to attempt a confession towards the person they admired from afar. The hope of having one’s feelings returned often came at the expense of high-end chocolate carefully wrapped in gold foil imported from Switzerland and Belgium or opulent custom-designed pastries from French patisseries.

Rowan Whitethorn, Aedion Ashyrver, and Fenrys Moonbeam were some particular individuals whom many girls had intended to present their chocolates to on this special day, for the reason that these men were the most eligible bachelors of Greenbriar High.

School legend claimed that a couple years ago, alumni Lorcan Salvaterre, infamous for his ruthless and dark manner, had actually started dating someone after she had presented chocolates to him on this particular day. As a result, most people reasoned that if the notorious Lorcan could be swayed by some certain chocolates on Valentine’s Day, there was certainly some charm in the event that had provoked such a miracle.

Amidst the bustling student body, Aelin Galathynius stood in front of her locker and stared down at what she clutched in her hands. A tiny, golden, heart-shaped box she had purchased from the local art store for her homemade chocolates. She had even put in the effort to tie a little bow across the box to complete the aesthetic. It had taken her all night to prepare her chocolates. Although she was certainly talented in consuming large quantities of the physical manifestations of cocoa heaven, they were absolutely a pain to produce. Cooking was not in her favor.

She remembered last night’s events where she burned her first batch of cream and chocolate in the bowl, and in her second attempt, somehow the chocolate had managed to never melt. She stirred for one whole hour for the mixture to turn liquidy as the recipe called; it was apparent that after she had Googled the approximate time it took for chocolate to melt under this process, she knew she had to start over again. Hence, third time's a charm when she followed an easier recipe.

In the end, she had successfully made chocolates-- or well-- it was as chocolate as chocolate could be. Her chocolate turned out lumpy, with unusual grooves and warts sticking out in various directions. Perhaps that was due to the almond shavings she had added for an artistic touch? Were truffles supposed to carry such a discoloring? She compared her outcome to the one in the article. Ehh.

Aelin took a bite out of one of the six chocolates that had survived her horrific cooking venture. “Hmm,” she mulled over its unusual taste. It was definitely edible. But did it taste like the usual chocolatey decadence she was so accustomed to? Big no. Even if it was chocolate. Even if she was the ultimate chocolate connoisseur who would probably consume any form of chocolate in the world. What she had concocted was a big mistake.

Aelin couldn’t afford to waste any more heavy cream. The jar of cocoa powder that she had gotten earlier that day was also almost out. And it wasn’t like the general store near her operated 24/7. Carefully assembling the remaining five chocolates in the box she had acquired on sale just for tomorrow’s occasion, she wrapped a golden ribbon across and pulled the ends tight.

She couldn’t reason how so many of her fellow classmates had thousands of dollars to spend on chocolates that carried high risk of being rejected. Actually, maybe that was the best form of action anyways, since her truffles didn’t exactly turn out how chocolates were supposed to. But, in reality, this was all Aelin could afford. She lived in the most underprivileged neighborhood in the area and rode on the bus for an hour to get to school everyday. Some days after school, she worked a part-time job to pay for her rent. She was sincerely thankful for being able to attend Greenbriar High under a full scholarship despite the air being polluted by rich snobs and bigots. Nevertheless, Aelin was most thankful for the best friend she’s ever made in her life there. These chocolates were for him, after all.

He better be thankful. Aelin was on the verge of hand-writing letters to thank each chocolate company in the country for their honorable service. She had a newfound appreciation for the treat.

Aelin peered out of her locker to look over her shoulder at an onslaught of girls and boys. The crowd was immense. She hadn’t realized the extent of the school event’s popularity until now. She witnessed some groups exchange treats with each other and heard others talking animatedly about who they would offer theirs to. But the majority of the crowd was focused around a certain group that everyone had aspired to give their chocolates to. Rowan, Fenrys, and Aedion walked as a group through the hall, conversing with each other, stopping intermittently to interact with brave souls who tried to give them chocolates. Fenrys looked like a balancing act. He carried stacks upon stacks of chocolates and sweets within his arms. The pile seemed to grow with each passing second. Aelin feared for all of the treats that would scatter across the school if he ever toppled over… she just hoped she would get there in time to maybe steal some for herself? Aedion carried a few chocolates himself, but most of them were probably hidden inside of his bag, since it was looking extra stuffed today.

She watched as a girl, holding luxury chocolate bars Aelin would have died to get her hands on, approach a notable tall, silver-haired, pine-green eyed individual. He only carried his backpack on his right shoulder-- any sweets he may have received were out of sight. The girl blushed, determinedly held out the chocolates, and shyly insisted, “Rowan, please accept these chocolates!”

Rowan looked upon the unassuming girl and the chocolates with disinterest and replied, “... No.”

With encouragement from her friends to try again, the girl piped up assuredly, “If you could just-”

Rowan cut her off, “I’m sorry, but I can’t accept these.”

The crowd around Rowan and the girl didn’t seem to decrease even with Rowan’s apt rejection. In fact, it only seemed to get bigger. Of course Rowan would reject the chocolates though, reasoned Aelin. He was never big on sweets. But maybe he would accept hers-

Before Aelin could reconsider, she saw Rowan reject yet another person across the hall. This time, he rejected a guy who had wanted to thank Rowan for his help from some extracurricular activity.

No. This is stupid, thought Aelin. If he didn’t accept someone’s chocolates meant to thank him for his help, what were the odds of Rowan accepting hers? They weren’t that close, were they? She had wanted to thank him for being a good friend to her. He was one of her closest friends at school. He had introduced her to the rest of his group and allowed her to meet Lysandra and Fenrys. Why did she feel like she needed a better reason to present him her chocolates?

Aelin shoved her chocolates in her locker and collected her books for the school day.

When she walked into Second period, she scrambled to her seat and shrunk into her chair and focused on a peculiar spot on her desk. It was not long after until Rowan walked in and made eye contact with her. Immediately, his resting bitch face morphed into a grin, “Hey, Fireheart!” Rowan made his way towards Aelin’s seat.

Aelin looked up from the all-too interesting black dust speck and carefully crafted her response, smiling smugly, “Buzzard! I’m surprised you’re not carrying a mountain of chocolates with you.”

Rowan smirked, “Well, I have my own agenda to account for today.” Rowan peered at Aelin expectantly. Aelin only stared back. Was he trying to communicate telepathically with her somehow? She would have to remind him again that it wouldn’t work. “But I’m also wondering-- “

Before Rowan could finish, their teacher walked in and silenced the room with her eerie screeching throughout the class. Rowan, about to quickly tell Aelin something, hastily turned back around towards the board at the lecturing tone of their teacher, who reminded him that class had already started.

Aelin was confused. But she figured he would tell her later. They sat at lunch together with the rest of their friends anyway. During the entirety of the class, Aelin couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to ask her. He looked at her as if he was expecting something, but he also looked hesitant to ask her about whatever he wanted to ask. His idiotic face was too much for her to think about right now. What did he expect from her? Chocolates? No, she was still on the brink of destroying those utter atrocities. She had yet to decide whether she still wanted to give them to him, but considering the way he acted towards everyone else who tried to give him something, she was leaning to not.

Towards the end of class, Aelin packed up her bag and readied her materials for her next class. Next period she had to turn in a paper before class started. Otherwise, it would be considered late.

When the bell rang signaled for Passing period, Rowan turned back around in his seat to approach Aelin again, but she remarked, “I’ll see you at lunch! I have a paper to turn in!” and ran out of the classroom.

At lunch, she found the usual table already occupied by her friends who were already discussing intensely about the events of their day so far. It was apparent that everyone already had dozens of boxes of treats set out before them. She sat down next to Lysandra and inquired about her friends’ large collections, “How do you guys already have so many chocolates? It’s literally lunch and we only sat through three periods of the day so far,” Aelin was seriously concerned with the popularity of her own friends. With their collection alone, they could feed a whole nation. The total costs of all of the gifts themselves could probably amount to the entire GDP of England or something.

“Well, Aelin, it’s all because of my infinitesimal charm. It’s also a little process I like to call, ‘accept and accept’” replied Fenrys jokingly.

“No, I’m specifically wondering why YOU, of all people, have been offered chocolate!” Aelin grinned back. She loved joking with Fenrys. But now she wondered why she ended up empty handed. No one had offered her anything yet. Maybe she had been too much of an oddball at school to make any sort of formidable impression among her peers. Was she too unapproachable? She watched the exchange between Lysandra and Aedion. She guessed that eighty percent of the gifts that Lysandra received were from Aedion. It would have been nice to receive something too…

Next, she observed Rowan. He had resigned from any conversation to focus all of his concentration on his food to ignore Fenrys, who kept berating him with a small box of special hazelnut chocolates Fenrys had gotten from Russia. That especially looked appetizing. “Come on, Rowan! I ordered these a few days ago just for you! They taste just like Nutella!”

Rowan grumbled something incoherent and concentrated harder onto his food.

Fenrys eyebrows furrowed. He turned away from Rowan to face Aelin. An idea must have hit him because soon his disappointed expression morphed into that of a devious one. Aelin waited to brace herself for whatever rambunctious idea that Fenrys had apparently come up with. “So Aelin, would you mind-”

The movement was so fast, the whole table fell silent at the abrupt speed that had been displayed. Rowan had swiped the hazelnut chocolates from Fenrys, tucked them besides his lunch, and resumed eating. Aelin was shocked about what had just happened. Lysandra and Aedion, who had paused their conversation, both resumed their exchange. Their talking had seemed to lower even more so in volume, almost to that of whispers, discussing whatever between themselves that had to be kept a secret from all of them. Expressions coy, they traded little smiles and light touches between each other. Fenrys’ only response to Rowan’s reaction was a gleeful smile of victory. He continued to badger Rowan as they both ate.

Aelin scrutinized the little box of chocolates that Rowan had kept next to his lunch container. Damn, she really wanted them. She was so ready to accept them from Fenrys if Rowan hadn’t stolen them away. As if he sensed her watching his chocolates, he gracefully gathered them closer towards himself, out of her reach. Aelin huffed in resignation. There was no way she could attempt to steal the treats now.

While everyone had an endless supply of chocolates, where were hers? She was the ultimate chocolate connoisseur. She was the most qualified to be receiving chocolates. This kind of school event was made for her! She should have been receiving all sorts of things now. She knew she wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the school, nor a typical rich kid that could lure others to be her friend, but she wasn’t a fiend! Consequently, her own source of chocolates from this day were the chocolates that she had made herself… and while those things were chocolate, under her jurisdiction, they were not qualified to be considered as such. To top it all off, she hadn’t even made those chocolates for herself.

She looked out at the other tables. A group of girls cheered as they exchanged little boxes with bows tied atop. She saw another guy blush and shyly present a heart-shaped box to another girl. Groups mingled and high fived each other as they handed out treats to each other. Aelin’s felt an unpleasant tug in her chest as she observed students carry out the gift-giving event.

But as Aelin turned her attention back to her own table, she had realized that her friends had exchanged chocolates without her. She watched Fenrys play Jenga out of the boxes that he received and Lysandra and Aedion in their own world. Rowan only kept Fenrys’ chocolate, but that was because he had turned down all of the other gifts throughout the day. She looked at the collection of chocolates that Lysandra and Aedion scattered around them on the table and zeroed in on two tiny red-wrapped boxes of hazelnut chocolates that have been imported from Russia.

Aelin frowned. Suddenly those hazelnut chocolates didn’t look so appetizing anymore. Nor any of the other chocolates that she had seen exchanged today. She couldn’t control the feeling of her lips starting to tremble or the sudden deep tugging in her chest that felt like a million bricks had settled atop her chest. She tentatively rose from her seat at the table. Her long bangs shielded her misted eyes from the group, fortunately covering her face as she remarked shakily, “I just remembered I had an assignment due next period. I’ll see you guys later.”

As Aelin stood up, about to leave, Rowan called, “Wait, Aelin, you’ve barely touched your food.”

Aedion chimed in, “Yeah, you should eat at least a little bit, Aelin. We still have three more periods to go.”

It was true. Aelin had just gotten back from class and knew that she’d only sat for a few minutes. She had barely touched her lunch. But the gnawing in her gut diminished her usually ravenous appetite. Aelin pulled on a smile. It was strange how exhausting it felt to force her lips to tug in a motion that was so effortless and natural to execute only moments before. She couldn’t see the group’s reaction, but responded, “I’m suddenly just not hungry anymore.” She pivoted herself around so as to not face the group and walked out of the cafeteria in haste.

It was bad enough that sometimes she had felt like an outsider at her own school. But the feeling only solidified today as she truly realized the reality of her position. She interacted and got along with her classmates well and participated in class, and although she was not as close to her peers she wanted to be, compared to herself and her usual group, it hit her that one of her classmates had passed out goodie bags of candy corn to everyone in the class but her. She didn’t realize it until the end of class when she asked her classmate why everyone held the same goodie bag. It didn’t bother her that much because she was eager to go to lunch… but now it was at the forefront of her mind. And now? She felt like an outsider to her own lunch group.

Her footsteps thudded through the hall. They sounded louder than usual, as if she were the only one walking through them. There were a few people loitering the hallway, yet they felt so far away. This small stretch of space that usually felt so narrow and crowded now felt like it could stretch for miles. All Aelin could hear right now were her footsteps. Everything else was muted. Her thoughts whirled, a simultaneous mess of gibberish and nothingness and everything at the same time. Her steps carried her to her locker, where she now beheld the little, golden, heart-shaped box. She didn’t have the heart to throw out the hours of work that she put into the little monstrosities, but…

Rowan had been offered chocolates that had probably cost more than her whole month’s rent. Fenrys’ were from Russia for fuck’s sake. If he had trouble accepting even his own friend’s presents, what were the odds of him accepting hers? It’s not like she was any different as a person compared to her friends. But even so, what did she have to offer? She was poor. She walked in rags and everyone else lept in riches. Aelin felt the tears that she fought so hard to suppress well up and stream down her face. If she could physically put a price on how much she felt she owed Rowan, the number would be in the thousands. Millions. What did crippled, deformed chocolates amount to compared to the things that these daughters and sons of millionaires could afford and buy without even batting an eye?

Rowan had given her so much. So, so much. Friendship. Laughter. Dessert... And something else she was so afraid to put into words. She knew it in her heart earlier when she began thinking of what to gift him. She knew what she had felt when she tried to make the chocolates over and over again. She knew what she was trying to convince away from herself when she stood at her locker this morning and watched Rowan reject gift after gift.

But she wouldn’t admit it now. Couldn’t. She was far too stubborn. She tightly gripped the box in her hands and closed her locker door. She gripped the box so hard the cheap cardboard repaid her in wrinkles and a large, thumb-sized dent. The box looked so worn. Its cover was dented and soiled with the scent of salt; the bow she so proudly tied together flopped, weighed down from its damp ends, saturated by her tears.

Aelin smuggled the box into her backpack and slid down the wall of lockers to settle on the floor.

-----

She avoided the group the rest of the day, but she often saw Rowan in the distance. During class, Aelin once looked out the window and saw Rowan casually standing a few meters away from her classroom. As if he sensed the instance she noticed his presence, he immediately walked in the opposite direction of her classroom. During Passing period, she would often see Rowan walk in her direction. But when she saw him nearing, she took a detour. She was successful in avoiding the others the whole day, but somehow it was as if Rowan was everywhere.

At break, she noticed that when she walked to her spot, Rowan was already there, so she walked away quickly. But when she went to another room, it was like he appeared out of nowhere. Today, to her dismay, it seemed that he was just always within her vicinity.

After school, she made up her mind. This would be the last time she would interact with any of them. This would serve as her final good bye, and a big “fuck you” to Rowan’s asshole rejections.

She walked outside of the school to the spot they usually meet up at to walk home together. As Aelin neared, she scowled at a line that had seemed to form. But a line for what? Her eyes traced the direction of the line to its head. Who would have thought. A line to present chocolates to Rowan Whitethorn. It seemed as though many people had acquired the same idea as she had. But now, the energy in the crowd that had gathered felt even more intense than that of this morning.

The line consisted of both girls and guys. They lined up one after another. A tall, athletic guy Aelin knew as Jasen presented a large box of Japanese candy and asserted, “Hey Rowan! The basketball team all pitched in to buy this for you. We really appreciate you for helping us in our championship game.” Rowan wasn’t officially on the team, but secretly subbed in the last quarter, he had ended up scoring the winning basket. “Hopefully we can play again sometime,” Jasen smiled.

Rowan replied lamely, “... I hate mushroom-shaped, matcha flavored konpeito.”

The group of guys that encouraged their friend to approach Rowan argued amongst themselves. “Why did you give him those? Did he seem like a mushroom-shaped, matcha-flavor konpeito type of guy to you?!”

A girl with brunette curls and sun-kissed skin came forward, “Rowan, I’ve always wanted to thank you for helping me last year. It really meant a lot to me, and I don’t want anything in return, but it would make me really happy if you could accept these…?”

Rowan inspected the chocolates and flowers she held out to him and examined the brunette’s face. The crowd was silent, eagerly waiting for his response. Will he accept them? He would actually be an asshole if he didnt, thought Aelin.

“Sorry, I don’t think I remember helping you, so I can’t accept these.”

The girl insisted, “It’s Lyria. You helped deliver flowers to the hospital with me to my parents last year.”

“Oh, well, Lyria, I’m sorry, but it’s just that I actually don’t remember you… so,” Rowan shifted uneasily.

“Buzzard,” Aelin cursed at Rowan’s bad memory. He was actually the worst.

The line increasingly reduced as he rejected person after person. No matter the reason, no matter how intensely they felt about him, Rowan rejected them. But also after each rejection, came an energy of rejuvenation as the next person somehow felt even more fired up to present their gift. The courage was astounding.

“Sorry-”

“Sorry, I-”

After what seemed like hours, the mile-long line had dwindled to nothing. Rowan had accepted absolutely no one’s gifts. But the crowd remained, eager to see who would bravely face him next. This event had in some way transitioned into a spirited competition of who could possibly get Rowan Whitethorn to accept their gift. This competition would forever be embedded in the yearbooks. The energy was wild. It was legendary. No one so far had accomplished this feat. Aelin could tell people had lost any sense of unease. No matter one’s status or wealth, everyone had been rejected just because. And by the time the line had dwindled down to twenty, not one had felt shame in approaching him, no less in offering him their gifts in fear of rejection.

Aelin looked around. It seemed that there was no one else who wanted to approach him. They were all defeated. They only waited for the next person to advance toward him. She sucked in her feelings and walked down towards him in an air of pridefulness. No matter, she was just going to do what she had to do and go about her life.

Although the path towards him was only a few feet, it seemed like she had walked for an endless number of miles. She had turned her attention towards the ground as she walked, so, so hesitant to take the next step. But her mind fought to keep her walking towards him. She needed to do this for him. She needed to do this for herself. It was like everything was muted again. The chatter surrounding them faded to a dull white noise and as she looked up towards his face-- as he commenced to close the distance from where he stood all those dozens of times students tried to propose to him. His pine green eyes met her turquoise blue. She couldn’t deny the sudden intensity in them, compared to the obvious disinterest that he had shown to others time and time beforehand. His mouth firm, but in awe as if struck by her presence. There it was, his usual, idiotic Buzzard face.

Now, they stood only a few inches apart. She glowered at him and he bored his eyes back into hers. They were so close Aelin could smell his scent of pine and snow. She didn’t know what to make of his reaction, because they had only just stared at each other, as if the first person to speak would shatter the electric energy that peaked in the atmosphere, as if the other person would explode into pieces just from their speech alone. Aelin was addicted to this energy whenever she was with him. When they were walking home together, when they hung out at each other’s houses, or when they had bought each other ice cream and devoured them on the flowery grass at the park. No, Aelin was mistaken. She could never say goodbye to Rowan. She could only ever welcome him back into her life, welcome back an even stronger relationship than they had initially formed.

But, when she finally chose to speak first, “Rowan, I-”

At the same time, Rowan uttered, “Fireheart, I’ve-”

Aelin’s cheeks noticeably burned. The realization of what she was doing finally had caught up to her. Her face burned even hotter as if she was branded by the 350°F heat of a thousand ovens baking chocolate chip cookies. As she looked at Rowan’s face, she couldn’t help but feel relieved at his instant blush as well. “You go first,” Aelin said.

At Aelin’s command, Rowan proceeded, “I’ve been waiting for you. Since this morning, I just-”

But Aelin was too impatient. She had steeled her mind from any sort of rejection. She primed herself and wanted to get it over with, so she took up the heart-shaped box she held in her hands and cut him off, “No!”

Rowan immediately stopped himself and looked at her, bewildered.

This was the first time Aelin would let herself acknowledge her feelings. At this realization, she had wanted to let him know. She wanted him to know her feelings. As she replayed her interactions with him for the past five months she’s known him in her mind throughout her classes today, she knew that she had to use today to finally get her feelings out. She would hurt afterwards, but at least he would know, because every little thought of hers had been crashing down on her lately. He was on her mind everyday. She would hurt but Aelin knew she had the ability to slowly put herself back together again.

And so, Aelin took her stance.

She exhaled harshly,

And aggressively shoved the box against his broad chest.

The crowd around them was stunned at this sudden development.

“When I first came to Greenbriar, I never expected to form close ties with anyone. But it was you who had worn down the iron walls I had so carefully crafted up, because of your stupid, stupid idiocy, and I,” Aelin paused, “And today,” She took a deep breath, “Today I really wanted to get rid of you and Fenrys and Lysandra and Aedion from my stupid life because I-- I felt hurt.” Aelin closed her eyes to collect herself.

“Fireheart, I can-”

“No, I need to say this… Just, let me get this out… please.” Aelin regained her composure and started again, “When I thought about cutting ties with you guys, I recounted all of the memories we made together in these five months alone. I have never felt so happy in my life before I came here, and I realized it was because of everyone. And then I remembered those times you picked me up in the middle of the night and took me to this beautiful, beautiful spot to admire the stars. I recounted how I knew my heart began to mend so slowly; it was so slow, but it was healing, and I knew it was only because I was with you. So I realized I could never say goodbye. Not ever. ”

“So,” She picked a crease on Rowan’s shirt to focus on, looked up into his eyes, which crinkled back immediately in response, and shouted at him, “Rowan, I like you! Accept my chocolates!”

Rowan peered down at her. A visible blush painted his cheeks and the corner of his lips quirked upwards into a small smile. Rowan closed his large hands around Aelin’s small ones, gently taking up the marred heart-shaped box from her hands, and pulled Aelin into a tight embrace. He enclosed her within his arms and held her tight, as if he feared she would fly away from him. In response, Aelin instinctively leaned into the crook of his shoulder. Rowan bent down to bury himself within her hair. They fit together perfectly. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she, him.

Rowan pulled back from her hair to face Aelin, grinning, “Fireheart, of course I’ll accept your chocolates.” Without letting Aelin out of his embrace, Rowan tugged on the ribbon of the box and popped one of the chocolates in his mouth. “Mm, as expected from my Fireheart. They don’t taste like chocolates at all.”

Aelin glared back up at him as Rowan licked some of the remnants from his finger and continued, “But, Miss Chocolate Connoisseur, this is truly unacceptable.”

“What now?” Aelin sunk in deeper into his embrace.

Rowan reached into his pocket, “You’re simply not qualified to be the one giving out chocolates. It’s demeaning of you.” He pulls out a key and slips it into Aelin’s palm.

Aelin’s brows furrowed in confusion and inspected the key that Rowan placed in her hand, “Are you trying to ask me to move in with you or something? I think that’s a bit fast, don’t you think? You didn’t even kiss me yet.”

Rowan’s cheeks burned further, “It’s the key to the Godiva store in downtown. You can enter the store and take whatever you want, whenever.”

“Even when it’s closed?”

“Even when it’s closed. And on that note, I’m sorry for how you felt today… I know I hurt you, I was supposed to give you this key this morning,” Rowan looked away and whispered, “Yesterday, I... threatened the whole student body to not gift anything to you because,” Rowan spoke even more softly, so that only Aelin could hear, “Fireheart, you’re mine to spoil. I want you to know that I love you. Out of every single person in this school, out of every single person on this earth, and perhaps even the universe, you’re the only person I would accept chocolates from. The only person I’ll concede to, fall for, and let my heart be stolen from.”

