#also new hair and beard stuff to be bought in the shop

[darth-bagel]

OKAY SO, my game finally updated-- it took more than an hour which is frankly, forever, with the internet speeds I've been accustomed to in the most recent years but that's beside the point. but new update, usually I don't pay much attention beyond checking if my bugs got fixed and reading through the patch notes-- I read that they are planning to update Hutta to match the new areas but-- I didn't expect THIS

this is just base game locations. LOOK AT THEM. it's not chock-full of yellow clouds anymore, polluted true but GODDAMN. also look at that comparison shot from the starting BH cutscene--

do i need to say more? if this is what Broadsword is going to do with locations we know and love? i am so on board.

[laikaflash]

A Mirror Across Timelines: Mitsurugi

(For the September community prompt. This will also be on Ao3 with notes and stuff later.)

As strange as it had been for Mitsurugi to find himself in Beijing, he was brimming with strength. Not a moment ago, he was in a Spanish port town and what had happened there was far too invigorating to have been a dream. In a flash of white light, he was spirited away to a place lit by a strange fiery glow. All around him floated towers and arches that twisted and broke into rubble, all being pulled into a blue maelstrom. The air itself thrummed with power when he dueled the silver-haired shapeshifter Iska Acht who brought him there. Then came a voice that rumbled through the chaos like distant rapids, but its words were no clearer to him even as the second white light faded. Whatever it was that had awakened there—warrior or demon—Mitsurugi wondered if it was waiting for him in Ming.

Passing shop after shop along the wide street, Mitsurugi looked around to get his bearings. Although he could recognize many characters, his pronunciation of any of them would stand out as much as his armor did. Passersby gave him a wide berth and he caught more than a few uneasy looks from them. Mitsurugi maintained a nonchalant attitude that had served him well in his travels, but there seemed to be something more to their wariness. Was Hideyoshi carrying out his ambitions of conquest?

Amid all the chatter, he caught the word wōkòu—Japanese pirate. Mitsurugi jerked his head to his left and saw two young men hurry into an alley and disappear. He scowled, knowing it would make no difference to them that he had slain pirates on his way back to Japan several years ago. Shading his eyes as the sun glared through a gap in the dark clouds, he hastened his steps. Though the clouds were rolling northward, toward the mountains, the air felt heavy enough to rain at any moment. Much to his relief, ahead was a red-fringed banner that bore the character for wine.

He had not realized just how hungry he was until he walked into the tavern. Mitsurugi had no desire to explain in halting Chinese how he had gotten here from Spain, but the tavern-keeper had noticed the reals among his few wén coins and seemed to give a knowing nod. After a filling meal of fried rice and enough wine to ease his nerves, Mitsurugi bought a night’s stay in a small room upstairs. As he settled in and began to unfasten his armor, thunder rumbled outside and rain followed.

Whoever this new opponent is, he thought to himself, maybe the silver-haired child will lead me to him.

A white flash, like lightning striking nearby, startled him to his feet. But no sound came. A blaze of crimson light filled the room. Mitsurugi grabbed his sword, with only his cuirass remaining to shield him. His heart pounded fiercely as he recognized the power that coursed through him once more as he prepared to draw. The red light vanished as though it had been snuffed, leaving only the soft light of the paper lantern overhead.

Now a swordsman stood before him. His short, black hair was streaked with gray, as was his beard. A katana was tied at his sash, yet the top of his frayed, black kimono hung off his left shoulder like a monk’s robe. The hems of his black hakama were equally tattered. A large necklace of prayer beads hanging from his right shoulder seemed to complete his monkish look. Yet, his bare right arm bore what were almost certainly dueling scars.

“Are you here to fight me?” Mitsurugi challenged.

Sardonically, the swordsman raised a thick eyebrow. “Here?” he asked with a barely suppressed laugh. “Don’t you know who I am?” He pointed to a single, round scar just below his right shoulder.

Mitsurugi sheathed his sword and instinctively touched the same spot on his cuirass. “How…?” he gasped. “How is it possible?”

“You should know.”

There was no mistaking the scar from the tanegashima duel. Mitsurugi remembered how Iska Acht changed her form three times to test him, but it had been nothing like this. If this was a trick, he suspected that his older self would not have bothered to kick off his geta. “I mean… How did you get here?”

“Ah, that. The Astral Chaos brought me here, and there’s no telling where it can take you. I could’ve gotten lost there if it wasn’t for you. Tell me, where are we now?”

“Beijing. The outer city.”

The swordsman took a glance from the lattice window. “So it is. What year is it? You look about twenty years younger than me.”

“Eighteenth year of Tenshō, unless something happened while I was gone. Or, an Earth Ox year.”

At this, his older self cracked a wry smile. “Hm. Say, is that Shishi-Oh?”

Mitsurugi hesitated, noticing that the grip on the swordsman’s katana was black. “Yes.”

“May I see it for a moment?” The swordsman’s voice lowered to an almost reverent tone.

Mitsurugi’s heart sank at the thought that his finest sword had been lost. Even so, he unsheathed it. The older Mitsurugi gazed upon Shishi-Oh as though it were a son he had not seen in years. His expression turned somber and wizened.

“Cherish it. Hone it and wield it well.”

“Of course.” Mitsurugi gravely nodded and sheathed his sword. “I need it in top condition. There’s an opponent I’m supposed to meet. He must have something to do with this Astral Chaos. I heard something—”

Surprise flashed in the older swordsman’s eyes. “What did you hear?”

“I couldn’t make it out. That silver-haired child, what’s her name…? Iska Ahha…” He felt his throat catch on what was meant to be a guttural sound, along with slight embarrassment for it. “Acht, that’s it! I thought this Iska Acht would bring me to a worthy opponent, but well, here I am. Whatever that voice was, she had different ideas.”

The older swordsman thoughtfully rubbed his chin. “You’ll meet him, this new opponent.”

“Where did—uh, where might I find him?” Mitsurugi felt as though he had been talking to Edge Master, rather than himself.

“You won’t find him right away, but you will need one thing. Head to the fortress at Xiwei on the western border of Ming, and in time, you’ll meet your greatest opponent yet.”

Mitsurugi grinned. “That’s more like it! But what am I supposed to find there?”

“A shard of the very sword that started this. You’ll know you’ve found it when you feel it.”

With his brow furrowed, Mitsurugi wondered if it was that same power he had felt in the Astral Chaos. “If that’s so, I’ll prepare to set off at once!”

The older swordsman grinned back at him. Then crimson light filled the room once more. A regretful look crossed his face he stepped back into his geta. “I'm afraid I can’t stay much longer.”

Mitsurugi stood transfixed at the glowing portal, half-expecting Iska Acht to appear. He almost wanted to reach out to his older self, but he gratefully bowed.

“Fare well.”

Mitsurugi felt a chill as his older self stepped into the twisting chaos. At once, the crimson light was gone, and in one last flash of white, the room was once again as it should have been. He fell silent as the sounds of people in the tavern, noises of the street, and rain returned all at once to his ears.

“Damn,” he hissed, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I could’ve asked him what changed in his time!” But he knew it would be a long time before he reached Japan again, and he was no stranger to long journeys. Mitsurugi quietly settled on the bed and began to plan. Soul Edge itself seemed nearer than it had ever been.

[neerdokells]

In With the Old, Part 1

Notice: While this specific entry is clean, it is the introduction to a story that will include mature themes, such as transformation, sex, femdom, and gender fuckery.

It started with an antiquing trip.

My wife, Linda, had accepted a new job which required us to relocate, but the pay was great; so much, in fact, that we could afford a house in the new town and get by just fine regardless of how long it took me to find work. With all the extra room we now had, we needed furniture and decorations to make it a home. So we were on one of those antique trails on the weekend, a dozen or so shops in one area with a map and a crowd drifting back and forth along the path. The truck was slowly filling up.

It was at our fifth shop that I spotted a bin of cast iron cookware. It looked to be in rough shape, but I didn't mind, since I didn't really need it for cooking. There was a bare wall in the kitchen where some skillets would look great, cleaned up a bit and hanging, so I asked about them. It turned out to be a lot sale; I was either buying the entire bin, or none of it. I wasn't sure I needed quite that much, but I definitely wanted some, so I sprung for it without checking the contents in greater detail. Linda and I agreed we could figure out what to do with any extra pieces later.

My job hunt had yet to yield results, and my primary contribution to the household had been the housework and unpacking. It was a couple months of sorting through our stuff and finding homes for it, between things we bought and things we had packed, before I got around to the cookware. Each piece had a significant amount of grime and rust on it, so I hadn't bothered until I knew I had time to deal with them properly. The bin had been left in the garage for when I was ready for it, so I set up an electrolysis basin next to it and began prepping the cast iron to go into the bath. As I dug through and prepped pieces, I dug out an antique teapot. It looked ancient, and fragile. Porcelain, at a guess. How it survived in the bin was anyone's guess. But it wasn't rusted, obviously, so I sat down with a rag and some cleaner to get the surface grime off.

When the teapot began to shake and emit smoke, I jumped back and dropped it. Not only did it not break, but it continued to shake and smoke until the mist gathered into a single area and solidified into a man! He was a bit taller than me, probably just over six feet as opposed to my 5'10”, but considerably more muscular. He had a long beard, short hair, and bronze skin.

“Thank you for releasing me, mortal!” his voice boomed, shaking the tools on my garage shelves. “For finding and releasing me, I will grant you three wishes!”

“What are you, a genie?” I asked.

“I…yes, I'm a genie. I thought that would be clear.”

“Right, it's just, I was under the impression genies weren't real, is all. So I wasn't anticipating, you know,” I waved my hand to indicate his whole body, “all of this.”

“We are a rare phenomenon, usually only one is released in a century! You are fortunate, indeed, Master!”

“Right, yeah, I mean. I've heard the stories, though.”

“Our works are the stuff of legends, surely you've heard wondrous tales!”

“I mean, yeah, that, but also. So, the thing is, wishes are kinda…sketchy, aren't they?”

“Sketchy?”

“Like, isn't there usually some kind of catch?”

“I assure you, we djinn deliver exactly what our masters wish!”

“Okay, you know what, I'm not doing this. For my first wish, I want you to be completely honest, fair, and accurate with me whenever I ask you a question from this moment forward, without counting questions as wishes.”

“That is…very pointed.”

“Mhm. And?”

“And your wish is granted, of course,” he said, slumping down to sit on an overturned bucket.

“Thank you. Is it true that wishes often turn out to be a significant hassle or problem for the person who made the wish?”

“Well, yes. It is.”

“Why? What do you get out of that?”

“I don't get anything out of it. It is not an act of malice.”

“Then what is it?”

“Balance.” He explained to me that, as personified magical energy arising from the flow of the world, genies are bound to the balance of all things. Their magic must always have a reaction; and since most wishes introduce chaos into the system, the system responds by enforcing some form of order on it. “The problem isn't that I seek to punish them for their wishes, it's that, when you ask to suddenly upend the entire economy of a continent, there must be a lot of order imposed on how that happens, to ensure the world does not tip too far into chaos.”

I thought for a little bit about his words, before finally asking, “Can you see the shifts in this balance ahead of time?”

“Yes.”

“And it's transactional?”

“How do you mean?”

“If I asked you what would need to happen for a certain wish to be granted, could we tinker with the wording and the cost until we get a wish where the balanced cost is known and acceptable to me?”

“I've never tried that, but I suppose it's possible.”

“Hot damn!” I cried, clapping and jumping to my feet. “Sounds like we have some work to do! But first, I need to get past you there. I haven't finished cleaning those skillets.”

“That is a task well within my capabilities.”

“I'm not wasting wishes on dishes, man. Speaking of. A teapot?”

“You can choose what my vessel looks like while it is in your care. The last master chose a teapot. Less obvious, he said.”

“That checks out, I guess. What's your name, anyway?”

“Yakov.”

“Pleased to meet you. I'm Bryce.”

*****

By fhe time Linda got home, Yakov had returned to his teapot. I didn't really know how to explain the situation to her, and she was eager to tell me about the progress she'd made on her project at work, so we talked about that. She informed me that her job wanted her to take a business trip the following week, and she felt it was a great opportunity. I figured, by the time she got back, I'd probably have this genie situation sorted out. Or, at least, know how to tell her without sounding crazy or freaking her out.

The rest of the week, Yakov and I hammered out details while I did housework. I would ask how he would grant a certain wish, like immortality or riches, and he would tell me. We'd talk about why that consequence, specifically, had come up, and use that discussion to explore ways the wish could be augmented. I wrote the terms of the wish down once I felt it was as good as it was going to get.

After I dropped Linda off at the airport on Sunday evening, I fired up a spreadsheet to lay out everything we'd established so far. I could set most of the housework aside for a few days, I figured, since no one but me and the genie were going to see it, anyway.

“What about freeing you?” I asked over lunch on Monday. “Is that a thing that happens?”

“No.”

“Can it?”

“Yes,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning on the fridge, “but it is complicated. I would have to cease to be a genie.”

“And become what?”

“A mortal human. I would still have incredible magic, but it would fade, and I would become a perfectly normal human being within about three decades.” He stood bolt upright after that, staring into space.

“Yakov? You good?”

“I…I didn't know any of that.”

“So the wish for you to be accurate means you'll answer questions correctly, even if you didn't know the answer before I asked?”

“It would appear that way.”

“Hey, wait! This is the first real chance we've had to test this! What are the Powerball numbers for the next drawing?”

He rattled off a set of numbers, and I wrote them down. After lunch, I went out and bought a ticket with those numbers, as a test to see if he was really bound to tell the truth to all my questions. When the ticket won, I was finally convinced everything he was saying was true.

*****

I made arrangements with an accountant to handle the money that would come in from the ticket, once Linda and I worked out what it would mean for us. She was excited, of course, but concerned about taxes and blowing it all, so she intended to keep working until she knew it would all pan out. By Friday, Yakov and I were looking at a full list of refined wishes.

“You can't do all of them, you know,” he warned.

“No, I know.” He had explained already that, if I tried to find a loophole by making one wish be that he would do everything on the list, it would backfire. The magic had a way of knowing when you were trying to cheat it; apparently, working out an acceptable balance wasn't considered cheating, but rather a respectable attempt to play by the rules. He told me he'd never encountered anyone trying that approach before. “But you said this fae one would grant me access to a bunch of magic of my own?”

“Balance-free magic, at that.” I had asked about gaining magic I could just use after I ran out of wishes, and we had worked out that the best way to balance consequences for that was if I stopped being human. After some back and forth, we settled on the fae; while he didn't believe they were real, they were believed to be entities of chaos. This meant that their magic was not inherently offset by enforced order, which made it much more flexible. Becoming something inhuman seemed a very fierce consequence for the power, but he assured me it could be a form that would include shapeshifting, so I could spend some time appearing human if I chose. He could not, however, guarantee what my fae form would look like.

I could have the magic to make life for me and Linda whatever we wanted, and the money to pay for whatever I didn't need to use the magic on. It almost felt like too much, but that's the point of wishes, right? Try to make the best of them?

In the end, I felt that was the best bang for my buck. The other wish would be to free Yakov. I had been concerned about giving him mortality, but he waxed poetic for about an hour about how a few decades of life, real, free life, with a concrete ending was better than an eternity of being enslaved or waiting to be enslaved. I suppose he had a point. But if I freed him as my second wish, I wouldn't get a third, as he wouldn't be a genie anymore. And if I got my magic as my second wish, I wouldn't be able to free him as my third, since genies only serve humans.

The plan was complicated, but we felt good about it. The second wish would be to free him, but it would have a trigger: it would be set to get fulfilled as soon as my third wish was fulfilled. We worked late into the night refining the wording, and then it was time.

I made my wishes, using the exact wording we had worked out, and then I was blinded by a flash.

[nilesabbott]

Hey there, you beautiful people.

It's again done time ago, since I posted the last time. And I know, that nobody cares 😅

Anyway: I'm physically in great shape. I halved my weight. That means, that I lost 65 kilogram (about 143 lbs) and now I weight, unsurprisingly, 65 kilogram/143 lbs 😂

I even developed a "hint" of abs 😅

I'm growing out my hair. In the past, I had a haircut like Ragnar from vikings. Now I try to let my hair grow completely long.

And I changed more physically. I got rid of my body hair and even of my beard. I actually look younger than I ever did 😅 I mean ... a merchant recently asked for my id when I bought a beer 😂 But she might simply have bad eyesight 😂

My fashion changed also, together with a new raised feeling of self-esteem. I turned into a goth/alternative style guy. The way I always wanted to look, to be honest.

I finally can go into a shop and wear what I like. Ok, not exactly. I need size Small or Medium, and most shops offer Large as standard 😅 But I can find and already found a lot great stuff at second hand shops and apps. It's nice to not having to search for XXXL stuff. Especially since the small sizes look better, because they rarely make cool clothes for bigger sizes.

Besides of that ... my mental health is a different story. Quitting drinking helped me a lot. But still the scars of my past bite me hard, especially in the night. At least I'm more aware and can sort and name the stuff, which happened to me. Physical violence, psychological violence and even s*xual violence. All 3 even in my marriage.

But I get along. I still need to find a good therapist, which isn't easy in my region. They often have waiting lists for over 3 years. Only emergency stuff will get a date more early. And thankfully, I'm not in such a bad state anymore.

And in the relationship topic ... I'm still single and I still hate it 😂 Gay dating is still the worst, since many guys just think about one thing only. Plus ... let's say, I am not the exact taste for most gay folks. It feels, like most don't really like the goth style. But I am finally myself, so I won't change myself completely just to appeal more to others. Then I prefer staying alone for the rest of my days.

[queenbeean]

for better or for worse / bucky barnes

author’s note: this is my first bucky fic so bear with me please; this is my entry for @celestialbarnes 4k writing challenge; i’m sorry this is short and bad

warnings: bad writing, angst, mentions of cheating, fluff and smut MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

prompt #6 “i guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse”

taglist: @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

Bucky has never walked faster in his life. The handle of the plain brown paper bag was almost burning him. He felt as if everybody walking down the street was either staring at him or at the bag. What’s worse, he felt like every person knew what was inside the bag. His heart was beating faster. You were going to kill him. Maybe worse, he feared you were going to freak out, feel violated and then dump him. But on the other hand, he promised you he’d do this. Well, only part of it.

“Fuck.” He whispered. Or he thought he did. When he felt three people turning their heads to him, he pulled his cap down and walked faster to your shared apartment. Once he closed the door, he finally allowed himself to breathe. Leaning over the door, he took his cap and ran his fingers to his now shorter and quite sweaty hair.

“Why are you all flushed? And what’s in the bag?” Before Bucky could register Sam’s voice, he drew his knife out and threw it at where he heard him. Sam was quick to react and moved his head in the nick of time.

“What the hell, Sam?” Bucky walked up to the wall where the knife was now stuck. That was going to be hard to explain to you. “How did you get in?”

“Did you also shop for lingerie back in the thirties?” Sam’s voice was overshadow by the sound of wrinkling tissue paper.

Bucky almost flew and ripped the bag from Sam’s hand, ripping the bag in the process and making the contents of the bag explode in every direction. “That’s none of your business. Now you need to go.” He said as he pushed his business partner out the door.

Before he could close it, Sam stopped him. “Listen, I wouldn’t have peeked if I knew those were going to be in there. It was payback from that time I got donuts for my nephews.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Say hi to Y/N for me.” Sam said as he walked to the elevator.

For the second time, Bucky leaned against the door. He knew it wasn’t a good idea to go shopping for underwear. But he had promised you to replace the thong he ripped from your body. The memory of your small moans against his neck as you two tried new things flooded his mind. The two of you have never tried quickies in forbidden places but he couldn’t bear the thought of not talking to each other anymore. Which was the other reason why he decided to buy you one or maybe four more lingerie sets. The very same sets that were now thrown everywhere.

As he picked them up, he could only imagine how you would look in them. That image and the memory of the last time you two made love made his pants considerably tighter but you wouldn’t be home for another six hours. Maybe he could wait for you. Prepare dinner and wrap his presents for you.

Who was he kidding? The smallest thought of you had him craving you hard. And since he couldn’t have you right now, he was left with one thing to do.

Six hours later, you closed the door behind you and dropped your stuff, your keys getting caught with your scarf that also fell. “Shit.” You whispered under your breath. As you bent down to pick them up, something from underneath the couch caught your attention. “What the hell?” Your finger was almost burning as the little piece of fabric hung from it. It was a pastel blue and lace and there wasn’t almost any fabric to it. What was worse, it wasn’t yours.

I swear to God, if he cheated on me...

The opening of the door, awoke Bucky from his nap. “Hi, doll.” His smile almost made you forget about the incriminatory thong. The anger in your eyes made him sober up and sit up. “Doll?”

“Don’t call me that, James. What the fuck is this?!” You threw the fabric to his face. As soon as he took it from his face, his eyes widened. “I guess you didn’t mean it when you said for better or for worse.”

“Doll? Doll, it’s not what it looks like!” He yelled after you and almost caught you but you shut the bathroom door on his face. The first wave of shock simmered down and the reality of the situation caught up to you. He didn’t deny it but the look on his face was an answer, right? What if he didn’t? But what if he did? Oh, God, you almost threw up at the thought...

You were snapped out of it when the door was opened — or rather ripped off its hinges quite easily. Curse his vibranium arm, you thought.

“Did you cheat on me?”

“No.” Bucky said as he came closer to you. “No, I didn’t. I would never.” His hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs wiped away the few tears that came out. The look on your face broke his heart. He hates that he wasn’t careful enough with his present for you. And more importantly, that yesterday’s fight led to you not trusting him anymore.

