#hes so twink need white chocolate on him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seb-owns-these-tatas · 5 years ago

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 17)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 16.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: You couldn't save everyone and it was a decision to sacrifice yourself for the betterment of a family you've began to hold dear. Your existence in the continent continues to confuse everyone, including you and Geralt himself.

Warnings: Blood? Poor Jaskier. Cusses. Implied rape from fuckin' assholes. No more glitters and rainbows. Bloedzuiger from the games? Gifs of Geralt with jet black eyes? I mean..why? shouldn’t it not be a warning? Heh.

Words: 5.9k

A/N: Anybody missed me?! Heehee! Now, I fookin miss Geralt and Midget together. Damn it. *sits in a corner and cries* I can’t believe I’ve surpassed my own curse where I only reach up to 5 chapters then keep a story unfinished due to lack of inspo and will. 😭😂 (Update has been earlier due to my uncle’s birthday tomorrow and I might not be able to use my laptop. Hehehe) We’re in the middle of the whole fic, bb’s. This is where everything’s going to happen now. Probably might earn some temple scratching somehow. Hehehe.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB!

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. (Credits to bi-jaskier and others who deserves credit for the gifs)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

7 BILLION PEOPLE IN EARTH. YOUR DIMENSION. There was a myth that seven people might look exactly like you out of the billion that were born. Though, being identical was a once in a blue moon circumstance that held no support or proof that it happened.

Twins even had their own genetic differences, their DNA's were not even the same or even mutually identical to one another.

But, you were transported into another dimension that you didn't know about and based on their conversation and how you've perceived from what they were saying is that you have already been in their hands when it never even happened from the start.

They sounded like they've already seen you somewhere when they haven't at all.

Chevaliers circled around you with their swords sheathed from where it rightfully belongs. They've had a malicious glint in their eyes, dangerous and full of spite. Disgust even included in their humanized souls---if they were even still human. They were looking as if you were an oddball. Judgemental to the fullest; vaguely telling that you were considered as a freak for being the witcher's woman.

Forest green eyes scanned yours, listless but an anomalous situation from the group of uncharitable gallants who seemed to have similar odious characteristics. This cavalier stood out rather than the rest because his eyes held sympathy and not hostility. He was gracile, the same body built as Jaskier. But, wearing no armor just like the vampire you loathed the most. Other than a brown doublet which matches his chocolate colored hair.

He crouched before you, thoroughly scrutinizing your face under his gaze; finding something distinctive or common with the lass that they have captured three days ago, "Wasn't she the one we captured, Ty? That thief named Savia?" his tone held curiosity and astonishment when he saw the exact same face of the woman.

There was no differences except from the aura he could feel. You had her face, voice and body structure. Entirely the same for his wits to disfunction from what he has witnessed.

The scrubbing echo of gravel, dirt and leather made you turn your head to where it was. Tybalt. The fucking vampire who stabbed you on the hip and tried to sell those women away. He was there, right in front of you; grinning like a mad man like he has caught a mouse in the cage, entirely anticipating this moment to capture you once again with purposes you didn't know yet.

Kolby was nowhere to be found. After trying to protect you from the hands of Tybalt, your Hirikka was pushed back by the vampire and his strength, making you screech as Kolby loudly whimpered and growled when he'd stumbled; his back flat from the far distance before skedaddling off through the woods. The simple escape back to where he belonged pinched a your heart because he had already been a part of what made you happy with your stay in their dimension.

You didn't expect his leave to be so early; in the midst of being captured by the hands of real life monsters.

If people were scared of monsters in this world you were currently in, then they should think twice because the cruel form of life in every damn world was the humanity it thrives in; continuing to become cruel, vicious, evil and cunning because people lived to strive more with greed surging through their veins as their own demons try to conquer.

Humanity was everyone's main enemy and not their monsters.

Tybalt gave you a subtle tilt of his head, his grin utterly sinister; those teeth of his never showing the fangs that you have seen back at the marketplace when he was trying to provoke Geralt as he was butchering off his knightly minions.

The break of dawn was coming to a start. Peachy orange glow of the sun hiding began to rest beneath the mountains and clouds that looked the same back in earth. Its glow have made everything more frightening while you were surrounded by a bunch of armored men and a vampire who obviously had strength and skills to kill you in a blink of an eye.

Geralt never scared you because his heart was good. No doubt about that because he had offer you his house from the first day you've met, even treating your wounds and saving you from an Alghoul who wanted to eat your insides. But, Tybalt was different. He didn't appear to be like a person to trust even the slightest except if you were a princess in the castle.

He had his hands on his hips, eyes digging to examine your face. The way he stood held power and cruelty as he clicked his tongue, "S'not the feisty one. I know this maiden's scent. She's the real one, aren't ye', you wench?"

Tybalt abruptly crouched down in front of you, his fingers speedily grabbing onto your roots and turning them in an aching posture that had you growling, teeth barred from the feral reaction. The wrinkles of his nose shown when he defiled your space, abrasing the column of your neck that ignited an intense shiver from the disgust as you cowered away and struggled against his hold.

You've heard Jaskier's footing come to a stand, his doublet spilled with his own blood. Hair all wild and facial expression livid for their sudden visit. The golden, sharp dagger tightened around his fist as he marched heavy steps towards the higher vampire.

But, his assault came to a stop when one cavalier shielded him before he could have Tybalt within reach, strongly punching him in the gut that made him stumble to the ground in less than a second. Jaskier sputtered out droplets of blood, a pointed sword punctuating the tip on his jugular.

Jaskier's pained moans made you snarl right back at the queen's right hand man which made him instinctively tut, "But, the fragrance has a distinctive scent to it now---I don't even know what's runnin' inside the mind of this whore anymore," Pause. Tybalt huffed, scoffing with a grin as he interrogated, "---What did the witcher do to ye'?"

You could feel his terrible breath on your face. His hold unwavering from the resolute strength that he had when you lowly grated through clenched teeth, your eyes screaming elfish because of how you were trying to dillydally in hopes of seeing a white haired witcher to come running towards you with his horse. But, considering how he was probably out to hunt a monster, he was probably busy and distracted. So, expecting the worst was better than awaiting for a moment that will never come.

"Me." you fooled around despite being in the vampire's hold, "---He's doing me. I've waited for the time to say that if someone ever asks me what my lover does---so, worth it, Leonidas."

From your foolish response, Tybalt sneered before nodding off towards the paladins who surrounded both you and Jaskier; sharing an understanding to do what is needed and before you could even turn your head back to check on Jaskier, they were already beating him down to pulp. You've heard more grunts from the twink of a toubadour which made your eyesight go foggy from being hopeless and such a waste to live in their world where you had no magic to keep everyone out of danger, "No! Don't hurt him!" you shrieked out loud, the gallants never ceasing despite of your pleads.

More blood dripped out of the side of Jaskier's lip as he took another strong blow on the gut; making his body jerk that laid from the outstretched land of the meadow. You've uttered one loud scream to catch their attention, noticing the other gallant that you noticed to be standing on a corner was just watching everything unfold like he didn't want to be involved with their horseshit.

"I swear to God, he's a weakling! Stop!---please, stop! You'll have your witcher! I'll give you your witcher just stop!"

With one signal of his head, the cavaliers stopped their battering. Jaskier feebly straightened his limbs over the short grass, coughing out more blood from their corporal punishments, grumbling out a grouse from your choice of words in which you described him with, "Shit. Rat. I've stabbed three knights in the neck for you."

If Jaskier didn't acknowledge that fact and the risk which he has given to keep you alive, you wouldn't have noticed three dead bodies laying on the farthest end of the meadow where the forest began to meet its field.

You've harshly turned your head back to Tybalt, wanting to spit on his face for being one of the best imbecile in their world but decided against it to not irritate him further until Geralt was around. His eyes were livid, staring back at you and in your peripheral vision, you've seen the back door of your house slightly ajar, a slip of a pair of the prettiest blue eyes hidden behind the hatch that made you swallow from the consternation of Cirilla being found and taken with you.

If one person was needed for capture, it should be you; not the princess. If one was to leave their world, it must be you because you didn't belong to their dimension from the start.