Aelin looked at him and traced the swirls of his tattoo with her eyes, like she had done a thousand times already whenever they were together. She felt her heart swell. It was healed. Her heart had fully healed. Its tiny cracks mended and now the weight of her heart that initially only served to weigh her down made her feel so so light, she was afraid she would accidentally soar into the sky. So, Aelin stood on her tiptoes, reached up to grab at Rowan’s hair to pull him down at her level and muttered, “Territorial bastard,” before crashing her lips onto his to feel the electricity between them once more.

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years ago

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Alright HERE WE GO...SOME PRESS!

By which I mean, Tom King was on ComicPop discussing Supergirl! So we have CONTEXT AND BACKGROUND INFO! WOO!

Gonna get into it below, but my recommendation, as always: the best way to have an informed opinion is to get the info firsthand, so don’t just take my word for it! Go forth! Watch the thing! (Language advisory, though. There is some swearing.)

Okay. With that out of the way, LET’S GO!

Gonna lead off with a summary of the Supergirl bits, as they discuss a variety of things, from Strange Adventures to Batman/Catwoman to the canned New Gods project:

How Tom King came to be the writer of Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow:

King’s longtime editor, Jaime Rich, was moved from the Bat books to the Super books.

King, historically, likes to take on characters that ‘need help.’ He cites the example of Kirby who, upon coming to DC, asked what their lowest-selling title was, which is how he ended up on Jimmy Olsen.

So, when King asks which character needs help, Rich, to King: Supergirl. We have trouble selling that book.

King, describing Supergirl: ‘She’s singular in a way Mr. Miracle and Vision are not.’ Says that if you ask any four year old who Supergirl is, they know.

Editors asked him, ‘what’s your take? what are you gonna do with her?’

King then discusses the difference between his approach to Bat people vs. Super people.

Bat people: It’s a deconstruction approach. King brings up Kite Man from his Batman run. You tear the character down and build them back up, a la Dark Knight Returns

Super people: It’s not about deconstruction. Let them be themselves. They’re wonderful, let them be wonderful.

But he does mention sort of stripping down the character to their purest form; he describes it as chiseling off the barnacles that have built up on the character, over the years.

Additionally, he says ‘evil doesn’t work for the Super family of characters.’

He mentions Superman: Up in the Sky. He says that there’s deep stuff in Up in the Sky, but the theme of every page is simply: Superman is awesome.

King: “I don’t want to make Kara mean or sad. I want to test her.”

The host compares ‘angry Kara’ stories to ‘evil Superman’ stories in that there are many of them, such to the point that people think Kara is relatable because she’s miserable and angry all the time.

The host: I don’t get that.

(Same dude, same.)

King talked to Steve Orlando

They discussed the fact that Supergirl knew her planet; the people who died were her friends, family, classmates.

King summarizes Kara’s original Silver Age origin: she witnessed three huge, traumatic losses of life. First, when Krypton exploded. Then again when the Kryptonite started killing Argo residents, and then again when the meteorites destroyed the lead shielding that was keeping Argo safe.

King: “That’s some f-ing trauma! I don’t know if you’ve read my books, but I love the trauma in characters.”

King thus describes Kara as world-weary, she swears, ‘she has seen some sh*t’.

On the new character, Ruthye:

She’s a child on a vengeance quest.

She’s named after King’s niece, Ruthie.

The pronunciation for the comic character, though, is Ruth-Eye.

One of his sons told him to add the ‘e’ on the end to make it look cooler.

Further discussion of Kara herself:

King noted that there’s sometimes a tendency to be very precious with the character.

King: ‘Let’s not be precious with Supergirl.’

This is not the story of a sixteen-year-old girl discovering the world; King says that Supergirl has been that sixteen-year-old for a long time now.

He describes it more as a move from Supergirl to Superwoman.

Art and Influences:

Talking about the red sun planet that Kara visits for her twenty-first birthday, King says he was reading a lot of Conan, which influenced the look of that portion of the story.

The impetus for getting Evely on the book: King said his editor emailed him, ‘Hey, how about Bilquis?’ King: “And I did a happy dance!”

Evely sent King a mood board of the types of things she wanted to draw; Moebius, Kirby, Wally Wood, landscapes in particular.

Also, King says Evely is fast! She’s already halfway through the book, art-wise, and King is confident the book will release on time.

The host asked him, following up on King’s description of the book as a fantasy/western, ‘Is this True Grit?’

King: “It’s True Grit inspired. The novel AND the movie.”

If asked to give the Hollywood pitch: ‘It’s True Grit in space with Supergirl as Rooster Cogburn.’

Details about this book, as compared to Other Tom King titles:

He’s using captions on this comic--he’d thrown out captions as a storytelling device after Batman, but he found a ‘good voice’ for this comic.

King was prepared to do his usual twelve issues, but they said no one buys Supergirl comics, so it’s eight issues.

King says that Strange Adventures, Rorschach, and to a lesser extent, Batman/Catwoman, were written at a time when the world felt very apocalyptic.

He considers them to be angrier books; they are about what happens when evil is in our life, and how we deal with that.

Supergirl is the start of the ‘next generation’ of titles.

It was written during the pandemic, but King hoped that by the time it was released, the pandemic and this very dark time in our history would be past.

He says it’s a ‘roaring 20s’ book. Not about anger, or trauma, it’s about stepping into the future and kicking a**.

THUS CONCLUDES the Supergirl portion of the interview.

Okay, so! Now that we’ve been objective and presented the information in a straightforward, unbiased manner...SOME THOUGHTS AND OPINONS!

The thing I was most curious about was how King got the book, so I was EXTREMELY PLEASED to get the full story.

This wasn’t like. King desperately wanting to do a Supergirl book, nor was it DC coming to King like, ‘Take Supergirl!’

Sadly, it was, ‘which book needs the most help right now? In the Superman lineup?’

He even said that Supergirl was kind of just sitting around, no one was doing anything with her/there were no plans.

(So the idea that King stole this opportunity from a woman is not true. There were NO PLANS.)

(Also it’s not based on the FS stuff, I suspect they gave the FS team some ideas from his pitch to work with, as that entire event was sort of a stop-gap/fill-in as they hurried to relaunch their line.)

Anyways!

My initial thought that this is DC’s attempt to sell some dang Supergirl books? Not that far off! XD

Boy, I hope it works.

(Important to note: This is not news. Supergirl has historically always sold poorly. I’ve heard from actual Supergirl writers that the trades do not sell, which is a huge problem.

So King, who is KNOWN for having really good trade sales, is as solid a gamble as they could probably hope for.

He said Superman: Up in the Sky is his third best-selling trade. A WAL-MART BOOK! Is just behind Vision and Mr. Miracle!

Basically: If this doesn’t work, I don’t know that anything will.)

As for the specifics of King’s take in particular!

Again...I really want to see it, before I pass judgement on it.

I liked the Andreyko run! And that was pretty edgy!

Also, we have never seen a twenty-something Kara, post-Crisis. She’s always been a teenager. Thus I’m pretty willing to go along with this approach because it’s entirely new territory.

And it does seem like King is enjoying leaning into the idea of a Super who swears and kicks butt and is just a little ‘done’ with it all.

It might not mesh with my ideal Kara but again. I need to see it, before I come to any firm conclusions.

Honestly the thing that gives me the most pause? Is that King says this book really focuses on Supergirl, not Kara, which is a more recent identity for her.

(That is somewhat true! The ‘Kara Danvers’ identity is wholly new to the show; she’s always been Linda Lee, Linda Danvers, Kara Kent, or Linda Lang, when she has a secret identity. Sometimes she doesn’t.)

(Also of note: Tom pronounces it ‘Care-a’, like the cartoon.)

(PERSONALLY I like KAHr-a, like in the show, because it creates a phonetic consistency with ‘KAHl-el’ but that’s not really relevant to a comic book. You can mentally pronounce it however you choose! XD)

So, yeah, I like the Kara Danvers part of her identity, I like earth-bound Supergirl stories, but. This isn’t that. Which I’ll need to make peace with, I guess. XD

Otherwise? Tell me a story, Mr. King. Even if I hate it, Evely will draw it beautifully, Lopes will color it masterfully, and that’s half the battle, right there.

I’m sad King didn’t mention the Gates/Igle run! But I also understand he’s probably been looking at more recent stuff; those Gates/Igle comics are fifteen years old, oh man, oh geez, how are they that old already.

King did confirm that this is 100% in-continuity, and will affect the character going into the future.

But, IDK, given the sort of. Grim beginnings of how this book came to be, what with the reminder that the Supergirl title doesn’t sell well...who knows what the future will look like, for Kara!

I stand by my guess that Kara will graduate to ‘Superwoman’ and the Supergirl mantle will pass to someone else, maybe Ruthye? She might be a bit young, though.

Mmm. What else, what else?

Oh, this is pretty funny, IMO: when King first teased the new character, Ruthye, a bunch of SG fans rushed to google to see if there was any clue as to like. What it could mean.

And they freaked out over some obscure connection where that name appears but hey, turns out! It’s just a made up name! Based on King’s niece!

It’s funny because SG fans never learn, man. Just chill out, read the dang book, then get all upset and huff and puff and blow your twitter house down.

They briefly mentioned the Peter David run; King said the PAD stuff was great.

He’s already teased that ‘treat’ and, okay. Time for some rumination on that specifically.

I’ve read the whole PAD run. It wasn’t my cup of tea, I don’t really like the DnD, angels and demons stuff. Also, it wasn’t Kara; it’s an entirely different character who uses the name ‘Supergirl.’

Also, stuff from that run didn’t age well.

And on top of that, PAD turned out to be...kind of a jerk! As so many folks in the comic industry are.

There’s also...an extremely weird, mean-spirited vibe through the whole back half of the run; I thought maybe I was imagining it at the time, but I recently went back to “Many Happy Returns”, the final story arc of the title, and David’s introduction in the trade...it doesn’t read like a guy who was in it for the love of the character, you know?

All of which to say! I’m not excited about connections to the PAD stuff.

But I know a lot of fans who love that run, love that version of the character.

So like. Eh! Not for me, but to the folks who enjoy it, I hope it’s cool/fun, whatever it is.

(Still think it’ll be a variant or an easter egg or something, but we’ll see.)

(Oh, hmmm! Evely *did* post a WIP of like. Some creepy skull gate that they presumably encounter...hmmmmm.)

Okay, this is crazy long, and there’s no fun art or anything to go with it--OR IS THERE?!?!?!

BOOM. From Bilquis Evely’s twitter today. (GO. FOLLOW. HER. FOR THE GOOD ART.)

(LIKE!!! I look at this and I just! Can’t! Bring myself to not be hyped as all heck! LOOK AT THIS! AND iT’S JUST THE PENCILS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

God, wish that Supergirl sold better, so we could get a full year of this. HNNNNGGGGGGG.

Oh! That was another thing King discussed in detail; that 8 is way different from his usual 12, in terms of pacing and story. The beats fall at different places (obviously) so it was a bit of a challenge for him.

Actually, now that I’m thinking about it...maybe 8 will be good. Issue 10 just dropped for Strange Adventures, and wow, it has felt LONG. (I mean, the last four? Three? issues are also bi-monthly so that doesn’t help but. Still.)

(Superman: Up in the Sky was twelve issues but half the length, because it was a Wal-Mart book, so it was more like six.)

OKAY! For real, I’ve gone on long enough. XD

SOON. Soon. June 15th, to be exact. Mark yer calendars!

#stranger speaks #supergirl: woman of tomorrow #long post #LONG!#dc comics

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thats-how-i-role · 4 years ago

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There is not a world out there where you will find Jem Morale grovelling. Begging. Pleading. Except when it comes to finding happiness for certain beautiful, intelligent girl.

“Please!” Jem whined, following their manager into their office. Jem’s entire posture was slumped. “It’s just for a night.”

Their boss nodded, visibly annoyed. “And it’s just a deposit.”

“Yeah, five hundred bucks!” Jem exclaimed, exasperated. “You sign my paycheques, we both know I can’t afford that.”

Their manager pinched the bridge of their nose. “And for the last time, it’s not my problem.” Jem laid their head down on their manager’s desk, staring up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes possible. After a moment of a rather humorous staring contest, their manager finally said, “What do you need to rent out the café for anyway?”

“I have this... friend.” Jem began to explain, their gaze drifting off. “She’s been helping me out with my schoolwork, particularly the subjects I’ve been having trouble with. And her birthday’s is in two days. I just want to plan something special.”

Their boss quirked their eyebrow up, “Friend, as in girlfriend?”

Jem shook their head, “No. At least... I’m working on it. And maybe this could help, which is why this is so important.”

Their manager breathed out a sigh, shaking their head discontented. After a moment of silence he spoke up, “I can’t let you use the restaurant. But, with a deposit of one-fifty, half of which will be covered by your over time pay, and your tips over the next couple week, I can give you the roof.”

Jem shot up, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Their boss shook his head, “Don’t thank me yet. It’s a mess up there, and in order to get it cleaned up you’re gonna need your own crew. But, not-only if you get it organized by yourself within the next two days will I staff and cater the event, then I will hire you to help organize parties in the future.”

Jem nodded enthusiastically, “A little hard work never killed anyone. I really appreciate this opportunity.”

Their boss nodded, and reached for his keys. He tossed a triangular, golden key at Jem who nearly failed to catch it. “You’re welcome, now get out before I change my mind.”

Jem quickly fled the office, and noticed they still had ten minutes for their break. They took out their phone as they walked up the stairs to the roof. Making a quick group chat, they sent a message saying, “I need your help.”

Alveyn was the first and only one to reply, as everyone else just read the message. “What do you need, mate?”

Jem unlocked the door to the roof, and got a look at what they were dealing with. Tables and chairs were covered in dust, and dirt. Some of which were sun bleached from being under the sun for too long. Jem heard a few squeaks coming from hidden corners and they knew they got in over their head. But, it was for Lewellyn.

And maybe their friends would see it the same way.

Jem sent a photo of the deserted rooftop saying, “I need to clear this and I can’t do it alone.”

This time, only a few people saw the message but nobody responded still. Jem rolled their eyes adding, “It’s for Lew.”

Suddenly, the crew entered the chat. Mercy and Laufi were the first to respond, quickly followed by Romy. Volstigg answered a couple hours later and the plan was beginning to form.

The next day, the crew showed up with brooms, and a truck to move the garbage out of there. Umbra showed up despite not mentioning he would in the group chat. Laufi was able to set up the rat traps, and get any rats that were present out of there without getting hurt. They found it easier just to buy new chairs and table cloths to put if the run down tables. Jem put the cake in the fridge at their work, a cake Mercy baked to perfection with beautiful white frosting with orange lettering. Romy made a list of things we needed to get done, and to buy. And was able to convince Lew to clear her schedule, although her parents were difficult to get ahold of for some reason. Volstigg helped a little but got distracted by the cute barista that was working that day.

After several hours of hardwork, the roof was in tip top shape. Jem dropped the seventy five they owed to their boss on his desk, and ran off before he could ask about what happened with the vermin. When Laufi told Jem, “not to worry about it,” it only made everyone that much more concerned. Aerilyn texted by the end of that day saying they’d show up to the party despite not doing any of the work.

And before they all knew it, it was showtime.

Romy messaged Jem as they were adjusting everything to be perfect upstairs. He said that, “we’re about a minute away.”

Jem attempted to shake out their nerves as they leaped down the stairs. But no matter how much they tried, their heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. Which I guess was normal whenever they saw Lew.

Romy and Lew entered the café, the wind catching her hair as the door closed. She went to approach the counter, until Volstigg walked up and linked arms with her. Romy shook his head, clearly amused but followed nonetheless. Lew’s eyes were lit up with joy and curiosity.

Mercy placed her hands gently over Lew’s eyes playfully as the party led Lew up the stairs. Upon reaching the rooftop, the entire shouted “Surprise!” As Mercy revealed the view to Lew.

What once was a cluttered mess of a roof, was now at the very least presentable. There were two rectangular tables pushed together and covered by a fabric tablecloth. A variety of snacks that most wouldn’t consider to be a part of a dinner we’re displayed on a separate table. Mercy’s cake, instead of candles had sparklers sticking out of it. Lew’s presents were displayed at each of their seats.

Lewellyn let out a joyful gasp. The smile that graced her face was enough to reassure Jem that they did the right thing. And it took all of their nerves and Jem’s breath away all at once.

The party continued into the hours of the evening. Many laughs, and stories were shared over the dinner table. Not only that, but it seemed like the group’s hard work had really paid off. When the party was finishing up, some people had to go home in order to get to their early morning classes on time. Umbra, Alveyn, Lew, Mercy and Jem stuck behind to clean up. Mostly to make sure Jem didn’t get their head ripped off by their boss.

As Jem cleared the plates, Lew slipped onto the table beside them. “So you really set this all up, didn’t you?”

Jem’s cheeks flushed, but it was thankfully hidden by the twilight. “It’s not that big of a deal, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday.”

Lew giggled, “So your plan was instead of a present, was to plan a party? That definitely cost more than a new journal, or a nice bracelet...”

“I got your point.” Jem brushed off. But no matter how hard they tried, Jem couldn’t erase their grin. “But you’re wrong.”

“Oh?” Lew asked.

Jem reached into their back pocket, and pulled out a leather bracelet. It was a dark brown leather, only about half an inch thick. But with several silver charms. A feather quill, a cluster of stars, and several others. “I couldn’t decide which was better, so I got you both.”

Lewellyn shook her head, surprised and incredibly thankful. “Jem, this is too much.”

Jem gently grabbed Lew’s wrist, and clipped her bracelet on. “It’s not nearly enough for what you give me. I just can’t be grateful enough for you Lewellyn V’lain.”

“I want to pay you back! Maybe a haircut,” she quipped, ruffling their hair. “Or... maybe a date?”

Jem’s head shot up at the word, “Yes.” They blurted out then attempted to calm themselves down saying, “I mean yeah. Sure, I did put a lot of work into this. I think I uh, I could be treated.”

Lewellyn leaned in and kissed Jem’s cheek, a feeling Jem would never forget, “Sounds like a plan. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Shoy.” Jem said in a dazed tone. Clearing their throat they corrected themselves, “uh sure, a-absolutely. It’s a date. You already said that. I’ll shut up now.”

By the end of the night, Jem was still walking on air. And unbelievably excited about what tomorrow would bring.

#campaign 1 #jem #mercy #lewellyn #alveyn #laufi #romy #volstigg #Aerilyn #umbra #my art #my writing #my ocs #friend ocs #au week

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basscannonjack · 4 years ago

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1-100 SPEED RUN

Ama. How could you do this to me

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Lactose intolerant, only eat cereal dry

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes, but not for too long

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

i just try to remember lmao

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

don’t like coffee, drink tea plain or with some sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

not as much as I used to be!

6: do you keep plants?

I have one (1) cactus that I haven’t killed in the 9 years I’ve had it

7: do you name your plants?

sometimes!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

music or writing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

ALWAYS

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

I generally fall asleep on my stomach and wake up on my back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I HAVE YOU NOW

12: what's your favorite planet?

Neptune, probably!

13: what's something that made you smile today?

my SON asking me ALL THE QUESTIONS

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

oh god, probably a bit of a mess

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

the ISS was launched on the day of my birth, so it’s been in space *literally* my entire life

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

just plain ol’ chicken alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

keeping it silver baybeee

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

oh man, there are so many, but i’ll go with the time that Roman got coke to fizz through my nose by making me laugh too hard

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

no journal, only very similar looking notebooks to doodle and write in

20: what's your favorite eye color?

hazel!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

my Bag of Holding! snapped the clasp on it a few years back though

22: are you a morning person?

not at all!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

SLEEP

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Ashe, of course

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I had to break into my own safe at my old job, does that count?

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

I’d say my boots, but I just got a new set, so the older ones

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Spearmint or wintergreen

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

I just love seeing my friends blush

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes, I won’t go into detail

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS I used to collect weird socks, now I just have a bunch of fun dress socks lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

driving everyone home at 4 am and seeing other people on the road and going “you should be in bed!” at them

33: what's your fave pastry?

lemon meringue pie

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Teddy a winnie the pooh bear that I still have!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I adore new pens

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhhh I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against and ABBA lmao

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

nearly anything my brother does

39: what color do you wear the most?

black or blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

my claddagh ring from my grandmother, i don’t have much else from her

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

not the last book but there was one about a girl having a single dragon finger that I remember reading so many times that I unfortunately don’t know the name of, or the Tamora Pierce Lioness series

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Don’t like coffee!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

James <3

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

I do not :’)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

not as much as I probably should

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I’ve been changing my username to a different halloween themed pun for all of October, I’m all burnt out

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Balut, it icks me out

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

heights, and yes :’)

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

I got a record player fairly recently, I have some P!atD ones, Foo Fighters, and Imagine Dragons

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

rocks

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Bitch by Meredith Brooks for my eldest sister

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the ones we’ve made in our server

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

all of the above except Pulp Fiction, I’m not really a movie person but I *am* a musical person

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my dad

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Cotton Eyed Joe in six inch heels

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

honesty and passion in an interest

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I just vibe and belt, y’know

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

can they both be me

59: what's your favorite myth?

the soup with a rock in it!

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

Where the Sidewalk Ends was always a good one

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

a coffee cup drinking horn for my dad, and some painted rocks from my brother

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

it would be apple juice if I did

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

not at all

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

greyish, the sun is just about to rise

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

My eldest sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

ROSES

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

give them to me, I love them

68: what's winter like where you live?

COLD

69: what are your favorite board games?

Monopoly and LIFE

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

no thanks

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

raspberry or orange for fruit and mint

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

no, but I do write things down anyways

73: what are some of your worst habits?

I lose things all the time

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

STARDUST SOULMATE

75: tell us about your pets!

I have a Min Pin named Lily

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Sleeping

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

pink

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

*insert ick emoji*

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

decorated my band locker to celebrate my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

beige, but I hung up a bunch of posters!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

when the sun hits very rich dirt where a tree used to be

82: are/were you good in school?

best in class in math with a 101.8 but I also rarely did homework so uh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Dragon on the shoulder blade, roses on the left arm, Exalt on the right

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

webcomics! Barbarous, currently

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

:? not sure what that means

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

TREASURE PLANET

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

nope!

89: are you close to your parents?

my dad!

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

don’t really have a favorite, in all honesty

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I was supposed to go see Ashe for their birthday but maybe next year!

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

uhhh it’s usually short enough to do nothing lmao

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

I have a friend’s bday tomorrow!

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

WORK

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

bit of both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Scorpio, Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

last year? maybe the one before? I did! but my heart didn’t

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

How Far We’ve Come, Matchbox Twenty

The Call, Backstreet Boys

I2I, from the Goofy Movie Soundtrack (lmao)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future! I’ve had my time in the past, no changing it now

#ama i love and care about you so much darlin'#but this pains me #my dear sunchild

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yetanotherauthor · 5 years ago

Link

Day 4 of @narutorarepairweek. Today’s prompt is soulmate au.

Pairing: MadaraIzuna Word count: 1469 Rated: T+ Summary: Madara still loses things all the time - just as the universe intended him to.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Oh Brother Where Art My Shit

There was a reason that Madara had started the habit of getting ready for important events the day before they happened and that reason was simple. He was a messy sod. A terror on the battlefield and a clan head not to be crossed, it would have been hard for most people to reconcile the persona he carried for the outside world with the flaming disaster that was his everyday life at home.

Both hands buried up to the wrist, Madara cast a weather eye over the massive pile of junk he was currently sifting through in the bottom of his closet. Maybe if he learned to keep better track of his things it wouldn’t take him so long to find them all the time but it was hard to break a habit after deliberately cultivating it for so many years. He was doomed to a messy home for the rest of his life. If only he could find the blue obi he’d spent the last hour searching for then maybe he could live with that but until then he would continue to curse how desperate he’d been for a soulmate when he was young.

“Are you looking for something?” Izuna’s voice drifted over his shoulder and Madara scowled.

“No,” he growled sarcastically. “I just thought now was a good time for spring cleaning.”

“In the middle of winter?”

Yanking one hand out from under the pile of clothes it had been clawing through, Madara reached back to swat at his sibling without looking. “Just shut up. How am I supposed to attend Hashirama's stupid jubilee tomorrow if I can’t even look presentable? I’ll be the laughing stock of the other clan heads!”

“Ah, I see. So it wouldn’t happen to be an obi you’re looking for?”