“Whose thong is that then?” You sniffled.

Bucky smiled slightly at you. He took your hand and led you to the kitchen pantry where he kept your present for the time being. He rummaged through the contents of the gift bag and pulled out the exact same panties he ripped off you. “Remember yesterday when I promised I’d buy you another?” You nodded and felt embarrassment fill you. “I might have gotten carried away and bought some sets I think you might like but I can always return them if you don’t like them, well except for the blue one because the tag is ripped off. I’m going to make Sam pay me back if you don’t like that one-”

You cut him off by pulling him down to your height and kissing him. His beard was slightly scratching you but you didn’t care. He went through all the trouble and bought you stuff the both of you might enjoy. The thought of this hundred-year-old man going out and do something like that made you feel so stupid but so incredibly loved and special.

“I’m sorry I doubted you.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Bucky said as he lifted you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he led the two of you to the couch. “I can see how this could be misinterpreted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“Well I’m sure you can make it up to me.” Bucky smirked as he laid back on the couch, leaving you straddling his hips. “If you want to of course.”

You placed a finger on his mouth. “How can I not want to when you are the sweetest old man? Wait, that didn’t sound as sexy as I hoped.”

Bucky chuckled, placing his hands underneath your shirt and rubbing circles on your hips. “Good thing I know what you mean... and that I don’t look my age.”You frowned and crossed your arms. “I’m kidding, doll.” His palms moved to your back and pulled you to him, your lips meeting his as soon as you were close enough.

“Bucky.” You moaned against his lips, his kiss leaving you breathless and wanting more. “Bucky, please.”

“What do you need, doll?”

“I need you...” You moaned again as his lips kissed underneath your jaw. “Make love to me please.”

“Gladly, doll.” His hands took the hem of your shirt and pulled it off you. Your hands were quick to unclasp your bra and throw it on the floor.

Both of your hands bumped into each other as you tried to unbutton each other’s jeans. “You do yours and I’ll do mine.” You stood up to take off yours along with your pants and he wriggled until he got them off, his boxers included. Once more, you straddled his hips and bent down to kiss him again.

“Ouch.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked you as he examined your face, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Something poked me.”

Bucky chuckled. “I guess I’m a little excited.”

You rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t you.” You moved your hand in between your bodies and pulled out a... tag? “James Buchanan Barnes, did you spent seventy dollars on me? Wait, no, you got more stuff. How much did you spend on me?”

“It was my pleasure, doll. Just like it’s my pleasure to do this.” He repeated his actions from before and pulled you down but this time, his lips took one of your nipples into his mouth, kissing it and licking it as his vibranium arm played with the other bud, instantly erecting it with the cold metal.

“Bucky.” You moaned again as you bucked your hips against his, his hard cock rubbing your clit.

“Wrap your cunt around me, doll.” He said as he switched his lips to your other breast.

Blindly, you positioned yourself and slowly sank down onto him. Your hands gripped his shoulders hard at the delicious stretch but he didn’t complain. “Bucky, fuck! Bucky, Bucky!” You moaned out loud as you were filled completely by him.

“That’s it, doll. You feel so good, so tight, so warm.” Bucky never thought he’d be able to enjoy this level of pleasure and he never did until he met you.

You started off by moving your hips lazily, still feeling the stretch from his big cock. As the pleasure built, you sat up straight and placed your hands on his chest. You needed something to support yourself as Bucky decided you were ready to bounce on him. He gripped your hips and helped you move up and down, leaving you breathless.

“Y-you are s-so big, Bucky.” You breathed out as you tried to match the buck of his hips.

“And you are squeezing me too much, sweetheart. I’m close.” Bucky grunted out and took your hands in his.

You opened your eyes and looked at him as your bouncing slowed down. He looked beautiful underneath you, his eyes shut and always the gentleman, he held it in so you could come first. Not that he’d need time to recover, he was a super soldier after all but it was the thought that counted. But you wanted him to enjoy the ride so you started...

“Y/N, no.” Bucky said in between moans. “Doll...”

Your voice was breathless as you started spelling his name. “Just relax, Bucky and fill me up.” As soon as you said those words, he pinned your hands behind your back and brought you down to him.

With a short margin, he was able to drill into you for what felt like forever and even after you were squeezing him for all he was worth, he didn’t let up until the amount of Bucky coming out of your mouth decreased considerably and also when he felt your juices combined with his were running down both your legs.

With shaky legs, you tried and sat up. Your walls still throbbing around his cock. “Let’s stay like this for a bit and then we can take a bath.” Bucky suggested, voice still breathless.

“Okay.” You whispered as you rested your cheek on his chest. “By the way, how did you know what store to go to?”

“How could I not know, doll? I love you and I know what makes you happy.” Bucky felt how you tensed at his words. “What is it?”

“I still feel bad for not trusting you.”

Bucky brought his hand to brush your hair in comfort. “Don’t apologize, love. If it had been the other way around, I’d probably have thought the same.” He whispered and kissed the top of your head. “And I meant what I said yesterday, for better or for worse. Life will take weird turns but we are going to get through them together. It’s you and me.”

“Who would’ve thought Sergeant Barnes could be so soft?” You teased him but knew he meant it.

“Maybe you could model the lingerie for your Sergeant?”

“Way to ruin the moment, James.”

“You love me.”

“I do love you, Bucky. For better and for worse.”

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Nothing Else Matters

reference picture by @amisthiosintraining​

anonymous said:  Abby + Female reader, but it's Abby the one being f—cked with the strap on (I'm curious on that one)

Well, here you go. Abby and the reader have been hooking up for a while and the reader has managed to get their hands on some toys to make things more interesting. (5k words of SMUT)

content warning for bondage, light degradation and swearing, risk of exposure, ask to tag

Nothing Else Matters

The air in the room was damp and the smell of the sweaty bodies twitching and jumping reached your nostrils as you sat down to watch. You took off your sweater and placed it beside you, scanning the group of people for a familiar face.

There she was, her blonde braid flying as she whirled around, her face red and sweaty, full of concentrated rage. With an angry cry, she backhanded her partner across the face and sent him straight to the ground. She was glorious, muscles glistening in the neon light as she straddled the man on the ground and caught him in a headlock, grunting as she tightened her grip while he thrashed about trying to free himself. You could see her bicep flexing against his throat and his eyes widening at the sensation. 

Finally, he tapped her underarm two times and she let go immediately, rolling off of him and laying on the ground next to him, arms and legs spread wide. The man with hazel hair and a short beard was half-coughing, half-laughing and clutching his throat while the other soldiers ignored the pair and kept training.

“Jesus Christ Abby, do you want to kill me?”

She huffed and sat up, giving him a pat on the thigh.

“You deserved it, always skipping combat training to fool around with Mel.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason you’re so angry! You’re jealous,” he laughed and immediately put his arms up in defense before she could slap him, but she only leaned back on her arms and shrugged. When she looked up, she caught your gaze and you almost believed she had known you were there all along. The look only lasted a moment, then she smiled back at Owen.

“I’m not, you know that. Why would I waste my time thinking about you when there’s someone a million times hotter than you?”

Owen gasped in feigned shock and sat up as well.

“Better than this beautiful face and these” - he flexed his biceps - “perfectly sculpted muscles?”

Now Abby actually slapped him. He stood up and reached out a hand to help her up.

“Come on, tell me who it is. A soldier?”

The blonde slapped his hand away and got up on her own.

“I’ll tell you if you win this next round. Let’s go!”

She clapped her hands and let him attack, dodging his first few punches with ease before knocking him back into another pair of fighting wolves.

You smiled to yourself and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees. As your thoughts drifted elsewhere, the heavy breathing and grunting became white noise and Abby’s arms were the only thing you saw.

Working as a cook, you had often seen her and her friends in the cafeteria, always joking around and making a mess, clearly the popular kids at the base. Abby had been the one to clean up after the boys and apologize for their behavior when they were gone, always making sure to thank your colleagues for their effort and be nice to everyone.

She had noticed you a few weeks ago when you were on your break, sitting alone at a table reading and enjoying the silence in the big hall between mealtimes. The wolf had come over and asked if there were some leftovers for her as she had missed lunchtime for an extra round of training. You had made her some food and kept her company, both of you quickly finding out you got along extremely well and had many shared interests, especially the books you liked to read.

It had gone very fast from there. Secret meetings in empty hallways, sneaking out from work to steal a kiss between the clothing racks, slipping into her room when Manny was away for missions, you always found your way into each other’s arms. While you hadn’t admitted to yourself that it was anything more than just sex, you also spent quite a lot of time just reading or watching movies together, cooking or playing cards and Abby had even shown you some self-defense and wrestling moves that always ended with the two of you naked.

While the wolf was usually very dominant and protective, it was entirely different when you were alone. After you had hooked up the first few times, she had asked you to be rougher with her, leaving you surprised but not at all disinclined.

 You had found out that she actually liked to let go of all control and submit in the safe environment you had created for yourselves. While you had never really been super dominant before, you had quickly learned to enjoy this new role, always coming up with new ideas to make your lover squirm, suffer and cry beneath you.

Today you had something special in mind. Manny was out taking younger soldiers to an outpost for the first time and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, so you’d have the room to yourself. 

Your friend Jessie was running a little secret business on the base and you had already purchased a few goods for yourself but never shared them with Abby. Jessie, a trained soldier that wasn’t on active duty because of an injury but still did regular patrol runs to secure the area, had made it her purpose to find all the sex shops in the city and bring back merchandise that was still good to use. Together with her girlfriend who worked in the clothing department, she had started to sell toys, lingerie, and anything of that kind you couldn’t get at the commissary.

You often had coffee with the two of them, referring them to new customers around the stadium and talking about your new sexual adventures. Of course they didn’t know your partner was Isaac’s top soldier, but they gave you a lot of good ideas. Today you had decided it was time to try something more daring. Jessie had shown you how to use the things you had bought and now they were lying in a bag between your feet, drawing your eyes and thoughts toward them and whispering to you about all the things you could do with them.

You were torn from your thoughts by the trainer in the corner clapping loudly.

“Alright guys, dinner’s in half an hour. Good work, I’ll see you on Wednesday. You too, Owen.”

She gave the grinning man a stern look, but he just winked at her and turned around to Abby.

“So, you gonna tell me who you’ve got your eye on?”

“Hell no, you lost three times. Try again next time.” Abby shoved him playfully and walked past him to collect her bag. She emptied half her water bottle in one go and looked up at you before splashing some water on her face. What a tease.

“You coming?” Owen was already at the door.

“I need a minute to talk to someone. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Alright.” He shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.

The sweaty blonde casually came over to your bench and sat next to you, keeping a few inches between you.

“Did you enjoy the show?” You didn’t look at her but you could tell by her voice she was trying to stifle a grin.

“Oh, I most definitely did. It stopped far too soon though.” You turned your head and let your eyes wander over her freckled shoulders, her neck glistening with sweat and her chest still moving rapidly underneath the tight sports bra. “I was thinking maybe I could get a private encore back at your room.”

Abby suddenly sat up straight and her face seemed to go even more red than it already was. She was still staring at the floor in front of you, tightening her grip around the water bottle and biting her lip. You decided to take a risk and ran your fingertips over her lower back, otherwise completely relaxed and watching the remaining few people in case anyone noticed.

“You fought so well today, baby. What would they say if they knew how you surrender to me with a single word from me? How you’ll beg me to fuck you just for the chance of having my fingers inside of you?”

Abby let out a shaky breath and squirmed on her seat, a mere tilt of her head in your direction telling you she enjoyed this as much as she hated it.

“What would they say if they knew I have a rope inside my bag, waiting for me to tie you up and leave you completely defenseless at my mercy?”

Her knuckles were white from the tension in her hands and she pressed her thighs together.

“Baby…” she gave you a pleading look, “please stop torturing me.”

The last few people were clearing out and the trainer nodded at Abby who just raised a hand in greeting, trying to act normal. As soon as the room was empty you turned to her, grabbed her braid and pulled it down and towards you, her face only an inch from yours as a moan escaped her.

“Are you so needy already, you little slut?” You lightly pinched her breast and she whined, leaning into you and pressing her head against your collarbone.

“Please, please, baby, let’s go back to my room. I’ll do everything you want. I need you.”

You let go of her braid, stood up abruptly and turned to her. Abby immediately grabbed your thighs and pulled you in, pressing her forehead to the seam of your jeans. You put your hands on your hips and sighed.

“I don’t know, maybe we should have dinner first. Also, you need to shower, you’re filthy.”

In reality, Abby being all sweaty and hot made you want to pin her against a wall and lick her clean, but you kept that to yourself for now.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll be good. I can’t wait that long.”

You freed yourself and pulled her up, giving her a peck on the lips.

“You go shower. I’ll wait for you in your room.”

She smiled and quickly grabbed her stuff, stealing another kiss before rushing toward the community showers. Also not a bad place for some secret public action, you thought. Maybe in the early morning when no one was there. You could order the soldier to be quiet as you fucked her senseless and force her to relive the moment every time she took a shower afterward.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and grabbed your sweater, debating if you should make Abby have dinner with you in the cafeteria, teasing her the entire time and forcing her to keep calm in front of everyone while she was dripping wet for you. But you had to admit that you needed her, too. You could always get some leftovers for you later or wait until the morning when you had to work the breakfast shift anyway.

When you arrived at Abby’s room, you quickly looked left and right before entering and then headed straight for her bed. You took the smooth, black rope from your bag and laid it on the bed. Your second surprise could wait until later.

You let your fingers run over the spines of the books on the top bunk, smiling to yourself over the selection of old classics that definitely worked as a form of escapism from this place. Don Quijote, A Thousand and One Nights, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Abby didn’t seem like it at first glance, but she was a dreamer, always mentally wandering off and spending her time in other realities, ones where adventures were something you chose to go on. No infected, no sad remnants of what the world had once been, but beautiful landscapes, interesting strangers, and the joy of being alone but never lonely, wandering but at home anywhere in the world.

Her life had never been easy and she had suffered unspeakable pain, but she always found something worth smiling for, worth living for and she loved letting go of all the sadness and harshness and enjoying herself in those short, sweet moments when everything was okay.

Your time together had definitely made her happier than she had been in a long time and you were so, so good at letting her escape this reality and carrying her somewhere else.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, turning around to see a freshly showered Abby come down the stairs to the lower part of the room. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, unintentionally showing off her round shoulders, her breasts, and her thick, hard thighs stretching out the fabric of her shorts as she walked towards you. Her hair was still wet and she had already brushed it, the dark strands falling over her shoulders and framing her beautiful, still slightly flushed face.

“Hey baby,” she murmured and moved in for a kiss. Her lips were incredibly soft, gently brushing against yours and opening slightly for her tongue to touch your upper lip. You grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in, immediately deepening the kiss, dipping your tongue into her mouth and biting the blonde’s bottom lip. She sighed and fell into you, pushing you towards the bed but you grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled without too much force, just enough to make her stand straight and look at you with pleading eyes. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

You took a step back and looked her up and down.

“Clothes off.”

Abby’s eyes quickly went to the privacy shield next to her bed that she normally used to get dressed without half the stadium being able to see her naked, but you shook your head and she dropped her gaze, blushing again. You watched her as she pulled up the shirt over her head, revealing her freckled chest, perfectly sculpted abs and hard, dark pink nipples in the center of soft, ivory flesh.

When she ran her thumbs along the waistband of her shorts, she stared at you defiantly but you just held her gaze and smiled. You knew she was probably already dripping wet, secretly liking the risk and humiliation. If anyone were to walk by below you or stare up from afar knowing who’s room they were looking at, they would see the two of you facing each other, one clothed and one completely naked, the tension between you almost flickering in the air.

You stepped aside and pointed towards the bed.

“On the bed, Abigail.”

The wolf shuddered at your use of her full name and you could see goosebumps forming on her arms. She lay down on the bed and you took the rope, very content about her eyes widening at the sight. Before you could say anything she held out her hands, breath catching in her throat.

You wrapped the black rope around her wrists, gently pulling it tight, and tied her hands to the metal rods at the top of the bed. Still having a few meters left, you tied the next knot around Abby’s left ankle, fastening it to the bed frame pressed to the wall and doing the same to the other foot, spreading her legs and pinning them in place.

You crouched down next to her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and cupping her cheek with your hand.

“I know this is new for you and I promise you, I’ll never do anything you don’t want. Just say the safeword and I’ll stop.”

The blonde nodded, squirming in her restraints.

“Abby, I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m okay. I’ll let you know if something is wrong. Now can you please fucking touch me already?” She bucked her hips up and tried to pull down her hands to touch you, grunting in frustration when the rope didn’t let her move an inch.

You reached out and ran your fingertips over her collarbone, her chest and down over her stomach, stopping right above the curls between her legs. She tried to press her legs together to get some form of friction but and whined when she couldn’t, but you just let your fingers wander further down her leg and up the other, caressing the inside of her thigh. When your fingers came closer to her sex, her breathing got faster and she stopped moving, hoping you would grant her a touch now that she was good.

Watching her face, you ran a finger along her hot folds, immediately coating your fingertip in her juices. She gasped when you stopped to draw small circles around her clit.

“So wet already? God, you just love being completely in my power.”

You dipped your finger in the pooling wetness, holding back for just a moment longer. Abby was already a mess beneath you, her legs twitching and her back arching in response to your teasing. You suddenly pulled your hand away and her eyes flew open to stare at you with a mixture of frustration and pleading.

“What if I just let you lie there while I get myself off over here? Make you watch without being able to do anything about it while you lie in your own juices? Take you to dinner after while you’re all needy and soaked?”

Abby’s mouth twisted into a pout and she looked like she was about to cry.

“Please, Y/N, please touch me. I can’t take it any longer. Please?” The last word was a whine and you decided to stop being cruel.

With one swift motion, you pushed two fingers all the way inside her. The blonde cried out and immediately pushed back against your hand, craving more. You slowly pulled your fingers back out and made sure to catch her gaze as you put them in your mouth and licked them clean.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Her eyes were full of longing when she accepted your fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as she looked up at you. You moved your hand downwards again, pushing your fingers inside her much slower this time and pulling them out again, beginning to stroke her in a slow rhythm.

With your other hand, you squeezed her breast and trailed your fingers over her nipples before running your fingers along the delicate skin of her jaw and throat.

You picked up the pace, fucking Abby harder while her whining got louder. Curving your fingers upwards and letting them flutter against that tender spot inside her, you heard her breath stop for a second before she let out a high pitched moan. You didn’t give her time to catch her breath, now hitting her in all the right spots, your fingers thrusting deep inside her and your thumb on that sweet, pulsing nub that had patiently waited for its turn.

It was wonderful, watching the small muscles on her stomach contract and her broad thighs pull on the restraints as she got closer and closer. Her whole body was tensing up and her moans got faster and higher until she cried out “I’m gonna cum, can I please cum!” and you immediately pulled your hand away.

She almost screamed in frustration.

“Baby, please, I’m so close!”

You slowly drew your digit along her bottom lip.

“Only if you ask me nicely. No cumming without my permission.”

She licked the tip of your finger and looked up at you.

“I promise I’ll be good, please.”

You lightly scratched her stomach on the way down and she trembled at the sensation. This time you lightly placed two fingers on her clit and started rubbing it in slow circles, never losing your pace as your lover’s moans got louder again. As soon as she asked if she could cum, you stopped moving but left your hand in place, keeping her dangerously close to the edge and to the possibility of a ruined orgasm.

The wolf was now actively fighting her restraints, pulling her hands downwards and trying to get loose but you had known what you were doing and the knots didn’t budge. Some strands of hair had fallen into her face, a thin coat of sweat was glistening on her forehead and between her breasts. She was a mess.

“Baby, please, please, I’m begging you. Please let me cum.”

You slid a finger inside her again, brushing against her g-spot as you gently put your other hand on her lower stomach and pressed down. She arched beneath you, pushing her hips into your touch and letting out a much deeper, almost animalistic groan. You took your time driving her closer and closer to that sweet high and waited for her to ask again, knowing she was scared to lose your fingers again but also not wanting to be punished for not asking permission.

Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I please cum, please, please, oh god -”

The words fell from her lips just as you pressed the pad of your thumb to her clit.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You were out of breath, pressing your thighs together to soothe the ache that had been growing between your legs. Suddenly the wolf beneath you cried out, her entire body twitching and convulsing around your fingers as you carried her through her orgasm. When she finally stopped moving, the room was filled with the sound of both of you panting and the smell of sex, sweat and heat had spread in every corner.

Slowly, you pulled your fingers from the blonde’s body and got up. She was still disoriented and gave you a confused look as you bent down to pick up your bag.

“You gonna cut me loose here?”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to pull your shirt over your head and take off your pants and ignoring your lover’s squirming.

“I got something else for you. I know I already make you scream with the touch of a single finger, but I think it’s time I gave you something bigger.”

Her eyes widened as you pulled a harness and a small package out of the bag. Sitting down next to her, you opened the carton and pulled out a black silicone dildo. Abby visibly shifted next to you and pressed her lips together, unwilling to give away her thoughts. As if she had any chance of hiding from you how much she wanted you to fuck her senseless, to make her see stars and completely destroy her.

You turned to her. “I need you to tell me what you want. We can do this another time or not at all. I’m all ears.”

You knew exactly what you were doing. While being an absolute service top, it was also extremely fun to watch Abby blush and stammer trying to pluck up the courage to tell you what she wanted. She was always so shy and embarrassed about wanting to be dominated, so you had made it your little game to force her to admit it.

“You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

“Oh Abs, you know you don’t get it that easily. What do you want me to do with it?”

She tried to avoid your gaze.