One cavalier took his mask off, shaking his head for his black, medium length hair to fall down his neck as he curiously crouched beside you and Tybalt. Features telling you that he was stupefied from what he was seeing with his fixated gaze on your face, "There's a whole lotta' crazy we got here in the continent! The Butcher of Blaviken created bloodbath for this maiden?"

Though, astonishment isn't the only sensation he was feeling when you've felt his fingers graze upon the lines of your ear; seeming to be bawdy and suggestive from the sudden touch and you couldn't help but wrest away from his reach. Howbeit, Tybalt's hand that was yanking on your head made it difficult to.

"Though, this harlot is less feisty than the other! I would rather much have her for tonight,"

The knight's sentence was sheared off when he was strongly pushed by the shoulder from the vampire; his fingers pulling away from outlining your lips with his fingers as he fell on his ass flat on the ground. You've been pulled by the hair to stand, making you pant harsh breaths from how painful it was feeling. Hands were trying to wrench his fingers from your head but his hold was too tight for you to tweak away.

"Ingrith wants her untouched just like the other," Tybalt droned as he pulled you close to him, seeming to be tall as Geralt. His height being an advantage over your small form as he dragged you anywhere he wanted. The knight who was pushed to the ground grunted from how he was assaulted, scowling from Tybalt's shoving as he cackled in a shady manner when he heard the latter set boundaries from their current captive.

"Ye' know ye' shouldn't fuck with a witcher's tart, Allard."

"I would! The weccan' wouldn't mind, does he?" the disgusting cavalier brought his feet to a stand, dusting the grass from his flat derriere as he looked back at Tybalt with a slight tilt of his head; the longer his gaze holds, it turns even more disgusting as he looked like he was undressing you with those dark hues of his, they were the type of stomach-churning that can make you sick in no time, "Oh, she's probably a fuckin' freak like him, lad." the latter stated as a matter of fact, smirking in between his words as he nonchalantly continued.

"---Where's the freak?"

They were making your blood boil by how you could hear they were treating him. Has it been always like this in his world? ergo, he was living a life where people see him ghostly rather than a gifted human as he was seen in your eyes. You couldn't help but sarcastically giggle from their rude speech, "He has a name and it's Geralt. Don't disrespect him like that when you're actually the real freak, Edward." pause. "---You fuckers are worse than any other human." before you can even think twice, spit drizzled on Tybalt's face when you've fumed and barked back, "---More evil than the devil himself and I pray for each and one of you to go to fucking hell,"

"The devil don't exist here, ye' foolish cunt!"

Without any delay or second thoughts, a deafening sound of a slap has rumbled; it was a saddle-sore, the strong smack lingering longer on your cheek as excruciating as it can get. He probably used a little bit of his inhumane strength because of how you've descended down the ground; the side of your head hitting as your whole body fell. Your palms flat on the terra firma, receiving bruises on the edge of your lips because of how you've nosedived in it.

"Rat---!" Jaskier shouted from the background before you've heard the gallants haul him down to kick his face hard.

The asshole squat down to where you were stumbled down, his face showing no pity from what he'd done; slapping you on the face like you deserve it from being all talk and no help, "I suppose ye' don't know where he is. Fair enough then! Let's give er' a lil' bit of a chase---" pause. "---He must try and serve his purpose to the land of Kaedwen other than being a freak of a mutant and slaughtering monsters for coins,”

You spat out the metallic taste of your blood that went inside your mouth, shifting your eyes to where he was bent. You've placed your fingers on your side, gesturing towards the princess who seemed to be shaking and panicking from inside the house, seeing silver clasped around her hands as she was contemplating how to defend you both from the gallants. She had the sword that her and Geralt uses whenever they were trying to train; the weapon which has been in your hands as well.

But, you subtly gestured for her to stand down and hide. It won't be such a nice sight if she did want to help.

"You sound like the castle's loyal pet. Hilarious."

The whole scenario was a fight or flight, and the logical part of your brain screams to cooperate with what they wanted before anything ends up more badly than it can ever get. You lifted yourself off the ground, sitting on the floor while you give Tybalt the death glare as he grinned because he knew the action he did was a trigger for you to comply.

"Where's the other girl?" he chuckled, watching your fists tightened to your sides when you were on your feet. A bloody, deep gash on your cheek when some stone has scratched it and also from Tybalt's whack.

"Don't even think about it, you asshole." you immediately hissed when you knew he was talking about Cirilla. The latter also stood on his feet, tall and confident that his plans were going on the right path today.

"What? She yer' daughter? aren't ye' a child?"

"I'm no child, you fucker! Stop dissing my height like this!---and yes. My daughter. She's my daughter, so don't even think about it!"

Surprisingly, there was no tears seen in your face. They didn't deserve your tears. These people needed to rot in hell, you mindlessly thought to yourself and irritatingly bit on the insides of your cheeks which slightly drew blood from how angered you were. Peering up at the man who was giving you an obvious snicker because he could read that you were succumbing from how they've caught you in hindsight and in a weak position.

The lion cub of Cintra stood behind the doorway, crying her eyes out from how impotent she was because of how everyone wanted her to stay back. Cirilla knows she could help but people who surrounded her wanted not to use her powers as she has yet to learn and control. Hence, she couldn't do anything but watch another person in her life be in a snare or better yet, drown to die in this person's own blood.

So far, hearing those words hurt her heart because she couldn't do anything when you were unconditionally risking your life for her not to be involved because that's what it's supposed to be.

To you, she was being treated more than she can ever expect; the title of a daughter that she didn't knew she missed to need, a mother despite of being not connected through bloodline. But, a woman who would care for her well-being just like how her grandparents did loved her.

Consider herself lucky even though how unfortunate her life began. She received a father and a mother that will risk everything just for her to be safe and she knew she was crying right now because she cared for you; she was concerned like how a daughter would.

Your jaw tightened because you wanted to bash their skulls over and over again until they were dead. They probably was from how you've intellectually murdered them inside your mind since the moment they arrived. You irately peered up at Tybalt, your forehead tightly creased, mouth in a tight frown as you gave him a death stare.

"You want Geralt of Rivia right? then, take me. He'll come after if you take me, just don't kill Jaskier and my daughter."

Jaskier hurriedly shook his head and audibly muttered out his negations to himself from what you had in mind. You were surrendering yourself to them. The bard promised to the witcher not leave your side as much as he would do, but his family was prevailed over the count of cavaliers who came; thinking Geralt was probably there to fight with. But, no. The opposed held a number and Jaskier wasn't mutated nor skilled to know any form of magic for defense.

He knew today will be a loss and after hearing your next words, the humble toubadour knew that you've risked your life again for the betterment of their kingdom and theirs.

"Tell Geralt I seriously need some saving---and I promise this will be the last time I'm needing him again," you forced a smile, looking at the bard with your vermillion all drenched in claret red liquid while trying to send off the meaning that you would be okay while you were away with them.

Nevertheless, he never heard the fast, anxious beating of your heart for what will welcome you to wherever they decide to put you in.

Rough hands shoved you forward, making you look away from Jaskier as you began to take grudging steps to where Tybalt's horse awaits, the image of your smile falling was the last that Jaskier can remember before you left, "---Also, tell him I have a very important secret to say so he better hurry up!"

Scattered skeletons were buried beneath the dank ground of the gloomy swamps. Nightfall has taken its course when Geralt arrived; surprising to say that he arrived earlier than he expected to. Some trees were dead while the others have been cut-off by their limbs from inexplainable reasons. From monsters who probably lived in the area and based on how the moon aligned, it was already midnight; close to morning.

The witcher was wounded. Abnormally drained and in fatigue from using his little spells to slaughter the Bloedzuiger; his arm, back and torso currently in pain due to its acidic blood that splattered him, slightly ruining the body of his armor and the under shirt he wore.

Geralt has used Aard and Igni to fight off the beast and his energy spiked low to the point that he could sleep standing on the ground. But, the idea of his family alone made him push the plan aside because his family was more important than his life.

The latter even took a faster route to arrive and slaughter the beast earlier than his estimated days.