“Obviously! I’ve got everything else laid out on the bed, don’t pretend you’re smart for guessing!”

“Mn. And would it happen to be blue? Midnight, silver stitching, just a little slimmer than all your other ones?”

It wasn’t just the perfect description that had him swinging around with a scowl but the teasing lilt in his brother’s voice. He scowled even deeper to see the very obi he’d been tearing their room apart to find draped over Izuna’s shoulders like a lady’s shawl, tasteful silver patterns catching the light and setting off his skin like a pale moon spirit.

“You weren’t supposed to see it!” he snapped. “Why do I even bother trying to surprise you with anything if you’re just going to go through my stuff anyway?”

His sibling rolled his eyes and cocked a hip. “I didn’t go through anything. There I was just minding my own business on the walk home and what do I see? An obi draped over the bushes out front. Now who in fire’s name would go to the trouble of throwing an obi in to our front lawn? Absolutely no one. It must be that some poor idiot…lost it.” Izuna’s lips quirked up on one side. “Good thing I found it, ne?”

Madara sat back on his heels with a sigh.

“I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t find it somewhere in the tower like last time.” Coming up with an excuse for why Izuna had suddenly pulled his older brother’s favorite underwear out of a desk drawer had been one of the cleverest and yet most embarrassing things he’d ever seen the younger man do.

“What you should really be grateful for is that I’m giving it back instead of hiding it. Really, take better care of your things.”

“Hmph, I take good care of you, don’t I?”

The words came out with little thought but he got his reward anyway in the softening of Izuna’s face, the fingers that reached out to card through his hair. Madara swallowed and let himself lean back against his brother’s legs. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to realize that his soulmate had been hiding under his nose almost all his life. As a child Madara had built the habit of deliberately leaving his things lying about in every corner of their house in the hopes that he would lose them only to find them in the hands of someone else. Whenever Izuna came to him with some shirt or sandal or badly drawn explosive tag that he’d stumbled across it never really registered as odd. Of course his brother was the one to find so many of his things, they shared so much of the same space after all.

“You do, aniki.”

“Damn straight,” Madara grumbled, a little embarrassed to have shown his softer side without meaning to.

“Are you going to try this all on now or just wait for tomorrow?” Izuna asked.

“I already know it all fits, why would I need to try it on?” Twisting to look up at the other man, Madara felt silly the moment he caught sight of the leer staring back down at him. Apparently he’d missed something between the lines there but that was nothing new. He was nearly as famous for his obliviousness as Tobirama was. Clearing his throat gave him a moment to think up some kind of response and still he wasn’t able to come up with anything better than to mumble under his breath, “If you want something you should just come out and say it.”

Shoving everything that he’d pulled out of the closet back in would have to wait. Madara looked over the mess once and shook his head, standing up and squeezing past his brother with both eyes on the floor because unfortunately obliviousness went hand in hand with embarrassment once he understood what was going on. He wasn’t in the least surprised by the arms that slid around his waist to catch him on the way by.

“Alright, if you need me to be so blunt about it. I was kind of looking forward to seeing you take your clothes off.” Izuna followed his words with a low chuckle that rumbled through Madara's body like a pleasant shiver.

“You watched me change just this morning; are you so insatiable?”

“For you? Of course.”

Slim hands traced their way down the lines of his abdomen to fiddle with the edges of the yukata he’d been lounging around the house in. With a sigh Madara caught them and twisted to slide his own fingers under Izuna’s chin, raising that pretty face up for his inspection. The smile that greeted him was filthy, enough so that anyone else might assume he had only one thing on his mind, but Madara knew his brother even better than himself. For him it was easy to look at Izuna and see the warmth of love in those beautiful eyes.

“You’re a minx,” he accused softly.

“I am,” Izuna agreed with a breezy wave of one hand, dismissing the words.

“Why do I put up with you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, more than familiar with the sass that would come back to bite him if he did. Instead Madara gave a show of rolling his eyes and then leaned down to capture Izuna’s lips with his own. The kiss was gentle, drawn out, but not for long. Gentle only ever lasted for so long between them. Barely a minute or two had passed before they were savagely biting at each other, pulling hair, legs bumping together as they turned to stumble towards the bed.

A quick twist at the moment they fell put Madara in the perfect position to cage his brother against the blankets neither of them had straightened when they got up that morning, leaning back to pause and admire the prize beneath him. It hit him then as it did every so often just how lucky he was.

“Admiration is lovely,” Izuna purred, “but I’m more a man of action myself. Get down here. We so rarely have a day off together and I plan to take full advantage of having you all to myself for so many hours.”

“You really do only ever think with your little head, don’t you?”

“Complaining?”

“No.” Madara let himself be pulled down in to another violent kiss that was their favorite way to express the passions between them.

It might have taken him years to see the bliss just waiting for him right in front of his eyes but from the moment he finally understood he had never looked back, not even once. Izuna was the entire world to him. He couldn’t imagine a world where he could ever love another quite like the man writhing beneath him.

Of course his brother was his soulmate, the only one who could ever truly understand him at his core, because Izuna was the one thing he could never ever stand to lose.

#narutorarepairweek2020 #yetanotherstory #madaizu #madara #izuna #fanfiction #soulmate au

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szopenhauer · 5 years ago

Text

Walking into a party, what’s the first thing you look for? someone I know lmfao also a toilet Who was the last person you ate with? my mom, sister and niece

What do you do when you’ve had a bad day? depends Kiss on the first date? maybe Have you ever had a best friend who was of the opposite sex? yes Are you too shy to tell people when you’re developing feelings for them? wouldn’t say so If you could pack up and leave to move away, would you? yeah Do you wish you were with someone right now? I wish my dad was already home and everybody else OUT or just leave me alone, I wouldn’t mind my gf’s company much either How many more people do you think you’ll kiss before you die? nobody else unless CPR will count if I will ever need it Do you like messing with people when they’re drunk? nothing rude/dangerous Whats a song you absolutely hate? Gangnam style for example Your opinions on bi people? most of them end up in heterosexual relationships anyway because it’s easier Song playing right now? Melanie Martinez songs Has anyone ever mistaken you for someone else? my mom and sister

What color dominates your wardrobe? dunno

Do you prefer color photos or black-and white? color, black and white or sepia only if they’re really old - elseway they usually remind me of death What color is your house? What about car? white What color “emotion” are you feeling right now? I’m feeling blue? Have you ever seen a double rainbow before? yep, even this year Do you own anything that is rainbow-colored? like one item that I don’t even use anymore Do you enjoy coloring? not really

If you had the chance to get the cast of any canceled tv show back together to make one “reunion” season, would you? Or do you think it’s better remembering it the way it was? If so, what show would you choose? BUFFY!

Do you find music helps you sleep? Which type of music do you sleep to? recently it helps me survive until I feel sleepy enough to not overthink/cry/get anxiety attacks

Would you try to hold back your tears if you were attending a funeral? I didn’t cry but I believe it depends on who’s funeral it is

If you could be one age forever, how old would you be? I just want to be a kid

Do you have a particular shoe brand you favor over others? nah

If you had the choice, what would your final words be? telling my loved ones that I love them

What is one thing you always wanted as a child, but never received? big stuffed black panther and a treehouse mostly

What social situations tend to make you most nervous? all of them?...

What is one medical myth you’re tired of hearing? for an example that severe illnesses are visible all the damn time

Do you like making up nicknames for people? love, they’re catchy and other ppl start to use them to :D

Delete a year of your life, or start over in a new town? deleting one year wouldn’t help unless it was a year I was born like in Shrek movie...

What do you call your grand-parents? babcia

What’s your favorite song by Taylor Swift? Why is that your favorite? the only one I liked was Bad blood mostly because of the music video

What do you think about your hair right now? ugh...

Do you do your homework at the last minute? oh well...

Would you rather get a new brother or sister? new as in a way of replacement or another?

Have you ever used a Polaroid camera? I wanna buy one someday

What is your favorite thing to do online? lots

Have you ever gone to see a movie just to make fun of it? that’s stupid

Would you rather watch Family Guy or South Park? Simpsons

Does it bother you when people wear pajamas out? I’d do that myself :3

Have you ever tried online dating? How did it go? I tried and every single “relationship” failed, not that there were many of them, I met plenty of people that I wish I didn’t tho

Who was the last person you took a picture with? my sister and niece but shadows only

Do your parents allow smoking in your house? nooo

Is your last name shorter than your first name? longer

Last two numbers in your phone number? personal

Who’s in your house? my fam just went to the garden and I have a moment of silence, finally

What magazine(s) do you look at the most? interior design

Are you paranoid? kind of

What item should never be shared? toothbrush, bloody period pad, underwear, towel, used piece of toilet paper, gum that someone already had in their mouth etc.

Do you sleep with a fan on? I don’t even own a fan

How many plants are in your home? too many

Do you ever type “kik” instead of “lol”? it never happened :o

Do you know how to play chess? forgot

Are you picky? about some stuff, sure

How tall is the person you like? tall, much taller than me

Are you excited for winter? if I was then only for Christmas or New year eventually my birthday but it’s doubtful

If it was free and it would work perfectly, would you get plastic surgery? but it ain’t safe and painless etc.

Have you ever been called prince or princess? I dislike that

Do you like your body? pfft

What do you hear right now? dog barking

Last thing you wrote your name on? documents

Where did you get the pants you’re wearing right now? I don’t even remember anymore

When is the next time you will see your grandma? ...

What is it tomorrow? Sunday

Have you ever laughed at someone because they had a funny name? not face to face, I heard some funny names during mass or my mom told me about them and I saw some online or in movie credits Speaking of names, why do celebrities always call their kids stupid ones? to be unique If you have a problem with someone, will you confront them? maybe

Are you more likely to be called a hard worker or lazy? lazy What is your sense of humor like? quite dark, sarcastic, dry, witty, puns, daddy jokes, memes Have you ever had a dream in black and white? I don’t recall What about a dream with no sound? it’s possible What types of people do you tend to avoid? ... all of them? What is one personality trait a potential friend must have? understanding and similar sense of humor Have you ever been in a helicopter? no What color car would you like to have? DeLorean is grey but if I had a jeep then yellow, red, gree, black or silver

What is your favorite mode of travelling? on foot or train, definitely not plane Are your favorite characters often what the majority like? I hardly ever like the main character so I doubt it but who knows? Is it dark outside right now? not yet Do you get scared when it’s a full moon? when I’m outside it’s bothering If you travel anywhere, do you always buy souvenirs for people? often Are you waiting on anyone coming home right now? YES Do you like the way your voice sounds? nope Can you see the stars from your house? not currently but at night - if it’s not cloudy - yup How would you react if your favorite band made a song with your first name as its title? awesome! unless it was real bad Are you considered an awkward person? it seems Is there a light on in the room you’re in? too bright for that What day were you born on? Saturday, my mom said I shouldn’t be lazy then but I responded with - I was half an hour late for Friday Do you like having a favorite everything or do you enjoy keeping open? I often say I have a lot of favorites of things as I have a hard time choosing just one for most of them

How often do you feel pressured to be better than or different than you are? For example, how often do you feel pressured to be skinner, tanner, prettier, etc? Keep in mind that pressure doesn’t always have to come from others; In fact, we can put a lot of pressure on ourselves. ugh...

Would you rather it snow for three days or rain for a week? rain for a week if it didn’t cause the flood

Have you ever changed the look of a survey because you didn’t like the way it was presented? This can even include adding or deleting numbers to the questions. many times

Does it bother you when surveys ask questions that Google could answer? I agree

When is the last time you had a cell phone that wasn’t a smartphone, if ever? 3 years ago

Do you know anyone who can speak more than 5 languages fluently? noooo

Would you rather write an essay on global warming or UFOs? UFO

Do you like sailing? When was the last time you went, if at all? never been and don’t wanna Favourite Pokemon? Mimikyu and Pikachu Do you or have you done martial arts? Which type? karate, self defence

Favorite animal. raccoon

Any turn ons? personal

3 most important people in your life right now? my dad, my gf and my mom

Do you respond to texts quickly? depends

Who was the last person you called? dad

Winter or summer? summer

What is the secret to a happy life? good health, enough money, peace and quiet, either no people around or only good ones, no worries/problems

What are some phrases/words you say often? MAYBE

What are some of your greatest fears? personal

Spicy food:Like or dislike? my stomach doesn’t like spicy food

Do you like to travel? nope

Do you like rain? yup

Would you rather visit the past or the future? future to see if it’s worth living for - past if not to enjoy once more what I lost

How often do you go to parties? never?...

Do you think you’re ambitious? I know I’m not

What makes you nervous? what doesn’t?...

First mobile phone? grey Siemens

Do you like sharing? sharing what?

What was the last picture you took with your phone? single tiny cloud

If you had one word to describe yourself, what would it be? ME

Are you more creative or logical? why can’t I be both?

Would you rather lie or hurt someone with the truth? I don’t know anymore

When you imagine yourself as really, really relaxed and happy, what are you doing? sleeping well and having a good dream?

What is the best news you could hear right now? that I have no allergies

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coffeexwhiskey · 6 years ago

Text

Fancy Dresses and Kisses

“You look good,” his blue eyes shined as he glanced over her from head to toe. They shared a quick peck on the cheek and gave each other a warm hug.

“Thanks, so do you,” he froze for a moment, staring at her and she too stopped after realizing what she said. Then they broke into laughter together.

“Thanks?” he replayed playfully.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for a while,” she unconsciously gripped on her pink dress as he talked about where he had been filming for a series. She wasn’t really paying attention to his words. She bobbed her head as if she was intently listening to him when really her mind was thinking of how she missed his blues eyes when she’s with him, or the way he mindlessly licked his lips when he’s excited to talk about something, or how his jaws clenched when he tries to remember some story or information. His hands moving about as he explained his future projects to her. The small smile never leaving her face.

“That sounds wonderful, Gendry,” she stretched a hand to pat his arm, oh how his muscled arm felt good on her palm. It reminded her of that night she ran her hands over them when they were filming their scenes for the movie, that’s why they were in this big, fancy hotel – celebrating the premiere of their movie together. Though her role wasn’t that big, she was grateful she had the chance to share some scenes with his leading character where they even got to share some kisses for the movie; once or twice.

Somehow, it was no surprise that they were on the same film together again. They both have the same agency, making it easier for them to bump into each other, attend the same events and be on the same projects together, making it harder for her to stop herself from questioning her thoughts for him.

“Yeah yeah, it was. You should try it. Skydiving’s a whole new experience,” his grin was enough evidence of how much he enjoyed it. But before she could reply, a photographer had approached them asking for pictures. They posed together for a moment, his arm lightly wrapped around her waist as they smiled for the cameras as more press came close to them. Because most questions were addressed to Gendry, she meekly excused herself saying that she had to greet the other casts and crew. She caught sight of her sister, who happens to be one of the set designers for the movie and walked over to her and took many photos that night, a hobby she just started. She thought that it’s the best way to collect memories, something her mother had once said to her.

The night went on with more pictures, more press and more drinks. She’s had a long day. She was just in the North earlier that day, filming for another movie and now she’s in King’s Landing for this premiere. And before heading out for the red carpet, she had to submit her paper for uni. I’m a fucking Superwoman, she thought as she took her heels off and walked up to the elevators, calling it a night.

She texted her assistant telling her that she can handle her self for the rest of the night and that she should call it a day too. She also sent a text message to her sister;

Arya: Up in my room. Too tired to stay long. Night.

Sansa: Delayed flight’s a bitch. You should rest. Catch up tomorrow?

Arya: Brunch? Can’t do dinner, my flight back up North’s at 8 in the evening.

Sansa: Sure. See you. Good night.

As soon as she was up in her room, she threw her heels in the corner where her luggage were scattered and quickly peeled her pretty dress off. She sat in front of the vanity and removed her shimmering make-up. Staring at her reflection, she wondered how all of it can be a fairy tale one moment with fancy dress-ups, elaborate press and socialites and then everything’s plain and simple as soon as she took off her dress, erased her make-up and let herself be swallowed by the silence of her hotel room. She went to the bathroom and took a long warm shower making sure every little hint of the hairspray was washed off, scrubbed her skin until there was no more sticky dried sweat left. After drying her hair and body, she dressed herself in her comfy pajamas and combed her hair as she went about her things. She was about to walk to her bed and continue the book she was reading on the plane when a knock echoed inside the room.

Wondering who might be visiting her at eleven in the night, she walked cautiously towards the door and stood on her tiptoes to peek on the peephole. Her eyes widen as she gasped and landed her bare feet flat back on the floor. She quickly unlocked the door and smiled at him.

Barefoot, in grey t-shirt and sweatpants, Gendry stood with a box wrapped in green paper, complete with a ribbon. He rubbed the back of his neck and with a sheepish smile, he stretched the arm with the gift to her, “Hey, I have something for you,” he said bashfully.

Arya narrowed her eyes at him, “Are you walking around the hotel, handing out gifts?” she asked.

“Actually, no. I couldn’t find you again at the party so I thought you might be in your room. You left quite early,” he still had his arm stretched, urging her to take the gift.

She eyed the present for a moment before taking it from him, “Thank you,” she mumbled. “Well, you look like you also left the celebration quite early,” she gestured to the t-shirt and sweat pants.

He grinned guiltily at her, “Yeah, I just don’t like hanging around in crowds, you know.”

Arya nodded understandingly and remembered something, “Oh, I also have something for you,” she opened the door wider and walked inside.

Gendry followed her, closing the door behind.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she motioned for him to sit on the couch as she searched for the item from her bags, “I’m sure yours is here, somewhere,” she murmured.

After a minute or two, she finally took a silver box from one of her luggage and handed it to him.

“What is it?” he asked as he reached for it.

“It’s a gift, Gendry. Open it,” she also took the gift he gave her and sat beside him on the couch and they both opened their gifts at the same time.

“It feels like Christmas,” Gendry chuckled.

“Tell me about it.”

Arya tore the green wrapping off and opened the box carefully. She pulled out a canvas. It wasn’t too big or too small. It can perfectly fit on her bedside table in her apartment.

“Gendry,” she gasped, staring at the picture she was holding. It was a painting of the two of them from one of the scenes in the movie where she was looking out in the forest and he had his eyes on her.

“Had a friend of mine paint it for me. Do you like it?” he asked anxiously.

Arya’s eyes softened as she looked up to him, “I love it, it’s beautiful. Thank you,” she scrambled on the couch to give him a thankful hug and he squeezed her just as tight.

“You’re welcome,” he chortled at her. “And thanks for the.. ummm,” he motioned for the pen he was holding.

“It’s a fucking vintage Cross fountain pen, Gendry,” Arya sounded a bit offended.

Gendry laughed that crinkly smile of his, making Arya hitch a breath, “I know it’s a Cross pen. Thank you,” he pecked her cheek as he studied the pen, “You even got my name engraved on it.”

“And my initials too,” Arya pointed at the cap. “Now everytime you sign an autograph, you’ll have to remember me,” she japed.

“Oh there’s no way in hell I’ll be using this that often.”

“Then when are you going to use it?”

“Never.”

Arya grunted in disbelief, “Wow, you just wasted my money.”

“Maybe I’ll use it for something special.”

“That’s good enough for me,” she said, standing up to the hotel fridge in the room. “Anything I can get you?”

“Whatever you have will do.”

She took the chilled wine and two glasses from the mini bar and popped the bottle open. Handing one glass to him, she raised her glass, inviting for a toast, “To art.”

“To what?” Gendry asked, baffled.

“To art,” she repeated with a sigh. She pointed at the painting and pen on the coffee table.

Gendry rolled his eyes but raised his glass as well.

After a moment of silence, their glasses half full of wine, Gendry cleared his throat, “You’re in uni right? Drama?”

“Dramatic Literature,” she corrected.

“I see. So it’s like the perfect combo for drama and literature.”

“Kinda like that. More on theater and creative writing,” she explained and pouring herself more wine.

He nodded.

“Guess that’s where you learned it,” he mumbled to himself not expecting her to hear.

“Learned what?”

Gendry hesitated for a second, looking away from her but said it anyway, “Drama kiss,” he said lowly, embarrassed.

Arya stopped midway from drinking her wine. “What?!”

“Drama kiss,” he said again.

“Drama kiss?”

“Yes.”

“What’s drama kiss?”

“The kiss you do when you kiss in front of the camera or on stage,” he said obviously.

Arya didn’t answer to that. She spoke again as Gendry refilled his glass, “Then what do you mean I learned that?”

He huffed and explained, “I meant you learned how to do a drama kiss in university. Because you’re studying, whatever it is you’re studying.”

“Dramatic Literature,” she emphasized every syllable.

“Yes, that.”

They went silent again.

Both emptied their glasses and Arya poured them more wine.

“They don’t teach you that,” she spoke softly.

“They don’t?” he sounded disbelieved.

“No. And what’s the difference between a drama kiss and a real kiss, anyway? It’s just the same, a kiss.”

Gendry’s laugh made her more annoyed at him. She hit him lightly in the arm to stop him from laughing.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” Gendry said in between laughs.

“Well I’m sorry grandpa,” Arya retorted.

When he was done laughing, still flushed on the cheeks, he playfully bumped his shoulder to Arya’s.

“I’m just joking,” he said. “What you did when we filmed our scene was a perfect example of a drama kiss,” he explained.

“Isn’t that how you kiss?” Arya confusingly asked.

“Is that how you kiss your boyfriend?”

Arya shook her head, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well I’m sure you’ve had boyfriends before. I mean, you may be young but you’re not a kid or something,” he said carefully.

Arya heaved a sigh of annoyance, “Well I don’t always lock lips with my boyfriends.”

“Copy that,” Gendry mumbled and downed his wine, quickly refilling it.

“Why are we evening talking about this?” she asked wearily.

“What I was trying to say is,” Gendry started nervously, “with the way you kissed me dramatically, I can tell you’re a good kisser,” he finished his wine, slowly.

Arya’s head snapped to look at him. He was looking more flushed that earlier. Probably the wine. Or is he embarrassed for saying that?

Carefully, Gendry turned to look back at her. His eyes were darker than the usual light blue, hazed. Arya could hear her heart pounding loudly. She felt the warmth inside her body and her pulse palpitating and yet she could feel the cold breeze from the air-condition.

Gendry had looked at her this way before, whenever he complimented her; either be her looks or her acting. And she’ll never forget how his eyes dilated when he held her face before kissing her in front of the cameras.

That’s how his eyes are right now as he reached for her cheek with his warm hand and leaned in to close the distance between them.

It was a drama kiss. It started that way. She tried to push the thoughts in her mind that’s reminding her that this is not right, because it can be right and it felt right.

How can this be wrong?

She’s single and so is he. It was plastered on every tabloid almost two years ago when the news spread out that his long-time girlfriend broke their engagement. It was obvious that he didn’t take it well. Gendry took a break from acting for over a year, and this movie that they’re working together happens to be his comeback project.

She knows of his reputation; caring, empathetic and a gentleman, a hardworking bloke who’d do anything to make others happy. She witnessed it all whenever they worked together.

No, there’s nothing wrong with this.

Not when Gendry licked her lower lip asking for entrance. Not when their tongues danced around each other, and especially not when he sucked on it making her moan.

She could tell he’s smiling through the kiss. Backing away slowly, she opened her eyes only to be met by his blue ones. He’s still smiling. Not a big smile, but a nervous one.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured and bashfully hid his face.

“Me too.”

He snapped his head back at her, looking guilty, “No. I-I started it… I’m so-“

“Still I kissed you back,” Arya replied, confidently. “I guess that was not a drama kiss anymore,” chuckling, she took the bottle in front of them and finished whatever was left of their wine.

“That bad?” she heard him say awkwardly.

She laughed harder this time, shaking her head, “If what you’re asking is the kiss, then no. That wasn’t bad I guess. But kissing you-“ she couldn’t finish her sentence. It was her turn to hide away from him by covering her face with her unkept hair.

“So the kiss wasn’t bad but because it was me, it was bad?”

“No, that’s not what I meant! It’s just we’re-“

“We’re friends,” he finished for her. Arya was still hiding her face. “Friends kiss you know.”

Arya shook her head, “Yeah but-“

“But not when they like each other?”

Well that finally made her face him again.

He was watching her intently, an arm resting on the back cushion of the couch.

“It’ll only make things awkward and complicated, right?” he continued.

Arya just gaped at him, speechless.