“You could fuck me with it?” she mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you. Speak up.” Oh, this was so much fun.

“Fuck you! You heard me right, you’re just teasing me.”

You slapped her breast and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t speak that way to me, you little whore. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been eyeing that dick. You want me to fucking ruin you and you’re too cowardly to say it. How disappointing.”

With a theatrical sigh, you got up and took a few steps towards your clothes on the stairs.

“Wait, baby, please. I’m sorry. Please.”

You turned on your heel and stared at her, lifting a brow.

“Come here, please. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t do anything but scream your name. Please, baby.”

Satisfied, you stepped into the loops of the harness and put the dildo through the metal ring, pulling everything tight as you felt Abby’s eyes roaming over you. Then you were next to her and started untying her feet. On second thought, you loosened the rope around her wrists as well.

“I’m not making this easy for you by tying you up. Your hands stay at the head of the bed. If you touch me, I’ll stop. If you behave, I’ll think about letting you cum a second time.”

The fear in Abby’s eyes was exhilarating. She nodded.

“Am I allowed to make noise?”

You thought about it for a second, then you agreed. This was the first time with a strap on, it would surely be hard enough to keep her hands still.

Checking to see if you’d need more lubrication, you inserted a finger into her - she was dripping wet.

“Pathetic.”

Before she could respond, you spat into your hand and coated the dildo in it. The wolf audibly swallowed at the sight. You knelt between her legs, rubbing your hand over her abs and breasts and mixing your saliva with her sweat. Goosebumps grew on her freckled skin.

Slowly, you lined yourself up with her throbbing cunt and started pushing into her. When you were all the way in, you stopped for a moment so Abby could adjust to the size. You slowly ran a hand up her body again and wrapped your fingers around her throat.

“I want to hear you.”

She gasped as you pulled out just a tiny bit and thrust back into her.

“Fuck me, please. I can take it. Fuck me hard.”

Without taking your hand off her, you pulled all the way out and watched her face as you pushed back into her with deep, hard strokes. She melted in your fingers. Her expression was a mixture of surprise, lust, satisfaction, a little bit of pain and an ever-growing hunger.

“Faster, baby,” she whined, her hands twitching towards your face for a moment before she stopped herself and pushed her hips up against you instead.

Deciding the wolf had begged enough, you straightened up and started picking up a faster pace. She started moaning, arching her back and pressing her hands against the metal bed frame. Going faster and faster, you savored every second of seeing her writhe beneath you, hearing the slaps of your skin against hers and the delightfully obscene wet noises her cunt made as it swallowed every thrust.

The strap on and the leather front of the harness worked just right in putting pressure on your clit, your breathing getting harder from effort and arousal at the same time. With one swift motion, you grabbed Abby’s ankles and pulled them up on your shoulders to get a deeper angle.

She let out a deep, coarse moan coming from deep within her and her eyelids flew open. Giving her a devilish smile, you folded your arms around her legs and began slamming your hips into her, your groans falling into the rhythm of Abby’s cries. Her biceps flexed deliciously as she pulled on the bed frame and threw her head back in ecstasy, a steady flow of curses streaming from her mouth.

Losing strength in your arms, you let go of her legs and they fell to your sides as you dropped forward onto your lover’s chest, keeping a steady pace. The friction to your own core was much stronger now and you felt yourself getting close to the peak.

“Touch me, now!” you commanded and her arms flew down and closed around your back, holding you close while digging her nails into your skin. She dragged them down as you fucked her harder, leaving burning streaks on your shoulder blades. Her legs also closed around your hips, amplifying your thrusts into her as you grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her scream out in pain and pleasure. You wanted her to cum with you, to ride this high together.

“Baby, I’m so close.” Finally.

“Come for me, Abby.” You sank your teeth into her throat and tightened your grip in her hair, grinding into her with all your strength until you both started crying out each other’s names, scratching and grabbing at each other’s bodies as waves of pleasure rushed over you and made you twitch and shake.

Still inside her, you lay on Abby’s chest, both of you coated in sweat, spit and each other’s juices. She ran a hand through your hair and drew the pad of her thumb over the red marks on your back.

“Oh Y/N, what are you doing to me?”

You reached back a hand to loosen the straps of the harness and lifted your head to look at the flustered blonde. Slowly, you pulled out of her and enjoyed the almost unnoticeable twitches of her face, small echoes of the sensations she had felt minutes before. The strap on fell to the floor with a heavy thud and you both had to laugh at the sound.

Abby sighed and pulled you closer.

“I think every single person on the base either saw or heard us. Or both.”

You buried your face between her breasts and soaked in her wonderful musk before licking a line all the way up to her earlobe.

“Do you care?”

She laughed again, her chest vibrating against yours.

“Not really, no. When I have you, nothing else matters.”

You both paused for a second, letting that sentence sink in. Carefully, you placed a soft kiss to her lips and she deepened it, caressing your tongue with hers and gently biting your bottom lip.

You would have to have this conversation sometime soon. But right now, it was enough to feel the deep, intense connection between you as you nestled your face in the crook of your lover’s neck and she pulled a sheet over both of you, enjoying this moment together without thinking of anything else, especially not the future.

When you were together, nothing else mattered.

-

Author’s note: Thank you for reading, feel free to tell me what you thought 💌 if you’d like, you can support me by buying me a coffee 💛

[heresathreebee]

Brackish And Briny Waters (three)

[Ralph Lamont X Female Reader]

Summary: Spend the weekend painting the house with your husband. Previous Masterlist Next

Tags: 17+ | 1.6k words | Painting a house together, aka domestic stuff, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, pulling out, vague mention of rats.

AN: part 4 is gonna get angsty I just finished it

Anything involving greens was a heavy battle between you two, as Ralph seemed to have some kind of vendetta against them. The more blue you got, the less you fought and you eventually settled on a cool tone to use for the laundry room with a compromise to paint floral accents in a forest green tone along the edges of the back wall. You did find an exact replica of one of the original wallpapers in your second bedroom which you wanted to move to the living room. 

Colors selected and purchased, you went home starving and managed to scrape together some left overs with a side of rice to fuel you to start on the real work. You also bought brown paper to cover the solar room window holes until you can finish that room as its own project. 

Ralph rolls up his sleeves and puts on his bleach stained lounge pants to help. You lay down tarp and use up 3 rolls of tape to cover the kitchen and the dining room. Every window and door is wide open as you set your record player to play some 'whistle while you work' type of albums. And whistle he does that husband of yours, enjoying your company and shaking his hips dramatically to make you laugh. You two haven't had this much fun in so long it feels like. 

The summer citrus color you chose for the kitchen was really working for you. Ralph intended to put the wallpaper up in the other room to get 'double the work done' but still you find him working the same wall just to be close to you. You talk about missing that classic NYC pizza and dinner tomorrow and Ralph promises to ask his colleagues about any music shops in the area. 

You take a nap on the porch swing to get away from the paint fumes, an iced tea almost slipping from your hand. When dinner time comes, you cook while he details the removal of the old wallpaper from the dining room to work tomorrow. He's rambling about using a third coat on the living room paint and you don't think it's necessary but you know he'll agree with you come morning. 

"Come eat Ralph Vincent," you scold him for getting paint on the door frame but all is forgiven when he sweeps you into a hungry kiss. 

"I'd rather eat you right now." 

Ralph's flirtations are interrupted by his own ractious growling stomach and you laugh at him as you shove a plate into his hand. You eat together by the window in the living room. While it hasn't been painted yet, you have moved the furniture to the middle of the room and the fumes from the kitchen and dining room are still very strong. You hope it doesn't affect your sleep tonight (or hope it puts you down like a dose of melatonin). 

"Floyd's got a boat," Ralph tells you. "Says he takes it out on the water almost every day. Asked if I wanted to join him." 

"And are you?" You spin another forkful of angel hair spaghetti on your plate. 

Ralph slurps his like a child. "Am I what." 

"Are you going to join him on his boat?" You speak slowly and patronizingly. Ralph pinches your breast and almost makes you drop your plate. "No. I hate boats. I hate water. I don't want to be trapped for hours out there listening to him talk about paintings and philosophers, at least at work I can walk away." 

You chuckle. "I think Floyd sounds very interesting. What do you have against him?" 

"Nothing," he protests, "he talks too much. He's loquacious– that's what Justine calls him, and she's one to talk. If you must know, he's actually my favorite– he knows when to keep his nose out of my business." 

Dishes are made slightly more difficult with Ralph hanging off your shoulders. He peppers kisses up and down your neck, even finds a hickey from the morning that's started to fade and he remarks you. You dig your dripping fingers into his hair when he finds that spot on your neck and gives it some much needed attention. 

"Ralphie, baby, please," you whisper, "I could use your help with these." 

Dishes are done in record time and suddenly you're being whisked away to your bedroom (not that you were complaining). This room has the wallpaper that you had no intention to change aside from a fresh upgrade. Ralph takes your hand to spin you around and back you into your shared room all the way to the edge of the bed. Along the way he plants kisses from your hairline to your collarbone before he lets you fall atop the thick quilted bedspread. 

He gazes at you with a warm expression. The soft "my girl" he whisperes makes your heart swell. 

You expect him to pick up your legs and pull you by your knees to the outside of his hips (want him to even), but Ralph has other ideas it seems. It's not until his head is between your legs that you realize what he's up to (or rather down to). You gasp a lung full of air and grab him by the hair of his head. 

"Jesus," you sigh. 

Your husband's rumbling laughter causes your thighs to twitch. "Say my name, I'm the one doing all the work." 

"Yeah but you love– aha!" His beard brushes your inner thighs and leaves a delightful burning sensation in the deepest part of your soul. "Fuck…" 

You pull his hair harder and feel the soft locks stretch in your bloodless grasp. You can feel that immortal coil wind tighter and tighter inside you as Ralph devours you. You start chanting his name, the pitch of your voice beginning to crescendo the closer you get to that fire cracker ending. Ralph doubles his efforts, eager to have you fall apart on his tongue and fingers. 

He's more than making it up to you tonight. 

When you come, your body curls in on itself and your thighs lock around his head, effectively deafening him. You have no idea if he can hear the scream that rips from your body but you can't either as your eyes rolls back in ecstasy. 

You relax onto the bed and feel it dip with an additional weight to your side. You slide into Ralph's easy embrace, his dry hand coming up to hold you to him and just rest for a bit. 

"Fuck," you say huskily, "you're really good at that…" 

Ralph kisses you in answer, trying to deepen the connection but you have to twist away to catch your breath. Instead he plants lingering, sweet kisses on your neck, your cheek, your hair. His hand caresses your back in circles until you're nearly asleep from the motion. 

You flinch when you feel his nose brush against yours. "Baby… don't fall asleep." He sounds so sweet until his voice darkens and he says, "I'm not done with you yet." 

You lose track of time and all you can feel is Ralph Lamont. You're both covered in a sheen of sweat and his hips rock leisurely into yours. You don't know who grabbed who but your hands are tangled together and refuse to let go. Ralph's breath dusts over your neck, cool in contrast to the fire of his physical form pressed against you. You want to come again but you let him draw it out, let him love you tonight. 

"Ralph." You whisper in his ear, begging with no pressure to change pace. You're happy if he's happy and he is very content to keep thrusting into you to his peak and slow down, never stopping but always making you want more. Your man kisses you flush on the mouth and adjusts his position. His thrusts change. They grow from hypotonic and shallow to a little hard and more purposeful. You moan at the feeling, your legs locking around his hips to draw him deeper despite your exhaustion. 

Your orgasm washes over you nice and gentle, nothing like the force of the first time. You're conscious enough to lock your ankles around Ralph's hips, but it still doesn't prevent him from slipping his flushed and reddened cock out and finishing on your stomach as he always intended. You feel a strange tickle of disappointment as you come down from your high but push it to the back of your mind for later. 

Some way, somehow, Ralph still has enough strength to clean you both up and tuck you into bed. He curls around your body despite the near unbearable heat and falls fast asleep, his soft snores right behind your ear lulling you under the tide of sleep. 

DAY FOUR

"Morning." 

Your Saturday is awash of more painting and moving furniture with Ralph. He made coffee and eggs and brought it to you in bed, then dragged you down to look at the frayed wires on the clothes dryer machine. 

"Might be rodents," you muse. "I'll get some traps on Monday and find my soldering iron." 

"We'll get traps tonight," your husband countered, scratching his chin, "the sooner the better." 

You finish removing the old wallpaper in the living room and carefully put up the new one with little fuss. The kitchen still smells of paint but it's dry (it had better be, you left the windows open all night and it's freezing in here) so you put the kitchen utensils and appliances back and remove the protective tape and brown paper. Ralph is proud of the precision work done in the corners and edges, patting himself on the back and yours. 

"We did good babe," he said, "by this time next week, we'll have the whole house done!" 

You laugh at his optimism. There were still cobwebs to dust, cracks to spackle, floors to polish, windows to replace. This was the very reason he picked this place… 

To keep you busy. To keep your mind from wandering to those dark places that linger in your past. 

At least it was working.

Tagging people who might like to know: @werwulfy @hoodoo12 @escape-your-grape @go-commander-kim @fundamentally-lazy @mimiscappinisideblog do y'all wanna be here? If not lemme know please 😅 DM me

[carewyncromwell]

[HPHM] Carewyn Cromwell and Orion Amari Cinderella AU Moodboard

x~x~x~x

Once upon a time, there were two kingdoms at war -- the land of Royaume with rolling valleys and mountain ranges, and the land of Florence by the southeastern sea. Their conflict had started fifty years ago, rooted in a territory dispute that blew up in an assassination and full-scale war. Since then, the royal family of Royaume, including the young Prince Henri, was kept under very tight house-arrest. It also resulted in many families gaining status and power in the two nation’s governments through investing in war.

One of those such families in the nation of Royaume were the Cromwells, led by the cold and ruthless Lord Charles Cromwell. The Cromwells put in a lot of their own money investing in the War, and those investments only came back to them tenfold, making them incredibly wealthy and very well-regarded among Royaume’s royal court. The King of Royaume needed all of the financial assistance he could get -- especially since he’d spent a lot of money to hire a mercenary from an outside country to assassinate the Crown Prince of Florence in an attempt to end the War, only for the War to go on unabated when the King of Florence coughed up a replacement heir. And as luxurious as the Royaumanian palace and many of its country estates looked, a lot of the lower classes weren’t getting their fair share, around paying for the soldiers at war. There were rumors that Florence was better-off, since they simply used black magic to make money and food appear out of fat air, but that was widely considered to be unfounded rumors. Royaumanians were very distrustful of magic and those who practiced it, and Florence’s harboring of witches and wizards didn’t do much to endear the common man to their enemy country.

This was why, one day at the local market in Royaume’s capital, there was a lot of fuss made when one of the street vendors -- an old miser named Argus Filch --  suspected a strange man of buying ingredients for a potion.

“I’m not stupid, boy,” said Mr. Filch, looking over the stranger with suspicion. “You think those things you’ve been picking up like a crow look like anything other than some kind of black magic recipe?”

The stranger in question -- a young, tanned, black-eyed man with a beard and slightly-too-long dark hair -- responded with remarkable calm.

“I assure you, sir, black magic is certainly not my intention,” he said quietly.

“Oh yeah?” challenged Mr. Filch. “What’s all this for, then?”

“A friend,” the young man answered.

“A friend, eh? Some nasty old witch in the forest, I’m sure -- thinking of mixing up some poison potion -- ”

“Is there a problem here?”

Both men looked up, very startled.

A young lady astride a white horse had just come to a stop beside them. She was dressed in a light yellow gown with green sleeves and her ginger hair was done up in netting decked with pearls. It was a peculiar sight, to see so well-dressed a woman riding her own horse through the market rather than riding in a carriage, even if she did ride side-saddle.

The ginger-haired lady glanced at the dark-haired stranger out the side of her almond-shaped blue eye. Although her face was as stoic as a marble statue’s, there was something about her gaze that caught his attention. It was discerning, and yet...not cold. Not condescending.

The lady then turned to Mr. Filch.

“Good sir,” she said, “why do you harangue my escort?”

The dark-haired stranger blinked, but otherwise kept the surprise from his face. Mr. Filch himself blinked several times in rapid succession.

“Y-your escort?” he sputtered. “Then...you’re who he was shopping for?”

“That I am,” said the lady very coolly. “Is there a problem with my purchases?”

“W-well, yes, in fact!” Mr. Filch stammered, his suspicion returning even though he was clearly intimidated. “What could a fine lady such as yourself want with this sort of...pagan nonsense?”

The lady raised her eyebrows dryly. “‘Pagan nonsense?’”

“Yes!” said Mr. Filch, his voice becoming a bit louder in his defensiveness. “Rosemary, henbane -- ”

“I require rosemary for the kitchen staff, to season our meals,” said the lady at once. “And henbane makes for pleasant incense -- we use it to stifle the smell of cigar smoke, after large parties.”

Filch looked a bit abashed.

“...And what about the absinthe? That stuff’s pretty strong...and the catswort...”

“My uncle brews drinks with absinthe, as a palette cleanser after large meals....and surely you yourself know of how much house cats enjoy catswort? I believe I see cat fur on your coat.”

“Well, yes, but...but what about the Mandrakes?” challenged Filch. “That is pretty occult, if I’ve ever -- ”

“The Mandragora plant has some of the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen,” the lady said, and her blue eyes grew a little narrower. “Now have I satisfactorily nullified your concerns? I’m afraid I have an urgent appointment at the palace, and I know my grandfather Lord Cromwell would be very displeased if I was late for it because someone suspected his family of aligning themselves with witchcraft.”

Mr. Filch suddenly went very, very white. “L-Lord Cromwell!? Y-you’re related to -- ?!”

He abruptly prostrated himself before her. “My lady!”

The display actually seemed to make the young Lady Cromwell look incredibly uncomfortable -- as if she hadn’t intended for the threat to make the vendor react with quite so much anxiety.

“Rise, please,” she said, and her voice seemed oddly remorseful. “That’s not necessary. Just be on your way and leave this man be, please.”

“Yes, my lady!” said Mr. Filch very quickly, looking no less anxious. “O-of course, my lady...”

With that, he slunk away, back down the street toward his stall.

Lady Cromwell looked down at the dark-haired stranger again. His sparkling black eyes had not left her face for almost the entire exchange and were very difficult to read.

“Have you bought everything you need?” she asked under her breath.

The stranger inclined his head in a single nod. “Yes.”

Lady Cromwell nodded in return, a very small smile touching the corners of her red lips. “Good. Walk beside my horse for a block or so. I’ll escort you out of the market, so you can head home.”

She flicked the reins and started her horse off at a leisurely trot. The dark-haired man hesitated briefly, before adjusting the basket under his arm so that the handle hung on his shoulder and following her.

“That was some very clever thinking on your part,” he said quietly.

Lady Cromwell raised her eyebrows.

“You seem surprised,” she said dryly. “Have you never encountered a clever woman before?”

“On the contrary,” the man replied, “I’m fortunate to count several as my friends. But I must confess, I did not expect such kindness from someone in your position.”

“And pray, what ‘position’ is that?”

The man inclined his head respectfully. “A lady of the Cromwell estate, of course. After all, as you yourself said...your grandfather most assuredly would be offended if someone associated him and his family with witchcraft.”

Lady Cromwell shot a quick glance at him out the side of her eye. Then she faced forward again.

“...I suppose I...have never been that much like the rest of my family,” she said softly. “Excluding my brother.”

“The young Lord Tristan Cromwell?” asked the man.

“No -- Jacob Cromwell,” she replied. “He’s at the war front.”

The man’s dark eyes flickered with a strange, sad glint.

“I see...”

The lady brought her horse to a stop and faced the man more fully.

“Well then, this is where I leave you. I’m sorry if it requires more of a walk for you to return home, but I must be off to the castle -- I’m already running behind.”

“It’s no problem at all,” said the dark-haired stranger. “It truly is not so far of a walk for me.”

Lady Cromwell nodded politely. “Very well. Farewell, then, Mr...?”

“With respect, my lady,” said the man with a slight wry smile, “perhaps it’s best that we not share our identities.”

The red-haired lady cocked her eyebrows sardonically. “Seems rather rude of you, considering you already know mine.”

“Ah, but I don’t, truly,” said the stranger, and his black eyes sparked with something almost mischievous. “I know your family name, yes, but that’s not who you are, is it? And truthfully even who you are now isn’t really that important. I’d say who you wish to be is far more telling than who you are at the present moment.”

Lady Cromwell raised an eyebrow, intrigued a bit despite herself. “Really? And who do you wish to be, sir?”

His black eyes twinkled a bit more, making them resemble two miniature night skies with hundreds of tiny pinprick stars.

“...A free man.”

Lady Cromwell’s eyes actually softened a bit, almost sympathetically.

“...Well, I hope you achieve that dream, Mr. Freeman,” she said in an unusually kind voice.

She flicked the reins of her horse.

“Farewell!” she called behind her.

Despite himself, the dark-haired stranger felt his face breaking into a broad smile as he watched her gallop away.

“Farewell,” he murmured, “Lady Cromwell.”

Not long after she was out of sight, a familiar black carriage appeared around a corner, and the door cracked open so that one could enter it. With an airy sigh, the dark-haired man climbed into the carriage and shut the door behind him, before the carriage rode off.

Not long after, the woman who’d been called “Lady Cromwell” arrived at the Royaumanian palace. She received a lot of attention from the castle staff for her mother’s old dress and formal hair and make-up -- and when she approached the thrones of the King and Queen, she startled everyone with her greeting.

“Your Majesties,” she said lowly, her blue eyes downcast to the floor to obscure the faint nerves she felt, “my name is Carewyn. Lord Cromwell sent me, so that I may serve his Highness, the Prince.”