He was just beyond drained and parched tonight.

Long, begrudging sighs left his lips. His hair was sticking all over, eyes still black from the potion he drank, clothes all wet from being shoved under the water and a face too grubby that also held burnt patches that will surely heal in no time. Though, some will probably earn him a scar or two. He was stalking towards his horse, his silver sword that was used for monsters on one hand when the witcher has heard a tiny step of footing that broke a twig, making him slightly turn his head to the quiet noise he heard.

This intruder took more cautious steps closer and he wanted to curse out loud for all the interruptions that made his life more complicated than it already is.

Human. Geralt knew it was human. This person even had a scent to it. She was a woman who had a strong floral fragrance; rose and earthy.

"You shouldn't be here," he lackadaisically declared to no one in particular as he sighed for the hundredth time this day. Heedful of the woman hiding behind a dead tree as he strolled to where Roach waited, ignoring her as he strolled.

Thus, the woman was strong enough to acknowledge a witcher in his full form as she decided to walk towards him, talking in pure fascination to have seen one in the flesh.

"A Witcher. I've heard tales of your kind. Though, I’ve heard new wicked bavardage from town that this particular beast has slayed my own kind for the sake of saving one. Wouldn’t it be wiser to choose the lesser evil or the greater good?" she scoffed before continuing, “---aren’t you quite miserly to have done such thing by killing less or maybe more than a dozen and salvaging yours?”

Geralt dropped the loot that he has ransacked from the monster, dropping them inside his leather bag with a scowl. This woman's tone of voice perking his ears that made him cease his packing.

"You were never just a mere epic," she sarcastically laughed in spite. The timbre of her voice thoroughly distinctive and familiar for Geralt to be incorrect. He gave her a sharp side-eye, his eyes jet black when his mind went in befuddlement after recognizing a face that he managed to memorize since the moment that this certain woman came in his life.

"You're the witcher they're finding. The butcher! You were the reason I was taken! Feckin' Geralt of Rivia, aye!"

She was you.

A face that always keeps his mind going in haywires. Features that can be considered as a strong weakness for the witcher because of how he'd easily let his guard down with just a glimpse of a face that could ruin his resistance over having another woman be prone of peril in his dangerous, hindering life.

Even only hours of being away from you; half a day to be precised. With just by seeing her face tempted him to reach out for what he longed for; to touch the face of the woman who'd felt deep sensations for him---accepting of what he actually was with no judgement in her mind. The ache and worry in his chest was not helping how he yearned to never leave you alone in the first place.

He couldn't help but take a step close to the woman who also had the same height as you. His obsidian eyes staring straight into her soul like he'd seen the devil and he was happy to worship; jaw tight as his lips came with a lour.

Geralt looked utterly monstrous for a person who wasn't used to seeing his kind.

"Midget?"

The woman instinctively took a step back despite of how she was running her mouth a while ago; fear shutting her confidence that she could confront him for bothering a life she also dreaded to live in. Her eyes filled with horror and disgust in which Geralt clearly has seen without the use of his doubled up heightened senses.

She was not his tiny mortal. This woman in front of him was beyond different. The real you wouldn't look at him in sheer revulsion; no profound emotion in those eyes that he was used to seeing.

She had her brows in a tight twist, sending him a nasty glare that got him humming out in distaste from an attitude he wasn't use to seeing with a face like yours, "I'm not a fucking midget! What a shitty name you've got me! Doesn't sound too nice to hear too! Ya' fuckin' brought me ill-fate!"

Geralt was quick to turn around his heel. Brooding once again from the bafflement that got him thinking again. Why did you have a person who looked exactly like you in their world?

"You're not her." he stated as a matter of fact, sounding confident with his assumptions because the witcher knows he is right. Geralt walked over to his horse, huffing out a breath off his nose from sheer displeasure as he heard the woman jogging to where he wanted to go.

"Apparently not. You're mistaking me with another unfortunate little lady then!"

"Who are you?" Geralt didn't bother to give her a glance no matter how he wanted to relieve the longingness to see your face; to know that you were safe in their home with Jaskier and Cirilla, hoping that everybody was protected and safe from anyone.

But, this woman with him was not you. He needed to remember that.

She tightly crossed her arms on her chest, eyeing the brooding man as sharply as the woman could with her maroon colored cloak strapped around her shoulders, the hood off when she'd arrived to have seen him, "The name's Savia, witcher."

"Why are you here?" he timidly grumbled, his silver sword in a scabbard after the fight. Roach neighed aloud, huffing out a breath when Savia was an arm close to her, acting like she didn't like her.

Geralt couldn't help but raise a brow from his horse's sudden actions, bringing up a hand to shush her with his fingers brushing along her mane.

Savia can't help but take a cautious step back at that; his horse's reaction making her feel unwelcome and unwanted by the pair. Though, her blabber mouth couldn't help but run on and on, being all chatty when she was in the verge of being chased down by gallants. Savia knew she could outrun them like she wasn't even being pursued from the start because she has been doing this for years; stealing lots of valuable things then never being found after as she can always escape from the brutal hands of lords, inn keepers, and a whole lotta' more.

"I've escaped! Stolen goods from the castle? Their riches? Serves them right for keeping me in prison! Oh! I could steal yer' coins too, if you want. But, now I shan't retrieve them after telling all my plans! I'm no fool! I'm a skilled thief. Sounds professional, isn't it?"

She couldn't help but giggle, utterly blowing with the wind from the occupation she had; confident regardless of how unseemly her job was to live. Though, Geralt didn't give any negative reactions because he was the last person to judge someone who had an indecent job just to live in their world.

He kills and hunts monsters for a living. It doesn't sound too appealing for a normal human, correct? Hence, he wasn't in the position to criticize a thief especially when this poacher looks entirely like you.

"---I've killed some knights out there just to escape, ye' know? Maybe a bunch! Ye’ can still count em with your fingers!" the witcher ceased ferreting around in his bag when he'd finally given her his attention. The color of his eyes subsiding and turning back to its normal hue. Gold in the middle of the night like star light illuminating her gloom and it made Savia stare at him in awe because of how he typically looked like without the potion and all.

Well, hearing the gossips about him from the women in the brothels and men who shared their wicked tales were really true because the witcher who stood before her right now was a complete knockout who had a terrifying shadow he left behind.

Savia couldn't help but pout her lips inquisitively, catching sight of his amber heavily examining her face with a gist of feeling that she couldn't recognize because of how she has never receive nor experienced the look of love. But, the woman was sure he was only blinded by the fact that the face she had held whatever he holds dear; a person he had in mind that he swore to protect, desire and care for.

Savia has never seen a witcher look considerate and warmhearted. The opposite of what people claimed his kind to be. He was the butcher of Blaviken. Perhaps, she have been a witness of his character changing with one simple cast of a face he claimed to be important.

She knew that midget was too significant to him when his face turned back to normal, stretched in a way that has him looking anxious, bothered and utterly worried from the words he heard.

"I'm wondering how I've been involved by a witcher I never seen or met. They were weird! Got me bruises because I never knew where you were and I couldn't tell where ye' live!" pause. Savia's lips emitted an awkward scoff, "---Those fucking gallants did a number on me for days that I have been imprisoned. They were thinking you would go and save me---oh, shiver me timbers! No obsidian--golden eyed witcher would save me from my demise!"

Geralt torpidly blinked back at her, his forehead tightly creasing; trying to deliberate what was happening. His thoughts immediately skipping to bad ideas and outcomes because of the fact that you had someone looking like yourself.

"They were shitty and off one's rocker! Especially that sorceress because she wanted to cast me under her spell, trying to get me examined because I didn't belong to their world---wondering if I had some sort of magic in me for her to possess. She was batshite crazy!"

He couldn't help but irritatingly shut his eyes, mutely giving himself a talk while he kept his mouth shut; not risking to be heard nor is this woman close enough for her to know what's inside his thoughts. Geralt chose to stay silent, breathing down long heavy inhales and exhales from the drawbacks that suddenly occurred.

Here was destiny starting again.