When she never said anything for quite some time, Gendry shook his head and breathed deeply. He stood from his seat and said, “I think I should just go. Night Arya.”

And without another look to her, he walked towards the door of her hotel room.

“Wait!” she called out. “Wha-What did you mean?” she asked cautiously. She could tell that he’s a bit uncertain on how to answer her question.

“What I meant to say is that I like you. And I can tell that you like me too-“

Arya opened her mouth to answer but he was quick to stop her despite not looking back at her.

“And don’t try to deny it. I’m sorry that I kissed you because I made it shittier and I know it’ll affect the way that I’ll treat you,” Gendry answered with his back still facing her.

Without a word, Arya leaped to her feet, ran to him and took his arm to make him face her.

With no warning, she stood on her tippy toes to reach his lips and lock them with hers, arms circling his neck as she felt his own wrap around her waist.

“Let me make it way more shittier,” she whispered in his mouth.

So the sayings were true, “takes my breath away” and “sweep you off your feet” have literal meanings to it.

She only realized it when Gendry slowly loosen his grip on her body to place her back on the ground and then he pulled away from her, the both of them giggling as they try to catch their breaths.

Only when Gendry looked terrified and wiped them away with soft strokes on her cheeks did she realize that there were tears on her eyes.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, still holding her close to him.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged but she had a grin on her face.

Gendry grinned along with her, pressing his forehead to hers making her close her eyes. His blue ones are too electrifying to stare back at the moment, her heart couldn’t take it.

Cause of Death: Heart attack, all thanks to Gendry Baratheon’s tantalizing eyes.

She breathed deeply, smelling his fresh manly shower scent. Sandalwood, she thought.

“Well I hope it’s something good,” he spoke softly.

“What?”

“I hope the reason for those tears is good, seeing how we are at the moment,” he replied, backing away from her as she opened her eyes.

Arya chuckled, “I think it is.”

She dragged him back to the couch, the two of them sitting on opposite ends. They were quite for a time when Arya noticed the pen, “Wow. You totally forgot about my gift.”

Gendry was confused but then also saw the forgotten pen on the table, “Sorry about that,” he rubbed a hand on his nape, “Will never forget about this again.” He took the pen and placed it back inside the box. He took the canvas that was also on the table and studied the photo, “I love this scene. It was the first scene we had to film and we couldn’t stop laughing.”

“We were too embarrassed.”

“Awkward,” he replied.

“Who wouldn’t be? Our first scene together, we had to kiss.”

“That’s why I love it,” he went to give her a quick peck as she felt herself blush at the sweet words and kiss. “Are you going back up North?”

“Tomorrow. In the evening,” she watched as his face washed with melancholy while he sat comfortably beside her. She knows how he’s feeling.

“I don’t want to be a prick and assume things between us,” he said without looking at her. “I’m a bit traditional, Arya.”

Her silence made him continue on, “I want to court you properly and not just skip to titles and fucks, if you know what I mean.”

Arya couldn’t stop her grin when he said ‘fucks.’ She took his hand to hers. He looked her in the eyes with a hint of embarrassment and hope and most of all will.

“I’d like that,” she said softly. “But it’ll be hard.”

“I know.”

“I’m also a bit soppy, just a warning,” he laughed at her.

“I don’t mind soppy,” he rubbed his thumb on her knuckles, “We’ll find a way to keep this as private as we can, that way it’ll be way more soppy.”

They both laughed this time.

“Sure. Can we start now?” she asked hopefully.

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eye-raq · 6 years ago

Text

Ember 11.

Erik’s conflict.

In short, this is a co writing fic with my baby @panthergoddessbast she has helped me out ALOT with where this is going and how it’s ending. Thanks to all of those who have been with me every step of the way, loving my writing, commenting, reblogging. This one is gonna pull at some emotions from you guys, I just hope you enjoy.

[I suppose that a lifetime spent hiding one's erotic truth could have a cumulative renunciatory effect. Sexual shame is in itself a kind of death. ]

“Ladies and Gentlemen! Excuse me!!!”

The voices slowed down to a low whisper.

“I know the wine and appetizers are delicious, but it’s time to begin the private event!”

The entire room began to laugh, the plastered smiles of all the rich black folk giving Cyprine a wide smile. Dressed in a sexy backless slit dress colored wine red, chocolate skin acting as the perfect contrast, Cyprine waited with her fancy cue cards and microphone. She had the important job of hosting Fashion Through The Ages, one of the Getty Centers most popular private events.

“Let me introduce to you all the new Lead Curator, Cyprine Lewis!”

Cyprine put on her professional smile, walking out to main stage in a catlike fashion. She waves at the crowd of people clapping, bringing the microphone to her mouth. That action alone silenced everyone, more than the guy who talked before her.

“Hello hello! welcome to Fashion Through The Ages. Today we will join fashion historian and art muse, Sara Holmes, as she explores the museum’s collection through the lens of costume to consider issues of gender, society, and history through the ages. This promises to be a fun way to consider the Getty collection while thinking about fashions past and present.”

Cyprine motions to side stage, “please give a round of applause to Miss Sara Holmes!”

The entire room raised their glasses and clapped, Sara Holmes approaching dressed in Fendi from head to toe. The women always had the best designer, but she was tacky with colors. Following behind her, was a man in all forms.Tall, chocolate, thick and toned, a head full of waves that shined with a beard to match, wearing a tailored tuxedo with a simple black bow tie was Lorenz Allen. Entrepreneur, philanthropist, and Director. Cyprine caught his eye, watching him wink with those long lashes and that million dollar smile. He sponsored a lot of events through the Getty Center, so Cyprine expected that he would show up.

“Thank y’all for coming out. It really moves me when everyone can come together to support a cause, but at the same time enjoy yourselves and the beautiful art that the Getty Center has to offer.” He points a single finger at C.C, that finger wrapped in a gold ring set with diamonds. None of which meant anything of matrimonial significance

I bet those rings would feel good around my throat. She thought.

“I don’t think you all gave this beautiful, successful women here enough praise! She planned this event out, worked her ass off!”

The audience gave her the credit she deserved. Cyprine blushed, speaking her thanks into the microphone.

“No, thank you.” He stresses, his eyes only on her. Cyprine could see what he was trying to do, that’s all that mattered anyway.

“Thank you Mr. Allen, and thank you to everyone who came today to support this private charity event! Now, let us get started with the exhibits!” After a final round of applause, the lights dimmed and multiple spot lights along with music began to start up. A small fashion show on behalf of the guest of honor started, women and men wearing fashion from the renaissance era to start. All models were of different ethnicities, and some also apart of the LGBTQ community.

Cyprine watched the entire thing unfold, pride coming over her. With pride, came attention, and Lorenz gave Cyprine all of his attention with those dangerous eyes of his.

“C’mere” He whispers.

Cyprine didn’t argue with that, strutting over towards him. The smell of mild Creed Aventus filling her nostrils; bold and memorable.

“Yes?” She folds her arms.

“Keep me company.”

She fights a smile, staring at him with her wide brown eyes.

“Why should I? What makes you think your company is more entertaining than this show?”

“Because you’ve been eye-fucking me for some time now, so I know I got your attention.”

Humming in approval at his impressive response, Cyprine smiles faintly, “what can I say, I like what I see.”

“Same here, babygirl.” He licks his lips quick, Cyprine stared at his tantalizingly pink tongue wishing it was between her legs right now.

“Which is why I would like to take you out on a date tomorrow night, if that’s okay?”

Cyprine and dates didn’t go so well.

There were a few she could vouch for that ended up pretty nicely, but all in all she was single and every last guy she’d dealt with disappointed her to some degree.

“A date.” She repeats his words, eyes in wonder.

“Yeah, a dinner date, with me.”

Lorenz seemed to be a cool guy so Cyprine decided to give it a go, just to see where this takes her.

“Okay, i'll let you take me to dinner. We riding in that blacked out McLaren P1 you got, right?” Cyprine had a keen eye, not just for Lorenz but for cars as well. Her interest in cars that included make and model was all thanks to Erik and his obsession with it.

“Babygirl, it’s whatever you want.” He smiles that gorgeous smile.

“Good, cuz I like to have it my way.”

—————————-

“You’re getting better my man! Keep this up and you could become a professional boxer!”

Erik bends his body over the ropes of the boxing ring at the gym, sweating and dripping from his forehead and the tip of his nose.

“Nah, I’ll keep it strictly for workout purposes.” Erik lifts finally, clutching his ribs from the soreness he felt from constantly receiving blow after blow.

“Pick your punk ass up, homie!” Tre, Erik’s best friend, laughs at him while punching at a speed bag.

“Shut up nigga! I’m not the one who needs picking up! You don’t even know what you doing!” Tre puts his middle finger up at Erik before returning back to his workout.

“Unc, How’s that your nephew and you ain't teach him no tricks?”

TJ, the owner of Champs Boxing and Tre’s uncle puts his hands up in surrender.

“His knucklehead ass didn’t wanna learn, too busy playing them damn video games.”

Erik laughs, clutching his sore chest, “I was right along wit em though, so I can’t talk shit.”

Picking up his Gatorade, Erik takes a long sip, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Tre enters the ring, towel around his neck and durag on his head.

“Bro, who that?”

Erik turns to notice a short caramel skinned women with a nia long cut. She was heavy at the bottom, the yoga pants she wore making her thick ass stand out more. Her sweaty skin glistened and the blaze in her eyes made her look even more tantalizing.

“Damn,” Tre tucked his pouty bottom lip into his mouth.

“She a bad one, might have to check that out before I go.”

Erik recognizes her, even without her glasses.

“Her name is Kaylin, I work with her.” Erik gives her a head nod of acknowledgement, watching as she gives him the same motion, but sexier.

“Why is it that all the FINE ASS WOMAN, gravitate to you?”

Laughing, Erik shoves Tre, “Tre, stop acting like you don’t get pussy.”

“Nah, man you gotta hook me up! She fine as hell with her thick ass.”

Erik pats Tre on the shoulder before turning to exit the ring.

“Don’t always get hypnotized by the ass.” Erik knew first hand about that.

“I can’t help it, a fat ass is my weakness.”

“Erik!”

The two men turn to face a sweaty Kaylin.

“I didn’t know you boxed at Champs! How long?”

“Used to come a while ago, just started back.”

She laughs, the light sound contagious.

“Cool! Maybe you can teach me some things. I’m trying to get the hang of it, the shit isn’t easy.”

“I can help you out sweetheart.” Tre steps up before his best friend could even speak.

“You just as good as E? I saw his moves in the ring and yours wasn’t looking so great on that speed bag.”

Erik couldn’t hold back his chuckle, slightly snorting and all at the way Kaylin played his friend.

“Chill, girl. That’s my nigga, he getting there.” Erik defends Tre.

“No shade, just saying.” Clearly Kaylin wasn’t interested in Tre, all she wanted was that Erik Stevens.

“You coming into the office tomorrow?” She got a little closer, Erik noticing the flushed look of her skin and the sweat glossing her cleavage.

Hell...Kaylin was a cutie.

Erik has eyes.

He could tell a bad bitch from a mile away, nothing wrong with looking. However, Erik wasn’t touching.

“I might, still got some paperwork to finalize.” Erik kept it short and simple.

“Okay, just saying, I’ll be there. We could get lunch or something. Thai food?”

Erik shrugs, “We can make it takeout for the office.”

A look of disappointment clouded her pretty brown eyes, but that only lasted a second.

“Okay! I’ll see you then. Oh! And your treat.”

Erik waves her away, “I got the money, I don’t mind.”

Erik said his final goodbyes before turning towards the locker rooms, leaving a flustered Kaylin behind.

“Like I said, you got these chicks thirsty” Tre had to add his two cents.

————————-

Finally home, kicking off her Saint Laurent heels in a pretty black and silver, Cyprine lets her hair down, smoothing out the pinned up curls with her fingertips, eyes closed, and a deep sigh escaping her mouth.

Not only did the event go as planned, she also snagged a date with Lorenz Allen, the successful black man and eye candy.

She had tomorrow night to look forward to, but right now preparing herself for Erik’s little get together at his place was her main priority. There was a Golden State game happening and finally, Cyprine would meet his other friends besides Tre who she already knew since him and Erik were the closest. Cyprine pulled a bottle of Hennessy XO from her kitchen liquor cabinet that she wanted to gift to Erik since he hadn’t tried it yet. It had a lovely long after taste of cinnamon and vanilla, fragrant with crystallized fruits, spices, and emanations of old leather. Cyprine knew Erik, he valued his drinks and he enjoyed the craft of mixology since he was a licensed one now.

The high pressure shower cleansed her body and the water droplets pricked her skin in the best way. All that ran through her mind was the date she had to look forward to and its possible outcome.

Men.

They could be an absolute disappointment.

Cyprine was single for a reason, she was tired of giving her all to a man and he gave her the minimal. Cyprine ran her fingers over her curly hair, conditioner working it’s magic to clear away her tangles stroke by stroke. With closed eyes, C.C’s mind wandered to her conversation with Erik about the last time they both had sex. She was reminded once again of the heat she felt, how much she missed calling a nigga ‘Daddy’ and getting her pussy fucked from behind.

That pussy is pure velvet heaven, juicy and succulent.

Man...she missed being praised in bed. She was a brat after all; a brat and a princess. Cyprine misbehaved; frequently too and the overpowering urge to be put in her place with some good dick and a sharp nasty tongue ate her from the inside out. She could feel water filling her mouth, snapping her out of the erotic daze she was in. Cyprine forgot where she was, and she forgot that her mouth was under the shower and not on her knees waiting for a dick to choke her out.

———————————

“Yo! You making the chicken nachos, right?”

Erik smiles faintly, slightly shaking his head as he cut the fresh mozzarella cheese in thin slices, plating it along with the mixed Mexican cheeses.

“Chicken nachos, shrimp nachos, veggie nachos…”

He wiped his fingers on a damp towel, reaching for some cheese to snack on while the sliced chicken breast simmered in the pot.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful nigga and call Jae, Malachi, and Torrey to see if they’re on the way.”

Tre hopped off the counter, walking away with a smart remark that Erik didn’t care to respond to. The game had just started, and the Jaguar Den already had snacks and all the drink essentials. The alone time gave Erik the chance to respond to Kimora’s naughty texts. They’ve been going back and forth never ending with this or that questions, and coming up with sexy scenarios they would like to be apart of. She was silly, fun, alluring, daring, confident, smart, and addicting.

-Tell me you aren’t wearing any underwear.

Sorry lover boy, it’s a thong.

He chuckles, biting his lip while adding a little garlic butter to the chicken.

-what the panties smell like? I bet your pussy smell like lavender oil and rose water right now.

This time around it smells like my homemade blueberry bliss body cream.

-that shit sound like a fruit roll up flavor lol.

LOL—Would you lick a fruit roll up off my pussy?!

-Without a second thought. Prolly taste better than that nasty ass flavored lube.

I’m sure it would, my pussy already sweet and sticky, Erik.

-So since it’s like that I’m making it a fucking command for that pussy to be eaten by me whenever I want it.

That’s cool with me, I like my pussy ate. Make sure you suck on it everywhere…that shit drives me wild.

His teeth dragged over his lip, a low groan vibrating his throat. He could feel the arousal in his fingertips, but it was stronger in his dick. It ran hot over his long stick like electricity to a wire. He felt his phone buzz, forgetting to send a reply back, he was that stuck.

I had my entire pussy covered in peach preserves before. I have these crazy cravings for peaches, so he spread it all over my pussy and sucked it off.

GOTDAMN.

Erik. Calm. Down.

“You good, E?”

Erik whipped his head around a little to harshly, startled by Tre’s unexpected arrival.

“I was until you creeped up on me like that! You know niggas couldn’t do that back at home, right?”

“Nigga I still live in Oakland! You the one that moved out.”

Shaking his head, Erik prayed to himself that the erection he had would go the fuck away.

Think about blood and guts, or fungus.

That always seemed to work, he was good as new.

-Kimora. I’d suck anything from honey, syrup, jelly, sugar, and whipped cream off that motherfucking pussy.

“Guess who showed up?!!”

Cyprine enters the kitchen, curly hair up in a bun, silver hoops in her ears, jeans so tight they looked painted on, and the littlest sweater that would give you a view of her under cleavage if she reached too high.

“Wassup, sexy?” Tre grabs her hand, attempting to kiss it sloppy, C.C pulling away with a repulsed expression before laughing.

“Ew nigga! Keep your mouth to yo self! I don’t know where that shit been!” She rolls her eyes, finally looking at Erik.

“Hey, peanut head, guess what I got?”

Cyprine held up the esteemed cognac bottle, flashing Erik her biggest smile yet.

“I remember you said you wanted to try it so...”

Erik was about to speak, before his phone buzzes.

Text me later, I’m on my way out. This convo is too juicy to neglect.

-Bet, say no more, beautiful.

Putting his phone away, Erik steps towards C.C, kissing her forehead before snatching up the bottle to examine it.

“I heard good shit about it, Henny shots for every basket golden state make?”

Cyprine scuffs, “nigga you know I need my pineapple juice with this.”

—————————-

Okay.

So Erik hadn’t expected the attention Cyprine was receiving.

Actually...

“Yo, how the fuck you keep all that control?” Jae stood astounded behind the bar with Erik, light brown eyes shocked.

“Control of what?” Erik responded with a confused tone of annoyance.

“Keep from fucking the shit out Cyprine that’s what. Fuck you mean CoNtRoL WhAT?”

“Got more control than you do. You ain't gotta think about fucking every fine ass woman you come in contact with bruh.”

Erik was even shocked with his words. His eyes followed its path towards C.C. She was seated next to Tre, laughing and sipping her third drink so far. Erik could feel the lustful energy radiating from his friends as they looked at Cyprine from head to toe, wanting nothing more than to take turns fucking her.

That thought brought back memories of their early escapades.

Nah, not Cyprine.

Erik would normally be okay with hooking a girl friend of his up with one of his boys, but for some reason he didn’t want to with Cyprine. Erik watches as she takes her tongue to scoop up an ice cube, the pink slippery appendage dripping and mouth making slurping noises.

This wasn’t the first time he’d looked at his friend that way. She wore outfits that showed her beautiful sepia skin, smelled delicious, innocent eyes…

“You sure you got control? I see you focused on that chocolate baddie.”

Erik shakes the thought, going back to mixing Jae’s drink.

Cyprine couldn’t lie to herself and say she didn’t like the eyes on her. Erik had some very handsome friends, she could only imagine the things they used to get into.

“Where you and Erik meet?”

Cyprine turned to Torrey; tall, thick and with a beard against his light brown skin.

“Golden Speed, a friend recommended I go to him for some work.”

“Oh really?” The bravado of his voice made her smile, he really laid it on thick.

“Yeah, he told me to give it a try.”

The look in Torrey’s eyes let her know he was hoping it were a women so he could try his luck.

“I bet y’all were wild back then.” Cyprine states between eating her ice.

All of them minus Erik laughed, sharing knowing glances.

“Shit, we all claimin’ it.” Tre spoke for them.

“Ain’t no way you sticking around for some ‘just friends’ type of shit.”

C.C folds her arms over her chest with sass, “So, what? Erik can’t keep a girl as his friend?”

“You wanna know what happened to the last chick he had as a friend?” Malachi spoke while trying to hide his smile full of a diamond grill.

“Game is on why don’t y’all shut the fuck up and watch.” Erik approaches with his own drink, seating himself on his black recliner chair. He caught the cocoa’s cuties eye, watching her stick her tongue out at him.

“Oh! So you do know then?” all three men laugh, Erik ready to punch ever last of one of them in the face.

“Y’all ready now or later for the rearrangement of y’all wack ass faces,” His jaw gets tight.

“Last chick, woke him up talking bout I accidentally licked your dick.” Cyprine could laugh. Who would accidentally lick dick anyway? That shit was meant to be loved in a special way.

“How that shit accidental, I don’t know.” Erik finally joins in, laughing.

Cyprine held up a finger, trying to catch her breath.

“OKAY! But what you say though?!”

He simply shrugs with those dimples and dominant brown eyes, “I guess I accidentally fucked her mouth.”

Cyprine couldn’t shake the heat she felt from that.

“And accidentally tore that pussy up.” He drinks from his glass of straight Hennessy XO, licking his lips that Cyprine had to peel her eyes away from.

———————-

“You sleepy yet?”

“Yeah, I am alittle. You should know by now with those drinks.”

Cyprine attempted to clean up, sweeping crumbs from the table. Erik smacked her hand away, earning a yelp from her and a death glare.

“Did you just hit me like I’m some child?!”

“Yeah, and?” He spoke in that calm unbothered tone that drove her crazy.

“You’re infuriating,” Cyprine said that, but she liked when Erik picked on her.

“ What’s up with you and Tre? Y’all was looking real cozy and cuddly”

Cyprine looked at Erik like he sported two heads, mouth opening and closing in shock then lets out a small snort like laugh.

“What?! Boy you crazy. There is nothing going on between me and Tre.”

“You know my nigga want you, right?”

“Not surprised, most men want me.”

She took in that smile he fought to show, the way his eyes would light up and those teeth as white as the porcelain piano keys, blinding her.

“So not only are you-“ Erik puts up air quotes, “that bitch, you can have any nigga you want, huh?”

Cyprine picked up as many dirty glasses as she could, bringing them to Erik’s blacked out bar with gold trimming to clean.

“Did I stutter?” She bit back at him with those razor sharp teeth like a wild cat. Erik’s dominance screamed to claw back and show her who really had the upper hand, but his body was too tired to entertain it and he had to be up in the morning.

“Watch your mouth,C.C. AYE!” Well, clearly not tired enough.

She paused in between cleaning his glasses.

“Put that shit down, and go to bed. I got this tomorrow.”

Putting her hands up in surrender, she didn’t realize she had a glass still in her hand, dropping it and causing it to break in the sink.

“SHIT!!” She went to reach to clean it, her finger getting cut a little from her rushing.

“Shit, fuck, damnit!” Erik rolled his eyes, letting out the loudest most aggressive groan she had ever heard, she knew then she’d done it.

“What I tell you to do?! Didn’t I say leave the shit alone?!”

Erik stormed over to her, instantly picking up her finger, examining it.

“You like a little girl. Defiant.” Erik picks up a napkin, applying pressure. His jaw went tight with tension, the muscles of his face peeking through and his eyebrows creased so hard he looked damn near evil. Cyprine was speechless, she couldn’t form words or sounds.

“I-I’m sorry, Erik.” She finally spoke out with a quiet tone, the tightness of his grip on her hand almost cutting off her circulation.

“Nigga are you trying to take my damn hand off?!” Erik blinked like he was brought back to reality, letting go of her quickly, the color flooding his face from embarrassment.

“My bad.” He laughs nervously.

“What the fuck was that about? Something you need to tell me Stevens?” She looked at him with curious eyes.

“I-I can be a little forceful, that’s all. Just...I don’t do well with chicks not listening to what I say, then you went and hurt yourself so it kinda made me mad.”

“KINDA?” Cyprine felt like she’d stepped into new territory with Erik. So, not that she didn’t want to make everything about sex, but that entire confession reeked of sex and control.

“You get like this with Kimora?” Erik’s eyes landed on hers, briefly.

“How can I ? I haven’t seen her yet.” Silence settles between them both as Erik walked past her to clean up her mess.

“You wanna know what I think?” Cyprine pushes.

“What?”

“I think you’re afraid of how you feel about her and that you’re avoiding it as much as you can.”

He didn’t respond, just simply cleaned the sink of shards of glass careful not to cut himself in the process.

“As much as y’all talk, I know your dick is probably begging for a release.”

Kissing his teeth, Erik shakes the glass into the trash. She could tell she was getting to him, she could read his posture and the way he fought to ignore her.

“A guy can only jack his dick for so long, Erik.”

“I know that, C.C.” He responds with a curt tone.

“So, maybe have some sex?” She tosses a black rag at him that he catches swiftly with one hand.

“Why is my sex life so interesting to you? I don’t go around asking you to get the pussy beat up.”

“You don’t have to, I know it’s been a while for me. It might happen sooner than later.” She could only imagine what Lorenz was packing.

“Hmph, I wonder who.” Erik cuts his eyes at her, winking suggestively.