The King looked very startled. “Lord Cromwell? Then...”

His face suddenly burst into an incredulous smile.

“...Why then, you’re the new maidservant! Lord Cromwell’s serving girl! My, but you have cleaned up -- I never would have guessed!”

“Clearly Lord Cromwell treats his servants well, if even they look the part of a courtier,” said the Queen, and she couldn’t help but giggle behind her hand.

Carewyn successfully resisted the urge to scoff. Charles most certainly had not told her to come dressed in her mother’s old dress or doll herself up quite this much -- he wanted Carewyn to be eyes and ears for their family, not to draw attention away from her cousins vying for the Prince’s hand. But Carewyn had her own reasons for wanting to make a good first impression.

“Come nearer to me, child,” said the Queen.

Carewyn obeyed politely. She still had some trouble meeting the King and Queen’s eyes, but she kept her composure as best she could.

“Turn for me.”

Faintly confused, Carewyn nonetheless did so. The Queen looked very pleased.

“Oh, she’s just like a little china doll!” she said through a simpering smile. “Prince Henri is going to have such fun with her, wouldn’t you say, dear?”

“Yes, yes, indeed,” said the King with a chortle. “I don’t know if you’re aware, Carewyn, but my son has quite a knack for -- ”

“Father!”

Carewyn couldn’t stop herself from turning around in surprise as the man who had to be Prince Henri strode up the hall.

He certainly was dressed the part, that was for certain. He wore a doublet made of gold-trimmed purple velvet complete with a brocaded cape and a matching hat and breeches with white stockings and gold-buckled black shoes.

“Henri, how good of you to join us,” said the Queen brightly. “Carewyn -- this is Henri Lancelot-Yves Andre -- Crown Prince of Royaume.”

Carewyn curtsied politely. “It’s an honor, your Highness.”

The dark-skinned prince Henri gave a bright white grin. “Ah, then you’re the new maidservant! I think I can see why you were sent over -- your fashion is on point, despite your dress being of an older style...”

He offered a hand politely to her.

“Come -- we must get you fitted appropriately!”

With faint hesitance, Carewyn rested her hand on top of the prince’s and followed him out.

“Fitted, Your Highness?” she asked. “I thought I merely would receive a uniform, once I arrived.”

“Oh, you will,” said the Prince brightly, “but no member of the castle staff is going to wear a uniform that doesn’t fit her properly -- I’ll need to tailor it. And please...call me Andre.”

Meanwhile, the dark-haired stranger called “Freeman” was getting an earful from the man in the carriage.

“Orion, you can’t keep running off every time you’re able to sidestep your attendants,” said the blond-haired man in the carriage. His arms were crossed, and although his expression was grave, it wasn’t particularly strict or reproachful. “There’s a lot of military strategy to discuss.”

“I learn a lot more about our enemy here on the streets than I ever could in a tower, McNully,” said Orion serenely. Once he’d finished organizing his basket of herbs, he lay it down on the seat across from him. “Don’t let me forget to deliver that to Miss Haywood, for the wounded.”

“You could stand to learn about your enemy in both places,” said McNully, “and you could also stand to think a bit more critically before disguising yourself and wandering across the border. Do you know what the Royaumanians would do, if they caught you?”

Orion considered this. “Hmm...perhaps that would make a good strategy. Cleopatra herself apparently smuggled herself inside a rug, so as to parley with Julius Caesar -- ”

“Yes, but Cleopatra’s older half-brother hadn’t been killed on Caesar’s orders beforehand,” McNully cut him off a bit more forcefully.

He sighed heavily.

“Orion...I understand you never asked for any of this. I mean, of all the people I could’ve seen becoming heir to the throne of Florence, I’d have said you only had a 3% chance of being picked.”

“Much obliged,” said Orion with a rather placid smile.

His face then grew a bit more serious.

“Even so,” he said quietly, “it’s my responsibility. And so is ending this war, preferably in such a way that balance is restored.”

“Kind of hard to do, when Royaume seem more interested in killing off royal family members than negotiating,” said McNully. “At this rate, I’d say the odds are slim they’ll accept peace over all-out surrender -- 10%, tops.

Orion shook his head. “Its leaders, maybe, but not its people. There is goodness among them. Patience, tenacity, loyalty, and fire. A desire for peace and stability, in place of war and loss.”

“And an irrational hatred of us, bred out of a fear of everyone and anyone even slightly associated with magic,” McNully pointed out.

“Not all of them feel that way.”

“A good 98% do.”

Orion glanced out the window at the large wall that marked the border of Royaume and Florence. Positioned in the distance were a battalion of Royaumanian soldiers shooting their guns and yelling -- no doubt they were being distracted just long enough for their carriage to slip through unnoticed.

“However slim the number,” said Orion quietly, “there are those here who don’t fear the unknown and mysterious -- whose kindness gives them courage...”

The face of the ginger-haired lady he’d met in the market rippled over the Florentine Prince’s mind again, and his lips curled up in a small smile.

“That’s something we can count as a blessing and use to our advantage.” 

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 38: Bathhouses and Bonds

After a month of travel, successfully retrieving the King’s Blade, Ena, learning who their client is, i. e. Akar’Niel and choosing to learn more about the circumstances of the mass elimination of dwarves and dragonborn on Seon, the party have reached Guan.

And straight off the bat, no pun intended, the group discover they are followed by an imp. After a quick discussion on whether to take it down or not, Malak stils his hand from sending the denizen of Hell back home, as it approaches the group.

Through a quick inspection of the party, the shape changing critter flies over to Mournimar and delivers the Tiefling Ranger a Sending Stone, of a blue diamond make. After which it does a JoJo pose and poofs.

As stated previously, this was a Sending Stone, allowing someone to cast 2 sending messages a day. But only to the person that has the other one. Rocky Talkies, as Malak puts it. (Or Hayden, I’m not sure. They’re both wholesome and we love them).

Mournimar gets that explained to him and calls the person that gifted it to him. And he hears a familiar voice from the other end say " Well you are alive, then!”. Much to the tiefling’s frustration, he recognizes the voice as that of his ex-boyfriend, Lazarus, follower of Potencia.

Mourni tries to ask what he wants, but instead Lazarus does the “kh-kh” noise (you know the one, where someone does a double pistols and a wink???) and that’s about all the messaging that goes on for that day.

Again. Much to Mournimar’s frustration.

Malak suggests getting rid of the stone. But Mournimar wants to keep it.

Luck suggests flipping a coin and he even brings one out from his journal bag. But Jun suggests Mournimar hold onto it and in the end, they agree on that.

(Also Mournimar gets a praise from Jun, which makes him feel validated).

The rest of the day passes uneventfully and they carry on, as the ground beneath their feet becomes more and more rocky. WIth the most perceptive in the party taking note that there’s a slight silhouette in the near distance of a town.

During the night, Belli receives a dream, like everyone else, but Mournimar, before her. As everyone had kept their dreams to themselves, for the following day, the group find themselves walking into a small and cozy town, which Arryn guesses would be Sodinvorg, most likely.

Very different from what the group had been used to so far. In a wasteland such as this (which funny enough is the right temperature for Luctan to feel at straight up at home?!) Sodinvorg’s constructed of tall buildings made out of clay, all painted red, white or red and white. Most split in multiple flats as they can tell from the windows. A variety of people in the windows, mostly Yuan-Ti, Kobolds, Tabaxi and Lizardfolk.

People here know each other and are close, mingling with each other.

Notable locations are the bathhouse, the tavern and the marketplace.

Luctan makes a b-line for the bathhouse, all excited and swept under the positive nostalgia of the enviroment he find himself in, with Jun joining him, all the while Belli would go and buy certain supplies. Cement included for some reason?! And then go to the apothecary.

A pair of young lizardfolk women run the bathhouse, which the pair of Jun and Luck can discern is constructed very intricately and with a style to it. (The place is essentially a roman bathhouse.)

Mournimar woud go to the Rolls and Scrolls place, where one could buy spell scrolls and delicious breads, as advertised, while Malak would check with the antique shop.

Inside the bath house, Jun takes on her mask of a beautiful Drow woman, named Valencia, having noted that there aren’t really any humans in the area.  Valencia is a bit posh. Long white hair in a bun.

As they score themselves a place in the bath, The Disguise Duo enjoy a relaxing bath, unbothered by the cramped and crowded enviroment, as they are  confident about themselves and their bodies.

No juicy gossip in the area and even if there was, a loud comment about Mommy Milkers from another of the patrons would distract the duo.

Arryn eventually joins the two, but after an unfortunate bomb dive goes wrong, he leaves, as the pool was too shallow for any acrobatics. Luctan’s Healing Word aids him in recovering from at least the physical pain, at least.

The duo have another talk, where Luck learns of Jun’s origins. Though she began her careers in Sa Doma, she was originally from  Elmeria. Which, to say the least, was a neat coincidence, as the party had gotten their initial name there, when asked by Morticia.

Jun would share that, given her race as a Changeling, few doors were truly open for her, as a Shapeshifter in a world that had a bias against them, and so, the bounty hunting life and that of an escort were ones that she could slip into easily. Luck would bemoan her fate, how opportunities were taken from her due to things she couldn’t help. But was glad for her being able to make the best of it.

“When one door closes, another opens”, the two would agree.

Luck would tell her his story, in turn, being candid about the facts, though, naturally, given they were speaking around others, he’d of course avoid using the “H” word as to where he had come from. Besides, the yalready knew about that from the fight at the barn.

Luck would come to a point, admitting that he was unsure what to do with himself now. He was content helping people, but he had no plan on what to do with himself now, when he didn’t take on the rest of his revenge quest.

Jun encourages him to take the time and consider. And she’d admit that conversations weren’t generally something people would approach her for, given her non-violent work ethic.

But Luck would compliment her for her talk, appreciating being able to talk openly with her on matters. Jun would note that he was about the 3rd person to praise her for that.

Meanwhile, at the Rolls and Scrolls, Mournimar spends big money on several rolls and scrolls, making Matiro, the Yuan-Ti’s day with all the cash that comes his way.

Feather Fall, Aid, Calm Emotions and Find Steed are all bought and paid for by the Ranger, with the latter three being bought for a collective 500 gold.

Furthemore, the tiefling buys 7 loafs of bread, for the party and Arryn.

And then. Before he leaves, Mournimar leaves the man a tip of 5 platinum. And upon leaving, he can distinctly hear the Yuan-Ti scurry off, screaming to a friend: “PHILLIP! I’M IN LOVE!”

At a convergence point, Mournimar gets a gold piece from Jun and a pat on the head. Getting validated by an older female figure boosts his morale. Quite evident from his tail wagging like crazy.

From the calico Tabaxi, Jolly Sunrise, proprietor of “ Happy Belly Rubs “, Belli gets a healing herb, a root that healing potions are made from. 

(It is at this point that we spend 10 minutes on Tabaxi bathroom name jokes. It’s just-you had to be there.)

Jolly makes a “Jolly Secret Rub”, which gives the party 1d8 Temp Hp. Gives special smelling salts, which are used as Spare The Dying as a bonus action. 165 worth. And lastly, upon Belli’s request, she delivers onto the Half-Orc Bard a pair of extra spicy peppers, referred to as “Dragon’s Breath”.

“Don’t give it to halflings. It could genuinely kill them.” she would note.

Also Belli learns that Jolly has a tiefling brother. Due to his fire resistance, she had learned that these could kill anoyone, without fire resistance. (Though that could’ve been a joke0

After the bread, the party go to the Cozy Leaf. An older tabaxi man, orange and graying around the nose, heads the place. He has a menu. There’s coffee, milk, honey milk. Maple Milk! The man’s name is Leaf On The Water. He has a strange clockwork device playing relaxing music nearby, giving the place a wholesome atmosphere.

His Grandson, an Artificer, built this contraption. Travels and sends new stuff to the old cat.  There’s a stick figure drawing at the counter, drawn by the youngest in the family, his granddaughter. The grandson is taller than him. Grandson is 30. Grand Daughter is 3.

There’s even a portrait that gets showcased of the family. One big orange family. Himself, his three kids and his two grandkids.

Most of the group, but the bearded ones, get themselves a warm beverage. Honey Milk and Maple Milk.

While the patrty slowly unwind for the day, Belli asks Jun if she has any expertise with chemicals. Interesting enough, the Bloodhunter does have skills with alchemy supplies. And the two work on making  pepper spray. Super. Spicy. Pepper Spray.

Malak find himself buying several items from the antique shop, run by the kobolds Zett and Nix, Red and Bronze respectively.

From the items presented to him, he takes what he could consider lucky charms.

Among them a coin of a strange material, a stone figurine of a snake, as well as a small silver rod with no decoration. It makes a harp noise. Notably,  the rod gives off faint evocation magic.

Before purchasing these, he asks the Kobolds, just to be sure, that they hadn’t pilfered these from any gravesights and the like. They specify that any item they have in their shop has been brought in from families, who found no use for them.

They are established businessmen here. And the price for the collection of items bought is 25 silver. Enough to cover rent for the month.

Malak thanks them in Draconic and leaves after the monetary exchange.

At the end of the day, as everyone prepares for the night’s rest in the tavern, Jun keeps an ear and eye out for gossip, while Mournimar takes a single room for himself (and Morgan).

One, where he has himself his own little dream.

End of Episode.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[trashboatprince]

I’m working on a main story for my Reverse Omens au, but for right now, I really wanted to do something with Aziraphale the Demon opening up his shop.

So, here’s a little something while I work on the main story for Sour Blessings. I had to do a bit of research for this, so you’re welcome.

Summery: The opening for A.Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More is on Friday, however, the demon Aziraphale may have to put that opening on hold, indefinitely, due to an unexpected promotion.

Not if the angel Crowley has anything to say about it!

Warning: Reverse Omens, the other demons and angels are not swapped, these two fools are in love but they won’t admit it so it’s getting the ship tag.

Aziraphale (formally Azrafel) is a half-deaf, white cat demon, Crowley (formally Samael) is a rainbow boa angel and the one who tempted Eve (There is a reason for this!).

Rewrite of the infamous Bookshop deleted scene.

On with the fic!

--

Can’t Have That Now, Can We?

--

Aziraphale, formally known as the demon Azrafel until he stole back his original name, was more excited than he had been in years.

Finally, after so many hiccups, missions, and simply being absentminded about his goal, he was opening up his shop! Well, not officially, he planned on being open to the public on Friday, but he was allowing for guests today!

So far, the only person invited is his dear angel, Crowley, who he knows will be here promptly at a quarter past eleven, the redhead was also so good with time.

Proudly, Aziraphale looked up at the sign that had just been installed this morning. A. Z. Fell’s Antiquities and More, it read with a shine of silver paint on a dark blue background. It was beautifully fitting for the man-shaped being, fitting his color aesthetics. He practically purred in delight as he stepped through the doors, happily hearing a jingle of a bell above his head.

The demon hummed to himself a song from an opera he had attended a few days ago, carefully lining up some of his collection he had noticed he bumped out of place. His shop was going to house his massive collection of antiques, a term he had adored using for the collection since it was first coined during the 1400’s in references to ancient artifacts.

He finally had a place for all his stuff, things he had hidden all over the world, bought, traded, stolen, made himself, gifts from his favorite snake, all in one place now! Sure, it took him centuries to finally settle down, but 1831 was a good enough time, right?

Well, there had been an attempt a few centuries ago, back in the 1500’s, but it had been a bookshop next to a printing shop that had printed a book he really had wanted, but a mission to China had prevented that. And had also resulted in him not paying rent on the shop and having gotten in trouble with Hell for something stupid, he couldn’t pay the rent and lost the first shop.

Anyway, he happily likes to forget that happened and has instead tried again! Same location too, second time’s the charm!

Aziraphale wasn’t finished setting up though, he still had more stuff in storage that he needed to bring in, but his angel had said he’d help up with bringing that in. He wouldn’t help with the organizing though; Crowley knew from experience that Aziraphale had a way of organizing his clutter in a way that worked for the cat. Especially when it came to certain collections, like his massive library and his collection of rare snuff boxes.

As he carefully aligned a bronze statue of a rather specifically detailed and accurate horse he got as a joke gift from Crowley, he heard the jingle of the bell above his front door. He cupped his hand over his left ear, trying to hear who it was, couldn’t be Crowley, it was too early still.

Then he smelled the scent of festering mold and swamp scum, along with other unpleasant things, and he felt his skin prickle.

With a held back sigh, Aziraphale put a fake smile on his face, turning to face his fellow demons, hoping his beard hid the fact that his mouth twitched. “Hastur, Ligur, to what do I owe the pleasure of two Dukes of Hell in my shop?”

The two demons stood by the open doors, dressed in rather shoddy clothing, meant more for the lower class than the higher, as Aziraphale himself was dressed to blend in with. However, it was good to note that this time they actually wore clothing that would help them blend in, rather than how they dressed the last time they ‘visited’ Aziraphale. He would never forget those sins against nature.

Neither of them smiled, they just stared, before Hastur stepped forward. “We’ve orders from Below for you.” He ground out, making Aziraphale raise an eyebrow.

“Orders? Strange, normally Hell just burns a message in one of my books or screams at me from an envelope nowadays, don’t usually send messengers to tell me what my next job is.

“It’s not really… orders.” Ligur spoke up, waving a hand, completely bored of this already. “’s more like you’re getting somethin’.”

Aziraphale blinked, cupping a hand over his ear again. “Come again?”

Hastur made a face. “Think of it as… bad news, but not really bad news, more like good news, but we can’t say that shit, so it’s bad news, but not that bad-”

“I… I got it.” The cat sighed, holding up a hand. “Is it about the second revolution in France?” He had sent in a wordy letter to Hell about how he had helped kickstarted that event, even though he hadn’t actually done so. He and Crowley had taken a trip to the south of France and got dreadfully wasted and somehow ended up on the Isle of Capri.

“More like a bunch of things you’ve done, Azrafel.” The chameleon demon spoke and ignored the face Aziraphale pulled, hearing his old name. It has been centuries, and no one cared that he stole back his angel name, they just ignored him, thinking he was edgy or something. “Apparently, you’ve done your job to such extremes that Hell is oddly impressed.”

This can’t be good.

“And because of this, you’re going down to Hell, promotin’ you back to Downstairs. Heard you might get a cushy job runnin’ the torture department, lucky bastard.”

Aziraphale blinked, trying to register what this meant. “But… I’m opening this antique shop on Friday. If Master Hatchard can make a go of it, then I think I can really…”

“Hm,” Hastur pondered for a moment, “actually, I think that’s an idea, whoever replaces you up here can use this place as a base of operations.”

This got a look of disgust from the cat demon. “Use my shop?” The nerve! No one was allowed to use his shop; this was for him! And maybe Crowley, because he knows that wily angel will also laze about wherever Aziraphale is staying.

Neither demon seemed to give two shits about what Aziraphale thought of this. “You’re bein’ promoted,” the frog demon shrugged, “you get to go back home.”

“Can’t imagine why anyone who wanna spend more than five minutes on this waste of space.” Ligur commented, look at a bell jar on a shelf, containing a taxidermized scene of insects dancing at a ball. The chameleon on his head licked its lips.

“Azrafel’s been on this shithole for almost six thousand years,” his companion replied, “that’s some impressive patience, I can’t stand doin’ tasks up here that take longer than a day. Just plant bad ideas in a human’s head and let ‘em do all the work. Still, gotta give kudos where kudos is due…”

He dug into the pocket of his grubby coat, pulling out a box, covered in stains that Aziraphale really didn’t want to know the origins of. “Apparently, this is for all your bad work.” He said in a tone that clearly didn’t hide his jealousy and bitterness.

Hastur opened the box and Aziraphale stared at a rather lovely, shiny medal. He had seen this kind before, proudly worn by members of the Dark Council.

When they said he was being promoted… oh, oh bugger, this was a Promotion.

“I don’t want it.” Aziraphale spoke without much thought. He glanced up and nearly screamed, because right behind Hastur and Ligur, was a redheaded angel, giving a cheery wave.

The grandfather clock off to the left happily showed that it was exactly a quarter past eleven in the morning. It was the worst possible time for Crowley to show up.

--

With a skip in his snake-skinned step, Crowley turned a corner down a street in Soho, a box of the finest chocolates under his arm. He had dolled himself up for today, putting on his finest dark gray suit, his pink shirt clear and ironed, and a new hat sat happily on his head, decorated with a gold-plated apple blossom.

It was over-the-top, but the snake-eyed angel was known for being flashy and showboat-y with his appearance.

He spotted the shop at the corner and picked up the pace, mentally counting down the seconds. He loved being exactly on time, but he also loved putting Aziraphale on edge when he was a few minutes late.

Crowley got right up the steps at exactly 11:15, noticing that not only were the doors opened, but two figures were standing in the doorway, with Aziraphale stared past them. And right at Crowley, with a look the screamed ‘oh bugger’.

The demon licked his lips, stammering as he tried to speak to the two strangers, who Crowley hadn’t quite realized were demons. “B-But only I can properly thwart the good deeds of the angel Cr-Samael!”

Crowley stopped smiling, tilting his head, eyebrow raising over his dark shades. He held up the package, smiling, and mouthed ‘chocolates’ at his best friend.

“I don’t doubt that,” the blond-haired demon spoke, “whoever replaces you will be as bad an enemy to Samael as you are. Baphomet, maybe.”

The angel looked horrified and disgusted. He looked towards Aziraphale and mouthed ‘Baphomet?! Baphomet’s a wanker!’ The gray-haired demon shifted on his feet, trying to ignore Crowley to not draw attention to him.