Savia loudly huffed before him, raising a cocky brow when she hadn't heard that deep, gravelly voice that sounded unfamiliar from the ones she has always been hearing, "Are witcha's always this silent? I've been doing all the talking! It's like you're a mute!"

The Witcher heard footfalls coming from a distance. Two gallants. It was only a pair for now and if the woman didn't took her flight before the entire horsemen arrives, she would be taken again and be behind bars in the fortress of Kaedwen.

Would he save the thief who made everything more complicated by looking exactly like you? Creating a mishap by stealing jewelry from the queen?

Everything he thought about would result in an intense migraine because Geralt know you'll be accused of a crime that was never done by his midget. Therefore, taking you in for captive would end up being like hitting two birds in one stone; they get to have him running off to where the castle is and also have the accused thief who didn't need no convincing because of how Savia showed up in their lives; ruining yours.

"Fuck. Why did you need to show up now and complicate things---even had to fucking steal ornaments from the queen with a face who is utmost valuable to me."

The frustrated question was sent to Savia who stepped back from the latter; his teeth suddenly barred and feral, sharply staring down at her. Totally irritated by what she'd done. Geralt heard metal being dragged out of its scabbard and it took him one turn of his head to be welcomed by two knights who was ready to pounce on him by seeing what he was.

One of his monikers slipped out of their tongues with such disgust and a hitch of their breath. There was no use for killing cavaliers tonight because this woman hardly have been involved in his life, yet he would still save because of having a weakness that seemed unfair for her to have.

Geralt raised his hand towards the taller knight who opened its mouth to shout at his fellow horsemen who held their torches from a far distance when suddenly a string of glowing, white line shot through his head; casting Axii for the men to take despite of how the witcher was feeling low with his energy that has been used prior to hours before they arrived.

It was a simple magical sign where it compromises hypnotic effect; it can be used to calm down people or animals, manipulate their minds or be used to hex enemies. A triangular white symbol surrounded the string of line which paved its way towards their heads; passing through both as they were momentarily stunned, acting as if they were puppets and Geralt had the strings.

Thus, after a while; Savia was astonished to see both armored men attacking each other like they were in a battleground and they were both forgotten.

Yet, it wouldn't last long.

"Witcher! What did you feckin’ do?!" she squeaked, heart beat racing from the adrenaline rush.

Geralt had not taken a second before jumping on his horse, gripping onto her reigns and pulling to turn her around, quickly nudging her to gallop towards the path back to where he could go home.

He needed to come back home. The heavy and worried feeling inside his chest wasn't just the result of overthinking. Geralt knows that there was something happening now and it wasn't good. He needed to know if you were safe, all in complete set of limbs when he sees you, if ever he could even get to again because the dreaded feeling was rising higher in such a toxic amount that would make him blame himself when you're gone.

Geralt couldn't even think straight for even contemplating about the idea that you were gone and out of his reach.

"Leave before they actually kill you. It can only last for seconds due to the energy left in me,"

He'd run off before Savia can even acknowledge his kindness. The Butcher of Blaviken has helped her escape. He wasn't a murderer nor did he hurt her.

"Geralt of Rivia, right?!" she yelled out to no one in particular after watching Geralt leave with his horse. The simple yell has caught the attention of more gallants, seeing the flames of their torches walking their way through the forest and through the swamps that got her zipping her mouth shut. Those two hypnotized gallants falling on the swamps behind her from beating each other to death.

Savia couldn't help but hum in interest, whisper-yelling her next words as if the witcher can hear her amongst his troubled heart.

"---Thank you for letting me escape! you're helpful after all!"

Geralt please axii my puxii LMAO. FEEDBACKS ARE SO MUCH APPRECIATED! (Strikethough over the tags mean I couldn’t find your blog, bb’s.)

Taglist for WOTN: @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @vania-marie @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a--1--1--3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443,

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547

160 notes · View notes

mysterioh · 5 years ago

Text

The Ignorant Beauty & the Beast of the New York - Ch. 20

PAIRING: MOB!STEVE ROGERS X READER

SYNOPSIS: You love biology. The study of life excites you. But you hate people. Especially the ones that like to stick their nose in your business. Too bad the King of Brooklyn didn’t get the memo.

MASTERLIST

Don’t Kill the Messenger

"Wait, Y/N,” Steve pleads, following you around like a lost puppy. "Sweetheart, please just listen to me?"

“No.”

“Baby,” he whines, loud enough for the entire campus to hear.

“I��m not your baby.”

Steve clicks his tongue then jumps in front of you. You stop with puffed cheeks and angry eyes. “I made a mistake and I shouldn’t have said what I said. I’m sorry.”

You remain silent. Unphased by his puppy dog eyes. He hopes you’ll believe him.

You push past him, your shoulder hitting him on purpose.

Steve frowns and his shoulders drop. He continues to follow. “Baby, please. I miss you. I want you back. I lo–"

"I’m sorry, Miss.” Quentin walks up to you. Steve groans audibly. “Is this man bothering you?” he asks with a playful smirk.

You smile at Quentin sweetly. “Oh, Quentin, you’re here,” you chirp. A sudden change from your deadpan tone with ex-boyfriend. You hook your arm in his. “Let’s go, we’ve got a lot of studying to do.”

You pull Quentin along with you towards the library, leaving Steve a stuttering mess. Quentin turns around with a wicked grin plastered on his face. He playfully gives Steve the middle finger only to receive an evil glare from the blonde.

This was going to be harder than he had expected.

The usual mid-afternoon rush at Urban Remedy was missing, leaving its employees with more time on their hands than normal. Not counting the few customers who had stopped by for a late lunch, the dining room was practically empty, making the awkward tension in the air thicken between Wanda and you.

Wanda was wiping down a table while you sweeped the floor by the counter. You tried your best not to look in her direction, but failed miserably. You felt like you needed to speak to her again. You wanted to apologize correctly and make an attempt at reconciliation. Maybe not a friendship, but at least a distant acquaintance.

You deliberately sweep your way towards her, but Wanda remains calm as if she doesn’t notice. She walks past you quietly making you panic.

“Wait, Wanda, I—”

“I’m sorry,” she cuts you off quickly.

“Uh what?”

Wanda averts her gaze to her feet and tugs on the fingers of one hand. "I know it's not enough but I really am sorry,” she confesses, "The way I acted with you was wrong. I was brash and angry. So angry that I didn't even know what was really happening. I didn't read the magazine. I only knew what Pietro told me. And I took his word as truth. I should have known to never fully trust him.” She looks back at you with shame written on her face.

“He's a good person at heart, trust me, he is. Sometimes he makes wrong choices. Viz tried telling me the truth, but I didn't listen to him,” she shakes her head. "After the fight, Viz forced me to read the magazine and when I did I felt so guilty. Cause you did nothing wrong. He was the one at fault. He degraded you and painted this image of you that isn't really you."

"But what Steve did was wrong as well.”

"Pietro put you on the map, Y/N,” she countered. “Yeah, it might've happened someday but that wasn't his job to do. Everyone in the damn city and God knows where else knows who you are.”

The truth in her words frightened you more than anything.

“I don’t think you understand, but there are more enemies than friends around here,” she states. "And I think Steve was just trying to send a warning out."

"At the expense of your brother?” you question her a bit harshly. It was her brother, why were you offended? “That’s not right."

She replies with a careless shrug. "I mean he was kinda asking for it,” she said flatly. You blink at her in confusion. "He's a total douche. Don't get me wrong he's my twin and I love him but some of the shit he pulls is shocking. He had it coming for a long time."

You shake your head and scratch the side of your neck. "I still feel–"

"Don't. Please,” she asks. "I don't feel bad anymore. Really, I don’t. He looks like a pirate now and I think that's kinda funny."

You gasp. "That's not nice to say!"

"It is what it is,” she shrugs with a chuckle. "So are we good now?"

You smile sheepishly. "That's what I was going to ask you."

Wanda nods with a smile. "Yeah, we're good. So make up with your boyfriend now, huh?”

“Wait, how did you know that?”

“Cause he’s standing in front of the window, staring at us like a kicked puppy,” she pointed at the wide window in the front of the restaurant.