“Shut up! Me and Tre are strictly friends, asshole.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

———————————

Eyes opening against fresh white linen that smelled of tropical Tide detergent, Erik lifts his head, rubbing at the dried spit on the side of his face, pads of his fingertips feeling sleep lines along his skin. He checked the time on his phone, noting that it was 9:45 am and he had to be into the office to finalize some paperwork for his engine. As soon as his body fully stretched and lifted from the bed, he could smell sautéed veggies and sausage. That smell made his stomach growl, and the throbbing in his head more painful.

He had a hangover and his mouth felt like cotton from all the drinking him and his friends did the other night. Erik’s body was too tired to clean anything so after the guys left he made his way toward his room. All Erik wanted to do before he filled his stomach with that good smelling food was brush his teeth and whizz. That’s what he gets for staying up in bed until 2 am talking on the phone with his beautiful distraction. Kimora made him go against his word of jerking off, something he’d grown so accustomed to since he first laid eyes on her. Speaking of jerking dicks and erections, his was at full attention and when that weapon was ready for work it was hard to calm himself down. The moment he laid eyes on the dent in his pants, was the moment he thought about their previous conversation over the phone.

I bet you like the tip of your dick sucked on the most. I could do that for you E.

What emotion do you feel most often?

What do you think the perfect kiss feels like? Do you like a lot of tongue or do you like slow soft kisses?

Her voice was so carefree and wild it drove him crazy.

On top of thinking about naughty girl Kimora, there was another brown beauty, t-shirt clad and barefoot cooking in his kitchen

After rinsing his mouth out with mouthwash and scrubbing his face with the African black soap he had gotten from a local all natural apothecary shop, Erik pulled a crisp white tee over his body and a pair of black sweats, because grey sweats wouldn’t do with the way his dick was swinging.

—————————

“Aye.”

Cyprine looked up from her plate with a big sausage omelet, pausing between chewing.

“Morning! Oh, and I cleaned up too by the way, just so you know.” She was rather chipper.

“Pssh, I ain’t even mad at that no more you gon’ do what you wanna do anyway.” Erik noticed the repeated smile on her face.

“Something wrong, lil nigga?” Erik scanned the kitchen, whispering a ‘yes’ at the sight of extras. He had to have a cooked meal for breakfast every single morning and he was thankful of Cyprine crashing in his guest bedroom, too drunk to drive home, and Erik hated when she used to do that shit.

“No, why would it be something wrong and I’m all smiles, Erik?” With a perfectly arched brow, she took a sip of her apple juice, eyes never leaving his.

“Nah, it’s just...you look like you're blushing.”

“And if I am?” She sassed him, giving her usual bratty stare down that had Erik itching to reprimand.

“So it’s a secret then? Cool, you ain’t gotta tell me. Just remember that you’re the only one of my homies that know about Kimora.”

Cyprine couldn’t argue with that, it was definitely true but at the same time she just got a date with Lorenz, she didn’t want to jinx it.

“And I’m glad you told me about her.” Cyprine flashed her pageant worthy smile, focusing back on her food.

“Going into the shop?”

“No, that’s what I got new hires for when I’m busy with other shit.” Erik busied himself with fixing a plate, aware of Cyprine giving him a dirty look because of his smart response.

“So...what the fuck you doing then?”

“Going into the office for some final shit about my engine.”

“You putting one of those in my car, right?” Cyprine looked at Erik sternly, eyes tracking him up and down with a hand on her curvy hip.

“You got a whole new engine so no. Come back in about ten years.”

Flabbergasted, Cyprine’s bright wide eyes almost popped out of her sockets, “Ten years?!”

“Use to be around 8 but with the new and improved tech and service standards the average life expectancy is 200,000 miles or about 10 years.”

Erik always hit her ass with car facts, something she didn’t ask for in the slightest.

“Think of it as me looking out for you and saving your pockets.” Erik winked at her, laughing afterwards in that low pitch tone, almost boy next door-ish.

“Whatever, let me go, I got shit to do.” Cyprine forked the last bit of her omelet, hopping off the stool towards the dishwasher. Erik thought about one of his responsibilities that he agreed on when he saw Kaylin at Champs the other day.

“You know any good Thai food around here? I gotta buy some for the office today.”

Cyprine wipes her hands on a paper towel, “Yeah, try Pailin Thai Cuisine.” Cyprine tried for a winning shot of her balled up paper towel, missing the trash can completely and earning a thumbs down from Erik.

“You know better than to do that in front of me, no game having ass, now pick it up.”

Cyprine gives him the finger before walking to pick up her trash, bending over slightly. Erik had to blink twice, no...three times.

“Uhm…” he says without even realizing, his eyes trained to her hips and his dick knocking at the crotch of his sweats. Cyprine’s shapely round ass was visible to him, not the whole thing but enough to let Erik know that she had nothing on under that T-shirt.

She stared in confusion before something clicked in her brain, her hands reaching for the hem of the shirt with caution, turning away from Erik completely and stepping around the kitchen island.

They just shared an awkward glance, Cyprine searching Erik’s eyes, hoping he would crack a laugh or tease her, saying something along the lines of, you got an ashy ass butt. Nope, nothing at all like that, just unblinking eyes that she couldn’t quite discern.

“So this what we doing now?! Staring until we see who blinks first?!” Cyprine decided to make her exit quickly, unsure of how to react to this version of Erik Stevens.

————————

“Erik! Welcome back!”

Erik walks in, adjusting his black tie with a simple gold tie cufflink, black slacks, and polished Calvin Klein dress shoes on his feet. The gold Rolex on his right wrist reflected the sun coming from his office window, catching the eyes of Kaylin and making a rainbow on her glasses.

“Didn’t think you were really coming in!” Her light voice could have almost caught him in its web if it weren’t for the image of Cyprines ass in his head, and not to mention the text he got of Kimora’s tits as a good morning present.

“Morning, Kaylin.” He gives her a simple smile, unable to fight the fact that it came with dimples.

“Oh, there’s that money making smile I love,” she winks, giggling afterward with a bounce of her breasts. Erik knew exactly what she was doing. He just KNEW.

“Ever heard of Pailin Thai Cuisine?” Erik removed his gold rimmed reading glasses to wipe them with a simple Kleenex.

“Uh, yes. I eat there often on my lunch break.” Without even asking, Kaylin makes herself comfortable at Erik’s desk. He wanted to question her actions but decided against it since his mind was elsewhere. He could feel this nervous feeling in the pit of his gut, almost like butterflies except it drew heat. He wasn’t sure just yet if it was because of his undeniable attraction to Cyprine, and the thoughts of being with Kimora, but man was he conflicted. And here comes Kaylin, dressed in a nude pencil skirt that showed off the alluring curve of her ass and a pastel blue silk top that stretched over her chest almost ripping at the seams. These women were driving him crazy.

“Let the office know I’m ordering in, it’s a celebration.” Erik opened his desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of champagne.

“Golden Speed is taking off, Kaylin.” He smiles prideful and confident, his eyes on a fidgety Kaylin who couldn’t keep her legs still.

“You good?”

“Yes…” she forcefully smiles, bothered about getting up to walk away after making herself comfortable on the warm suede chair of his office. Turning to leave, Kaylin stopped directly in his doorway.

“Erik.”

The tone of her voice spoke as if she wanted to share something deep.

“Yes?” Erik looked at her over his gold rimmed glasses as he put them back on to study some files.

“Uhm...I just, you know…” she lets out a shaky breath that seemed to lack oxygen, did he really have that much of an affect?

“Kay, if this is about the conference in two days I got it, girl. Don’t worry your pretty self, go manage things.”

“E, I really gotta get this shit off my chest, otherwise it will bother me all day.”

“Close the door, Kaylin, if you need to talk.”

She does, slowly.

“I...you know there is a quiet room where employees can go to take naps and relax in this building, right?” Where was she going with this? Of course Erik knew about it, he’d been in there a few times in the early stages of starting his business when there were at least three meetings a day, each lasting about two hours.

Erik intertwined his fingers against the surface of the desk and scrunched his forehead, “Yeah, what about it?”

“Well, you see…” Kaylin looks down at her nude So Kate pumps in a patent leather, “I was wondering if we could take advantage of that.”

Erik swallows spit, almost coughing on it as some reached his windpipe instead. He puts a fist to his mouth to be more discreet.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is, I wanna fuck you.”

Oh boy. He reached to pull at his collar, because the buttons there felt like he was choking.

Erik kept his cool, and kept his gaze on her. He could see her caramel skin heat up, nipples hardened, her voluptuous lips lined brown shining with gloss.

“It’s been that way for me. I just want you inside me.”

She lifts the small key to the quiet room, “C’mon. I know you want to. A single man such as yourself…”

Erik didn’t know he read single man. Sure, it was true, but he wouldn’t have guessed he gave off that vibe.

Kaylin toyed with the first button of her top, looking towards him with a pleading look and a swing of the small gold key.

“There’s no denying that you are very beautiful. And yeah, it’s tempting but I don’t think we should. I’m sure it would be real good, but Kaylin…” Erik trails off.

“I get it! professionalism is most important….” she was saddened, and Erik didn’t want to make her sad, but NO, he didn’t want to fuck Kaylin and complicate things.

“But...can you reconsider?” She was talking to him like she was trying to make him a business offer.

“Sorry, love.” He smiles, trying to lighten the mood which ended up with her smiling faintly. She looked defeated, but her eyes still told him she wasn’t gonna give up so easily.

“Whatever woman has your interest is a lucky one. What I would give to be at your command.”

His hands slightly shook; Erik had to busy himself with moving. Erik adjusted the cup of pens he had, the wireless mouse for his MacBook, his tie, and even the blazer he wore. He prayed that she would leave so he could breath and fight through the temptation. It was difficult to fight off his erection when he normally would have fucked her crazy. Damn, this was the third erection of the day and it hadn’t even started. Finally, the caramel beauty made her exit, closing the door with a soft click.

Throughout the rest of the day, Erik watched from his desk as the office played music and drank champagne. Half empty containers of thai food littered every desk surface. He enjoyed the sights from the open blinds of his office, his own food half eaten and instead of champagne, he had the bottle of Hennessy Cyprine gave him in his briefcase.

A pair of light brown eyes kept a close watch on him from her own cubicle that resides directly in front of his, sipping her champagne, folding and unfolding her legs seductively. Erik noticed she had nothing on under her skirt, just bare shaved pussy lips.

She was still targeting him, even after he turned down her advances, clearly Kaylin didn’t like to be told no.

It was creamy too, all rosy pink on the inside and fat as a bitch. How was it that no one noticed her little show but him?

She turned her chair completely towards his glass window, hiking up one smooth leg and spreading her pussy lips to show him the real mess she had.

“Please? Come taste me.” She mouthed to him.

Erik peeled his eyes away from her exposed slit, tapping his foot. He tried settling for reading emails.

“To Erik Stevens in regards to your interview prep questions…” his eyes looked back at her, failing him, watching her rub her clit and place that same finger into her mouth.

Fuck. He was extremely turned on.

Erik tried another tactic to get rid of the distraction, closing his blinds and blocking the view for good. He lifted from his seat walking to the window, giving her one final look, watching her tease him with a smile and a scorching look in her eyes before closing the blinds, letting out a shaky breath. His phone buzzed in his pocket, Thank GOD.

It was a call from his Oakland Auto Shop.

————————-

“You, Cyprine, are one beautiful goddess.”

The extremely low cleavage, high slit evening dress in an eye piercing white hugged her luscious curves tightly, wasting no time with letting everyone around her know she was the shit, and her body was the shit.

She wore her long curly 4A hair in an effortless bush that framed her beautiful face. Gold Cartier bracelets decorated her wrist, with simple round cut diamond stud earrings with 14k yellow gold.

Lorenz wore a pair of Ralph Lauren navy blue slacks with a black belt, a cream colored dress shirt that hugged his able-bodied frame and a new model yellow gold and diamonds Rolex on his right wrist, and polished Saint Laurent dress shoes on his feet.

Cyprine couldn’t help but to blush at those words, he could keep saying things like that all night and he just might get lucky.

“I’m impressed as well, Lorenz. You look amazing.”

Lorenz gave her a soft smile with his high cheekbones.

“I figured you would like the look, I wore it especially for you.”

Cyprine bit her lip slightly, playing with a strand of curly hair with her eyes focused on the five star restaurant he was taking her to. Supposedly, a friend recommended it to him, so it would be his first time trying as well. There was valet, so Lorenz handed one of them the keys to his McLadden and proceeded to escort Cyprine into the romantic eating establishment settled on Melrose Ave.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the reservation list is so full, the only dates available are around thanksgiving.” He chuckles in a snarky manner.

“So, how did you snag a reservation then?”

“Chef Michael Cimarusti is a friend of the friend who recommended me, he catered her wedding.”

Approaching the hostess station, Lorenz and Cyprine were greeted with a Paris Hilton look alike that moved and spoke like she was the talk of Hollywood.

“Hi, I’m Blair, welcome to Providence, the innovative seafood destination in a tranquil setting, can I have a name for a reservation, please?”

“Lorenz Allen, friend of Michael.”

The look in Blair’s eyes showed scrutiny, but nonetheless, she looked anyway. Cyprine rolled her eyes at the stereotypical reaction white people give about black people being able to afford to eat at places like this.

“Aha! I see, the Chef personally made a notation about you, why don’t you follow me this way. Would you like to eat out in the garden or inside with candle light?”

Cyprine loved the idea of sitting in a garden to eat dinner, it was romantic.

“ The garden would-“

“We’ll take the inside table with the candle light.”

Cyprines lips snapped shut in an instant, her head turning towards Lorenz, visibly confused at his sudden outburst and clear disapproval of wanting to eat in the garden.

“You don’t like gardens?”

“You see these shoes, right? Not cheap, ran me 730 dollars. Ain’t no fertilizer messing these shoes up.”

Cyprine blinked at him like he was speaking insanely, deciding not to speak on that.

“Okay, right this way.” Following Blair, Lorenz brings a single arm around Cyprines waist to lead her along the way, giving her a heart fluttering smile, causing her to return the same.

Finally seated, Cyprine takes in the atmosphere of the upscale eatery, impressed so far by the interior design and the smells that made her mouth water. The toasted vanilla votive candles give light to the seductively dim restaurant, tables draped in ivory colored tablecloths, some decorated with candles and others with an assortment of roses. Lorenz ordered a bottle of aged red wine, the oldest bottle they had. Cyprine wanted to object, but Blair had already gone away.

“I’m not really a fan of red wine, they don’t have any Moscato wine, sangrias?”

“Cyprine, gorgeous, why not be open minded? You’ll be surprised, you may enjoy it.”

She laughs lightly, “I doubt that. Do you think they may have Hennessy?”

Lorenz doesn’t respond with words, only a single brow lift and a look of disapproval.

“You didn’t peg me as a Henny drinker. Let me guess, you twerk any and everywhere too?”

What a change of energy.

“What’s wrong with that?! It’s all in good fun, Lorenz. You can’t sit here and tell me you don’t have fun.”

“I’m more of a yacht club kind of guy, sitting with old valedictorian friends, reminiscing on college days, smoking cigars.” Cyprine knew Lorenz had expensive friends, but she didn’t think he was one of those uptight types. That threw her for a complete loop, she didn’t get that vibe from him at all. Now she was unsure of how this night would play out. A young Asian guy who looked to be in his early twenties approaches their table with a perfect posture and a faint smile.

“I am Ethan, I will be your waiter this evening. Here is the red wine you requested Sir, the oldest we had dates back to 1977.” Cyprine felt herself cringe.

“I’m sorry, Ethan, is there a way I could get a glass of white wine instead?”

Ethan smiles, “yes, of course, I will bring a bottle to the table for you.” As Ethan makes his exit, Lorenz chimes in.

“Why’d you do that?” He seemed annoyed.

“Look, you’re taking me on a date, right? So, I would think that means being a gentleman and wanting to understand my likes and dislikes.” The bitter tone in her words didn’t go unnoticed, and neither did a new wave of irritation coming off Lorenz. Had Cyprine been wrong about accepting this date? Clearly it seemed looks weren’t enough.

“Let me look over this menu.” Lorenz decided not to give his opinion on her words, and Cyprine thought it best he didn’t. As Lorenz looked over the prices, Cyprine sipped her white wine, studying his face. The handsome features contorted with distaste.

“These prices are ridiculously high.” Lorenz closes the menu, Cyprines eyes growing a fraction.

“I’ll order us the broiled Caviar with shrimp cocktail.”

Cyprine didn’t speak, she just drank her wine and filled the glass whenever it was half full. Whatever white wine it was, she could feel an instant buzz already and it put her in a better disposition.

“What was it like growing up in LA, Lorenz?” She figured small talk would lighten the mood.

“I grew up in Arizona, I’m an Army brat.”

“Wow, how was that? Moving from place to place and what not.”

“Okay I guess. Had to deal with it, no other choice when you had to do what your parents wanted you to do.” Cyprine could agree with that.

“For me, I grew up here in Cali. My childhood was fairly great, both of my parents raised me, participated in a lot of extra curricular activities like dance, Taekwondo. I enjoyed my school days too, hanging with my girls, getting into shit.”

Lorenz gave a hum of approval, but no feedback so the topic went dry. They both sat in silence until Ethan came, Lorenz ordering the appetizers. Pouring another glass of wine, she was already tipsy, but the wine was so good.

“How many glasses have you had?” Lorenz asks with a raised brow.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.” Cyprine giggles.

Lorenz scanned the restaurant, noticing eyes on them.

“Hey, maybe you should lay off a little. I don’t need for these people to worry about what’s going on over here.”

Cyprine wasn’t drunk, she could hear the disapproval in his tone.

“Oh, and I ordered you the Santa Barbara Spot Prawn, it’s in my price range and I think you may like it.”

“Excuse me? I wanted to try the wild thai shrimp with salmon.”

“Cyprine, bare with me.” Lorenz puts up a hand to her, and Cyprine didn’t take too well to that shit at all.

“Lorenz, I don’t do all the disrespect. Don’t raise your hand to silence me like a child I’m a grown ass women.”

He chuckles, clearly unfazed.

“If you so grown, then why do I have to tell you to put the glass down? You're drinking like a fish and it’s not appealing.”

She felt like she’d been slapped in the face.

“You are really showing your true colors tonight,” Cyprine adds more wine to her glass, laughing to calm her nerves.

“What true colors, Cyprine? Enlighten me.” He spoke low and discreet as to not draw attention.

“You’re cheap, but yet you bring me to a five star restaurant and talk about yacht clubs and fancy college friends clearly to impress me. You don’t let me speak or think for myself, you just assume shit about me when you don’t even know me. Speaking of knowing me, you don’t care to do that either. And let’s not forget the drinking, if I wanna take this bottle to the head I will, I don’t give a fuck what these white people think, I know who I am.” She downs the drink, licking at her lips.

“I mean, is this even a date or do you just expect me to go back to your expensive place and have sex with you?”

Lorenz folds his arms over his broad chest, giving her a look that could only be shared if two individuals were on the same page.

“Isn’t that what this is? You hardly ever spoke to me, just looked at me like fresh meat. And you knew the way I looked at you, Cyprine. Did I expect sex after this, yes. Am I proven wrong, obviously.” Lorenz leans in closer, those eyes she once saw as dreamy were now nothing but pits of tarnished mud.

“Sorry, babygirl, But I think I should make my exit. I can’t stand a black woman with an attitude and no table manners.” A beat and a breath passed between them and then the entire glass of his chosen aged red wine was spilled, covering his entire chest and staining that fresh cream colored shirt he wore. He was shell shocked, eyes wide and unbelieving that she actually poured a drink on him. The gasps and comments could be heard faintly, but Cyprine didn’t care. Lifting her own glass to her full perfectly glossed lips with a look of aloof mischief in her sparkling eyes.

“I’m sorry babe. My hand just slipped. I hope that outfit wasn't expensive.”

“You know, I feel sorry for the next man. You are truly a piece of work Cyprine, now you’re about to eat alone.”

“Oh good I can order the shrimp and salmon.”

He lifts up angrily from his chair, wiping his face with his white napkin, storming past her with the faint sound of ‘bitch’ escaping his mouth.

Cyprine could feel the embarrassment creeping up on her, but no, she wasn’t gonna give these people the satisfaction of seeing her down.

“Well, there goes another failed attempt down the drain.” Cyprine laughs to herself, motioning for an apprehensive Ethan to come over to her table and get her another round of drinks and new order of food, she had the money to spend on it.

———————————-

KNOCK KNOCK

So much for his personal smoking session. He had just gotten finished eating some homemade pho, and currently he was seated in his living room, on the couch facing the LA cityscape. His laptop was untouched for the past hour, even though he told himself he would send out emails to the board of his company about the conference they had to do. It was A LOT OF PRESSURE for him, spotlights, press, presentations. Erik strained his ears, hearing small whimpers from outside of his door. He recognized those whimpers, but why the fuck is she here around almost 12am?

Cyprine.

“What the fuck?” Erik mouths to himself, he had on no shirt and just a pair of royal blue basketball shorts, black nike socks, and his signature gold chain with his father's ring around his neck. The closer he approached the foyer, the louder her complaints became.

“ERIK!!!! Pleassssseeee open the fucking door! I’m PISSED OFF!”Her words slurred a little, and from that point Erik knew she drove all the way to his place drunk out of her mind. He fumbled with the locks, finally getting it open and with quick reflexes, catching Cyprines falling body into his arms.

“What the hell?! What the fuck are you doing drunk driving Cyprine?!” Her body was almost like dead weight on him, her white dress sliding from her shoulders, feet unsteady, and eyes hazy.

“CYPRINE!” Erik shakes her a little, causing her to open her eyes wider at his elevated tone.

“Hello?!! Can’t fucking hear?!” He was pissed.

“I’m sorry I went alittle heavy on the liquor.”

“ALITTLE?!”

“Aye nigga stop yelling. Gon bust my eardrums. So this nigga did me foul! He fucking left me at the dinner table ALONE E! Fucking alone!” She punched at the wall, leaning against it as she walked further into his apartment. Erik follows, eyes piercing.

“I thought it would be a good idea to go out with a nice man, get wined and dined. Maybe get some dick you know?!” She bends down languidly to peel off her strappy red bottomed heels, fingers fumbling with the simple buckles and kicking them off. Rising from her bent position, she put her hands up with an exasperated puff of air.

“I need another fucking drink.”

“No the fuck you don’t! You need water. And what you mean left you at the table? You went on a date or some shit?”

She simply nods her head, eyelids fluttering slowly.

“...wasn’t gonna tell me you and Tre-“

She groans, hands over her face.

“Not with Tre! With this cheap ass nigga name Lorenz!”

Erik strokes his chin hair, slowly settling down on the couch across from her.

“Lorenz? Lorenz what?”

“Lorenz Allen. A bitch ass nigga.”

Erik pinches the bridge of his nose, taking meditating breaths.

“I could have warned you about him girl if you would have told me what the fuck was going on!”

Cyprine looked over at Erik from her drunk stupor,

“What you mean?!”

“I MEAN, that nigga is lame. He ain’t the one to fuck wit, C, I know him through some people, nigga is straight trash.”

Cyprine pouts, hugging a pillow, “doesn’t do me good now, Erik!”

“I told you about Kimora! How I felt and shit and you couldn’t tell me this?! Why the fuck not?”

Her voice cracked with anger, “I wanted to see if this would work out before I did that! And now I’m glad I didn’t do that, I would be even MORE messed up.”

Erik shakes his head, eyes dangerously low and angry.

“Still don’t give you the right to keep that shit from me.”

“Damn nigga chill out! I don’t owe you shit.” She whines.

“Shut the fuck up. You out here drinking and fucking driving-“

“I didn’t drive, I got an Uber over.”

Erik could have yanked her up. He practically hollered at this chick for her to tell him that?

“So, you mean to tell me...you got a ride, and made me think you were out here cruising drunk?”

Cyprine rolls her eyes, “You the silly ass nigga that assumed. But you not my daddy! I can do what the hell I want so why does it matter?”

Erik wasn’t having that, the glare he sent her was shuttering.

“You better watch that little mouth. Why don’t you take your ass somewhere and get some sleep,” as soon as he stood up, she followed.

“No,” folding her arms, Cyprine battles with Erik, keeping eye contact.

“No? See...” Erik steps closer, looking down at her.

“Cyprine, I ain’t got time for your bratty ass. I don’t wanna have to put you in your place, you already fucked up my quiet.”

“You and your quiet will be alright nigga.”