“Samael’s been here just as long as I have, and he’s wily! And cunning, and brilliant, and oh…” Aziraphale was a bit flushed in the face and Crowley perked up, smiling brightly.

“It almost sounds like you like him.” Hastur spoke in a tone that was clearly not pleased with this.

“I loathe him!” Aziraphale shouted, though his face still burned red. “And, despite myself, I respect a worthy opponent! Which he isn’t because he’s an angel, and I cannot respect a demon. Or like one!” He tacked on quickly.

Hastur actually smirked, crossing his arms. “That’s the attitude that Hell likes to hear. I can see why they’re bringin’ you back.” He stepped forward, pinning the medal to Aziraphale’s dress jacket, the shorter man holding his breath at the bad smell coming off of Hastur. A quick glance over the other’s shoulder let Aziraphale know that Crowley was out of sight, hopefully he knew to stay away until these two were gone.

“So…” Aziraphale started, “we’re going straight back, now? Before the grand opening?”

“Ehh… soon.” Hastur waved a hand. “Got a job to do, then we’ll be back for you.”

--

The job was a simple corruption on, convince a human in charge of a respectable pub to take in bribes, sell illegal content under the counter, and convert his pub into a drug den in later years, that should do the trick.

And to help with that, they decide to plant things in the backroom of the pub for the owner to find, miracled with a temptation to put the pieces together. Ligur stood outside the backroom’s door while Hastur moved to remove the contents of his pockets in the room.

He pauses, however, hearing voices outside of an open window.

“Are you certain that we are unobserved,” it was the voice of the angel Samael, “of glorious being of God’s divine will?”

There was a strange, echoing voice that followed right after, layered as if multiple voices spoke at once. “No one is listening, oh angel Samael, the Lefthand of God.”

Blinking, Hastur steps onto a crate under the window and, using his true eyes, peeks out the window, only the top of the head of his frog looking into the alley behind the pub. He could see Crowley, standing before a cloaked figure in white, the latter having their back turned to the window. He slipped down a bit to not be seen, but still remained close to hear.

“Curses.” The angel hissed. “If only I could understand why my blessed plans are always so brilliantly thwarted! It’s as if the forces of Hell have a champion here on Earth who contaminates my blessings! Who overlaps their own dark influences on my own good ones! Who thwarts me… thwartingly…”

Unbeknownst to the demon on the other side of the wall, the cloaked figure that Crowley was speaking to was actually just a tailor’s dummy from the tailor shop just next door. Crowley was practically tickle-me-pink with delight of how much fun it was doing this. He absolutely loved when he got to flex his acting skills.

He continued the act, putting on the heavenly voice once more. “Why, Mister Crowley, you must not be downcast. I hear news that will bring joy to you and all the powers of Heaven! They do say as how the demon Azrafel, your nemesis, is being sent back to Hell!”

Crowley knew he was acting slightly to broadly, but it was the style of the time, so it was necessary.

“Can this be true?” He continued in his normal voice. “I was going to throw myself into a pit of Hell Fire in my despair at once more being beaten by the demon Azrafel! But such excellent news! Only Azrafel knows my ways well enough to…”

“Thwart them?”

“Exactly. Now, let us retire to church, and pray to the success of good on this Earth, thanks to Hell’s foolishness!”

Hastur heard the other walking off before he moved out of the room, well, he might have to have a conversation with Aziraphale it seems.

--

“So, I’m… not going anywhere?” Aziraphale asked, mismatched eyes staring at the two other demons, the pupils growing with possible hope.

“Change of plans.” Hastur grumbled. “We need you here, in this shop, battling good.”

Ligur slapped the Aziraphale on the back a few times, nearly knocking him over. “Carry on battlin’ that pain in the ass angel. I’m sure Hell’ll understand that you’re needed here more than down there.”

“Keep the metal.” Hastur poked at it against Aziraphale’s chest, making him wince at the pressure of the jab.

“But I don’t understand…” The cat demon blinked, suddenly realizing he was all alone in the shop now, the scent of sulfur starting to mellow out. With a snap of his fingers, the shop suddenly smelled of flowers, thanks to the lovely potted plant that just showed up next to him.

With a heavy sigh, he shook his head, moving around a shelf to try and return to his previous task of worryingly set up his collection.

“Well, that was fun.”

Aziraphale yelped, jumping a foot in the air as his hair and beard puffed up from the shock. He turned, finding a certain angel, basking happily in a chair that had been swiped from the King of Spain in the late 1300’s. “Crowley… w-what are you doing here?” He asked, approaching the redhead, who just smiled, holding up the box of chocolates from behind.

Aziraphale chirped in joy, taking the box. “Oh, yes, thank you, darling!”

“’s nothin’, kitty cat. I think you deserve them now than you did before those two idiots showed up.”

“How… much of that did you see?”

Crowley shrugged before getting out of the chair, stretching. “Well, I arrived to see that you were stuck dealin’ with two idiots, and that you needed help. So, I may or may not have helped you out of a bit of trouble, again. Nice medal, the Dark Council kind? Wow, that’s a hell of a promotion, kitty cat.”

Aziraphale frowned and removed the metal from his jacket, tossing it towards Crowley, who caught it with ease. “I’ve done so well at my job that I was promoted to join them! I mean, it’s not the worst promotion I could get, in fact, any demon would give up their whole… well… everything to be part of that group! But I must admit, it would be too much, I’d be allowed to do whatever, but I wouldn’t be able to work and stay on Earth.”

“Sounds like a shit job to take, Aziraphale.” Crowley commented, looking over the metal before dropping it into a clay pot. “But hey, you get to stay here!”

“For some reason…” Cat eyes turned, staring directly at snake ones, hidden behind dark lenses. “What did you do?”

Crowley grinned brightly. “Oh, just pulled off some theatrics.” He wiggled his fingers and Aziraphale groaned. “I told you I was good at this! I should join a theater, get my name out there! I’ll even do those boring, sad Shakespearean plays you like so much!”

“Uhg.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes before looking at Crowley, smiling. “Still, thank you for helping me today, darling. Now, how about the two of us enjoy this delectable box of goodies you got me, I have a lovely red that we can drink alongside them in the back, found it while bringing things in the other day.”

“Sounds delightful, kitty cat.”

END

--

Well, this was a lot of fun to write!

In case you wanna know what they look like, Aziraphale looks like Martin from Prodigal Son (except well dressed in a light gray and dark blue Regency outfit), and Crowley looks like David’s portrayal of Richard II (in a dark gray and pink Regency outfit).

Hastur and Ligur look like characters from Oliver Twist haha.

In case anyone was wondering why Aziraphale owns an antique shop, it was because as much as I love the bookshop still being part of a Reverse Omens au, I also really loved the idea of going off the little fact that book Aziraphale also collects old snuff boxes and it went from there that he just collects all sorts of things.

Oh, and Hastur left Aziraphale on Earth cause if he's really the only one who can 'stop' the Heavenly might of Samael, the angel with the title of Destroyer, well... yeah, might as well leave him to deal with that mess.

Thanks for reading! As always, drabbles are open! 

[mapache-lector]

Coffees & Cactus. (Part 3 of 5)

Rating: T Pairing: Ben Miller x chubby!fem!Reader. Summary: Reader and two friends are owners of a café, Benny comes in and finds more than the perfect gift for Maria, Frankie’s daughter. (I hate doing this, sorry)

Warning: I think I wrote Reader pretty much general, but the characteristics I mention are that she’s chubby, has a genderless wardrobe and she’s dealing with depression and anxiety (the way I do, which I know it’s not the common stuff… or maybe yes?). So, have that in mind.

Author’s notes: Introducing Maria and Franklin the plant!

Author’s notes.2: Hello, yes, it’s been a while since I wrote a fanfiction and the beautiful asks to @de-profundis-ad-astra​ lit the spark of this story. It’s -not only the first one I write in a while- but the first in English! So, bearing in mind that, feel free to point mistakes and let me know!

•·················•·················•

Ben kept coming to the café, buying more amigurumis, and she avoided him as much as she could. She stopped being flirtatious to him, trying not to get silly hopes with his answers, and her friends kept filling the silences between them. His brother came too, which made the situation more bearable, and all of them joked and chatted about everything and anything, she was often being outside the circle in silence, barely participating, observing, aware of other customers and whatever the café needed.

What threw her off was the fact she kept finding glitter in everything. Ben wasn’t even touching her that much, why is every surface shining? Also in her house and her bedroom, like a reminder of what couldn’t be.

“Honey?” Brit knocked on her door and waited for an answer, next to Eva. “We’re coming in, okay?”

The three friends decided to live together in a big house, trying to save money for the business, sharing the rent. Each one had a bedroom for themselves and respected the privacy of it. But sometimes someone needed a rescue, and it has been more than a day since they saw her friend.

She was on the bed, curled up in herself and barely moved when Eva and Brit sat by her side. They thought she was sleeping, then she slowly sat up. Her face was a little swollen, clear sign of crying.

“We were worried about you.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Her voice was croaky. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Eva reached and took her hand. “What happened?”

“It’s silly…” She hoped they would settle with that answer, but had to add, “I have a crush on Ben.”

“Good news, what else?” Responds Brit with fake surprise. “Did you tell him?” 

“Of course not! It’s my own trap. We were flirting, you know, and I believed his words.”

“Darling, he has heart eyes for you too.”

“He’s a golden retriever, his eyes are shaped like that. It’s like he lives in a world of bones and treats.” Her friends made a few more jokes till she laughed with them, then laid with her to sandwich her.

“Do you want us to tell him?”

“We can talk to his brother.”

“Nah, it’ll pass. I’ll manage.”

•·················•·················•

After Will started teasing him about “your café lover”, Pope and Frankie made inquiries. And he discovered he could spend hours talking about her and all the things he loved about her. 

“Can we go to the café with you the next time?” Asked Pope.

“We have to meet this lady.”

“Yes, the reason for all the butterflies!”

“Grow up, dickheads.” And a lot of bottle caps flew to his head.

“¡Mi tío!” Came running Maria, hugging his plushie and jumping in his lap. “Don’t be mean to him.”

“OOOOOOH my sweet, little baby.” He hugged her tight.

“María, a la cama, es tarde”, her father admonished her and she said goodbye with a loud kiss and a hug to her uncle Benny, her uncle Will, her uncle Santi, and her papá.

Once she was upstairs, they returned to the conversation.

“You should make a move, Ben.” Advised Frankie. 

He started to play with the sticker of the bottle of beer.

“You know she’s being nice to me because I’m a customer, right?”

•·················•·················•

A few weeks later, two men entered the café and had a sit in a table, not looking to the street but to the counter. She was replacing the pastries and cookies at the display and could feel their gazes fixed on her. She could see them through the glass, they were being ridiculous. Maybe they knew her? She didn’t remember their faces: One with a baseball cap and a few locks at the nape, moustache and patches of beard; the other with a stubble and wavy black and grey hair. 

Brit took their orders at the table and kept a little chat with them. Then, after making the coffees, leave the tray on the counter. “Could you please take this to their table? I need to go to the bathroom.”

She greeted them, put their coffees and pastries on the table and hugged the tray. “Do you need something else?”

“Your name?” Said playfully the one with the stubble.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” He laughed quietly, the one with the cap did it too.

“Santiago.”

“¿Santiago? ¿Hablas español?”

“Sí, ¿tú también?” She answered that yes, excused herself and went behind the counter. “Pero, ¿cómo te llamo?” Shouted.

“Sólo levanta la mano e iré.”

“Te atrapó, Pope.” Laughed the other, hiding his smile behind the cup.

“Hey, Brit. Do you know those guys?” She asked, turning her back to the men.

“No, I don’t. Why?”

“Why are they looking at us so…?” She made the “I’m looking at you” gesture and her friend giggled. “What are they doing now?”

Brit glanced behind her friend’s shoulder. “They’re talking to each other. The one with the cap looked at you and… Don’t know how to say it… they’re doing the same as us?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”

“Don’t pay attention to them, I have your back and you have mine.”

•·················•·················•

Ben was in the shower of the gym, washing away all the sweat in automatic movements. His mind was occupied with the memory of a certain beautiful lady behind a counter. 

After the tea party with Maria, she had fallen into silence, suddenly shy and distant, and he didn’t know why. It was something he said or did? Did he overstep asking the tea for the next morning, giving the impression he was charming her to get away with asking stuff she couldn’t deny? Did he overstep in another way he couldn’t think of now?

His head was spinning with worry and slowly the anxiety was coming in waves. Just thinking in her expressive, beautiful eyes, her smile cracking broad in her face before she pushed her lips into a timid one; how she looks away when she gets struck by one of his compliments; the way her hips swayed through the tables and her thighs fills every pant she wore. Thinking in her beautiful cheeks, who deserved all the kisses in the world, and that he –somehow and for the worse he didn’t know how– had made something to disgust her, made his heart ache. 

“You should talk to her, bro.” Repeated Will for the millionth time. This time, although, it was different because he didn’t do it before while shopping groceries. “I can’t stand another day of you with your head low.”

“Listen, did you know if I did something to upset her? I can’t find the moment, and I keep watching over and over again all the times we were together.”

“You did nothing, for God’s sake! Or ask her about it and get over it!”

“I can’t go and ask her broadly: Hey, listen, I wanted to say I’m sorry without acknowledging what I did wrong.”

Will stopped mid step and said “Yeah, you should say that.” A bag of chips landed in his head, because that’s how grown up brothers communicate with each other. “I’m being serious here– Look,” he faced his brother and put a hand in his shoulder, remarking his words, “I know you wear your heart in your sleeve and they broke it many times. I understand you have doubts now, but unless you go and ask her, you won’t have answers and you’re breaking your own heart now.”

He looked forward to going to her café, to chat with her and her friends, to joke with her. He bought her dolls of wool because he adored them, and because was another excuse to say to her how talented she was. He was still awestruck how such tiny things could be made, the patience she had, and that she self-taught how to do them, she told him once. He was awestruck of how smart she was, the kindness she showed to strangers, the passion she put in everything her fingers touch. Her friends talked nothing but wonderful things about her, and were reluctant to tell him why she was gone that morning, trying not to break her privacy and he admired their loyalty to her.

“This is the best coffee I had in months.” Pope texted fifteen minutes ago, while he was in the shower.

“What do you mean?”

And he responds with a photo of a mug and table he recognizes straight away. 

Little shit. •·················•·················• Traducción: Mi tío: My uncle. María, a la cama, es tarde: Maria, go to the bed, it’s late. ¿Hablas español?: Do you talk Spanish? Sí, ¿tú también?: Yes, you too? Pero, ¿cómo te llamo?: But, how do I call you? Sólo levanta la mano e iré: Just raise your hand and I’ll go. Te atrapó, Pope: Got you, Pope.

[yeetingmyfeeling]

Run, Run, Run!

Chapter Two

Brian woke up with a start. His injuries felt mostly better, but he was still in his wolf form. He sat up, looking around the room. He could still only see through one eye, making him frown. He sniffed, smelling too many different, unknown scents. 

He hauled his body up, whining at the pressure on his paws. With this he quickly changed back to his human form. As he did, he heard a knock on the door. Brain squeaked.

“Hey! I’m just here to help clean up your wounds,” A voice called out. “There are some clothes on the bed, they are new and clean.” Brian looked over to the bed, indeed seeing clothes. He pulled them on. It was boxers, a grey jumper and black sweatpants. They were a little too big for his frame, but he didn’t mind. “Can I come in?”

“Y-yeah!” Brain called out quietly. He moved, sitting down on the bed. The door pushed open and someone entered the room. From his smell, Brian knew he was a wolf. He was around the same height, maybe a little taller. He had a mohawk, mullet of sorts. He gave Brian a soft smile.

“My name is Brock, what is yours?” The man slowly approached Brian, standing a few feet away from him. “I know you just pulled on your jumper, but I’m going to need you to take it off again.”

“Brian,” Responded the other. He did as asked, pulling off his jumper. Brock gestured towards his body and Brian nodded. Brock walked over, grabbing a first aid kit that was also on the bed. Brock began to dress his wounds. Brian was tense.

Brock cleaned the injury on his chest. He ended up having to use medical tape, then putting gauze over the top. He wrapped up one of Brian's hands, and one of his feet. A few other bandaids and such were placed, and a gauze over his injured eye.

“Feel free to go have a shower, the band aids are all good. Then just come down for breakfast,” Brock smiled kindly again. “Just listen for the loud yelling and you’ll find it. Are you okay with that?”

Brian nodded quietly. “Okay..” Brock gave the other a hesitant look, but got up to leave. He left the room, leaving Brian in peace. Brian spotted the other door, that wasn’t the one Brock just left through. Opening it, it was a bathroom. Brian took the leisure of having a nice, warm shower.

After his shower, he got dressed back in the clothes. He slowly walked out of his room, more scents hitting his nose. His face crinkled from the new smells, food, people, alphas. Brian continued his slow pace of walking, following the smell and the loud noises. He ended up downstairs, outside a pair of large doors. He slowly pushed them open. 

Everyone turned to look at the new entrance. Brian’s eyes widened and he ducked his head. “Brian,” It was Brock. “Come sit here,” Walking over, Brock had saved a spot for Brian. He sat down, staring at his lap. Brock pointed at the food spread out on the table. “Dig in.”

Brian looked up enough to see Brock, he was still smiling at him. He turned, looking at the food. He could feel his mouth watering. He reached over, eagerly grabbing some toast. He found the butter and the jam, spreading it on the toast. He found an empty glass, and filled it up with juice from a jug.

“So,” Brock started talking, filling up the silence. All eyes were on Brian. “Everyone, this is Brian,” Brian waved shyly, his face flush. “That’s Anthony and Marcel, they are the ones who took you home,” A friendly face looked at him, a happy looking grin. He had tattoos, Brain thought they looked cool. The man next to his was dark toned and had curly hair. “That’s John, Jarren and Scotty, they are beta’s,” John had hair down to his shoulders, going from brown to blonde. As well as spots on his face. Jarren had short brown hair and looked quite childish. Scotty looked similar, but skinnier.

“That is Luke and Ryan,” Luke was very intimidating looking, a full beard, and an arm over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan also had a beard, but a friendlier smile. “That is Evan and Jonathan, Evan is our packs Alpha,” Evan was very intimidating, although his smile was gentle. His skin was tan, a contrast against Jonathan’s very pale skin. “Then those two, are Tyler and David,” Tyler was definitely the biggest of them all, and had the light showings of facial hair. David was skinny, but seemingly the same height. 

Brian’s eyes widened when they landed on the last two. He sniffed, their scents wasting into his nose. They both smelt so good. Brian frowned, not understanding why he felt that way. He could tell Tyler was an alpha, David a beta. He quickly turned back to Brock.

Evan was the one who started talking. “So, Brian. As you can tell, we are quite a small pack. We are looking to eventually have pups among the couples, we are finding our way around it.”

“Hard when most of us are gays,” John snorted out. 

“Yes, well,” Evan scratched the back of his head. “Regardless. Brian, it looks like you were running from something, someone? Judging from your injuries.”

Brian nodded quietly. He could tell everyone was watching him, waiting for his answer. “My pack.. They treated me like a toy, so, I ran,” He gulped, looking down at his lap. He hated feeling, and acting so quiet and submissive. He’s usually witty and sarcastic. “I finally got away, not without a few good byes.”

Evan nodded in understanding. “Well, feel free to stay with us,” He leaned forward, smiling at Brian. “I am not saying, join our pack. But, when the time comes, and you wish to, just come speak to me. Alright?” Brian just nodded in response. 

“Jon and I better head to work,” Brock stood up, Jonathan following soon after. “Who has the day off to show Brian around?”

“Myself, Tyler and David,” John responded. “I can show Brian around, teach him the ropes.”

“Don’t be too scary,” Brock pointed a finger in John’s direction. That finger quickly went to Tyler. “Don’t be all… Alpha.”

Tyler held his hands up in defence. “I haven’t even done anything!”

“Yet,” Brock’s eyes narrowed. “Brian, my number is on the fridge. If anything happens, just call, okay?” Brian nodded again. 

Slowly people started to file out of the room. They bid their goodbyes, see you laters, and headed off to work. Brian sat quietly as everyone left, finishing off his toast. He now sat with John opposite him, Tyler and David sitting further up.

Evan came up to the small Irishman, giving a small wave. “Your accent, you’re irish right? David is also Irish,” Brian didn’t respond, just chewed on the crust of his toast. Evan frowned. “I hope this place feels safer for you, and if you need anything, I am the alpha. I promise i’m not like others… Hey, you don’t have any belongings do you?”

Brain shook his head. “I didn’t bring anything, I didn’t have much anyway.”

Evan pulled his wallet out of his pocket, waving it around. “That is all good, I’m sure these four can take you shopping. Can’t you boys?”

“Shopping?” Tyler groaned, throwing his head back. “I fuckin’ hate shopping man.”

“Quit ya complaining,” David spoke, and Brian could clearly hear the Irish. “That’s fine Evan, we’ll take care of the lad.” John saluted in agreement.

Evan chucked his wallet at John, who caught it with ease. “I’m trusting you guys,” Then with a few more words or warning, Evan was gone. That left the four, sitting in an uncomfortable silence.

Brian took this chance to look at the men he was surrounded by. Mainly, the two men sitting further away from him. He shook his head, ignoring the feel in the pit of his stomach.

“Shopping?” Questioned John. He pushed away from the table, standing up. “You two go get dressed, I’ll show Brian around,” Without waiting for a response, John began to leave the room. “Come on dude,” Brian took this as his hint to get up and follow after the other.