You turn around to find Steve staring at the both of you with a sorry pout painting his features. You stomp to the window and grumble a curse underneath your breath.

“Leave!” you shout while pointing sideways.

“No,” he retorts.

Your jaw tightens and brows furrow with anger.

To say Steve was intimidated would be an understatement, he was downright scared. But that wasn’t going to stop him. He was just as stubborn as you were. Both of you glare at each other with only the glass between as a barrier.

You examine him. His hair was ruffled like it had fingers twisting in it for hours. Tired eyes. Soft, plump lips left neglected.

Steve catches you staring at his lips. They curve up in a pompous half-smile. You miss him. He knows you do.

“Hey!” May shouts at Steve from the main door, “stop harassing my employee and get outta here before I call the cops.”

“The cops?” he tsks. “May, do you know who I am?” he guffawed.

May stands by the door, hands on her hips. “I’ve known you since you were in diapers, Stevie. So I advise you not to test me,” she bites.

Steve gulps then huffs. “Fine, I’ll leave, but I’ll be back,” he points at her. He turns to look at you, tight lipped and determined. He sends a flying kiss your way before stomping down the street.

Wanda chuckles behind you. “Honestly, Y/N, just forgive him already.”

“I will not.”

“Don’t be so stubborn,” she chides. “I know you miss him.”

“I do not!” you retorted. She’s not buying it. You turn away from her with a grumble. “Okay, maybe a little, but I’m not letting him off the hook just yet.”

She shakes her head with a disappointed sigh. “You’re evil.”

“You sure this is going to work?” Steve asked, waving the card in his hand back and forth.

“I’m positive,” Peter spoke confidently.

“And what’s your credibility?” Sam questions him.

“I have a girlfriend,” Peter points to himself then waves at all of them. “and none of you do.”

“Don’t get smart kid or I’ll clobber you,” Bucky snaps.

“I have a girlfriend,” Steve sighs. “She’s just angry at me.”

“Don’t worry, that happens,” he waves if off. “It’s normal.”

“We’re not stupid, Peter,” Bucky says, resting his hand on the desk.

“Well, maybe you are…” he trails off, earning a grumble from the older man. “Anyways, I know exactly how you’re feeling. One time I got into a really bad fight with MJ and she didn’t talk to me for a week.”

“And what did you do?” Steve asks.

“First, I followed her around and kept on saying sorry. And then I sent her a bunch of flowers and chocolate but she threw them away. Then I gave up and started crying at her door until she opened it and let me in. We got back after that.”

Steve nodded slowly.

He could do that.

“But Y/N’s way tougher than MJ so there’s a possibility that she might never forgive you,” Peter says flatly.

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Steve shrugs. He opens the card in his hand then reaches for a pen — his best pen. “What should I write?”

“Something heartfelt and romantic,” Sam advised. “That expresses your regret.”

“It has to be so romantic that it has her running back into your arms,” Bucky snaps his fingers.

“Yeah, but don’t make it cheesy,” Peter warns. “She seems like the kind that would hate that.”

Steve ponders for a moment with his pen hitting the side of his cheek. “I know what to write,” he grins before diving into writing a message. He closes the card and tucks it in a heart lined white envelope. He places the envelope inside of the basket of flowers he had bought.

“So when are you gonna take it to her?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, I’m not taking it to her,” Steve shakes his head, making the three furrow their brows in confusion.

“You are,” he points at him then Sam. “And you,”

“What? No! Absolutely not!” Bucky shouts. “I’m not doing that!”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this," Bucky grumbles, standing in front of your apartment door. His shoulders are sagging and back hunched with the meanest scowl on his face.

Sam lets out a sigh and presses the doorbell. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bucky stands straight up and adjusts the basket of flowers in his hands, making sure the envelope tucked in it was noticeable.

You open the door and smiles spread across both of their faces.

“Hi,” Sam waves.

You lean against the doorframe; disinterested. Your eyes fall onto the flowers in Bucky’s hand but ask anyway. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We come in peace,” Sam chuckles nervously. When he notices you’re not laughing, he stops. He clears his throat.

“Um, uh, these are for you,” Bucky handed you the basket. You slump a bit, underestimating its weight. “There’s a message there.”

“From Steve,” Sam adds.

Your heart flutters just a little at Steve’s sweet gesture. But you’re still angry. “Oh that’s nice,” you nod. “I’ll check when I have the time,” you reply flatly and go to close the door.

“No wait!” Bucky stops you, with a hand on the door. He feels a shiver run down his spine by the way you’re glaring at him. “Actually, Steve said we can’t come back until you give us a reply.”

“A reply?”

“Yeah, to the letter,” Sam says. “He says that we can’t go home until we report back to him.”

“He may not be your boss, but he is ours,” Bucky said. “So do us a favor and please give us a message to relay?”

You sigh deeply then put the basket on the ground. You pick up the letter and can’t help but smile at the heart-lined envelope.

What a twink.

Bucky and Sam sport hopeful smiles when they see your reaction.

You rip it open at one end and pull out a small folded paper. Opening it, you read the contents.

“Roses are red. Violets are blue,” you started.

You rolled your eyes internally. How generic.

“I may have screwed up but so did you. So stop being a meanie and take me back.”

You stare at the letter in your hand blankly.

Sam rubs his face in irritation. “It doesn’t even rhyme at the end,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“So we can’t leave until you give us a reply,” Bucky reminds.

You look up at him with a smile. The scary kind. “A reply?” you repeat, sickeningly sweetly. “I have a message for Stevie.” you wave him closer to you. “Come here.”

Bucky comes closer with an innocent smile on his face. The complete opposite of the hideous scowl on your own. You swing your leg back and Bucky swiftly realizes what was going to go down. He jumps back quickly, but not quick enough. Your knee slams into his gut and it knocks the wind out of his lungs.

You threw the basket of flowers at Sam. “Tell your damn boss to shove his flowers up his ass and leave me alone!” You slammed the door in their faces.

“Message received,” Bucky wheezes, bent over in pain.

Sam snickers wickedly at Bucky’s expense while picking the petals off his clothes. “Now that’s what you call Mrs. Rogers material.”

“So what did she say?” Steve asks in anticipation, sporting a dumb smile and hopeful eyes.

“Uh, I can’t tell you,” Bucky shakes his head.

“Why not?”

Sam smirks. “Because he has to show you.”

Bucky catches on to what Sam was doing and he had to admit. Sam was a genius at times.

Steve shakes his head in childish confusion. “Okay then, show me.”

And show him he did.

TAGLIST (CLOSED): @ashwarren32 @chuckennuggets1213 @rootcrop @savedbystark @little-dark-empress @great-goddess-of-sin @boxofteenageideas @imsonick @achishisha @calwitch @captainchrisstan @thirstybunz @littlebees-things @voltage-my2dlove @booktease21 @rinkashirikitateku @harleyscheekheart @allegra-writes @iced-capsicle @eliza5616 @bookgirlunicorn @fckdeusername @illbethethundertoyourlightning @kaetastic @mccrps @undiadeestos @dark-night-sky-99

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #mob!steve rogers x reader #mob!steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

216 notes · View notes

gainingfiction · 5 years ago

Text

Lifeguard Off Duty: Chapter 9

(Read Chapter 8 by gainerstories here)

Rather than risk ending up like a sitcom character with two dates to the dance, Bradley decided to roll a few of plans together into the ultimate evening of celebration. Jeremy and the boys from Muffin Tops would stop by his work happy hour at Michaela’s on Friday night. Peter would join him there, and they’d move onto their romantic dinner date afterwards: it had taken a little rearranging, but he’d managed to line everything up into a perfect stretch of hedonism.

After finishing up with the gym’s seated press on Thursday evening, Bradley decided to see if his workouts had done anything for his weight. He stepped off the scales, after clocking in at an eye-popping 324 pounds: a full 11 pounds heavier than he had been just a couple of weeks before. Had he been doing that much celebrating?

“Hey, man. Can’t wait for tomorrow,” came Jeremy’s voice from behind him.

“Hey, me neither,” Bradley said, turning to greet his gym buddy. He joked, “You trying to see the number?”