It has to be the alcohol talking, the way she challenged him with those eyes and that stance. She looked flustered and sexy and Erik felt like he was fighting to keep it together.

“I’ll make my way to that fucking basement. I need another drink to ease my mind and cleanse my soul of bumb nigga energy.” Before she could walk away, Erik had her arm in his firm grip, pulling back against him with so much force it damn near knocked the glass coffee table down.

The rush he felt from that had his mind swirling. All the hugs he received from Cyprine was nothing compared to the way her body was pressed against his, dress half way off her chocolate frame, eyes glossy. He was turned on so heavy, there wasn’t a damn thing that could ruin this mood, not even that fucking weed he was just smoking.

“E...let go.” She spoke through clenched teeth.

Cyprines eyes fluttered, conflict within her orbs.

“I came here for support and all you tryna do is act like my damn daddy!”

What the hell was going on? That primal look in his eyes was all too familiar in men. Was it…

“When I tell you to do something, what you do?” He spoke softer. She didn’t respond, and she didn’t want to.

“Cyprine...I said,” his hand came to her hip, she couldn’t breathe anymore, fuck being drunk she needed oxygen to fill her lungs.

“What you do?”

She swallows spit, “do it.”

Those two words, the energy it took to SPEAK them. The blaze behind them, the force that it placed on her aching body. Her pussy throbbed, her legs quaked, her breathing was uneven, she felt like she was undergoing vertigo.

“Good girl, now, is that hard, babygirl?”

“What happened to calling me lil nigga?”

He laughs, “you don’t get to be called lil nigga right now with the way you acting.”

Erik was definitely inviting her into this confusing game. She wasn’t sure where to go, her head pounded and her limbs felt like cement blocks were holding them in place.

“Now, I’m putting you in the bath and then you laying that ass down.”

“A bath?!” She gave him a wide eyed look of shock, Erik’s expression so passive and unfazed. Erik pulls Cyprine by her arm and up the steps; silent and nerve wracking. She wanted him to say ‘gotcha’ anything, it gave her butterflies.

“Listen, nigga, I can take it from here-Ahhh!” She felt his hand come down on her ass and it went straight to her pussy. Wasn’t no way she would speak after that, what in the hell came over this man, the very man who just 24 hours ago treated her like one of the homies. Erik gave her a look that dared her to talk, and she didn’t. The trip to the bathroom was quick, Erik sitting her on the toilet while he set up the bath. She wanted to say something ANYTHING to him, but he was in the zone.

“What you doin? You can’t take a bath with clothes on can you?”

“E…”

“What? Am I right or wrong, girl?”

Cyprine looked from her dress to him. Her stomach felt queasy, her heart damn near left her chest. His scent made her nose burn every time she inhaled and his unrelenting eyes had a powerful hold on her. She noticed the bulge in his shorts, and clearly as visible as it was he knew she would notice. Cyprine was a little hesitant in front of him because she didn’t know what to expect from Erik.

“The longer you sit there, the colder this water is gonna be.”

She began undressing, her eyes focused on him, waiting for the April fools, but nothing came...well, except for the deep grunt he made from watching her strip naked. She was mind blown, felt like a rocket had been set off in her head. She wanted an explanation, and she wanted it FAST.

“Now, come on and get in this tub before I beat yo ass.”

Without any resistance, the naked woman gently eased herself into the deliciously hot water. It felt so good when she sat down that she almost groaned. Erik proceeded to get down on his knees and reached under the sink, pulling out a pack of the makeup remover wipes she usually buys that she didn't remember ever leaving there. It was clearly a brand new pack that had never been open cause he used some force to get it open before pulling a fresh piece to gently wipe off the makeup on her face. It took two wipes to get her down to a bare face and then he took her hair in hand, separated it into two sections, combing through with his fingers as much as he could without hurting her and braided them into pigtails. She didn't even know he could do that. He grabbed a clean white hand towel and wiped Cyprine’s face again to get it completely clean and followed with a baby blue loofah and some lavender castile soap to wash her body. Once he was satisfied, he let out the water and wrapped her petite frame in a fluffy towel. He took her hand in his, helping her out of the tub and patted down the water on her skin. He massaged some african shea butter into her skin while she stood in front of him. After she was moisturized, he carried her bridal style, cradled against his pebbled chest and gently sat her down at the foot of the plush bed.

“Stay here lil one. Ima go get you something to sleep in and warm ya feet.”

With that, he popped out the room leaving Cyprine to fidget about on the black velvet king sized bed. She felt hot all over and the more she sat, the more the anticipation escalated. Cyprine was practically exposed sitting on the bed within his guest bedroom. Hell, she could sleep naked from how horny she felt, fuck clothes. After all of this that transpired so damn quickly, would Erik want to do more? Would he slip in between the black bamboo Lyocell bedding that has a silky smooth and feathery soft texture? Would he wake her up from her slumber with his hand between her legs, fingering her to climax while she bucked her hips? Does he prefer to keep the lights off? Only hearing his breathing and her pussy sucking his fingers in and out of her like a vacuum.

Cyprine should have known.

A man who’d been without sex for five months straight, constantly horny, blue balls often, a build up of nasty thoughts that he wanted to reenact in his own bed. As if feeling his eyes on her, Cyprine lifts her head towards the doorway, watching as his henched frame glowed from the small lamp light on the nightstand. Cyprine’s eyes watched in a different way this time and she remained quiet too, waiting to see what would happen next, this game was exciting.

“I hope you don’t mind this old Navy training T-shirt, it’s a little faded. And here’s some socks too to keep your pretty feet warm.”

She responded in a softly spoken tone, “it’s fine, E, I’m just sleeping.”

He chuckles before that smoky voice lulled her, “Aight, little one.”

Erik walks toward her, finally reaching her personal space and kneeling down in front of her, meeting her eye level. With steady and skillful hands, eyes on her like what resided from her shoulders down wasn’t completely exposed. She could smell the shea on her skin, and she could feel her nipples grown and stiffen. Erik gathered the shirt, placing it over her head.

“Put your arms through.”

She lifts her arms through the sleeves, the smell of his fresh shirt soothing her. It had a smell of old cologne and fabric softener. As if teasing her, Erik lowers the shirt down, his eyes never leaving hers until the shirt settled at the top of her thighs like a dress.

“Lay back.” She did, until her weight rested on her elbows.

“Give me your feet.”

Her smooth pretty feet stretched out in front of him and one by one Erik placed the socks on her feet while staring at her toes longingly. Oh she liked that, she liked that he was mesmerized by her pretty toes. Erik lifts from the floor, crawling onto the bed, before settling next to her. Cyprine felt herself exhale as she watched him watch her.

“Since your settled in bed, Cyprine, let me tell yo ass once. You too good to set yourself up like that. Fuck niggas don’t deserve your time, believe me, I know a lot of fuck niggas and Lorenz is one of them.”

She could have melted in his arms, she didn’t know how she could do it for so long, be around him and not be swept off her feet. He was definitely a charmer.

“Aye, look at me while I’m talking to you, not my lips.”

With a honeyed voice, she says, “but your lips are moving, which means your talking, right?” Cyprine was being sassy.

Erik shifted on the bed, pausing for effect.

“I need eye contact.” He spoke in a gruff tone.

He looked her up and down, smiling at her, “You cute, but save that little voice you talking wit,”

“Why?” Cyprine wanted to push him, see how far he would go. They came all this way might as well see.

“Don’t worry about all that,” Erik hooks his hands under her arms, pulling her up and onto one of the silk pillows, pulling the bedding out for her to slip in. With a smooth, slow kiss to the forehead, Erik lifts from the bed, walking away like he always did on those regular nights when Cyprine was drunk or all too tired to walk on her own two feet.

Walking out that room was a challenge, his stiff dick resting against his thigh from the thin material of his shorts and he could also feel the precum stain his thigh. Erik needed to meditate, take another shower maybe and sit on his shower chair; just think. That interaction was all it took, he needed his dick sucked and fucked on right now, it’s been too damn long. Erik turned, hand on her door knob, ready to risk it all and get what he so desperately needed, maybe even doing her a favor; non accidentally.

@unholyxcumbucket @wakanda-shit-is-that @yomiloo @forbeautyandlife @turn-thy-paige @vikkidc @panthergoddessbast @whorderofthepheonix @whoramilaje @trevantesbrat @hearteyes-for-killmonger @thehomierobbstark @drsunshine97 @disneysdarlingdiva @janelledarling @tiava143 @abeautifulmindexposed @supersizemeplz @forgottenthoughtsandmemories @brattywriters-anonymous @blackpinup22 @killmonger-dolan @eriksjournal @thadelightfulone @chaneajoyyy @madamslayyy @loosewindmill @softnani @ljstraightnochaser @faatassbitch @blackpantherismyish @erikslulbaby @youreadthatright @youcan-die @blowmymbackout @muse-of-mbaku @heyauntieeee @iamrheaspeaks @destinio1 @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @bakarijordan @shookmcgookqueen @purple-apricots @unfriendly-blk-hottie @uhlxisback @wawakanda-btch @bartierbakarimobisson

#amethyst1993 ErikStevens EmberFiction #amethyst1993 #black panther #killmonger imagine #Erik Killmonger #killmonger #black panther killmonger

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starcunning · 6 years ago

Text

Injurious

And the other thing that’s been cooking since last November (it was revised after more recent events). Sometimes you have to break a bone so it will heal correctly.

This story contains MSQ/ending spoilers for FFXIV patch 4.56, “Requiem for Heroes.”

Odette

At eleven bells I take up my cane and go for a walk with Grandpere. It is much too late for a morning promenade, but the intention is not to see and be seen; in my current state I do not much desire to be looked upon in any case. Much of the bruising has faded, but bandages betray the mending of more serious wounds. The one in my side pains me, but the chirurgeons have instructed me to walk as much as I am able.

It is spring; soon it will be Hatching-tide, but snow still dusts the roof of the Athenaeum, visible across the thoroughfare. We take the steps slowly; I have learned to place the cane down first and lean into it, compressing my favored side a little. It hurts each time I do it, but better that than a torn stitch. Again. How embarrassing for a lady who favors white to find herself blotted unexpectedly with crimson. Such a thing had not happened to me in nigh-on fifteen summers, when I was just in the earliest blooms of womanhood. Am I to be helpless as a child for the fullness of my convalescence? I am thirty-seven winters old—or thirty-two; there is some debate on the matter owing to the five years I cannot count after Carteneau.

There is no moon falling upon us now, and yet I still feel some great doom hanging overhead. Certainly there is someone trying to impress that knowledge upon me, and he—whoever he is—is responsible for my injured state. It is half a miracle I did not die; though Aymeric is too circumspect to say so, my sister does not share his compunctions.

Whatever calamity it is we are meant to forestall, there is no evidence of it along the Arc of the Venerable. Its august houses rest safe among the Pillars, dusted by snow. Eventually we come to a grander set of steps; the houses that rise to either side of the thoroughfare are slightly dingy—soot-dusted.

“Where are we going?” I ask, because I count dozens of stairs. “I’m reporting to the construction site,” Grandpere says. “I thought you might like to come, considering it’s your money.” I smile wanly, though it becomes more a grimace as I totter down the stairs. Before we’re halfway down, I am leaning on Grandpere’s arm. The stone is heat-cracked and crumbling despite the ever-present fog; old scaffolds are laid in broken heaps along the sides of the street. Children pick through the leavings of rotting wood, trying to find scraps small enough to carry away for the fire.

In the distance I can hear the steady pace of hammering, the rasp of saws, the back and forth call of workers. We pass terraces of row houses, and I peer down the streets, trying to make them familiar to me. There is one I should know; one I should be able to pick out from the rubble, but fire and desolation—and new construction—have made these facades unfamiliar to me. The impulse to stand before it is perverse anyway, and I smother it the way every breath seems to smother me, fog in my lungs. I can feel the damp on my cheeks; my makeup threatens to run.

Still, it isn’t all bad. I can see smoke rising from chimneys and the children do play, chasing each other round and round the middenheaps, laughing. Mother calls me a populist, and blames this on the education she was forced to give me—and my sister. While supplemented by private tutelage in the afternoons, most of what Colette and I learned was at the hands of beleaguered schoolmarms who—while well-accustomed to teaching the sons and daughters of merchants—were unprepared for the sudden influx of noble children. Grandpere—who even Mother would not dare accuse of the same heresies she pins on me, despite his stances being far more overt—tells me it was some manner of compromise; a gesture meant to show that the High Houses were not so far out of touch—or reach—from the common man.

I will never have children, but I suspect that my peers who are of an age with me will be faced with a similar edict.

I am less sure if the children we pass have been taught their letters. I wonder if Aymeric will raise the matter in the House. Perhaps that is putting the cart before the chocobo, if they are scavenging rotten wood to keep warm. Ishgard’s troubles are many; she still bears the scars of her thousand-year war, and it is difficult to know in what order to do things.

Perhaps then it is foolishness for me to rebuild the homes the so-called True Brothers set ablaze, but that is what I have the resources to do—I collect an allowance from my family and a stipend from the Temple Knights, to say nothing of the honoraria my sister and I are accustomed to collecting. There are those who claim we should work for free, but my belief is that no man should work for free, lest his employer compel others to match him. Instead, having no need of the money I collect, it is purposed toward other causes. And the House artisans are glad of steady work and steady wages. Grandpere collects a sum as foreman of the project; I suspect he, too, reinvests it in the project. His retirement as Count has left him with free time enough to pursue this endeavor, and I am glad of his expertise.

His office is small; I suspect that before he took possession of it the Forgotten Knight used it for storage. The windows are small and the scent of barley clings to the place. He does not linger overlong there; his desk is perfectly neat and his blotter has no waiting messages, so we wander through the work site. It is slow going; the stones are uneven and I must move carefully, unsure of my cane in such conditions. The masons wear the silver-and-red livery of our house, but there are other tradesmen who bear no such allegiance. They wear wool caps against the chill of this fog-cloaked bank, and I try to imagine Mother knitting beside the fire.

Fond as she is of the activity, I have not known her to do such a thing as this. She seems to prefer blankets and booties, to be given as gifts to the children of other ladies, since Colette and I insist upon disappointing her hopes.

Though the sun is nearing its apex, it has yet to burn the fog off this place. Despite that, morale seems high here. It is not impossible, I consider, that some of the men have roots here. After all, Rempart was of this place, once, before he came to our service. Even if not, they seem glad to have meaningful work—or perhaps it is simply that the prospect of it being undone by dragons in short order has greatly diminished. I am proud for a moment of what I have done, and allow myself to survey my work with a faint smile.

Then I spy a head of blonde hair and the bottom drops out of my world.

Rielle

The bucket is heavy and I know my arms will ache tomorrow, but I don’t complain. That’s a small price to pay for the work, and I’ve done harder things. I’m stronger than I know—Fray says so sometimes, but I’m not really sure I believe him. I know exactly how strong I am; I’m just not sure that’s all me.

I’ve been at this for moons, and my regular visitation allows me to watch the houses climbing back up out of the rubble. Home’s a funny word; I lived here a while, and somewhere else for the first few years of my life, but the place I’ve done most of my growing up is one I never want to go back to. This summer will be my fourteenth; I’m eager for it because it officially tips the scales and I’ll have spent more time out than in. Soon the oubliette will be a diminishing fraction of my life, though who knows what will grow to fill that space.

I hear a woman’s yelp and look down at my bucket of water and I want to help. I know a little conjury; Fray taught me some and I get books sent from Gridania. I used to have a—not a tutor, exactly, but someone used to teach me the arts of the astrologian, but that hasn’t happened for a while now. She disappeared along with her sister a few years ago. After the argument.

Anyway, rather than stand there frozen, I set my pail aside and hustle over. Master Tarresson is kneeling, leaning over someone I can’t see around a corner. He looks exasperated but amused; it’s a look I’ve seen Sid wear a thousand times. “What are you doing?” he asks, chuckling fondly. The unseen woman only hushes him in response, though perhaps it’s simply a hiss of pain. “She’ll hear you,” she says, and though her voice is raw there’s something familiar about it. “Who?” Master Tarresson asks, seeming amused. He outstretches an arm. “The girl? What have you to fear from a girl of fourteen summers?” Fourteen! I stand a little straighter, trying to look taller, older, as though this will make me fourteen summers in truth. I can feel myself smiling, my cheeks warm despite the cold. “That’s,” she says, gritting her teeth. I see her hand close around his forearm and hear another cry of pain escape through gritted teeth. “That’s Rielle de Caulignont.”

I know her then, as surely as she knows me, and I approach them closer still, looking upon them. Though it’s twisted with pain, I know that face. “Odette,” I say. She only lets out another wail, letting go of Master Tarresson’s arm and trying to press herself back against the stone wall, as though she might melt into it. “Are you alright?” I ask. “I think,” she says, panting, “I sprained my ankle.”

Trying to hide from me. I don’t understand, but I don’t ask, only kneel down next to her. She shrinks from my touch and I try to smile. “I want to help,” I say. “I’ve been studying …” Her face is pale, her lilac eyes fixed upon the sky, though I glance up and see nothing but fog. “Rielle,” she says, and something softens, though I can still see the tightness of pain in her brow. That’s still the same, then; Fray shows his in his shoulders and Sid in his jaw, and I’ve gotten so used to seeing it. She stretches her leg out, gritting her teeth. The ankle is swollen, bruises begun to flood beneath her pale skin like a spreading stain.

There are no Elementals here like the ones they write of in the Black Shroud. Nature seems remote to this place; there is the snow and the distant mountains, but Ishgard has stood for a dozen centuries, defiant and apart. Still, there is power in dragon’s blood, which has anointed every stone in this city, and which runs in my veins, and I call on that power, feeling it rise and awaken within me.

I haven’t just been studying; I’ve been practicing too. Ishgard is different now, but change doesn’t come all at once—it begins in one place and spreads unevenly, like a mottled bruise. My magic is the same; I can direct the streams of aether and speed the natural healing of the body, but changing the currents is harder. I let it pool in her leg, mending the tears in the ligaments. It wants to flow elsewhere, too; there are deep valleys of pain in her that threaten to empty me out, great spirit and all, but I stop before the torrent of aether can begin.

“You’re hurt,” I say, and for the first time I notice the cane that Master Tarresson holds. I’ve never known him to walk with one, and the head of it is fashioned after a swan preparing to take flight, so it must be hers. “’Tis nothing for you to worry on,” she insists. “I have a chirurgeon to tend me. But … thank you.” “So,” Master Tarresson says. “You’re that Rielle.” I feel the tips of my ears grow hot. “I didn’t realize I was so famous,” I say. “My granddaughter spoke of you all the time,” he says. “They both did.” I don’t know what to say to that for a long moment.

Into the pause he simply says “Up you go,” and takes Odette beneath her arms, pulling her with him as he rises to his feet, as though she were a child who had fallen playing in the courtyard. She takes her cane from him. “Is Miss Colette here, too?” I ask, pushing myself to my feet and dusting off my knees. The two of them exchange a look. “No,” Odette says after a moment. “She visits home occasionally, but we still have a job to do, and since I can’t …” “Oh,” I say. “I see.” “I’ll tell her how well you’re coming along,” Master Tarresson says, and I lift my shoulders, embarrassed. The bells of the city resound over the stone—twelve chimes, bright and clear like skies ought to be. “It’s quitting time for you, young miss,” Master Tarresson says. And lunch for the rest of them, I know; I can hear the hammering stop and the particular groaning of wood as the workers begin to climb down the scaffolds.

I look at Odette, who is looking back at me with a curious expression on her face. “Do you want to walk me home?” I say. Maybe she can stay for lunch. Maybe Fray can help her. He’s not a very experienced conjurer, but he still knows more than me. I know he was angry with her, but that was a long time ago, and she’s hurt. Maybe … She closes her eyes, and then she nods. “Alright,” she says, and offers me her hand.

It seems a childish gesture. I am almost thirteen summers old, and easily mistaken for older, but I have missed her, so I take it. Her hand is soft—she holds her sword in the same hand that now grasps her cane, leaving this one gentle.

Climbing the stairs is a very slow process, and I can tell how much it hurts her, though she never makes a sound.

“How did you get hurt?” I ask. “Saving the world,” she says, through gritted teeth. “As usual.” “Oh,” I say. Then, “Is that why you left?” “Yes,” she hisses. The wood groans too, but soon we are at the landing and can walk out into Saint Valeroyant’s Forum. The shattered statue of that saint still overlooks the plaza, and far overhead the dragonkillers still bristle, but they are unmanned. “How long are you home for?” I wonder. “Until I’m needed elsewhere. Until I get better.” She produces a lace-edged handkerchief from her sleeve and dabs at her brow, but the mask of pain has not quite left her. “So you have to go away again,” I say. She doesn’t take my hand again, just leans on her cane and starts off. “Eventually.” “Well, as long as you’re in the city, maybe we can see each other,” I say, smiling at the thought. “What were you doing in the Brume anyway?” She turns her head to look at me. “It’s my worksite,” she says, as though it should be perfectly obvious. “What?” “I’m paying for it, so I thought I would go see how it’s coming along. Moreover, the chirurgeons suggested it was good for me to get out of the house a bit.” “Oh,” I say. I hadn’t realized—the Dzemael livery was obvious enough, but I had assumed they were merely contracted for the work by the state. “Why?” Her gaze goes distant, her knuckles on the cane growing white. “I guess the house I bought you isn’t good enough for Fray,” she says. “What?” I’m bewildered. It’s a nice house, and I’m happy there, and that, at least, seems to make Fray and Sid happy. “I’m rebuilding the old one,” Odette says. “And the rest of them. Maybe then he’ll be satisfied.”

That doesn’t seem right. And she doesn’t sound happy when she talks about Fray. I want to ask her, but that seems too obvious, so I say something else instead.

“Did you miss me?” I ask, and the words come out quieter than I meant them to. No one would mistake me for a young lady of fourteen summers hearing that; more likely they would assume I was eight, and I hate it. She looks at me a long moment before she answers. “Of course I did, Rielle,” she says.

When we come to the house, Fray is standing outside, his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t look happy either, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake, but these two loved each other once, and I don’t understand why that should have stopped. His eyes are like a wolf’s eyes.

“Rielle,” he says. “I found Odette at the worksite,” I say quickly. “I thought we could have lunch, and—” “Go inside,” Fray tells me in a tone that brooks no disagreement.

Fray

I cannot believe she’s here. That she would dare to come here. I haven’t seen her in two years, but Halone help me, I could have gone for twenty more without having to see her face. She’s never completely absent my life, of course—that’s just how it is, given who she is, but she doesn’t come down here, and she shouldn’t, and she has.

I hear the door close behind me, and glance back to see the curtains twitch, so I jerk my head to the side and make my voice as calm as I can. “Let’s take a walk.” She doesn’t say anything, but she follows me. She’s leaning on a cane—for what? Sympathy? I wonder why she needs it and then remember she’s always had her crutches, and am angry all over again because I used to be one. At the end of the street there’s a little garden, a communal patch of green that overlooks the plaza below, though the fog rolling over the lower reaches of the city obscures much. I was born down there. I belong down there.

Instead I’m up here, with her, and she’s looking at me, brow furrowed like she can’t figure me out. “What in the hells do you think you’re doing?” I ask, my voice low and soft. We are well out of earshot of the house but somehow I still think we’ll be overheard. “Rielle asked me to walk her home!” Odette protests. There’s something almost whining in her tone. “And you said yes,” I point out to her. “Rielle is a child. You’re an adult. You’re supposed to be the responsible one. Or did it not occur to you that you wouldn’t be welcome?” “I didn’t know you were going to be home!” I shake my head. “Whether I was here to see it or not, you shouldn’t have come. I don’t even know why you’d want to.” “I didn’t want to disappoint her,” Odette says. There’s something about her voice when we argue; she gets shrill and girlish. Right now it annoys me, because there’s no point in granting her my sympathy. “Didn’t want to disappoint her,” I repeat, the words blustering out of me, scornful. “You disappeared! For two years!” “You don’t even want me here, so I don’t exactly see what the problem is,” Odette says. Her hand tightens on the cane.

“We’re not talking about me right now,” I say, setting my teeth. “We’re talking about Rielle, and how you never said goodbye to her or wrote to her while you were gone. You don’t think that’s disappointing?” “Would you have even let me write to her?” she asks. Her lips are set into a firm line. The fog is dewy on her brow. “I sure as hells won’t now,” I say. “She needs stability, and she has it now, no thanks to you.” She huffs out a sigh. “You have no idea the pressures I’m under,” she says.