John showed him around the house, or, mansion. There were three levels. First level was basic stuff like kitchen, dining room, living room, a few closets, two bathrooms, things like that. The second level was everyone's rooms, as well as spares. Some bigger than others. The third level was Evan’s office, storage, and a games room.

Going outside there was a large car fort, three cars currently sitting there. Apparently the truck and sports car was Tyler’s, while the plain white car was David’s. Brain liked the sports car. 

They were in the middle of a forest, from the trees that surrounded the house. It was a large area, and Brian could only smell this pack. That made him feel comforted, safe. 

Tyler and David soon joined the other two outside, and Brian was upset to hear they were not going to be taking the sports car. Instead they climbed into the plain white car. David at the wheel, Tyler next to him. John and Brian in the back.

“I hate how you drive,” Tyler had his arms crossed over his chest, pout on his lips. “I wish I could drive, my car is so much better.”

“Oh shut up,” David rolled his eyes. “Stop being a whiny baby, neither of your two cars are good for shopping,” Tyler just huffed in response. 

Brian sat quietly, watching out the window as they drove. He liked that they were deep in the forest. He almost wanted to stick his head out the window, much like a dog. He leaned his head on the window, watching the trees. He saw some birds fly.

They get to a mall, David parking in the busy parking lot. Brian frowned, already seeing lots of people. They all got out of the car, and Brian unconsciously stuck close to Tyler, the Alpha. John led them through the mall, squeezing past all the people. They went to a few clothes stores.

Each time, David would get distracted by something and wonder off. Tyler would walk around, keeping a close eye on them all. John pulled Brian around, pulling out random clothes and asking if he liked them. Brian shrugged. He wouldn’t wear much at his old pack, usually just his underwear and a loose shirt. He did say he liked wearing sweatpants, shorts, and loose shirts or nice shirts.

So John took him around and bought all the clothes he would need. Underwear, pants, shorts, different kinds of shirts, socks, singlets, swimmers, pyjamas, nice clothes. Anything he could need. David was pushing around a trolley full of the bags. Brian felt so overwhelmed. 

John then took him to get other things. Toiletries, books, and other little things. According to Tyler, it’s Evan’s card so milk it. Brian has never really had people buy him things, or gone shopping. So he had no idea on what to get. John did end up taking him to get heat suppressants.

They were now sitting down having lunch, and Brian felt exhausted. He sat, quietly eating his burger from McDonald’s. His legs were bouncing in anxiousness, and he was barely halfway through his burger.

“You good?” Tyler leaned over to Brian. Brian got a big whiff of his scent, and his face immediately flushed. The smell smelt like farm, wet dog, and chocolate. He repressed the sigh in his throat. If he looked over to Tyler, ee noticed some muscle in his arm through the flannel. He gulped. 

“I think he’s tired,” John frowned. He leaned over the table, swatting at Tyler. “Let the boy breathe, big alpha.” Tyler sat back in his seat with a pout.

They soon finished with their shopping, and Brian was very happy. They packed the bags in David’s boot, some having to sit in with him and John. Then they drove home. Brian fell asleep for a bit of the ride, waking with a start before they returned to the mansion. 

Brian tiredly got out of the car, knowing he had to put all the bags away before he got to sleep. The four eached grabbed a few bags and took them up to Brian’s room. They were placed down in the centre.

Brain turned to grab one of the bags, only to run into a chest. He took a step back, glancing up to see David. The Irishman gave him a lopsided smile.

“You look tired, maybe you should nap?” David suggested. For the second time that day, Brian was hit with another scent. This time he got a smell of home, home being Ireland. Brain had to stop himself from taking in a deep breath to get more of the scent.

He just nodded. “Yeah, I think I will,” He turned to the other two and smiled a small smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem dude!” John saulted. Tyler just nodded. Then the three left. Brain walked over to the bed, faceplanted, and immediately fell asleep. 

[risenfrommyimagination]

Hey, I saw your prompt list! Can you do “Can you just come over?” + “You love me, right?” + “Can you just hold me?” for MCU Peter Parker?

So I got wayyy to exited about this, hope you like it. It’s fluff and angst. If you want to send me more, here is my prompt list ♥And if you like it, feel free to share it.

The flat is almost hauntingly quiet as you try to close the door as quiet as possible, its creaking adding this really gloomy and eerie touch to the whole situation. On your tiptoes, to not wake up any one of your other three flatmates, you sneak up to your room, a soft giggling coming out from behind one of the closed doors. Probably Maya with her girlfriend, trying to be quiet while getting into other activities than just watching their favourite show. Not that you had any problem with it, sleeping with noise around you is one thing you got pretty used to in your early years already. And since you moved from your family to this shared flat with three other people, noise is and will stay a factor you won’t be able to get away from. 

You get in your room, closing the door behind you and kicking off your sneakers from your hurting feet. They feel like you walked around all day, although you just had a longer stroll with your best friends through the neighbourhood, catching up, getting some food and some drinks after spending the last three days almost glued to your desk here or in the library. Trying to ignore your phone, better said trying not to send out SOS messages to your boyfriend, crying about you didn’t want to learn anymore. And getting back the same ones from him.

A smile hushes over your lips, fading as your eyes marvel over the unmade, empty bed. After those last three exhausting days, better said this week, you wished he was here. Just waiting for you, after he snuck in through your window, his suit hanging over your, with clothes loaded, chair, and him snuggled up in the blankets, smiling at you tiredly.

Although you both had your daily short catch-up between classes, your job at the café down the street and his duties in the night, you missed Peter.

His soft and still on your lips tingling kisses, whenever it had to be quick, the longer ones, making your heart flutter and his hands wander around your butt, squeezing it, longing for more. And the after-sex kisses, sweaty, with trembling breath, some words mumbled between them, fingers wandering over your naked skin, grazing it. And all the other ones, too.

Exams this term hit both of you hard. Peter with all of his science and lab work, not even being able to get out of the lab to get some proper lunch or dinner, sometimes then crashing at your place, eating your leftovers and falling asleep the second his head touched one of your pillows. But sometimes still awake, happy to leave college and all the assignments behind and just spend time with you, watching movies, going out in some bar, sometimes club, the park or just wandering around the city. 

Somehow, although it is harder this term than the last ones, you manage it.

It would be a lie saying, that none of you struggled leaving high school and starting college two years ago, leaving old structures behind and falling into this big black hole of basically doing everything you have to on your own. You deciding to move out from your dad’s, moving in with three new people, trying to find your place at the university, between all those people who seem so much more intelligent and creative than you are.

Without any of your former high school friends, even MJ moved away to LA to go to college there and although your best friend is studying at the same university as you, you just felt lost. 

Absentmindedly, you unbutton your jeans, getting out of them and also your shirt, walking over to your bed and grabbing your sleeping shirt, yes a stolen shirt from Peter. You should go to sleep, you had to work tomorrow afternoon and you planned a learning session before, just to get stuff done. And to just feel better about the upcoming exams. You grab your phone, unlocking it to write your best friend that you came home safe. A ritual you were keeping with her since the days you first went out. 

I’m home, sleep well. 

She wrote you first, a few minutes ago. You send back a Same, sleep well when another message pops up on your screen.

Are you still awake?

Peter. Your eyes glance at the clock on your phone. It’s almost half past two in the morning, not the most unusual time for him to be awake, especially on duty day like today. Yeah, I am, why?

Just wanted to know if you’re safe :)

A smile hushes over your lips, warming your heart. No matter where Peter was – on duty, already in bed or also out with Ned and his college friends – he took a minute to check-up on you when he knew you were out. Same as you checking in on him during his duties, but reminding him to not text while swinging. The amount of times he hit against a lamppost or a tree are not countable anymore and although you both laugh about it, it’s just a matter of time until he hits a building or something else more dangerous than a tree. 

No…actually…

Another message from him appearing on your screen and your smile fades a little bit, same as the warm feeling in your gut.  Can you…just come over?

The rest of this warmth in your gut disappears, leaving you with this almost sick, weird feeling in your stomach. Something is very off and you don’t like it. This is not a normal I miss you, can you come over, I need you message. 

You know I need to put on my pants again for that?

I’ll take them off for you, but can you please?

You bite your lip, trying to fight back the angst, drilling thoughts in your head that make you think something bad will happen when you arrive at his place in ten minutes. ‘As if he breaks up with you in the middle of the night.’ 

Be there in 10 

Jumping up from your bed, you reach for your comfy sports leggings, putting them on, throwing on a thicker hoodie and your jacket, your just threw on your bed. Then you grab your bag, throw in your phone charger and your keys and head out. 

 You know the way from your flat to the small apartment Peter shares with Ned by heart, probably also with your eyes closed if you had to. Passing the little corner shop that always smells like cigarettes and old frying oil then turning into the street left, past the apartments and building, the currently closed flower shop, where Peter bought this little cactus for you when you moved into your apartment. “Think this has a good chance to survive at your place.” He said to you back then, kissing you on your cheek. “And if you miss me, you can kiss him and complain about him pricking you with his pricks same as I do with my beard stubbles.” You rolled your eyes at him, then pecking a soft kiss on his lips, him giggling. The cactus is still surviving. 

Passing the park, Peter and you sometimes spend hours in, just lying on a blanket, reading books, studying, sneaking kisses from time to time before dozing off a little, you turn right, into a narrower street, your steps echoing between the high buildings. It’s a little gloomy here, your steps fastening just merely, your heart becoming a little lighter as you step out of the street, on a bigger, more lightened one. 

Another left turn, passing the small supermarket, a bookshop and one of Peter’s and your favourite cafés, which is currently under refurbishment, which leads to him and Ned hanging out at the café you are working in, trying to study there. Which more or less leads to Peter trying to be sneaky, flirting with you over the edge of his books with this sparkle in his eyes, calling you over to their table, of course just to order something. And to sneak some soft kisses, maybe more when Ned isn’t there and your boss isn’t watching. 

You cross the empty street, walking towards the house with the grey brick façade and the black door, jumping up the three stairs, your finger hovering already the bell with the small sign, written Leeds/Parker in Ned’s small and neat handwriting on it. The opener is humming even before you can press the bell and a soft, happy tingle in your stomach.

Peter sensed you.

Without turning on the lights in the staircase – you know they aren’t working for weeks now – you get up the first flight of stairs, passing two doors. It smells like curry and cake, a really weird combination. Another flight of stairs and you can already see the soft gleam of light, an open door and a very familiar silhouette standing in it. 

Three, two, one step and you stand in front of him, your breath merely hitching, face feeling flushed by the cold air outside. “Hey.” Short breathed, you tug a strand of hair back, glancing at Peter standing there, just wearing boxer shorts and one of his old high school sweatshirts. “Hey.” You step a little closer, fingers grasping for his hands, he flinches back a little and first now you see the bruises and bloody scrapes on them. Covering his knuckles, his arms, one on his face.

“Peter, what…” Your eyes flinch to your boyfriend, standing there with his shoulders down, red-rimmed brown eyes, his bottom lip lightly trembling. “Hey…what…” Without letting you even finish your question, Peter steps to you, scooping you in his arms, pressing you so tightly against his chest.

Your head finds its familiar position in the crook of his neck, his lips pressing against yours, shivering breath ghosting over your skin. 

“I’m so glad you’re here.” A soft whisper, followed by a little sobbing tone, hands tugging your jacket, pulling you closer, you feel his breath staggering. “Bubs.” Gently, you lean back, your hair running through the dishevelled mess of what he calls hair, lifting his head carefully. “What’s up?”

“I…” His eyes glimmer in tears, he bites his bottom lip, shaking his head and it breaks your heart seeing him like this. “You love me, right?” The sobbing tone in his voice rips your heart apart a second time, making you cup his face with your right hand. “How could I not?”

A short, fading smile hushing over his lips, then Peter just pulls you back to him, tighter, his head nuzzling in the crook of your neck, breath ghosting over your skin, making it tingle. Gently, you press your lips against his skin on his neck, taking in his presence, the scent of his sweatshirt, smelling like his favourite aftershave. A soft shudder runs through his body, making him grip you even tighter and you lift your head from his shoulder. Your heart is tearing again at his look, eyes glistening with tears, the scratches on his face still looking fresh.

 “Wanna talk?” Your voice is trembling like his lips, but he shakes his head softly, leaning it against yours, a tear running down his cheek. He is absolutely not ok.  “He.” Pain is aching in your heart as you cup his face in both hands, fingers running through his hair, trying to find something that could help him. “Hot shower?”

For a second, Peter just looks at you, with this despair in his eyes, then he nods slowly. 

 “Ok.” A smile hushes, trembles over your lips as you brush away some curls. “And then I’ll take care of your wounds ok?”

 Another nod, a short sparkle in his eyes and you lean to him, planting a soft kiss on his forehead. “Ok, come on, let’s get you in the bathroom.”

 Slowly, you turn left, opening the door to the bathroom, leading Tom in, your right hand on the small of his back. He looks so lost in his own bathroom, which is surprisingly not a whole mess right now. Just a few utensil scattered on the board under the mirror over the sink, the plant you gave them a few weeks ago is still alive and standing on the small windowsill.

“Ok.” You step back a little. “Do you need anything?”Peter shakes his head, biting his lip, his eyes searching for yours. “Can you…stay?”

“Here?” Another nod, he turns to you. “I…please?” The glance in his eyes so full of despair and you nod. “Just…let me get out of my clothes and then I am here ok?”“Ok.” A soft smile on his lips, the first one since you are here. “Ok.” You take a last glance on him before you step out of the door. “Be right back, promise.” 

 Leaving the bathroom door slightly open, you tiptoe over the hallway, trying to avoid the creaking wooden boards, to not wake up Ned. The small lamp on his night stand, which he built in his building class during the last year of high school, is lighting up his small room in this soft, golden light, making you feel home immediately. It’s smaller than his bedroom at May’s, but since she moved in with Happy and Peter wanted to be closer to university, he arranged himself pretty good with that. You place your bag on the overcrowded desk, stacked with books, loose notes and papers and pencils, taking off your shoes and kicking them under the table.

His Spiderman suit is lying on the floor and you pick it up, just to hang it over his chair, your jacket over it. Your eyes fall on the unmade bed, the open physics book in it, and his phone next to it. When Peter moved out of his room at May’s place, the first thing he got was a bigger bed. “So we have a little more space if you sleep over”, he said you to back then with this smile on his face. It’s needless to say, that you both are so used to sleeping basically on each other, that most of the space is unused during night. 

 You get out of your leggings and your hoodie, now just wearing a simple t-shirt and panties. As quiet as you got in, you leave his room, tiptoeing over to the bathroom. Peter is already in the shower, the noise of water filling up the small space and you lean against the wall, your eyes glued to the silhouette behind the steamed up glasses of the shower. None of you is saying anything, but your head is full. Something happened and whatever it is, you wonder why he doesn’t want to talk about it.

Usually, Peter is not the quiet person, not with you, not with things that burdened him. Communication has never been a problem in your almost three and a half years of relationship and also not before, when you were just friends. A smile curls at your lips, remembering how this all started. With your friends trying to set you up, both of you laughing at it, then just going out casually, ending it with a kiss on your doorstep. Followed by several more dates and you realizing that you’ve been fallen for him a long time ago. Dating turning into a relationship, your parents and May so overly excited for you, same as your friends. Through the last year of high school, staying up all night, you helping him with English literature, Peter trying to explain simple biology to you, ending up kissing, slipping under covers, trying to keep the noise down. 

 The noise stops, drawing you back in the small bathroom with Peter getting out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his hips. For a second, of course longer, your eyes stick to his wet chest, the perfectly sculpted muscles, his soft skin and the bruises and fresh scratches on it. Peter catches your glace, his lips curling a little, sending this warm shiver down your spine. Drops of water running from his hair, down his neck, over this tiny scar, where Happy patched him up years ago. He drops the towel and you can’t help yourself but glance at his butt for a second. The one you love to smack from time to time, just casually when walking by, distracting him from the task he was doing at this point.

Sometimes leading to him pressing you against a wall, table, counter, lips planting kisses on your soft spot, leaving tiny marks on your neck. Peter pulls up his chequered boxers, turning around, and eyes searching for yours as if he was looking for your advice specifically. 

“Done?” You step a little closer, picking up his sweatshirt and he nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. “Ok.” Carefully, you take his hand, opening the bathroom door. “Let’s get you patched up ok?”

Peter follows you like a stray puppy, his hand holding yours tightly, as you pull him in his room, then letting go of him. “Sit down, I’ll get the box.” You turn to his desk, better said the shelf system next to it, your eyes wandering over the lightly dusted books, the small model of the death star, looking for a tiny, red metal box you once found at the flea market and just thought of a Spiderkit for him. So the idea sparked and Peter stores it in his room since the day you gave him this box filled with iodine, dressings and bandages, plasters and a tiny scissor to cut them.

“Think it’s next to the old yearbooks, upper shelf”, Peter says from behind and your eyes wander up. He is right, there it is. Crammed, functioning as a holder, there is the red metal box. You reach for it, turning around to Peter, who is already sitting on his unmade bed, looking like a limp dishrag. 

“Ok, so…” Sitting down next to him, you open the box, some loose bandages spilling out of it. “Let’s fix you hm?” Your eyes wander over his body. “Where does it hurt most?”

“Back.” Peter slides around a little, showing his back with a few bigger scratches on it, slowly becoming darker bruises around it. “Ok.” You take out a cotton pad and the iodine, spilling some of it on the pad. “Can hurt a little ok?” He nods and you carefully press the pad on the first scratch, he winces a little, soft whimper.

“Sorry.” You lean forward, pressing a soft kiss on his skin, moving the pad to the other scratch, feeling him wince again under your muscles. “They don’t look that bad.” Cleaning the last scratch with iodine, you try to calm him down, maybe making him speak about what happened. But he stays quiet.

“Ok.” You lick your lips. “Hands?”

Peter turns back to you, both of his hands resting on his thighs and you scoot closer, your knee bumping against his. His hands look worse than the scratches on his back. You grab a new cotton pad, soaking it on iodine.

“This might hurt more ok?” Peter bites his lip, nodding and you take his hand, carefully, so gently padding the cotton pad on his bruised, slightly avulsed skin. “Fuck…ouch…” Whimper coaxes over his lips, making you stop immediately and look at him. “What happened?” The words are lying on the tip of your tongue, not able to be spoken out.

Those scratches are worse than his usual ones, they look far more brutal and reminding you of the bruises he got after the whole London and Mysterio incident. “Can I…finish it?” You look at your boyfriend and he nods, biting his lip again. Carefully, but quickly, you disinfect the rest of his hand, your fingers gently brushing over his palm, trying to calm him down, make him feel better.

“Think we need to wrap this one.” You catch Peter nodding again, leaning to the box and grabbing a still wrapped bandage from it. “Ok.” Unrolling it, you put his hand on your thigh, his fingers almost immediately starting to draw tiny circles on your skin, sending a warm shiver down your spine. “Ok so…” You put the first layer of bandage around his hand. “Can you…” His thumb presses on it, holding it in place.

“Thanks.” You wrap the bandage around another time, a third, and then a fourth time. “Think this should be it.” Grabbing the scissors, you trim the bandage, tugging the end in. For a moment, you both just sit there, his fingers lightly playing with yours, his eyes still glistening. 

 “Right hand?” Peter nods, reaching you his other hand, which does not look as bad as his left one. You throw the cotton pad to the other used one, getting a new one and putting on some iodine again. 

“It was a mess.” He winces as you press the cotton pad on his knuckles. His voice scratchy, shivering, hurting your heart. “I was a mess…I failed.“ Putting the cotton pad down, you look at him, at the glistening in his eyes, his rosy lips open, trembling.

“You’re not a mess.” You shake your head, but he does, too. “This fight was just…” He pauses, gulps. “I thought I could like do something, but…” Again a pause, his fingers curling in your hand, grasping yours. “I just wanted to go on duty, look around the neighbourhood and…” His bottom lip starts trembling, tears welling in his brown eyes.

 “Peter, hey…” You drop his hand, leaning to him to cup his cheek, but he backs up, looking at you with big, wide eyes. “I just….” Curls are falling into his face as he lowers his head. “I was at this park and there was this robbery and it all went well and then…” His brown eyes meet yours, releasing a soft tingle in your stomach. “I didn’t concentrate for one second, because my right web-shooter wasn’t working and then…they got me and…”

The tip of his tongue skimming over his lips, he shakes his head. “I just was so distracted because of exams and I just…” There is a crack in his voice, breaking your heart.

“I’m here ok?” You slide a little closer. “Should…I finish patching you up?” A short nod and you lean to him, clearing your throat, pressing the pad gently on the scratch right on his cheek, noticing him flinch a little. “Don’t move ok?” His eyes glance at you, giving you a silent yes as you clean him around the scratch.

“I’m a bad Spiderman.” A soft whisper over his lips, hurting, and you stop, looking at him, your fingertips hovering over his cheek. “You’re not…” The words get stuck in your throat at his sight, the tears, the overall mess he is right now. “And you are here and…” The brown in his eyes is glistening so full of tears, he leans to you, forehead against forehead, making your heart race.

“Can you…just hold me?” Another crack in his voice, tearing your heart again. “I mean if you are…done I mean…”

You nod almost imperceptible, him, you pulling the other one on the bed, bodies falling in the sheets. Peter curling up to you, his warm body snuggling against your, legs and arms intertwining, moulding against each other. His fingers gripping your shirt, head nuzzling on your chest, you pulling him closer. You can feel his heartbeat slowly aligning with yours, feeling this soft, happy warmth in your body. His senses aligning with yours is probably the only thing coming close to say I love you without even saying it. Carefully, you let your fingers run up his spine, tangling through his, still a little bit wet, curls, a soft sigh against your neck.