“Don’t need to. I can tell by your outfit that it’s still going up,” Jeremy laughed as he gave Bradley’s belly a gentle pat right around his exposed navel. It was Jeremy’s favourite running joke—not that Bradley ever ran anymore.

“Very funny,” Bradley grinned, as he turned to head out for the evening. After half an hour at 24 Hour Fitness, he couldn’t wait to eat whatever lavish spread Peter had come up with that day.

The next morning, Bradley had a spring in his very heavy step. He whistled as he soaped up the rolls and bulges of his colossal body in the shower, and hummed as he ran his towel along the sloping curves of his huge rear. He inhaled sharply to get his work shirt closed, and then inhaled the massive breakfast feast that Peter had cooked up for him: bacon, sausages, hash browns, syrupy pancakes, and buttery toast. Shirt buttons spreading apart as they fought to restrain his gut, Bradley heaved himself into his car and made his way to Muffin Tops.

After loading up on pastries for the day, Bradley headed to work. He greeted his friends in the recreation department before making his way to his own corner of city hall. As usual, Malcolm appeared with a huge plate of home cooking, followed shortly by Diane and Eric who wanted confirmation that Bradley wasn’t going to bail on drinks. By the time he left the office, he had eaten every crumb that had been put in front of him, but his mind was already wandering to the nachos and fries at Michaela’s.

The place was just starting to get lively when Bradley arrived. He plodded over to Eric and Wanda, who were standing by the bar. As soon as he arrived, Wanda placed a frothy mug of beer in his hand. She added, “Even if you work in another department now, I’m still the boss.”

“Of course,” Bradley said, feeling sincere. Wanda had done so much for him. He chatted with her for a while, digging in when a large platter of nachos appeared beside him. And when Diane appeared with an overloaded plate of fries, he allowed himself to be stolen away. He let his co-worker grab a few pats of his monster gut as he polished off the snacks, before turning to Eric and his boyfriend.

The one-time twinks looked completely overstuffed as they stood side-by-side, splitting well over 300 pounds of excess relationship weight between them. They were still fairly fashionable, but Bradley could see that they shared his struggles with fitting into clothes: buttons strained and cotton rode up to expose their mutual overindulgence. Ordering another beer, he chatted with both of them, realizing that they were as charming and fun as Eric’s social media profiles made them seem.

While Bradley was talking to them, he watched Peter arrive and slip effortlessly into a conversation with Malcolm and Wanda. Bradley realized that they had probably been going to Peter’s coffee cart for longer than he had. He admired the way Peter’s athletic-fit blazer flattered his lithe build, contrasting it to the massive men in front of him and the equally massive man he had become. As he chatted with Peter and Blake, he felt a distinct appreciation for the tattooed hunk in his life.

Bradley was pleased to see that Jeremy had met Hayden and Diego. Excusing himself, he made his way over to the two mountains of lard and the muscle-bound jock. “How are three of my favourite people?” he asked, when he arrived. He stifled a belch, before taking a swig of beer.

“Ah, I love fat Bradley,” Diego said to Jeremy and Hayden, as he clapped his loyal customer on the back. He turned to Bradley. “You were never this relaxed when we worked at the beach! But that’s all water under the bridge.”

Bradley flushed. “I guess I needed to walk a mile in your shoes.”

“Or waddle,” Hayden said. “And maybe not a full mile.”

The guys all laughed in response. Bradley noticed that Peter had joined the group. Patting the lower part of Bradley’s back, he joked, “This guy doesn’t even walk to the fridge anymore, he gets me to grab his beers for him.”

“That sounds like the life,” Hayden said, as the group laughed. “Diego, we need someone to bring us beers.”

“That could be a job for Jeremy,” Bradley said, giving his gym buddy a wink. Jeremy had been throwing himself at the blubber-bound bakery owners practically since he arrived.

The group chatted, and the beer flowed. After a while, Diego and Bradley got to reminiscing about their time at Thick Sands beach. Diego pulled out his phone, showing off an old picture of the two complete with sunglasses, smiles, and perfect abs. Bradley could barely remember what it felt like to be that small, and yet he’d been the beach babe-in-residence for years. If he tried to climb the lifeguard tower at his current size, he’d probably wreck the wooden ladder.

The time at Michaela’s flew by, with Bradley helping himself to the beer and bar food as his friends from work and beyond dropped by to congratulate him and talk. After what felt like no time, but what had really been hours, Peter arrived to remind Bradley of their dinner reservation. Draining his fourth beer, Bradley settled his tab and said goodbye.

“I was just chatting with Christian, the head lifeguard that replaced you. Looks like Wanda offered him your old job. He really is following in your footsteps,” Peter said, as they made their way out of the bar.

Bradley turned and looked at Christian, who was chatting with Wanda and Eric. He reminded Bradley of himself. With a smile, Bradley said, “If Wanda gives him the desk next to Eric, that might be in more ways than one.”

Outside, the air was cool and fresh. Side by side, Peter and Bradley walked to the end of the next block, to the small bistro that had come highly recommended. It was simply decorated, with sleek wooden furniture and a few rustic touches. The couple followed the hostess to their seat, and had a chance to look over the menu.

After a few moments, their waiter arrived with water. He was tall and thin, with a forgettable face. “My name is Justin, I’ll be taking care of you guys this evening,” he said. Justin was obviously gay, and he shot judgemental looks in Bradley’s direction as he spoke. Then, he turned to Peter with a smile. “Can I interest you in any drinks?”

“Yes, we’ll share a bottle of the house red,” Peter said. His face was blank. When the waiter took the drink menu and retreated, Peter rolled his eyes and Bradley chuckled. Apparently some guys still tried to deny the allure of the dad bod.

The pair chatted as they continued to weigh menu options. After a little while, the waiter reappeared to pour the wine and take their orders. After Peter ordered the white fish for his main course, it was Bradley’s turn to order.

“I’ll start with the fettucine alfredo, and then—”

“The fettucine alfredo is a main course,” Justin interrupted.

“I know. I’m gonna have it as an appetizer. And then for my main I’ll have the surf and turf, with an extra baked potato on the side,” Bradley said. He closed his menu. “Medium for the steak.”

With a glare in Bradley’s direction, the server clicked his pen and disappeared as the guys attempted to say thanks.

The two relaxed, drinking freely and swapping opinions about happy hour and whether Diego and Hayden would take Jeremy home. Peter painted quite a picture of the thick throuple that they were destined to become, and Bradley complimented his insight. Conversation was easy, moving from Peter’s family in Korea to Bradley’s high school diving career. Bradley slurped back the pasta, before tearing into his steak and lobster with gusto. Buttery potato and fried veggies disappeared into his vast gut. He felt increasingly stuffed, but he plowed forward. As they talked and ate, they (especially Bradley) finished the wine.

When the time came for dessert, Bradley couldn’t pass up the chocolate cheesecake. Peter tasted a spoonful, leaving Bradley to stuff himself with the rest. When the dessert plate was empty, Bradley excused himself to go to the washroom.

After relieving himself at the urinal, he paused in front of the mirror. No wonder Justin’s eyes had boggled as Bradley walked to the washroom: there were gaping spaces between the buttons of his shirt, revealing swathes of fat. And his gut looked massively round after a full day of stuffing himself stupid. Stifling a belch, Bradley plodded back across the restaurant.

Bradley pulled back his chair and slumped into it, ready to call for the cheque and take his boyfriend home. Except, as his giant rump made contact with the seat, he could feel something shifting. And as his bulging ass settled into place, Bradley heard a whining creak. A moment later, after a violent snap, Bradley’s big butt was on the floor, and he was surrounded by pieces of broken chair. Looking down, he realized that the two buttons straining over the fattest part of his gut had chosen that moment to give up, flying off under the pressure of Bradley’s behemoth belly.

“Holy shit, babe, are you okay?” Peter was at Bradley’s side in a flash.

“Fine,” Bradley said, feeling dazed. He felt embarrassed that part of his massive, hairy gut had been exposed to the cool air of the restaurant, made all the more embarrassing by every set of eyes bearing down on him. Peter’s shredded muscles bulging from the exertion, he helped Bradley to his feet.