It’s true; I don’t. I know she’s a Warrior of Light—along with her twin. Sometimes they count her manservant and companion, a fellow bastard of the Brume she probably thinks of as a charity case, but Rempart is much less famous than the twins, and I suspect that’s not entirely an accident. I can only guess at the circumstances they and their companions find themselves in.

“If you’re going to start telling me about that now, it’s far too late,” I tell her. There was a time where that was all I wanted, but for all the times she talked about herself, Odette never spoke much about those things in particular. “Why don’t you go tell the Lord Commander?” I sneer. She averts her gaze, her brow furrowing. “Perhaps I have,” she replies, tone bitter.

I grind my teeth. It’s a surprise only insofar as I assumed she had discarded him too, but that admission is a confession that she chose him over me, and she turns her head to look at me. There’s something like pain in her expression for a moment before it transmutes to anger. Disgust. “Oh, don’t look like that,” she says. “You still have Sidurgu, don’t you?” “I never endeavored to keep Sid a secret,” I snipe back. “I believe, in fact, you had firsthand knowledge of that relationship.” “So what?” she replies. “In the end you’d choose him over me anyway. Just like you’re going to blame this on me even though Rielle was part of it too.” “Rielle and I are going to have a discussion,” I say, “and I will make it clear to her that I don’t want you to come here and I don’t think that you’re going to be a positive influence in her life, and if she does it again, yes, there will be consequences. It’s my fault for assuming she knew better.” She looks at me, bewildered, as though the concept of boundaries is completely foreign to her. Maybe it is, reflecting on our time together. “But I didn’t do anything,” she says. “You abandoned her,” I snarl, no longer able to keep the anger from my voice. “You don’t think she’s had enough of that after her mother?” “What do you know about mothers!” Odette shouts back. “That’s exactly why I should talk to her!” “Your mother is still alive, last I checked. I don’t think it would pass unnoticed, exactly.” She has no answer for that, so she only huffs, tapping her cane against the stone to give vent to whatever roils inside her.

“You can’t be that mad at me if you still live in my house,” she says. “It’s not your house,” I point out. “You made that very clear when I asked you to move into it!” “If you hate me so much I don’t know why you’d stay there,” she says. “Because Rielle needs a stable environment,” I say, frustration radiating down my spine. “So you’re not going to move back into Ser Ompagne’s house once it’s rebuilt?” “Once you finish paying for the reconstruction, you mean,” I say. I can’t stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Why do you even care so much?” “Because!” she shouts back. “You were right! I can’t buy everyone a house that lost theirs, there just aren’t enough of them, and it seemed like this is what you wanted! To just—just go back to the life you had before you met me! Like I didn’t even matter, but if I could do that, then …” She turns away, blinking. “Oh, save your crocodile tears,” I spit. “What do you want me to do, fall at your feet in worship? You made it pretty clear when you left how you felt about us. Like it wasn’t already obvious.” She hunches her shoulders but doesn’t turn back, mumbling something I can’t quite hear. “Why did you even buy us this house in the first place, Odette?” I ask, stalking up to her shoulder so I can look at her face while she doesn’t answer me.

But she does, to my great surprise. “I wanted to do something important. I thought you’d be grateful.” “What,” I say, “grateful enough to forgive you for stringing me along? For fucking around behind my back?” “You knew who I was,” she says, her tone a lot less fragile than it was a moment before. “What I was like. Did you just assume I’d change for you?” “I don’t understand you at all,” I admit. “I thought you bought the house because you wanted me to forgive you for those sins you hadn’t confessed to yet. But you don’t care about that at all, do you?” “I didn’t,” she says. “They’re two separate things,” I say. “Thank you, I guess, for saving my life and making sure my family didn’t become homeless. Is that what you wanted to hear?” “Yes,” she replies, but it’s robotic, like she’s somewhere far away from here. “But you hurt me, Odette. Did you think you didn’t?” “No,” she says, just as flat. “No, I knew.” “I don’t have to forgive you for that,” I say.

She blinks again, turning her face away from me, and some smothered part of me that cared for her once—that loved her, even—cries out that perhaps her tears are real, and wants me to do something about them. But that isn’t my problem anymore. It can’t be. She made that clear, and anyway she has the Lord Commander to salve whatever wounds she’s nursing.

“Is there anything else you want to say to me?” she asks. “Before we say goodbye for good and you just go back to your life like—” “Like you don’t matter,” I finish for her. “Do you think I’m obligated to let you matter now?” I ask, and she’s still, silent, the breath rattling in her lungs. “I can’t say I’m happy to see you in pain, Odette, but if you want to talk about people mattering, when did we ever matter to you? When did I ever matter to you?” I ask. “I let myself believe that you were committed, because I admired your convictions in other things, but you were never anything less than halfway out the door all the time. I just didn’t let myself see it because you were a fucking hero—you saved my life and then Rielle’s, of course I felt something for you, but you were never going to let yourself be part of this. Not really. And when I did notice, you didn’t seem to care that I had. So who doesn’t matter, Odette?” “I never meant to hurt you,” she says, but her voice is weak. “Bullshit,” I say. “You did too. That was your way out.” “Maybe,” she says.

That’s about as much closure as I can expect to get, so I turn to go and leave her there. “Tell Rielle I said goodbye,” she says, her voice reedy and choked. I don’t dare turn back to look at her, because there’s nothing I want to see back there. “Fine,” I say. “But I’m not doing it for you.”

#ff14 #fanservice friday #FAN DISSERVICE FRIDAY #odette #fray myste #rielle de caulignont #ff14 spoilers #stormblood spoilers #patch 4.56 spoilers #original content #starcunning writes

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toasted-gold · 6 years ago

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marigold’s birthday, year 1

she’s made quick friends with most of the town already, given that it’s only been two seasons.

jas, vincent, and penny all surprise her with breakfast. surprise her right at her doorstop, actually! jas hands over some soggy pancakes, and vincent gives her two crispy, sunny-side eggs, and penny hands over two handmade cards from the both of them.

they each had taken one half for themselves and drawn all over. she thinks she can make out what looks like fruit trees and an axe, though she’s not quite sure. it warms her heart throughout the day, anyway.

after they leave, she checks her mail. a neat package seats underneath, posted from a bakery she remembers visiting before she moved away from the city. the card inside the box is signed by her mother, with a note of ‘Oh, I do wish you’d come home soon.’

a letter sits inside of the mailbox, from her dad she receives a simple note of: “great job out there, kiddo”, and a check for a couple thousand coins.

marigold pushes the cake all the way at the back of the fridge, maybe to give away later, and she hides the check in her nightstand to cash it out once she needs to buy more crops.

speaking of- a farmer’s work is never done.

imagine her surprise when she comes across a burnt peach tree, then.

it still smolders, probably struck sometime in the night during that vicious thunderstorm, but she’s sure she can find use of the thick coals that drop from the branches when she shakes the them free.

on her way to town after marigold finishes watering the crops and petting the chickens, she runs into elliot, who is prompt to drag her to leah’s house for a late brunch.

he gifts her with some bok choy, and a poem to go along with it, while leah offers her a fresh salad, made from leah’s very own garden. she offers to make a sculpture, if marigold is willing to sit still for a few hours, but she’s able to wiggle herself away with a promise to help her move some of her heavier art-pieces, if she ever needs it.

back in town, she is quickly swept away by the band- sam, sebastian, and abigail. they sit her down on sam’s squeaky bed and set up a camera before they rock out to a song they’d thrown together the week prior, as soon as they’d learned her birthday was coming up.

they promise to burn her a personal CD, and she convinces them to sign it as well, as a momento of before they get famous.

as marigold continues about her daily chores- checking in with the villagers and subsequently getting surprised that they remember her birthday, she gathers quite a few gifts that way down on her horse, Tomata.

from grannie evelyn she gets pumpkin soup, and the recipe for it at the same time. from grumpy george she gets a warning not to get too sunburnt out there. back in his day, they didn’t have sunscreen- grumble grumble.

alex, able to catch her before she leaves, passes her some glazed yams. he admits that he get help from grannie evelyn, but marigold appreciates the effort immensely, anyway.

from haley and emily she gets a peculiar set. haley gives her a plain radish, bought from pierre’s shop that morning, and, matching it in color, emily gifts her a bundle of quartz- to ‘cleanse her spirit’.

from jodi and caroline she gets two big, motherly hugs and offers to come over for dinner anytime of the week.

linus hands her a hand-woven basket, for berry picking. willie gifts a new fishing lure, even though they both know she’s awful at fishing.

maru and demetrius, who catch her just after marigold’s finishing a bundle in the community center, give her fertilizer. it’s implied that they want to see how well their ‘special blend’ works on the soil, but the world thrives off of symbiotic relationships, so she hooks it to Tomata’s saddle and carries on with a smile.

when she stops by the saloon in the afternoon, pam greets her with a tall pint of beer, which marigold is quick to gift back and instead order a root beer. gus hands her a plate of freshly made crab cakes- on the house, of course!

on her way around the corner, to visit mister wizard and see if he’d enchant her sword for her for free, she runs into none other than her boyfriend, of course.

well, ‘runs into’ is a strong word.

she spots him just past the lamppost, and hastily clasps the mermaid’s pendant around her neck. she’s been holding onto it for a while, and her luck seems to be going grand on her birthday this year, so maybe...

the town’s clock strikes on the hour, and shane’s pace picks up. must be in a hurry.

she hides it beneath her dress instead, for another time, and acts as nonchalant as can be as he passes. if he’s startled by her sudden appearance when he rounds the corner, he doesn’t show it.

he smiles warm, reaches into his pocket, and offers her a necklace.

it isn’t a mermaid’s pendant, but it’s shimmery and rainbow- a prismatic shard snugly entrapped in a silver cage. it’s stunning.

“happy birthday, marigold.” he says, stuffing his hands in his pocket. he was ever so shy, even though he’d more or less cursed her out when they first met, just for looking at him.

she’s able to urge a kiss on the cheek out of him, and when he rushes off to catch pierre before the general store closes, he’s blushing bright red.

later that night, when she’s finished sorting through her gifts and has treated Tomata to an extra helping of hay for being such a good steed, she flops into bed and kicks off her fancy dress shoes, relishing the fact that tomorrow she’ll be back in her country boots.

wait- tomorrow!

when she sits up and stares across the room, her calendar is staring back at her. there, at the end of the month and circled numerous times in bright blue circles, is the 28th. dance of the moonlight jellies.

her primastic necklace knocks against the mermaid’s pendant as she digs them both from underneath her dress, and a coy smile claims her lips.

a late birthday present, then. she was patient enough for that.

#i wrote this and i'm happy with it #stardew valley #sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew fanfic #i have no idea what tags we use here rip #shane #shane x farmer #long post #fic: toasted #i may actually expand on this someday into a full blown fic c': i wonder if people would like it #marigold

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rhysie-cakes314 · 6 years ago

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Day 13- Inhuman

Summary:

“Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.” - Marian Anderson When Steve proposes to Tony, some of the homophobic Captain America fans come out of the woodwork with a lot to say. People do dangerous things when they fear what they don't understand, and apparently two men in love is just too spooky for them.

“Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.” - Marian Anderson

Steve Rogers often forgot that he wasn’t just a man. Captain America was a symbol of hope and patriotism, and the man behind the mask was often put on a pedestal. The average american who didn’t personally know him typically had their own distinct ideas about who Steve should be. Tony tried to make the man understand that, but he never wanted to listen.

“It doesn’t matter! They can think what they want but I know who I am, Tony, and I don’t care if people like it,” Steve shouted. The argument wasn’t a new one, and his patience was beginning to wear thin. He understands that Tony’s heart is in the right place, but the genius was not hearing his words.

Tony threw his hands up in frustration. “You’re Captain fucking America!” He ignored Steve’s muttered ‘language.’ “It doesn’t matter if you care about the public opinion, the public will make themselves heard anyway. When people decide they hate something you do, they don’t just say it, they riot. When they like what you do, they throw parades to celebrate.” He sighed, the anger draining out of him, leaving only weariness. “I wish I was wrong, you could cause a civil war just be saying the wrong thing, Steve. We can’t be public.”

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Steve wanted the world to know how important Tony was to him, but Tony kept blocking his attempts to talk about their relationship to the press. Everytime a question about his love life came up, he would open his mouth to answer only for Tony to divert their attention with one of his latest scandals. Reporters would shout loudly over each other for a chance to get the great Tony Stark’s comment on something controversial, and Steve’s responses would be dead on his lips. Tonight was going to be the end of it. Steve had made sure of his plan. It didn’t matter this time how much Tony tried to talk him out of it. The world would know about his feelings and his sexual orientation.

“It’s 2018. Nobody is going to riot because Captain America is gay.” Steve was done with this conversation. Tony’s attitude was spoiling his good mood. “I’m going to go for a run. Be ready to leave at seven.” He left the lab before Tony could say more. Pepper and the Avengers’ PR agent had set up the interview on Jimmy Kimmel Live! several months back. According to them, Kimmel wanted to talk to the two of them about being the Avengers’ leaders, and how their different leadership styles meshed during missions. When Steve had called Kimmel’s assistant with his idea last week, Jimmy himself had called him back to tell him it was a go.

“The audience will love it!” Kimmel exclaimed. “I’ll throw it into the middle of the interview, so there’s time for Mr. Stark’s reaction to play out whatever it is. When I tell him that you wrote the next question, that’ll be your cue. Oh, I’m so excited! My show is going to be talked about for weeks!”

Steve grinned into his phone. “I’m so thankful you’re allowing it Mr. Kimmel, I’m sorry to take away time from what you had planned.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This is way better than anything my writers could come up with!”

Steve checked his hair in the mirror for the fifth time. He felt like a walking flag in his navy blue suit, with red tie and white shirt, but Pepper had brow beat him into wearing it. Tony was going to be wearing a gold tie with a deep red suit and shirt. Tony loved it, but Steve wished they didn’t have to be so obviously mimicking their uniforms. It made him feel like they weren’t allowed to be Steve and Tony, they were only allowed to be Captain America and Iron Man. He was reminded of his fear of being a dancing monkey that had began all the war back in WWII.

The small black box in his pocket brought Steve back to the present. He patted the lump, taking a deep breath. He was not nervous. Tony was going to say yes. All Steve needed to do was ask. The question was really a formality; Steve and Tony had been promising each other eternity for awhile now. Tony wasn’t ashamed of being with Steve. They were only a secret because Tony thought the public couldn’t handle Steve being with a man. That was all. The knock on the door forced him to give up on the internal pep talk.

“Steve! Happy is waiting!”

Steve opened the door where Tony was still knocking. He smiled down at his handsome boyfriend, stealing a kiss. The aroma of his aftershave burned Steve’s nostrils a little. He loved it all the same. No matter how hard Tony tried, he’d always have the slight smell of metal and oil clinging to him that Steve loved. “Let’s go, love.”

…

Steve watched Tony answer another question and the rest of the room could’ve disappeared for all he cared. When the billionaire really got going in an interview, his real personality would begin to bleed through the cocky public persona. His easy going responses put even the most rowdy reporters at ease and he expertly steered conversation to topics he was comfortable with. Growing up in the spotlight had shaped him into the perfect interviewee that Steve, with his awkward shyness, could never hope to be.

“... So sure, we disagree now and again, but it never puts a mission in jeopardy. Cap will always defer to me on aerial combat, and I’ll defer to him ground combat in the end,” Tony finished his answer, smiling over at Steve. Steve resisted the urge to lean over for a kiss right then.

“The next question is directed at you Mr. Stark, and it was actually written by Captain America himself!” The applause erupted when Steve stood. Tony met his eyes, confused.

‘What are you doing?’ he mouthed the words. Steve only gave him a nervous smile in response.

As the applause died down, Steve realized he couldn’t back out of this now. He got down on one knee, ignoring the way the audience began screaming in excitement. Steve was focused only on Tony’s reactions. The brunette’s confused look slowly morphed into a scarily blank face, but Steve could see the fear in the man’s eyes mixed with anxious excitement. There was so much there in the brown eyes, and maybe this had been a horrible mistake. Steve held his breath as he pulled the little box out and opened it.

Tony’s heart had stopped. He was certain of it. What was Steve thinking!? He felt dizzy, and oh yeah, maybe he needed to breathe. He took in a shaky breath. He couldn’t even tell anymore if he was ecstatic or terrified. Of course he had wanted this, more than anyone could imagine, but Steve was not thinking this through. The right wing news was going to tear them to shreds tomorrow. A hush fell over the audience, and Tony could feel the people leaning forward on their seats in anticipation, but his own gaze was locked onto the kneeling blond.

“Anthony Edward Stark, will you marry me?”

Tony forgot his own very valid fears when the words hit him. Steve wanted to marry him! How many times had he dreamed about this very moment? The fact that they were on live television faded away and Tony needed to keep breathing. Steve’s face was so hopeful and nervous, and that made Tony want to burst out laughing. Did the man honestly think Tony could ever say no to him? He cleared his throat. “Yes,” it came out as a whisper. “Yes,” he said louder this time. “Of course, you idiot, now get up here.”

Tony pulled the stupidly grinning Steve off his knees and into a kiss. The audience went wild and their host was saying something about happy couples and a commercial break, but all the two men cared about was each other. Tony swore he could feel Steve’s heartbeat thrumming through him. Steve smiled against his lips, trying to pull back, but Tony clutched the man’s jacket tight. Steve would not escape him that easily.

Kimmel clearing his throat startled them both back to reality. Steve blushed a deep scarlet that matched his tie, and Tony smirked at how swollen his lips looked. “While I understand the sentiment, gentleman, we’ll be back live in a two minutes. So maybe the ring shouldn’t be on the floor?” He pointed to the forgotten black box Steve had dropped.

Steve snatched the box back up, slipping the ring onto Tony’s finger. When they were back in their seats, much closer together on the couch now, Tony actually looked at the ring for the first time. It was a simple silver ring with a blue stone the colour of Steve’s eyes. On close inspection, the band itself had an intricate design carved into it that made reminded Tony of a circuit board. It was too perfect, and Tony was grinning at it like a smitten schoolgirl when the band and applause indicated the end of the adbreak.

“So, Mr. Stark, show the cameras your beautiful ring!” Tony held up his hand as the camera zoomed in, wiggling his fingers excitedly. “It really is something, isn’t it? Captain Rogers, where did you get it?”

Steve squeezed Tony’s other hand in his lap. “I, uh, well, I got the stone from an antique store, but I made it.” Tony gaped at his fiancé. When had the man found time?

“Oh, wow!” Kimmel leaned back in his chair in clear surprise. “I don’t believe I knew you could make jewelry. Is this something you’ve done a lot?”

Steve chuckled. His elation had rid him of all his usual shyness. Tony had said yes! “It’s my first attempt at jewelry, I’ll admit. I’m not very into metalworking, Tony being the metal expert I leave it to him, but I did go to art school before I enlisted. I know a thing or two about design and aesthetic.”

“That’s right! I forgot about the art school. I’m a bit rusty on my 1940s Steve Rogers trivia, I’ll admit. I did go to your exhibit at the museum once, though.”

The rest of the interview went by in a blur for the two of them. Tony wanted nothing more than to get Steve out of those clothes so he could show him how much he really appreciated the proposal. While he wasn’t necessarily against jumping the man on TV, public indecency was frowned upon and whatnot. When they got home, Tony couldn’t even strip immediately like he wanted, because the Avengers were waiting with a banner and surprise party. Tony and Steve grinned their way through the congratulations, making sure they spent a proper amount of time enjoying the party, but they both just wanted to be alone.

“Finally!” Tony growled after he slammed their door shut. Steve had no complaints with the fervor, only helped Tony to strip them both down as quickly as possible. “I can’t believe you did that on television,” Tony’s voice was husky with arousal. Steve allowed him to hold him down on the bed, just watching the smaller man kiss a line down his front before gasping in surprise when Tony nipped the inside of his thigh. “You’re insane.”

Steve huffed. He was too distracted by the sensation of Tony’s hands on him to think clearly. “You don’t seem to be complaining,” he replied dizzily. Tony teased at his tip with his tongue, and Steve hissed. His hips bucked before he could stop them, but Tony smirked up at him, victorious. He had Steve at his mercy in five minutes tops every time.

“Oh I’m not complaining,” he murmured, crawling back up to silence Steve’s moan with his own mouth as he wrapped a hand around Steve’s penis. He gave a lazy stroke, impressed with how quickly Steve could be so hard. He began sucking at Steve’s neck, pulling his hand away to scratch ten red lines up Steve’s abs and chest. The air hitting the raw skin was a perfect contrast to the moist warmth of Tony’s mouth on Steve’s neck. Tony pulled back to look down at Steve from above. His pupils were blown wide and Steve thought he had never looked more beautiful. “You are insane, though,” Tony’s voice was strained, his own erection untouched so far. “You’re not going to be able to leave the tower for weeks without being harassed by reporters.”

Steve ignored Tony’s hand this time when he tried to block Steve from grabbing him. He felt Tony twitch eagerly in his grasp as he watched Tony throw his head back with a moan. Tony’s sounds were always the best part for Steve. The man could make the most obscene noises, and it was the only time Steve could make him fumble his words. Steve reached into the drawer beside him, pulling out the lube. “I really don’t care,” Steve responded before sticking a slicked finger inside his new fiancé. He grinned when Tony whined and pushed down onto the finger, already begging for more.

…

Tony had been predictably correct. The next morning, every news station across TV and radio was talking about Captain America’s engagement to Iron Man. Steve decided his morning run was not worth it when he saw the crowd waiting right outside the tower. He decided to ignore Tony’s ‘I told you so’ smug face when he returned from the lobby and headed to the gym to use the treadmill. Tony was still in the kitchen watching another news channel an hour later.

Steve walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Tony, who leaned back for a kiss. “How was your run?” he smirked up at Steve.

Steve merely returned the smirk. “Still worth it,” he kissed Tony again, savoring the coffee taste. Tony returned to the news on the tablet in front of him, holding out his empty mug towards Steve. Steve shook his head fondly as he refilled the coffee before moving to make his second breakfast. “Have you eaten anything today?” he called behind his shoulder.

Tony only hummed in response, too focused on whatever the reporter was saying in front of him to actually listen to what Steve had asked. Steve couldn’t hear anything, so the captions must be on. He gave up and decided to make Tony some food anyway, since he likely hadn’t had anything besides coffee. If he didn’t eat it, Clint certainly always would, so it’d hardly go to waste. Tony let out a frustrated growl behind him. “Tony,” he sighed. “Why don’t you just ignore them? That’s what you normally do.”

“It’s different.” He finished his coffee and set it on the counter a little too hard. “I’m used to the things they say about me, but now they’re saying horrible things about you! Well, mostly me still and how I must have duped you or am a bad influence but still! Fox is saying you’ve betrayed you values,” he looked to see why Steve had stopped making cooking noises. The blond looked much angrier than Tony was expecting. He had seem so unperturbed by it all only a moment ago.

“They said that you duped me?” Steve’s voice was low and dangerous. “That you influence me negatively!?” It rose to a near shout. Tony flinched instinctively, not used to Steve’s actually angry voice in the close quarters of the small kitchen. Steve lowered his voice again, annoyed that he had made Tony flinch. “JARVIS, call Anne and have her come over today if she can.”

“Right on it, Captain Rogers.”

Tony gaped at the man, lost. “Why are you talking to PR? I thought the plan was to ignore them until they moved onto the next big story?” He watched Steve war with himself, his face twitching with conflicting emotions. He moved forward, turned off the stovetop before Steve burned his food, and grabbed Steve’s hands from underneath his crossed arms. Steve watched their hands for a moment, before meeting Tony’s eyes. “What is bothering you?”

Steve closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and when he reopened them he looked much calmer. “Yes, you’re right. JARVIS, can you cancel that?”

“Of course.”

“It’s just the idea that I’m somehow better than you I guess. Like why not ask if I was the one who duped you?” Steve looked so sad and confused, Tony felt so heartless for the laugh that slipped past his lips unwanted. Steve pulled his hands away, irritated.

“Wait, no, sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh,” Tony started. Steve had turned back to cooking, though, and wasn’t looking at Tony. “Steve, please.”