“I am so happy you’re here.” Silent whisper, scratchy voice and a smile curls at your lips. “Who else should patch you up either? Star Wars band aids from CVS ain’t it.” 

 Peter chuckles lightly, his fingers wandering over your back, under the hem of your shirt. “But they look cool.” 

You arch your eyebrow. “Didn’t know you want to look cool now, Parker.” Your boyfriend mutters something against your neck, pressing a soft kiss on it, sending a tickle down your spine.  

“No, really.” Peter props himself up a little, hovering over you, muscles flexing and you cannot help but stare at his arms for a second. “Eh don’t stare at me.”

“Then don’t walk around basically naked.” You pinch his biceps. “This is very rude.” “Rude huh?” He arches an eyebrow, an almost devious smirk in his eyes and you chuckle. “Oh I see you are back in the game.”“No game.” A soft head shake, his forehead falls against yours, curls tickling over your skin, nose tips nudging against each other. “Just wanted to be cute ok?” His lips are trembling over yours, so in need to be kissed and you groan. “This is not cute right now.”“Oh sorry.” A soft peck on them, blushing your heart. “Better?”“Maybe.” Cupping his face, you pull your boyfriend closer, lips merging together, sending this happiness through your body, washing away the rest of this sick, nauseous feeling in your body. Your lips part, leaving some space to breathe, collecting your heartbeat. 

“You’re not a bad Spiderman.” Your fingers grace over his jawline. “You just had a bad day.”A soft smile curling at his lips, eyes still glistening a little. “Got better thirty minutes ago.”Your left eyebrow arches. “You already redeemed your being cheesy pass this week, you remember that, right?” Not that this is a real thing, just a joke between both of you. 

“It’s not cheesy, it’s true.” Pouting a little bit, Peter sinks down next to you, his body still snuggled to yours, the pout on his lips turning into a softer, gentle smile. “Are you staying?”“Overnight or here with you?”“Both.” His thumb brushes over your cheek. “Haven’t gotten the chance yet to take off your clothes as promised.”“I planned on staying even before, so…yes.”

“Good.” Peter pulls you closer, planting a little kiss on your forehead. “Wouldn’t have let you go either.” 

[dickytwister]

HEY do you maybe have like an oc page or could you tell me something about all your ocs because i'm Interested and you have my full attention :eyes:

AHSJDKGLHL that's so sweet i'm nfjghl???? i don't have an oc page bc i'm the embodiment of an old man being given an iphone after 50 years of using a rotary phone but !!! i can yell abt them a bit aaa thank you for asking abt them 🥺🥺💚

i put everything under the cut bc dear god i have a lot to say abt my kids and i'm not gonna make everyone scroll through that HHHHHH haw 🤠🤠

elliot fletcher

- he's my deputy in fc5!! he's from waverly in iowa and he's just...very tired nfjfkhl give my poor man a break

- everytime his radio crackles he ages 10 years and if it's john talking add another 10 years

- he keeps the three heralds alive but he doesn't care abt joseph <3

- gets in trouble bc he's impulsive af nfjghl when jacob is close to the cage?? ram his face in the bars. when john leans like rlly close in the confession scene?? headbutt 😌🙏🏼

- the only people who know abt his past are earl, grace, faith and john, the rest just kinda speculate and elliot lets them believe what they want bc not only does he rlly not want ppl to know the actual truth, it's also very funny to listen to the stuff they can come up with

- speaking of faith he often seeks her for advice and sometimes they get high together and he gets teary eyed bc she's just... very nice to him and when all you see everyday is violence it's overwhelming to be shown a little bit of kindness 🥲🙏🏼

- he's in love with john but also he'd kick him across the county if he could but also he'd give his life for him

- after the bombs and all he unlocks his final form and becomes A Husband™, complete with a beard, a scarf and bad jokes that make john want to officially marry him so he can divorce his ass

- fun fact i came up with the name elliot fletcher bc i thought it sounded neat but recently i found out there's a trans actor called elliot fletcher too??? like what were the odds ngl that's so cool

carter quill

- this is my character in the marvel dnd game my brother is dming!!

- his parents are peter quill and kitty pryde and he inherited his mom's powers (so he can become immaterial and stuff uwu) and his dad's tiny pebble brain~

- he grew up on a ship with the guardians so his family is just... a bunch of uncles, one of which is a tree

- he's part of an initiative called the peacekeepers with isaaq cage (luke cage's and jessica jones' son), finneas "zorn" reeves (brock rumlow's and sinthea shmidt's son), lu "highway star" khan (the mandarin's son), alexis "hex" pythagoras (doctor strange's protégé) and ev-lin (ronan the destroyer's daughter who also happens to be carter's bully when they were 11 HHHHHH)

- everyone agrees that carter is just... a puppy. a little labrador. so overexcited. head empty. he doesn't know what's going on but he's having fun with his friends and that's what matters <3

- he died once and went to hell for like 66 years bc he held a bomb while it was exploding but he got better and he doesn't remember most of his time in hell but also he's a lil traumatised

- he wears cute skirts sometimes and also froggie themed clothes 🥰🥰 he's terrible at applying nail polish and it ends up smudged most of the time bc he can't sit still for more than two minutes without going insane but he still likes it

- he has a pet bird called ink!! he thought it was a nice name bc his last name is quill so u know,,, ink,,, quill,,,, he inherited his dad's terrible humor also

- he's fruity and has a big fat crush on one of his teammates 😳😳👉🏼👈🏼

- he strictly refuses to kill, so he uses stunt energy guns and a three section staff to fight!! he accidentally killed someone once and threw up

- he knows asl and is fluent in it!! he's also very bad at reading measurements when cooking (and reading in general) so he relies on their proto-ai, dadji, to help him cook and he listens to audiobooks a lot!!

- idk what else to say abt him except like two games ago he was in the hospital bc lu got hurt and he wanted to get him muffins from a coffee shop across the streets but he panicked when faced with the selection so he bought one of each and came back to the hospital room with like,,,, twenty muffins

- i found this pic of his face claim and it honestly just radiates his vibe so here have it

thorgran galvish

- he's my dwarf enchanter from another homebrew dnd game!! in this universe (and maybe others idk shit abt actual dnd HHHH forgive me) enchanter dwarves are lowkey enslaved bc of their rare link with magic

- thorgran blew up a wall and ran away to the surface so now he's a fugitive and he's constantly on the run uwu trust issues ensue

- he loves the sky so much?? especially at night?? he knows abt constellations, but he thinks they're just whatever you see in the stars and doesn't know there are like,,, actual constellations so he sits on the roof of a tall building sometimes and finds his own constellations

- he also tries to draw them but he rlly sucks at it aslkdsgl that doesn't stop him from filling his journal with little stars and drawings!!

- during my very first game with him he found his rival, who turned out to be a 16 years old teenager?? millennial/gen z rivalry

- agh i don't have much abt him yet bc i've only just started to play him but he's my beefiest boy and also a dilf 🥰🥰

theadric "elder" montajay

- yet another character from the same universe as thorgran, but this time it's a funky little halfling bard

- his instrument is the violin!! he tried every other instrument and his mom was very supportive despite how bad he was at all of them. his community was raided and his father died, so he inherited his violin and that turned out to be the only instrument he could play

- took his love of the economy to the next level when he decided to fuck every gang leader he could find to control their operations and ruin their organizations so the money they hoarded could be put back in circulation

- accidentally fell in love with a half-orc gang leader and was abt to tell him the truth abt what he was doing but was exposed by the first person he'd cheated so he had to run without explaining himself to his lover smh ://

- "i don't wanna fall in the slutty bard cliché," i say before immediately giving elder the tightest leather pants and opening his shirt to show his majestic chest hair.

- surprisingly good with kids?? anyone younger than him who looks sad becomes His Child and he turns into a lil mama, tasting the food of an inn first to assure it's not poisoned, giving hugs, soft shit like that ngl he's just a mom 😔😔

- we abandoned the game he was in but we left off when he'd just escaped a dwarven prison with his new child and others owo anyway slutty bard with chest hair?? that's just the witcher's jaskier

scylla

- my gay pirate lady!! i don't have much abt her either bc AAA BRAINROT but !!! i still love her very much

- she's a hybrid between a human and a psaarinch (fish folks in our homebrew universe uwu) and she looks very human except she has like shark abilities?? she can smell blood, taste with her skin, breathe underwater for like two hours or smth, sharper teeth,,

- she started off as a privateer but like what was the kingdom gonna do?? track her down to make sure everything she did was legal?? nah man she got that sweet fleet and became a pirate

- she beats men up in inns and gives their wives a good time <3

- she's very close to her crew and they're kinda just a big family

- she fights with those s-shaped staffs?? but they're actually blades ngfhl she's very agile and looks like she's dancing when she's actually fighting

- fun fact she's my second shark oc the first one was called maito and she was a yellow lantern in a dc game we did (the main difference between them is that maito loved men while scylla is very much a lesbian 😌🙏🏼)

i have like so many more of them but that's already such a long post and i don't wanna do too much NGL if u wanna know more hmu i'll yell some more 😎😎🙏🏼🙏🏼

[osamusriceballs]

Hello ♡ ´ ･ ᴗ ･ `♡ now I also wonder about tsukki, but if we use that logic, Hinata will have orange hairs?. When I was a kid, around 10 years old, I wanted to be a baker so I learned how to bake cookies and brownies and stuff, but I quit after burning a towel with an electric pan, if you want to know, well the towel. It was under the pan and then it started to burn, but my 12-year-old brain at that time managed to grab the towel and put in some water so I survived. Part 1 thisisalittlelong

I still have like 3 brain cells because when I'm cooking and I need to change the pan's position, I still think about touch it with my bare hands, instead of grabbing the towel that's RIGHT next to me. I think there's a genetic thing with me liking maths, because my mum it's graduated from one of the most prestigious high schools in my country, called colegio científico (I don't know how to say it in English, sorry) part 2

P3: but it's specialized in maths and cience, and my dad it's a teacher of physics in the same type of high school, but idk. I'll love to play Animal Crossing with you, but my island it's a mess, it wasn't even finished when I decided it was a good idea to re acomodate the whole thing, but still I don't complain to play with you, I just need to pay the online, I don't have it because I just have two friends with a Nintendo Switch. well ٩(ര̀ᴗര́)ᵇʸᵉ look for the light and shine bright ♡(*´ω｀*)/♡

This Is apart from my previous ask (btw I had to cut some things because it was like 1300 letters (´。＿。｀)) but today I discovered one music group called SIAMÉS and when I listened to "summer nights" And " Mr. Fear" I just felt so touched, I didn't felt that way like a year or two ago when I discovered Caravan place, which is an electro swing band that have really good songs (〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃). Well ٩(ര̀ᴗര́)ᵇʸᵉ and look for the light

——————————

HINATA WITH ORANGE-HAIRED LEGS- I‘M LOSING IT HERE OMG 😂 idk why I find that funny, but that just made me laugh really hard 😂😂 But i feel like Hinata is just not someone to have a hairy body- I can totally imagine that he tried to grow a beard, but just COULDN‘T- POOR BBY

AND- uff I also burned something under a pan - but I was 22 and not 12 😂 Just glad that nothing bad happened, seems like your 12 year old self was still smart- smart enough not to get yourself killed!!

BUT I ALSO DO THINGS LIKE THAT- a friend of mine once told me that you need to control your reflexes when you work in a kitchen, and he is so damn right. Your first reflex is to grab the pan- but you need to think first 😫 so don‘t feel bad, things like that happen to all of us 🥺

Seems like your parents are really smart, just like you!! It’s very impressive that she went to a prestigious college 😳 And do you also like physics and science?

MY ISLAND IS A MESS TOO- need to change some things and at least make some roads or ways AND I SWEAR- my house is not even that pretty on the inside- cause I always played when the shops are closed, that’s why I never got new furniture 😫 but I bought that Godzilla statue and made a shrine for him. Priorities ✊🏻

I‘m gonna listen to them- I‘m always up for song recommendations!! And especially if the music is touching 🥺 I’ll tell you how I liked it!!

So, my dear Alice-chan- I hope you‘ve been drinking enough, and that you‘re healthy and well!!

LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! 💖 take your hugs and kisses right here!! 💖

[mustangshelby04]

Boston Boy Chapter 1

A/N This is my first attempt at a Chris Evans Fanfic. I posted it over on another blog, but I was encouraged to post it on my blog, too. So, here goes! Be gentle with me.

Finally!

Kathleen looked around the airport as she pulled her luggage behind her.  After years of being a fan of the Patriots, she’d finally bought tickets to a game and was spending a week in Boston.  And even more exciting, she was doing it by herself.  She’d never travelled by herself before, so this was exciting and slightly terrifying.

It was mid morning on a Saturday and the airport wasn’t terribly busy.  The rental car terminal was practically deserted as she entered to pick up her rental car.  The people were friendly and the car was a newer Ford Fusion with the works inside. She plugged in the address of her hotel and made her way through the streets of Boston.  The last time she’d been to this city, it had been a horrible experience.  The Boston Marathon had been going on and they were in the middle of the “Great Dig”, so driving had been a nightmare.  This time, she was determined to enjoy every minute.

After getting checked in at her hotel in downtown with some minor difficulty since she was so early, she finally settled her bags in the room and began unpacking.  All she needed to do was get freshened up before she went out exploring.  It didn’t take her long.  She swept on some mascara and pulled her shoulder length blonde hair up into a ponytail before changing into jeans, knee high boots, and a sweater.  

It was late October, but the weather was unseasonably warm.  The city was just beginning to buzz with people starting their day.  The Patriots were playing tomorrow and most businesses had put out their Patriot pride paraphernalia.  She wouldn’t be attending that game, though.  Her tickets were for the Thursday night game against the Dolphins.  Her friend Lara was supposed to have come with her to the game, but she’d cancelled at the last minute.  It didn’t matter, though, she would be surrounded by fellow Pats fans.  Maybe she’d even make a new friend to give the extra ticket to.

Boston Common was less than a mile away from her hotel, so she set off on foot in that direction. The best part about this trip was that she had no plans beyond the football game.  She could come and go as she pleased.  Check out the sites, eat the food, and enjoy museums whenever she wanted.  There was no rush to be anywhere as she walked down the street towards the park.

The day passed quickly as she wandered the park and then explored the shops and eateries around Newbury Street.  The people she talked with were friendly and helpful.  They seemed to really love the fact that someone from Kentucky was such a huge fan of their football team.  A few people were very helpful on places to go to watch the game with fellow fans. By the time dinner time rolled around, she had a list going of places to eat at and things to see or do that weren’t tourist traps.

For dinner, she decided to get something simple and eat at the park.  She stretched out on a bench with her Kindle set to the third book in the Outlander series and started eating the PB&J she’d gotten from a little sandwich shop on Newbury Street.  People wandered by her and she smiled back at them if they looked her way.  The sunset made beautiful colors on the grass around her and she enjoyed the glow all the way into the dimness of evening.  

Finally the temperature dropped enough that she needed more than a sweater to stay warm. Deciding that was her cue to head back to the hotel, she turned off her Kindle and stood up.  Which was when she ran straight into a tall, bearded man with blue eyes.  She bounced off of him and lost her balance, falling straight back onto her backside and dropping her Kindle and purse.  The contents fell out and she moved quickly to stop a runaway Chapstick tube.

“I’m sorry.” She said as the man bent down to help her pick up her stuff.

“It’s ok.  I tried to catch you, but you bounced pretty hard.” The man said in a voice that sounded very familiar to her.

“Oh, that’s just my boobs’ natural reaction to running into things.  They throw me down.” He started laughing and she finally looked over at him after picking up her purse. “Oh!”

“Are you ok?  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.  I’m ok.  Thanks. I’m so sorry I ran into you.”

“It was my fault. I was texting and walking.”

“That’s really dangerous. You could’ve fallen into a fountain or something.”

“Lucky for me I just ran someone down.”

“Yeah.” She laughed and realized her Kindle was missing. “Oh.” Turning around to retrieve it from under the bench, she heard a hiss come from behind her. “What?”

“I think someone didn’t clean up after their dog.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No, I’m sorry. Oh, don’t!” He grabbed her hand before she could wipe at the wet substance on the back of her jeans. “Sorry. I knocked you down straight into dog shit.  Here,” He took his jacket off and slung it around her shoulders, making sure it covered the spot up. “Do you live near here?” “Uh, my hotel is only a couple of blocks away.”

“Which one?”

“The Doubletree.”

He smiled and ushered her down the sidewalk. “Let’s get you back there so you can clean up and I can apologize for this some more.”

“Seriously, there’s no need to apologize.  I ran into you.”

“How about we ran into each other?”

“I’ll accept that.” She chuckled. “I’m Kathleen, by the way.  People call me Kate, though.  Or Kat.”

“Chris.”

“Yeah.  I kinda figured that out.”

“And here I thought I was doing good at blending in.”

“Sorry.  I’m a nerd.  I love all things Doctor Who and Marvel.  It’s kind of hard to miss Captain America when he’s standing right in front of you.  Even with a beard.”

He smiled. “Have we met before?”

“No.  Why?”

“You just seemed…. familiar.  Thought maybe I’d met you at a convention or something.”

“Oh.  Well, I kinda fail at that part of being a nerd.  Don’t tell any of the others, but I’ve never been to a convention.  It’s on my bucket list, though.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” He glanced down at her. “It’s fun.  At least from my experience.”

“I can imagine.  I have friends that go to them all the time and it looks like so much fun.  And since I love Halloween, it would give me a chance to use some of my costumes again.” She looked up and saw her hotel looming. “That’s me.”

“Nice.  A Halloween fan, huh?”

“The biggest.  I go all out.  I usually start planning for the next year the day after Halloween.”

“It’s only a few days away.  What are you planning this year?”

“I was going to do Peggy Carter, and I even started collecting the pieces for it, but I had the opportunity to come to Boston and I chose that instead.” They walked into the lobby and Chris called the elevator for them.  It opened immediately and they stepped in.  She hit the button for the sixth floor.

“Is this your first time in Boston?”

“Second.  I was here in early 2001 for spring break.”

He laughed and shook his head. “You came to Boston for spring break?”

She laughed. “It’s a long story, but yes.  I came to Boston for spring break.” The elevator doors opened and she led the way down the hall to her room.  He held the door for her as she walked in. “I’ll be right back with your jacket.” She disappeared into the bedroom and shut the doors behind her.  Taking a moment to freak out that Chris Evans was sitting in her hotel room, she jumped up and down for a few seconds.  Then she caught a whiff of the dog poo on her backside and gagged.  She quickly stripped those jeans off and shoved them in the dirty laundry bag from the closet.  Grabbing another pair and checking to make sure there was no poop on his coat, she headed back out into the sitting room. “Thank you for giving me your jacket to hide the poop.” She handed him back his coat.

“No problem.” He’d made himself comfortable on the couch, but had stood up when she walked in. “This is a really nice hotel room.”

“Yeah.  My mom runs a Hilton in Virginia and she got me the employee discount despite not wanting me to come on this trip.”

“She didn’t want you to come?”

“She worries.  This is my first time travelling alone.  She’s texted me about twenty times today.  And don’t even get me started on my brother and my step-dad.”

“Bad, huh?”

“They’ve been threatening to show up and keep an eye on me.  I’m surprised they haven’t sensed there’s a man in my hotel room and kicked in the door.” She glanced at the door. “You’d think I’m not almost 30 years old and been living on my own for years.”

“It’s good they worry.  Mine do too.”

“Yeah?  Try being the youngest in a family full of boys. Out of the eight cousins in my family, there’s only three girls.  Myself, my sister, and Cara.  Cara got married a couple of years ago and now everyone’s protective forces have shifted to me.  I’m tempted to never get married just to drive them crazy.”

“What about your sister?”

“She’s a very long story and I doubt she’ll ever get married.”

“Do you think the guys would show up if I bought you dinner as an apology for knocking you down?”

She blinked for a few seconds. “You want to buy me dinner?”

“It’s the least I can do.”

“Are you sure?  I mean…. I’m not exactly…. Well, you’re…..” She sighed. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to do anything beyond what you’ve already done.”

“I don’t feel obligated. I want to buy you dinner.  I feel terrible that I knocked you down into dog shit on your first vacation by yourself.  Also, my mother raised me to be a gentleman and this is the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I, uh…. Ok.  I mean, if you’re dead set on it, then I guess I’ll let you buy me dinner.  Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Besides, we’ve managed to carry on a conversation without either of us turning into bumbling idiots and I wouldn’t hate continuing it.” “Yeah, I’m shocked I’m being so cool right now considering I am a fan of yours, but why would you ever be a bumbling idiot talking to me?”

“Oh, uh….” To her amazement, he actually blushed. “I sometimes have trouble keeping up a conversation with someone I’ve just met.  You can’t tell it, but I’m sweating bullets right now.”

She smiled slightly. “No need to get all sweaty nervous around me.  I’m just…. Well, I’m just me.  Not worth the sweat.”

“I highly doubt that’s true.” Before she could respond, he changed the subject. “So, dinner…. What would you like to eat?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich earlier and I had planned to come back here and curl up with room service.”

“That’s no good. You’re a couple blocks from Chinatown and some really delicious food.”

“Ok.  Chinese sounds good.”

“Great!” He bounced on the balls of his feet for a second. “I know exactly where to take you.”

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “You’re very excited about this.”

“Well, yeah.  It’s not every day I run someone down, knock them into dog shit, and get Chinese food for it.”

“Oh, you’re getting rewarded for it?”

“Yeah.  One could say that I already have gotten rewarded.”

“How so?” She walked back into her room to reach in the closet and grab her coat. He followed her to the doorway. “I met someone new today.”