By the time Bradley was standing, the manager had appeared. He was a middle-aged man, no more than 5’5” and skinny as a rail. Bradley’s gigantic frame absolutely dwarfed him. “Oh, my God. Are you alright? We are so sorry, sir, truly. Your meal is on us, of course. And let me write a note, your next meal will be on us, too.”

With nothing injured but his pride, Bradley certainly wasn’t going to turn down that offer.

By the time they got home, the couple was already laughing it off. “I really never thought I’d do something like that,” Bradley said, as he undid his remaining shirt buttons.

Planting his hands on Bradley’s sides, Peter traced the expanse of his lover’s thick gut. “You were just too much man for those shitty chairs.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re man enough to handle me,” Bradley said, clapping the underside of his belly and making it shake, despite the overwhelming fullness.

The two made their way to the bedroom, Peter caressing Bradley’s bulging love handles as they walked. “You know, the first time I went to the beach here, I fantasized about getting rescued by the hunky lifeguard?” Peter said. “If you still have your old uniform around, I could go for some role-play.”

“Sounds great,” Bradley said. He ran a hand along Peter’s hip. “You know what? I have a feeling we’ll be rescuing each other for a long time to come.”

#lifeguard off duty

143 notes · View notes

marueonmain · 5 years ago

Text

WINDFLOWER

part one ~ caught sight of her ~

(part one)

A/N: I wanted to write this for awhile. It’s the first fanfic I’ve ever written so it might not be amazing, but I hope it’s good and that you enjoy it! I will be getting some of the English aspects wrong (sorry).

Summary: Alex is not the kind of man (if given the chance) to steal another man's girlfriend. Or is he?

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Set in 2020. Mentions of the Budweiser Bug. (Sam is an OC)

Word Count: 2.5k

It was a warm and late afternoon.

There was a short break in the clouds and the sunlight streamed through to bounce off his sunglasses, as he walked the pavement.

It was a warm and late afternoon – teetering on hot.

Alex wore his white Gucci button-up which was fantastic for not attracting heat. Still there were noticeable wet spots under his arms. For each street closer he was to his apartment building he quickened his pace and rolled his shoulders back. Adjusting – so that the cloth might peel off from his skin without him having to directly pinch it out from his armpits. Alex did not like being sweaty – but who did?

Despite how he might have felt about crowds or said crowds looking at him, he more often than not enjoyed the loudness of his expensive shirts, his california twink shorts, even his odd hair colours (if applicable). What these preferences said for his personality was anyone's guess.

Maybe he was secure enough in his identity to enjoy things that are deemed as classically feminine. Maybe he was making a statement on the gender binary, or the expectations of traditional masculinity.

Maybe he had stared into the darkness inside long enough that he could not bear having to see it outside as well. Or maybe he liked pink – thought it complimented his cool skin tone or his lip colour.

Which it did.

One street from his building, Alex picked up his feet and sped up. He reached the front entrance; his hand went for the door handle and – WHAM!

Alex grasped at his nose, which had connected first with the glass of the door as it swung out. There was no red on his hands as he drew them back to check, but there was a general throbbing radiating out from the middle of his face.

From above him, a man asked, "Shit, you alright there?" His voice was rich like a slice of peanut butter cheesecake drizzled in a chocolate sauce of genuine concern. While he spoke, the man dropped the large cardboard box he was holding – it hit the ground like it weighed well over seven stone – and sidestepped out from the other side of the door.

"No. Yeah. Fuck, give me a moment."

"I could get you ice or something, maybe?" The man held his hand out in the air at an odd distance from Alex’s left shoulder, hesitant it seemed to touch him.

"It's fine." His eyes spotted the hand, then the discarded box. It was wrapped tight in tape, across the top was written STORAGE in permanent marker. Alex gestured to the building and asked, "You moving out?"

"Moving in actually, I just grabbed the wrong box by accident. Maybe one of these days I'll learn how to read." He bent over and picked the box up.

"Well, I'm Alex. 205"

"Sam. 305." (a floor above) "Everyone calls me Sammy."

How to describe Sammy. Picture an elk – a blond elk. A majestic beast for sure. Picture that and then make it stand on its hind legs and also be a person. He had a naturally muscular build and an evident dedication to a workout regimen – not too intense like three or four times a week.

Everything about him appeared likeable, charming. Certainly, it was his voice. As well as the goofy smile, how he carried himself ~the confidence~ and how he held a comfortable amount of eye contact.

Alex gave a polite smile. In the pit of his stomach something was building – he had not eaten in at least ten hours – a feeling like optimism. Surely, if he were courteous and pleasant now, perhaps this new neighbor might be less willing to lodge noise complaints against him later on.

"You look strong." Sammy cleared his throat before continuing, "There's a couple-three more boxes left I got to bring up. And a sofa. I'll never be able to get that thing up myself. You're heading up, right? You wouldn't mind helping, would you?"

"No. No—I mean, yes. I will help you." It was a class rendition of George's commentary stutter.

"Great! I got to get the truck unloaded before the game. You're really doing me a solid." Sammy's smile widened to be a bit open-mouthed – like that of a dog after being told it was a good boy. He led Alex to the other end of the car park, to the truck, the sofa, and the boxes.

Alex stood waiting – as Sammy crawled into the truck bed – to help ease the sofa out. He tried to get a good hold around the back of it as it sprung out at him. Sammy pushed on his end, putting a lot of unjustified faith into a stranger.

He did not hear a complaint from Alex, just a string of strained grunts.

Sammy hopped out – boots hit the ground, and he took over the lifting part of moving furniture while Alex acted more as a guiding hand.

Walking toward the building, Alex shouted across the sofa, "Who you cheering for tonight?"

"Newcastle! Who else? Best there is in the whole sport far as I can tell."

A bark of a laugh shot from Alex's mouth. "I've got someone you have to meet."

Hanging around Sammy – for the time it took to maneuver the sofa in/out of the lift and to retrieve the remaining boxes and haul them up – was not not enjoyable. It was comfortable.

Alex did not think about the manual labor he had been tricked into doing; instead, he was preoccupied with chattering on and on as both rode the lift up. He answered all Sammy's questions – about the building, the people, the area.

He rinsed the other man for his team preferences and his truck – despite Alex himself not being able to drive. And while there was a lot of damning material for Sammy to 'fire back' with, he did not.

With arms shaking slightly under the weight of the last medium-large sized box, Alex went on with his lighthearted ribbing. And Sammy just laughed along. Even snorting once.

"Not even joking – are you a comedian or something?"

Alex beamed. "Or something."

Both men had a chance to rattle off some horror stories of the absolute shitholes they had rented in the past.

DING of the lift doors opening interrupted a rant on neighbors who complained about the littlest of noises, which Alex continued after stepping into the hall.

Then, it was done. The last boxes were set on the floor of the bare-walled apartment. What was Alex meant to do now? Leave? Hang around? Ask for a drink?

It was not like he was desperate for friends, just that Sammy was genuine, and it never hurt to have someone to ring up to accompany him on a night out or if Alex ever got evicted again.

Sammy dragged out a dramatic sigh as he straightened up, leaving the last box he had carried up – labeled DISHWARE – next to the sofa. Raising his arms above his head, he stretched out his back. Alex might have done the same, but he was conscious of the absurdly damp state of his underarms.

"I'm having friends over for drinks and to watch the game," Alex began. "Maybe a few rounds of FIFA afterwards. You should come – if you want, or not. There'll be money on it, and I tend to lose a lot."

"You just helped me move a sofa up three floors, shouldn't I be the one offering you something?" Sammy slapped Alex on the shoulder perhaps harder than he meant, perhaps not taking into consideration the size difference.

"There's nothing I need."

"Well, it sounds fun. I'll be sure to come round! And I'll—"

KNOCK. KNOCK.

A young woman stepped through the apartment door while her gaze held an intense focus on her wristwatch for too long. Like it does not take anyone who knows how to read a manual clock that long to figure out the time. She was looking at it just to look at it – to look preoccupied.