Steve kept cooking. “Go on Tony,” he said tiredly.

“It’s just, the idea of you duping me was really funny to me, I didn’t mean to actually laugh.”

“But the idea of me duping you is fine?” He asked.

Tony felt like he had walked into some sort of trap. That there was a wrong answer here. Maybe he should work around the question rather than answering directly. “Well if one of us were better than the other, you’re clearly the better one.” That was the wrong answer. All of Steve’s movements became sharp and harsh, slamming plates down and dumping food on them messily before throwing utensils in the sink. The clamour seemed to solidify that Tony had fucked up.

Steve sat down at the counter, so Tony took his own seat warily. They ate in tense silence for several long minutes before Steve looked up at him again. He looked sad instead of angry. “You believe that don’t you?” Tony ran through the conversation again, not sure what was being asked. “That I’m better than you. That you duped me.” The questions had become statements.

Tony felt like an idiot for not realizing what was bothering the man earlier. Of course it was because he thought they were equals. Tony and the rest of the world knew that Steve was a better person, but Steve had come to believe that Tony was as good as himself. Tony wasn’t complaining, but he knew it wasn’t true. “I’m sorry,” he spoke sincerely. He couldn’t lie and tell Steve that he was wrong, but he could apologize for it.

Steve took Tony’s hand. “I know you are.” He kissed Tony on the forehead. “I love you so much, and I will make you believe that you deserve me someday.” Tony threw him a lopsided smile. He would love that to happen.

…

By the time the Stark Industries Halloween Gala rolled around a few months later, the stories about Steve and Tony had died down. Here and there a piece would show up offering someone’s opinion on the matter, but everyone had moved onto more important things for the most part. Like what the two engaged superheroes would be wearing to the Gala.

“I really think you could pull off a dress, shellhead,” Clint said at dinner that night. Thor had brought a tabloid magazine to the table with an article speculating about their attire. “Then maybe the conservatives will be a little happier about Steve’s gayness if you’re the feminine one.” The rest of the Avengers had found the whole debacle immensely amusing. Clint especially loved to poke fun at the stories where Tony was an evil seducer that turned Captain America gay.

Tony pretended to think about it. “I suppose I could really piss them all off by shaving and wearing a wig. Though that may offend the drag or trans communities. I’ve always wanted to get into drag, though. Imagine me, a drag queen. Iron maiden, I could be a dominatrix-esque drag queen!”

“Oh, I would love to help you come up with routines!” Thor enthused. It may or may not actually be one of Tony’s secret dreams, but he knew he’d never be able to get into it without a media shit-storm claiming he was trying to poke fun or was a bigot. Really, he wasn’t sure where the idea had come about that Tony would be conservative or right-wing was beyond him. His dad may have been a capitalist douche bag, but even Howard had thought being anti-LGBTQ+ was just plain stupid. Like who cares what people do in their private lives? If it’s not hurting anyone…

“I never realized how much I wanted to see you in drag,” Natasha commented, eyeing him intensely. “And I see Steve is on the same page,” she glanced over at the blushing man, only causing his blush to deepen.

Tony spit out his drink. “Wait, Steve, is it true?” He turned to look at his fiancé excitedly.

“I, well, I, uhm,” he spluttered. “I would want you to keep the goatee!” he blurted out. Tony could not have found a more adorable man to marry. He pulled Steve in for a kiss, that quickly turned a bit too sexually charged for the dinner table.

“Ugh, God, get a room!” Clint flung some peas at Tony.

Tony ignored the projectiles, but pulled away nonetheless. “I can dress in drag for you,” he whispered in Steve’s ear before going back to his dinner as though nothing had happened. Steve might just pass out from how red he was getting. Tony tried to keep his expression innocent, only grinning in victory inside his head.

“Well, I have come up with a few outfit pairs for you, if you’d like,” Coulson spoke, dry as always, so Tony couldn’t tell if he was serious. The way Clint whipped around in surprise told him that Coulson wasn’t joking. “I worked on it with Darcy,” he said with a shrug as though that explained anything at all.

Steve couldn’t deny that he was curious. “I’d love to see them,” he told Coulson, happy to change the subject from Tony in drag. Not even he had known he wanted that until the picture had popped into his head. “The Gala is masquerade though, right?” Steve turned to look at Tony.

Tony nodded. “Yeah, although most people only have their masks on in the beginning for pictures.” He scrunched up his nose. “They get weirdly sweaty.”

“I’m adding you to our google doc, Cap,” Phil said while he typed on his phone.

“Do I have to go?” Bruce asked from the other end of the table? “I know we were all invited, but I hate these things.”

Tony frowned at his best friend. “Well I can hardly force you, but it’d look better if the Avengers all showed up so the press doesn’t come up with some stupid theory like that we’re not getting along or something. Knowing them they might decide you hate that Steve and I are together. I’ve seen some hilarious fan theories that you’re jealous because you and me were meant to be,” Tony snorted.

Bruce’s cheeks turned pink. “You and me? You’re not really my type.”

“I know, right!?” Tony was still laughing hysterically. “So you’ll come?”

Bruce nodded in defeat, “If it’ll keep them from theorizing.”

“Oh I’m sure it won’t,” Phil said.

…

They ended up on tuxes with each other’s usual colour schemes. Tony wore a light blue vest, with matching pinstripes on his pants. The tux jacket and bowtie were black with a blue shimmer that you could see only when the light hit it right. He thought it looked perfect with his engagement ring, and he used one of those blue tinted mascaras to accentuate his naturally long lashes. Now that he knew Steve had a thing for it, he finally had an excuse to start exploring some of the more feminine parts of vanity he’d always wanted to, but he’d start slow. There was the public to consider, of course.

Steve wore a maroon vest with a black tux, and his bow tie matched the vest. The best part, in Tony’s opinion, was the gold glittery shimmer that was over the whole tux set. Tony wasn’t sure how his designer friend, Janet Van Dyne, had done it, but it looked like someone had very lightly sprayed the whole thing with gold glitter spray paint. Steve’s mask was an arc-reactor blue, as he called it, feathered along one side with gold feathers. Tony’s was a phantom of the opera half face style white, with a red and blue gradient of tiny, sparkly stars along the outer edge. Together they looked simultaneously gorgeous and ridiculous.

“How did I get such a handsome fiancé?” Steve asked in wonder as they headed out for the limo, already assaulted by paparazzi. The security detail for the Avengers was being handled by SHIELD and SI together given the amount of super-powered enemies they had all acquired over the years. Tony had the bracelets to call the suit if needed, Steve had the shield waiting at the gala in a closet, Clint had his foldable bow with arrows stored next to Steve’s shield, Thor was always able to call Mjolnir, and Phil and Natasha were strapped with handguns and knives.

Tony grinned, waving at a couple of photographers happily. “By being a sweet, sensitive artist who throws a disc at nazis and aliens,” he answered without missing a beat. Steve’s resulting laugh sounded musical to his ears. He felt like he was walking on air tonight. This was their first formal public event since the engagement, and though they’d of course gone on dates and missions together since, he felt like this was his first real opportunity to show off his fiancé. There was a slightly bitter thought in the back of his mind that he’d like to see Howard’s stupid face when he found out his beloved perfect Steve was marrying his failure son Tony, but he easily pushed it away. Steve was going to marry him, had announced it publicly, his life was perfect.

When they arrived and stepped out of the limo, there were not only photographers, but reporters too. They stopped off to one side to answer a few questions before they got in.

“Captain America, what do you say to the family values activists who say you’ve gone over to the dark side and should be stripped of your title?” A woman from the back shouted.

Steve took it in stride. Tony had been practicing with him for months, so he’d be prepared for far worse questions than this. “I say that I am sorry they are so frightened by what they don’t understand. Just because a man loving another man is different than their own love lives does not make their idea of a family more valid than LGBTQ+ families, and their self-appointed cause of family values is a misguided bigotry.”

Tony was so proud. “Do you honestly think they’re afraid of gays or is it maybe that they just hate them?” A man nearby asked. Tony leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear that it was Ian Gerund, a reporter for Out Magazine.

Steve looked the man in the eyes the whole time he responded, which obviously made the man a little uncomfortable. Reporters were not used to such directness with their shouted questions, as Tony had warned him. “I do honestly think that. I also think there is some genuine hate out there. Hate often stems from fear, though, and as Marian Anderson, one of my favourite singers said, ‘Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.’ Our only hope is to continue to meet hate and fear with love and acceptance, but defend ourselves when attacked.”The reporters nearby had clearly not been prepared for such well thought out responses, and there was a small wave of confusion.

“Mr. Stark! Are you really ready to be sexually exclusive with one person ‘til death do you part?”

Steve couldn’t help the painful tightening of his hand around Tony’s. The questions directed at them were so different and obviously judgmental about the two of them and it pissed him off. Everyone was prepared for Steve to be an innocent backwards old man and for Tony to be a promiscuous conniving bastard. Tony, on the other hand, was used to it. He shot the offending reporter a wicked grin. “Oh, Steve is plenty sexually fulfilling to me, sweet-cheeks. Sorry you missed out on your opportunity,” he finished with a wink. Steve thought that was a perfect time to leave.

“Sorry folks, we have people to see and dances to dance,” Steve said, strained. He tugged on Tony’s hand, but the man had no qualms about following anyway. He hated talking to reporters as much as Steve did. He just hid it better.

“You did so well, babe.” He pulled Steve’s hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “Proud of you.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes were a little pinched. “Yeah, thanks for the practice.”

“I know, love. They’ll eventually stop treating you like that. It’s just hard for some people to recognize that not everyone in the 40s was straight and hated gays,” Tony spoke quietly, misunderstanding the reason for the distress.

Steve kissed him, which conveniently gave him the excuse to be right at Tony’s eye level as he said, “I could care less how they treat me. It’s how they treat you like an amoral, selfish party-boy who is going to cheat on me first chance he gets.”

“That’s because I was for a long time,” Tony reminded him. Steve didn’t have a chance to respond before the greetings and small talk of the night began.

“Mr. Stark! Captain Rogers! So good to see you.” Steve didn’t recognize the man, though Tony seemed to. Sometimes it seemed to Steve that Tony knew everyone in New York, though. “It really is a lovely event.”

“Lieutenant Germaine, thank you for coming. I don’t believe you two have actually met, this is Captain Steve Rogers, my fiancé,” he used the title feeling giddy. “Steve, this is Lt. Frances Germaine. We met while I was working on the Stylus project, right?”

Lt. Germaine nodded. “You were showing us your new remote controls for a drone that allowed more precise aim and birdseye view so there’d be less accidental civilian casualties,” he reminded Tony.

“Ah yes, hope that worked out,” Tony remarked. “It was a little before Afghanistan when I was still designing while wasted so,” he shrugged with his most self-deprecating smile.

Steve frowned at Tony, but Germaine gave a knowing chuckle. “It saved numerous lives from unnecessary accidents, I assure you,” he placed a comforting hand on the genius’ shoulder. “You really weren’t the devil people made you out to be, y’know. The wake up call about SI accountability and double-dealing was important, but you should cut yourself some slack. Even as a kid you were doing good work.”

Tony gave a strained smile. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I hope you enjoy the party.”

The man caught on to the dismissal. “Nice to meet you, Captain.” They shook hands and he departed. Tony snagged a three drinks off a roaming tray and handed one to Steve. He drained one, placing it back on the tray, and kept the other.

Before Steve could comment on the conversation that had just happened, he heard the familiar gleeful squeal of Janet. “Oh, boys, you look fabulous! Give me a little spin,” she motioned. They obeyed, laughing. “Yes! Perfect! The coattails had me worried there for you Cap, your proportions are wonky. Didn’t want them to look too short. Oh! Tony, darling, I haven’t seen the ring in person, gimme,” she held out her hand expectantly.

Tony was laughing and enjoying himself again, previous conversation with the Lieutenant long forgotten. He handed the ring over and the two started gushing about Steve’s taste. Steve was still thinking about the previous conversation, so he was a little startled when the two of them were looking at him expectantly. “Huh? What?”

Janet burst out laughing. “I asked you how long it took you to make the ring?”

Steve blushed, embarrassed. “Oh, only like a week after I found the right stone.”

“So how long before that have you been planning to ask me?” Tony asked, hand on his hip. He only got even sassier around Janet. The two together could be a nightmare sometimes. When Tony, Janet, and Clint were all three in a room, one’s only hope was to flee before you got caught in their whirlwind.

“Two years?” Steve answered hesitantly.

“That was before we had even started dating!!!” Tony exclaimed.

Steve scratched at the back of his head, not having a good response for this. He had kind of been hoping it would never cross Tony’s mind to ask. “Yeah, I may have been in love with you and overly optimistic for a long time before we confessed to each other,” he attempted to explain.

“That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” Janet remarked. Tony just looked at him with wide eyes, feeling like he was falling in love with Steve all over again. This man was far better than he could have ever dreamed.

“I’m so sorry, Janet, your outfits are lovely and we need to get together soon and catch up,” Tony started without looking away from Steve, “but I need to take this man to the dancefloor, now.”

“Of course, I understand,” Janet responded too seriously. “Get on with it!” She faux whispered to Steve while he was led away by Tony.

They danced to a song Steve didn’t recognize, but it hardly mattered. He only had eyes for Tony and followed the man’s lead. Tony had been taught to dance when he was three and it more than made up for Steve’s two left feet. Tony finished his drink so he could use two hands again, placing it on the passing waiter’s tray. He frowned at Steve’s untouched drink before snatching it, draining it, and also placing it on said waiter’s tray. The waiter scowled before he walked away. Had that been the same one as before?

“You’ve had three drinks already and this is only our first dance,” Steve remarked lightly. He wasn’t worried. Tony hadn’t gotten too drunk since they’d gotten engaged. The genius seemed to only get past buzzed when he was upset or depressed.

Tony waved him off. “Three drinks is nothing for me, you know that,” he smiled brightly. He wasn’t wrong. Tony often didn’t feel anything until the fifth drink depending on the strength, and these were just glasses of champagne. He typically drank straight liquor. “I wish they’d play something slower,” he said casually, pulling Steve into him.

It was like it was planned, and maybe it was, Steve thought. This was a SI organized party afterall. The music shifted to a slow song, and it took Steve a until the vocals to realize it was. “Is this-?” he felt at a loss for words. He had never mentioned his love for Marian Anderson before.

Tony’s lips quirked sideways, a cross between a smile and a nervous squint. “Solitude, or The Jewish Girl’s Song as performed by Marian Anderson? Yes.”

Steve felt his eyes well up with tears. “How did you know?” He asked softly. Tony was up against him, head resting against Steve’s chest as they slowly danced to the movement of Marian’s voice. The orchestral part didn’t move much, so it made more sense to set one’s movements to the woman’s emotional performance. Tony waited until the song finished to answer Steve’s question. Steve vaguely realized that the rest of the large ballroom was full of people confused by the sudden change in language and style, but it didn’t matter. They’d get over it when the regular modern music returned.

“Well, I may have been playing different artists in the background when you’re around and gauging your reactions with JARVIS’ help. We eventually narrowed down your best unconscious smiles to music that style-wise and time period led to Marian Anderson, so I figured she must be one of your faves, and then you quoted her outside and I’m so glad I wasn’t wrong, because sometimes it’s hard to figure out what you liked from your old life and-” the man was rambling nervously, and they both knew it.

Steve placed a finger to his lips, silencing the man. “Everytime I think you’re done surprising me,” he murmured. “You blow away my expectations again.”

Tony absolutely beamed at him. It had been a very long and difficult project, trying to figure out some of Steve’s interests. The man was so easygoing and not picky sometimes that it was impossible to tell what he actually liked and what he just didn’t mind. Tony wished Steve was a little more outspoken, but he also appreciated the little mysteries he had to work to solve about Steve. It kept the man interesting. His next project was trying to figure out the supersoldier’s favourite painters and art styles for a wedding portrait, but that was still a secret. “I’m so glad you like it. I bought the film for the original recording of her performance at the Lincoln Memorial,” Tony was actually blushing a little. He very rarely blushed. His olive italian complexion made it harder to show than Steve’s pale irish white, but he also didn’t have much shame anyway.

Steve gasped in surprise, pulling Tony into him and holding on tight for a moment. The mention thrust him back to 1939 when the historic performance had been the talk of the nation. Marian had been such a big deal, paving the way for African American singers, and she got to sing at the Lincoln Memorial. Steve’s mother had followed the woman’s career closely, always reminding Steve that until the blacks were treated right, the immigrants had no hope. She had died only months before the Lincoln Memorial performance. “Thank you,” he whispered.

The rest of the night seemed to be going by in the background. Steve just followed his partner’s lead, making small talk here and there, dancing, clapping, showing off their relationship, etc. Something at the back of his mind was bothering him, but he couldn’t quite place it, so he pushed it aside and focused on Tony. The billionaire was in his element, as much as he was loathe to admit it. Tony Stark was a socialite as well as a shut-in engineer. Tony liked to convince himself that the rich celebrity persona was all a facade, and a lot of it was, but Steve could tell that the man also felt at home at these events sometimes. Now if the world worked Tony’s way, there’d only be one or two events a year, but if all of them suddenly disappeared, Steve thought Tony would probably miss it more than he expected.

It was when Tony placed his sixth empty champagne glass on a tray behind him that Steve realized what was bothering him. Out of the thirty or so roaming servers in the room, the same one always seemed to gravitate towards them. Tony had only come in contact with the one waiter, though he probably didn’t notice at all. At first, it could’ve been explained away by the staff having assigned areas of the room. By now, though, Steve and Tony had been all over the large hall, Tony being one of the main draws of the event. They had to talk to all the big SI contributors.

Tony’s energy had been flagging over the last hour. He had gone from looking excited and flamboyant to looking tired and withdrawn. Steve caught him wiping a sweaty brow a few times, but until now, had only assumed it was due to the running around in a tux in a fairly hot room. No one else seemed to be sweating though. “Hey, wait up!” Steve called out, jogging after the man until he caught up with the waiter. Tony watched him go in confusion, but stayed where he was, not wanting to seem rude while he was still trapped in conversation with one of the major shareholders in his company.

The waiter turned to face Steve, mild surprise on his face. He looked so nondescript. An average height white male, light brown hair, probably middle aged. It was a wonder Steve had recognized him as familiar at all. That was one of Phil’s assets as a SHIELD agent, looking nondescript. Steve idly wondered if being around nondescript agents enough to get to know them helped him be better at picking up on nuances within the average appearance. The man smiled politely. “May I help you with something, Captain Rogers?”

Steve watched his expressions carefully. If there was anything suspicious about the man, he was good at hiding it. “Have you been following us?” he asked right out.

The waiter’s face showed a split-second of surprise before returning to the polite smile. Steve probably wouldn’t have caught it if it weren’t for Natasha’s training in microexpressions. “I’m sorry?” he pretended to be confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Steve didn’t know what set off his alarm bells, but he was sure enough of himself to be okay with making a scene. He snatched the tray from the man’s hands and placed it on a nearby table. People close by started watching the strange exchange. Steve then grabbed the man’s arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. “Don’t play stupid.” He hissed into the man’s ear.

A hysterical giggle tumbled from the waiter’s lips. “Your observational skills are as impressive as I expected,” the man responded smugly. “I only worry it took you too long.” He didn’t sound worried at all. Steve decided then and there that he hated the smug bastard.

Slamming the man onto the same nearby table where he hat set the tray, Steve sent several glasses flying off the table or rolling and smashing loudly on the ground. A woman somewhere screamed. “What did you do?” he demanded.

“Steve! What are you doing!?” Tony was marching towards them with two guards.

Steve took a steadying breath through his nose. “This man did something, Tony, I just don’t know what,” Steve grit out angrily. The man smirked at Steve. He was asking to get his nose broken.

Tony just looked more confused and irritated. “What are you talking about? Let the man go, Steve.” Tony placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t know what’s going on, but if this guy did do something, let security handle it.”

Steve looked back and forth between the smug bastard and his love, ignoring the awkward silence that had descended on the party while the drama unfolded. Tony was right, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. He stood, pushing the waiter towards one of the guards, who caught the stumbling man easily and pinned his arms behind his back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he murmured, head down. He had almost certainly ruined the party, and had definitely embarrassed Tony in front of the business world.

When Tony didn’t respond, he raised his head so he could see the man’s expression. He was beginning to look very pale, and a bead of sweat ran down the un-masked side of his face. It seemed like a weird time for Steve to notice that they had never removed their masks like Tony said he normally did, but Steve’s mind was all over the place. He stepped towards the man, “Tony?”

“It’s about time it kicked in,” the smug asshole called out, and Tony turned slowly towards him, looking shocked and confused.

“Wha?” Tony stepped towards him but stumbled, and Steve had to lunge to catch him.

“Tony!”

Everyone was watching the scene unfold. Tony was in his arms looking dazed, breathing too quickly. Steve looked back at the asshole, and when they met eyes the man spoke again. “He was the problem, see? Now you can be Captain America again, unsoiled!” There was a mad glint to the man’s eyes. The guard holding him began dragging him away so they could question him in private. Pepper was approaching from the other direction with medics on either side of her.

Steve looked down again, terror beginning to take its icy hold on his heart. “Tony? Sweetheart?”

Tony looked up at him, scared himself. “Steve? I-” he shuddered in Steve’s arms. “I don’t feel well.”

“It’s going to be okay,” he tried to sound convincing as he laid the man on the ground for the medics to take over and examine. He stayed as close as he could so Tony could still see him. It was clear that panic was starting to take over for Tony though, and he reached out for Steve. His chest was heaving visibly.

Steve grabbed one of the glasses he knew Tony had drank from, more thankful than he’d ever been for his eidetic memory. “Whatever it is, it’ll be on this,” he showed the medic who wasn’t currently taking Tony’s pulse.

“Good, bring it with you,” the medic commanded. “We gotta go, now.”

Another two had arrived with a stretcher and they were lifting Tony onto it. Steve followed beside them, holding Tony’s outstretched hand. Tony looked like he was about to say something, but instead cried out in pain and clutched at his abdomen. His breathing remained labored all the way to the helicopter, where it stopped altogether. Steve was gently pushed into a seat while they started manually inflating Tony’s lungs, and Steve’s world was spinning. Tony was writhing in pain, still semi-conscious and all Steve could do was watch helplessly. When they landed at the hospital, Steve tried to stand and follow, but his knees locked in place and he was so dizzy.

A nurse was there at his side, and when had he laid down on the ground. “Hey, you’re okay, it’s just emotional shock. Let’s get you a blanket and some water, okay?” The man in scrubs said. Steve nodded, allowing the man to help him into shaky legs.

“Tony?” he asked, hoping the guy new what he meant.

Thankfully, he did. “You fiancé is being taken care of right now. Thankfully, we were able to determine the poison pretty quickly with his symptoms and the residue on the glass. We’re starting him on chelation. As long as he holds out a little longer, he’ll make a full recovery.”

As long as he holds out is what stuck in Steve’s mind. So there was still a chance Tony could die. “I need to be there,” he ground out, lurching forward from the chair he had been sat in.

“Hey,” the nurse caught his arm. “Okay, okay, let me take you there.”

Steve let him lead the way, and they were to Tony’s bed where an IV was still being put in his arm, and the man was already intubated. Steve collapsed unceremoniously into the seat beside Tony opposite to the side the nurse was on, grabbing Tony’s hand. He squeezed just tight enough to let Tony know he was there, that Tony had to pull through. The words he had spoken earlier that night were running through his head on repeat and he felt sick. Fear is a disease that eats away at logic and makes man inhuman.

How could someone do something like this to someone like Tony? All in the name of him being Captain America, ‘unsoiled’? The idea of Steve being with another man was so frightful to someone that they’d poison Iron Man just to stop it? It was completely illogical and crazy, but that was the point. Steve was terrified in this very moment, and it was coupled with a rage and illogical desire to beat the waiter to death. Such violence wouldn’t help Tony survive, and it would do zero good for the world, but the idea of it alone helped assuage some of Steve’s fear. Fear could truly turn the gentlest of men to inhumane acts. It shouldn’t have been such a surprise to Steve, he had already seen it played out in the war, but the shock of it was real everytime he faced that reality. Tony would be okay, he had to be, but Steve would be haunted by this forever.

#thearkoctoberchallenge2018 #stony #tony stark #steve rogers #marvel #fanfic #superhusbands #marian anderson #marriage proposal

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