“And she hasn’t gone psycho fangirl on you.”

“You planning to?”

“Gonna try not to.” She laughed again, slipping on her coat. “Honestly, I’ve met a lot of celebrities and you’re all just like us normal folks.  I’m not going to scream in your ear or hump your leg or anything crazy.”

“Thank god.  I don’t know what I’ll do if you scream in my ear.”

She laughed as they walked out of the hotel room.  They headed back to the elevators and he hit the call button. “You know, this is definitely not how I pictured meeting you.”

“Yeah?  How did you picture it?”

“Um…. At a convention with you on one side of a table and me on the other.  Probably handing you something to sign.”

“Ah.”

“This is better, for the record.  Even with the dog shit.”

The elevator opened and he let her step on first.  They made it to the sidewalk before he spoke again. “So why Boston?” He asked as they headed down the street.

“The Patriots.”

“The Pats?  Are you a fan?” “Big fan.  I’ve got my Brady jersey in my room ready to wear.”

“Are you going to the game tomorrow?”

“Not tomorrow’s game. I couldn’t get tickets for it. I’m going to Thursday’s game.”

“Nice!”

“My best friend was supposed to come with me, but she flaked out.”

“That sucks.  Why did she do that?”

“Something about she didn’t want to waste vacation days because she’s got dance things coming up.” She rolled her eyes.

He didn’t miss the eye roll. “You don’t approve?”

“It’s not that I don’t approve.  I’m glad dance makes her so happy, especially with her being separated from her husband and dealing with all of that.  My problem lies with the fact that she’s really starting to shun people for the dancing thing.  I swear, I haven’t seen her in weeks and that’s highly unusual for us.”

“You’re the same age?”

“Yes.”

“When did she start dancing?”

“It’s been off and on since she was a kid.  There’s a lot of issues there and the dancing is just a mask for them.  Honestly, it’s a can of worms you don’t want to open.”

“Ok.  New subject.  How did you become a Pats fan coming from the south?”

“My first trip to Boston.”

“The spring break one?”

“Yup.”

“I think we’ve got time if you want to tell me why you came to Boston of all places for spring break.”

She laughed. “Ok. Well, I was living with my father at the time, but planning to move back with my mom before sophomore year of high school.  I wanted to get away from my father whenever possible because that was a horrible situation and my mom said I could come with her for my spring break.  She had a conference to go to for her job and it was here in Boston.”

“There’s no football during spring break, though.”

“No.  I know.  It was after a really terrible season, too, but everyone I met loved their Patriots. I got my first Patriots shirt while I was here.  I started watching the team to see what all the fuss was about their 2001 season and that’s when Brady showed up.  So while the trip pretty much stunk, I was in love with an amazing football team. Fourteen years later and I’m still a big fan.”

“Why did the trip stink?”

“It was the weekend of the Boston Marathon and they were in the middle of that Great Dig thing, so things were closed or we couldn’t get to anything because streets were closed. It was crazy.  There was also an incident with a shrimp that scared me off them for a while.”

“You were right. It is a long story.  I have questions.”

“Ask away.”

“I’m going to get back to the shrimp thing, because I can’t let that one go.  But, if you don’t mind me asking, what was the horrible situation you were getting away from with your dad?”

“I don’t call him dad, I call him my father.  My step-dad is my dad.  He earned that title.  My father was, uh, well…. He was abusive.”

He became really quiet and his face got very serious. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”

“It’s still horrible.”

“It definitely was. It wasn’t just physical.  It was mental, too.  For a very long time I had body image issues and I didn’t feel like I was worth anything to anyone.  I got so low that I contemplated suicide at one point.  I had the pills in my hand, but my boyfriend at the time developed a sixth sense and called me.  He convinced me to move back to my mom’s in Virginia.  It took a lot of therapy, some great friends, and eventually getting into burlesque to get to some semblance of normal thinking back.  I still have some anxiety about certain things and I’ve been known to unconsciously sabotage relationships because I don’t feel like I’m worth the trouble and I’m almost in constant terror that they’re going to lie to me.  Gotta love trust issues.”  

“I’m so sorry you went through that.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you talk to your father at all?”

“Yeah.  He’s gotten help since then and he’s come out of the closet, so he’s a much happier man now.  He’s been trying to develop a relationship with me lately.”

“Your father is gay?”

“Very.  I’ve known it since I was thirteen and my mom confirmed it.  As a friend of mine put it, my father was so far in the closet he found Narnia and wondered what the fuck happened.” He laughed and she chuckled. “He finally came out when he turned 50.”

“Good for him.”

“Yeah.”

“It still sucks that he put you through all of that.  I’m really sorry.”

“Thank you.  I try to make the best of it.  I’ve worked with a few charities, I’ve done a couple of burlesque shows that benefit women’s shelters, and I’ve gotten to talk with some people in abusive situations that didn’t know how to get out.  I was lucky I had my mom and step-dad to go back to. Not everyone is so lucky.”

They walked into the little restaurant and were seated right away.  Chris requested a booth in the back where it was quiet.  They browsed the menu for a few moments before deciding on a few different options.  Once the order was placed, Chris turned his full attention back to her.

“Please tell me about the shrimp now.  I gotta know.”

She laughed. “So the hotel we were staying at for the conference was super fancy.  It had this gourmet restaurant and a gift shop and a salon. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was called or even where it was located.  Near the harbor, I think.  Anyway, mom and I wanted to go check out this seafood restaurant she’d heard about, but since the streets were all closed and wonky and this was before GPS, we got horribly lost.  Like, ended up in a different town lost.  Mom got frustrated and back tracked us back to the hotel so we could just eat dinner there. I ordered fried shrimp with rice and when it came out, it was…. Well, it was a gourmet restaurant so the plate was very decorative.  It had this column of rice wrapped in seaweed and these brown fried sticks coming out of it. No shrimp in sight yet.  I figured it was in the rice.  So I start to disassemble the plate and pluck one of the brown sticks out.  But it was heavier than I’d planned because along with the stick came the whole shrimp, eyeballs and all.  They had fried the entire shrimp and the brown sticks were the whiskers or tentacles or whatever the hell those things are on shrimp.  It was so unexpected that I screamed, threw the shrimp, and left the table.  I couldn’t eat shrimp for years after that without seeing those hollow, fried eyeballs looking at me.” She smiled at Chris’ laughter.  It was a full belly laugh that almost echoed around them.

“Why would they serve a shrimp like that?”

“I have no idea. It was traumatizing for my fourteen year old self!”

Once their laughter died down, Chris asked, “So if your mom was at a conference, what did you do the whole time?”

“Explored a little bit. Checked out where the Boston Tea Party happened.  Followed the Freedom Trail.”

“History buff?”

“Oh god yes!  I love history.  There’s this house in Richmond called Agecroft Hall.  It was built in England around the time of the War of the Roses.  In the 20s, it had fallen into disrepair and would’ve been torn down, but it was bought by a man in Richmond and he had it dismantled and brought over here to repair and rebuild it on the James River just like it had been in England.  The place is gorgeous and it’s a British history museum right in the middle of Richmond, Virginia.  I’ve spent countless hours there taking pictures and exploring and talking to the tour guides.  I even got to put on my full Tudor costume and hang out and answer questions while people visited and I once took Tudor dancing lessons there.  The Volt is very exciting and was very intimate for those times.” She noticed Chris watching her intently. “I told you.  I’m a big nerd.”

“No, it’s cool.  I like it.  You’re passionate about history.”

“If we don’t learn from the past, we’ll never change the future.”

He smiled brightly at her. “Exactly.  Wait, you have a full Tudor costume?”

“Yes.  I told you I don’t do Halloween lightly.  I went as Anne Boleyn one year.  My mom has to be my handmaiden when I wear it because there’s no way I can get into it by myself.  It’s the most expensive costume that I own.”

“I bet.  Please tell me you have pictures.”

She smiled and pulled out her cell phone.  The food came as they were browsing through her Facebook pictures.  Chris kept browsing as he ate, mind half on his food as he asked about one picture and another.  She was completely surprised at how calm she was being that Chris Evans was genuinely interested in her life.  He held her phone hostage all through dinner as he looked at the different pictures and even took some selfies of himself and them together.

As they walked out of the restaurant, he said, “You have a lot of pictures of your dogs.”

She shrugged. “They’re my babies.  And they’re all chock full of personality.  Or…. Were…. We had to put Tucker to sleep a couple of years ago.  He had cancer.  And Ireland went to sleep about a month ago and didn’t wake up.”

“I’m so sorry.”  

“She was old…. Thirteen. Even though I was expecting it, I was devastated.  I had to leave work I was so upset.  She was a little Nazi, but she was mine.”

He laughed. “How was she a Nazi?”

“She would tell on her brother if he was in the trash or doing something he wasn’t supposed to and as soon as she was satisfied that you caught him, she’d run over to the treat bowl and stare at you impatiently till you rewarded her.  But then she would turn around and get into something she wasn’t supposed to and leave the evidence on Tucker’s bed to frame him.”

“Oh my god!” His bellowing laugh echoed around them.

“She would also smack you when you were eating to remind you that she got at least 25% of your food as payment for allowing you to live in her house.”

“She was definitely a Nazi.”

“She was also dramatic. She got my high school personality. I was a theatre nerd back then. The funniest thing she ever did, though, was walk into a room and if we weren’t paying attention she would let out this huge sigh and pretend to faint.”

“She pretended to faint?”

“Yup.  Then she’d turn her head just a little to see if we were watching her performance.  If we weren’t, she’d move dead into our eye line and do it again.” The bellowing laugh returned and he had to stop for a minute as he doubled over.  She smiled at him and waited for him to compose himself. “Tucker was a ninja.  For a 90 pound dog, he was stealthy as shit.  On a number of occasions I turned my back only to turn back around and discover my sandwich or whatever I had been making was gone and Tucker was sitting in the living room licking his lips.  We never did figure out how he did it so quietly.  He also fancied himself a lapdog, but he was my protector.  If he thought someone was there to harm me, he was one tough dog to restrain.  I pretty much just prayed that I could hold him back long enough to determine if I should let him go or calm him down.”

“He sounds like he was a good dog.”

“He was.”

“How old is your Boston?”

“Gally is seven. She’ll be eight in February.”

“What is she like?”

“She’s crazy. She’s got a vendetta against all fuzzy slippers in the world and her best friend is a hedgehog toy that I got her when she was a puppy.  She loves to run full speed in a tight circle or figure eight around the yard…. Or a person��. And she’s klutzy like her mama.  I’ve never met a dog who runs into walls and trips up stairs.”

“You run into walls and trip up stairs a lot?”

“On a regular basis.”

“You haven’t done it tonight.”

“No.  I’m surprised I haven’t.  I’ve had a number of opportunities.”

“Well, the night is still young.”

“This is true.  But remember how we met?  I did run into you and fall down.”

“Into dog shit.”

“Into dog shit.”

“Don’t worry.  I won’t let you fall again.” He smiled down at her and she was sure that he was flirting with her. “So, what about the newest addition?  Denali?”

“She belongs to my parents, but she’s mouthy.  Loves to talk to you and she’s not afraid to tell you off when she’s mad about something. She’s also crazy.  She can spend, literally, hours chasing her tail or playing fetch.  And she chases animals on TV.  The TV is positioned right next to the doorway into the den and if an animal runs off screen, she’ll run into the den to find it.  Of course it’s not there, so she lets you know how upset about this she is.”

“And you live with your parents?”

“Sort of.  My step-dad converted the garage into a little apartment for me.  I’ve got my own entrance and my own bathroom…. A little living room area and a bedroom that’s sectioned off by these really pretty screens that my step-dad made for me.  It’s nice.”

“It sounds like it.” He smiled. “I still live with my mom when I’m not off somewhere shooting a movie or staying in LA.  My whole family and their families live there too.”

“Must be a big house.”

“Kinda.”

“So, you’re close with your family?”

“Very.  My brother is one of my best friends.  What about you?”

“Same.  As close as we are, I tell him constantly that I would sell him in a heartbeat for my niece.  I love her to pieces.”

“You must if you dressed up as Merida for her in Georgia in June.”

She smiled and felt herself blushing that he remembered her telling him about it when he found the picture. “Yeah.  I’ll probably end up spending most of my souvenir money on stuff for her.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. She is pretty adorable.”

“That’s the thing I’m most proud of: being an aunt.  I love that kid.  And my best friend’s little boy is my unofficial nephew.  I spoil him when I can, too.”

“You sound like me. I love spending time with my sisters’ kids and I spoil the crap out of them whenever I can.”

She laughed. “As much as I love spoiling Hailey, my favorite moments are when it’s just the two of us playing Barbies or going for a walk or rocking her to sleep at night. She’s four and she still likes for me to do that when I’m there.”

“Awe!”

“It broke my heart when she asked me not to leave in June.  She woke up and came to the guest bedroom and curled up with me the morning I was leaving.  She said, ‘aunt Kat, please stay one more day.  I’ll be a good girl.  I love you.’ God, I cried for the first half of the drive back to Virginia.”

“Awe!” Chris wrapped an arm around her and hugged her tightly. “And wow!  You drove to Georgia?  How long of a drive is it?”

“About eight or nine hours.  It’s eleven hours to Kentucky.  I love to travel, so I don’t mind driving.  I would’ve driven here, but I actually won plane tickets in this contest at work.”

“Tickets?”

“Yeah.  I won two.  I haven’t used the other one since Lara was going to use her frequent flyer miles for her ticket.  So, I’ll probably take another trip by myself somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?  Where?”

“Vegas.  LA.  Alaska. I don’t know.”

“Alaska?  Really?”

“My brother and his wife took a cruise there and they loved it.  My sister in law goes a lot for work.”

“That sounds awesome. What would you do there?” “Hike.  Take pictures.  Go ice skating on a frozen lake.  Take pictures.  Maybe try and camp a couple of nights.  Oh, and take some more pictures.”

“Camp, huh?”

“Maybe.  I haven’t been in a long time and I enjoyed it when I was younger.  All through high school, I had to visit my father during the summer even though I didn’t want to. Some friends would kidnap me and we would go to Lake Glendale in Illinois and spend a week camping and swimming and riding horses and learning to shoot a bow and arrow…. Rock climb. It was amazing.  I would love to do it again someday.” She realized they were standing in the lobby of her hotel. “Oh, we’re back.” “Yeah.  I just realized that too.” He seemed genuinely sad about that.

“Uh, you’ve probably got somewhere to be, right?  You were going somewhere when we ran into each other.”

“Oh, not really.  I was probably going to meet Scott and some of his friends for dinner.”

“You ditched your brother for me?”

“It’s ok.  He had just invited me and I was texting him back when I ran into you.” “But he’s your brother.”

“Yeah.  And I’ve had plenty of time to hang out with him. I’ve only got a week with you.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but closed it when she realized what he’d said.  Instead she settled on, “I’m confused.”

“About what?”

“Are you saying you want to hang out more?”

“Yeah.  Why not?”

“Um…. You’re Chris Evans and I’m Kathleen Allen.”

“Yeah.  We’ve done introductions.  It’s the entire conversation afterwards that makes me want to hang out with you more.”

“Do you normally meet fans and hang out with them?  Or am I special?”

“You’re definitely special.  I’ve met a lot of people, but you’re different.  It’s nice.” He called the elevator and held it open for her.  As it started its ascent, he turned to her. “It gets lonely.”

“What does?”

“Being a celebrity.” He said the word like it was a sour candy in his mouth. “You meet people and they know everything about you because they’ve read it in a magazine somewhere. All they want to talk about is how famous you are.  They don’t actually talk to me.” The elevator opened and he held the doors so she could step out safely. “But you did.  You talked and you listened.  I can honestly say that you’ve been one of the best conversations I’ve had in a while.  I’ve loved every second of it.”

She opened her hotel room door and stepped inside. “Well, I don’t know if this is being presumptuous, but you’re welcome to stay and continue the conversation.  I don’t have a mini bar, but there’s room service.”

He grinned. “Yeah. It’s only eight thirty.” He followed her in and shut the door behind him, shrugging his jacket off. “That sounds fun.”

Before she could respond, her phone went off with the James Bond theme.  She quickly pulled it out of her pocket. “One sec.  It’s my brother Killian.” She hit the answer button. “Hey Killi.  No, I’m fine. I went out for Chinese with a really nice guy from Boston.  Yes, I said guy.  Yes, as in male.  No, you don’t need to worry about me.  I’m fairly certain all those lessons will keep me safe if the nice Boston boy decides to attack.  Shut up and put my niece on.” Her face lit up suddenly. “Hey Hailey Bug!  I’m in Boston.  That’s waaay up north from where you are.  I miss you, too.  You’re coming for Christmas!?  That’s so exciting!  Yes, I’m pretty sure Santa will know where you are.  I’ll write him a letter and make sure, ok?” She glanced at Chris with an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I’ll sing a song for you.  What do you want to hear?  Again?  What about something from ‘The Little Mermaid’?  No?  ‘Frozen’ again, huh?  Ok.” With another embarrassed look at Chris to find he was holding back laughter, she started singing “Love Is An Open Door” with her four year old niece. “Ok.  I love you too, munchkin.  I’ll see you in a couple of months.  Bye!  Yeah. She made me sing ‘Frozen’ again.” She rolled her eyes. “I promise I’ll be careful.  Talk to you later.  Bye.” She hung up and shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a nice voice.” Chris said.

“Oh, no…. No.  It’s…. Not that great.”

“You’ve had training.”

“What?  How….”

“My mom is the art director at a youth theatre.  My brother and sisters and I are trained, too.”

“My father…. On good days…. He and aunt Dolly taught me.  He sang in a Christian music group around the area I grew up and his best friend, who I refer to as aunt Dolly, was a music teacher.”

“Nice.  You do have a nice voice.  I wasn’t kidding.”

“Thank you, but no. I don’t.  I only sing in the car and for Hailey these days.” She turned and grabbed the room service menu. “Here, you pick something to drink and I’ll be right back.  I need to take my contacts out and put on something besides jeans.”

“You wear contacts, too?”

“Yeah.  Please don’t laugh at my glasses.  I hate them.” She turned and disappeared in the bedroom. When she came back, she was in a T-shirt with minions on it and black yoga pants.  Her long blonde hair was swept up in a ponytail and she had on her half frame glasses.

“You look nice.”

“You’re way too nice for your own good.  I wouldn’t even put the glasses on if my contacts hadn’t been bugging me.”

“Honestly, you shouldn’t be so self-conscious.  You’re beautiful with or without glasses.  And I’ve seen you in both now and can judge that honestly.” He sat down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. “I ordered you some sweet tea.  I hope that’s ok.  It’s what you were drinking at dinner.”

“Yeah.  That’s perfect.” She sat down next to him. “Wait, you wear contacts?”

“Yeah.  Got them in now.  I haven’t had mine in as long as you have, so they’re not bugging me yet, but I know exactly what you were going through.  It’s a pain in the ass to have to wear them that long.”

“Amen!” She laughed.

“So your brother’s name is Killian?”

“Yup.”

“And you’re Kathleen.”

“And my sister Janice is the oddball.”

“And your brother gave you fighting lessons?” “God no!  He only thinks he’s tough.  My cousin Todd taught me how to throw a punch.  My brother taught me how to shoot a gun.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry.  I don’t carry.  I can also sword fight.”

“Now why would a nice girl like you need to know that?”

“A friend of mine is really big into medieval weaponry.  He taught me how to swing a bunch of different swords.”

“So, you can shoot a bow and arrow, you can shoot a gun, you can use a sword, and you can throw a punch. You’re officially scary.”

“Thanks.  I consider myself almost ready for a zombie apocalypse.” Her phone started ringing again and this time it was Stewie from “Family Guy” yelling “mom, mom, mom” over and over.  Kate rolled her eyes and got to her feet. “Hi mom.  Yeah, I’m having great fun.  You talked to Killian, huh?  What did he have to say?  Oh, yeah? He’s being dramatic.  Yeah, I did meet a nice guy that took me to dinner. Chinese.  I met him in Boston Common.  Uh, yeah.  I’d say he was.  I don’t know. I promise I’m being careful.  No, I don’t want to talk to him cause he’s just going to have a cow over everything.  I don’t know.  Then tie him up in a closet somewhere till he calms down and realizes I can take care of myself.  You have fun with that.  I’ll talk to you later.  Nope.  Bye, mom.” She set her phone down. “My brother told my mom I met a Boston boy and I’m probably going to move here now.”

“What would you say I was?”

“Huh?”

“You said to your mom ‘I’d say he was.’”

“Oh, uh….” She blushed. “She asked if you were handsome and then she asked if I was going to see you again.”

“That was the ‘I don’t know’ part, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, change that ‘I don’t know’ to a ‘yes’.”

“What?”

“You’re going to see me again.  Tomorrow. I’m taking you to the game if you’ll let me.”

“The Patriots game?”

“Yeah.  While you were talking to your mom, I texted a friend of mine and got us seats in one of the suites.  Great view of the field.”

“Are you joking? Am I on a hidden camera show?”

Chris laughed. “No. Look, I meant what I said before. You’ve been one of the best conversations I’ve had in a while and I don’t want to see it end.  In fact, I’ve got the next couple of weeks off and I’d love to show you around Boston myself while you’re here.”

“You do?”  

“Yeah!  Who better to show you around this city than someone from it?”

“Well, I guess, yeah….” “We can go to the game tomorrow and then grab dinner somewhere and plan our week.”

“Chris….” “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, I do want to, it’s just….” A hundred different things went through her head to finish that sentence, but she settled on. “Unexpected.”

“Isn’t that when life is at its best?  When it’s unexpected?”

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