Shoulders a bit rolled in and posture a bit poor, she took five steps in and closed the door before even looking up. She pulled her head up from her wristwatch.

Upon seeing the space, her eyes brightened and shined. She gasped a small (not surprised but delighted) gasp, smiling big. And—and—oh.

OH.

OOOHhoho. Oh.

Oh, no.

Alex caught sight of her, and he was gone.

And it was not that she was perfect. No, she was not the airbrushed model of the advertisements on the tube. No. She was her, and it was ~ugh~ it was almost indescribable. It was the fit of her clothes and her hair and the cute ears. It was all of those separately and all of those at once, at the same time.

Seeing her was like living in a significant moment in history. Like attending a World's Fair, holding a piece of the Berlin Wall as it was being torn down, or standing on the frontline of a revolution.

It was having an inkling – a fervent gut feeling – knowing that what was happening was momentous and would leave an everlasting impact. But, for the time being, he was just in it: living it. Experiencing everything with the understanding that millions of different pieces had to have fallen into place for this one thing to happen and he. was. there.

"Hi, Red." Sammy caught her in a tight vice-like embrace.

"Hello." It was muffled a smidge from having her face buried in his shirt. She broke apart from him first.

"Alex, this is my girlfriend. Y/N. We call her Red." He said, keeping her close with an arm snaked around her middle while she gazed up at him.

In their brief time hanging out together, Alex had not considered that Sammy might have a girlfriend, nor did he consider that Sammy might not have a girlfriend.

He had not thought about it at all. Not in the slightest.

"Nice to meet you." Alex reached out his hand.

Y/N tore her gaze from Sammy and stared at the hand in front of her; she pondered it. Not moving. Her face flushed like she was going to be ill.

"Um...I..." He retracted his hand, shoving it deep into the pocket of his shorts.

"She won't shake your hand, mate, nothing against you – just a germaphobe. That's on me for not telling you beforehand."

"That's alright. I guess we're not meant to be shaking hands anyway." An awkward chuckle drippled off his tongue to which he did not receive a reaction. "With the Budweiser Bug and all."

"Oh, I'm not scared of that. People overreact." Sammy switched gears and moved to stand at Alex’s side.

Alex continued smiling as he considered how that might have been the most ignorant thing he had heard all month. But not everyone had the opportunities to take higher education courses as he had.

Y/N kept quiet during their exchange and after looking over Alex once more (avoiding his face), she flickered her gaze to Sammy.

It was like standing in the same room with someone on the phone and getting one half of the conversation. Alex was left guessing based on how confused and uncomfortable Y/N appeared to be as to what expression Sammy was using to respond to her questioning gaze.

Whatever he must have signaled or mouthed, it worked.

"Hello," Y/N addressed him simply as she set sail those dazzling eyes of hers into the peaceful seas of Alex's blue set, "It's nice to meet you as well."

It was a voice to tune-in to over the general hum of a group of speakers. A voice that might be complimented as being good for radio. A voice clear and crisp like water (from anywhere but London tap).

Alex wanted to keep her talking – to hear her mind and her thoughts. Hear her present a speech, putter a nervous ramble, or just word vomit. Hear how she pronounces each consonant and vowel. And if there were specific words that carried a different accent than the rest. Where did those come from? Where did she come from?

Notwithstanding his questionable reputation in a few corners of the internet, Alex was not a complete and utter irrational weirdo. He did have a brain which he would use part of the time.

It was not unlike him to be struck with crushes on young women and men he met in passing—he was human; it happens. If he was feeling extra alone, that crush might linger longer.

Might stumble into his dreams.

That is all it was—a crush. Right? Then why did it feel different? Not like that of a sudden burst of flames but of a washing-over sense of relief – an unquestionable assuredness in something new.

New or not, Alex was determined not to be weird about it.

"Why go by Red?" ...when Y/N is so fitting, so beautiful. Mission: Don't Be Weird Status: Failed

"What do you mean?" she asked with her head cocked to the left.

"Come on." With a clear sense of boredom in the direction of the conversation, Sammy strolled to the sofa and sat on it. He ripped into the cardboard box labeled DISHWARE and began emptying plates and mugs onto the cushion next to him. Speaking a bit louder to be heard over the tearing of tape, he offered, "Isn't it obvious?"

"Guess not. Or I might just be a little thick."

Everyone ignored his comment.

"You know, if you want to stick around some, Red's making quiche."

"Quiche?" Alex walked toward the back of the sofa – stopping a few meters short. "More of a breakfast food, don't you think?"

Bringing a hand to his chest in mock shock and offence, Sammy declared, "Food does not have curfews!"

"Except at hotels...and McDonald's."

"No. No, not McDonald's. Not for a while now; where have you been?"

Alex rolled his eyes; while searching for some support in the conversation, he turned to find Y/N had disappeared in the single second she was out of his sights.

A disappointed frown formed on his pink lips.

Perhaps it was a cue for him to leave as well. "I got to run. I'll be seeing you then?"

"Right," said Sammy. "Go Newcastle! Yeah?"

Alex thumped his closed fist twice against his chest in an odd gesture (which meant nothing) and smiled a closed mouth smile as he stepped backwards out the apartment door to the carpeted hall.

Sammy chuckled and shook his head, "You're a funny guy, Alex."

#imallexx #imallexx imagine #imallexx x reader #alex elmslie #alex elmslie x reader #alex elmslie imagine #eboys #commentary crew #internet sensation

128 notes · View notes

babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Baby, It’s Cold Outside

Charlie Barber x Reader ; 2k

The party had been achingly wonderful. You’d never seen his house so filled with warmth, with light – and you’d been over a dozens and dozens of, in the past few years that you’ve known him, have known Charlie.

The place was packed with all his theater friends, all the writing and directing and acting geniuses gracing the Broadway stage. And you, in the middle of it all, were enthralled, were so glad for the opportunity to schmooze and laugh and cheers with your peers. You’d talked scripts, screenplays, plays and movies, award shows and bullshit critics, and you’d done it all with the pleasant warmth of food in your belly and a drink in your hand.

He had really gone all out, you think once the party had begun to die down. The string lights were twinking a soft white, the fireplace cracking loudly, the tree all lit up red and gold. Henry had helped decorate it before flying to Los Angeles to spend the holiday with Nicole who had just moved there. There were tapered candles lit and softly melting, wax hot and dripping on the silver plates that were there to catch the drops so the tabletops weren’t ruined. He always was thinking one step ahead, your Charlie.

That thought, the your Charlie, sent a soft bloom of fondness through your chest. All night he’d been making eyes at you, dark and glittering with more emotions than you could probably parse. All night he’d been smiling at you from across the room, face half-hidden in his cup of eggnog. All night he’d been making as many excuses as possible to find his way next to you, to make you laugh, to make you pay attention to him and only him.

It was a secret, of course. The affair.

That’s where the ache came in, didn’t it? The urge to be close to him. The war of being close but not too close, to smile but not smile too much, to look but not stare. It wouldn’t do to make anyone suspicious, wouldn’t do to draw attention. It was a bittersweet kind of atmosphere, wanting to hold and be held, but not able to.

Except now…now the party had wound down to just the two of you. You had insisted on staying to help clean up. You didn’t need to catch a cab or a train, you only lived just next door – so of course you would stay and help.

And there was a tension there, a silent tension, as you stacked up all the red solo cups, threw them away. The two of you trying to wait, trying to wait in case someone forgot something at his house before they left, in case a neighbor wanted to drop by, in case in case in case.

So there was the tension, two of you dancing around one another as you walked around and turned off the lights in all the rooms no one was in, because you know how much Charlie hates wasting electricity. As you brush past him to bring the leftovers to the kitchen, wrap them in silver foil and stack them in the fridge so he’d have something to eat later. As you put on your coat and head for the door, casting a look over your shoulder.

He looks at you, and you look back at him, and you chew your lip when you tell him, “I really can’t stay.”

He nearly drops what he’s holding and crosses the room in three long strides, slides his arms around yours, and you melt into the embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment, looking up at him through your thick lashes. He knows, knows what you’re doing.

You’re grateful he’s going to play along.

“But baby, it’s cold outside.” He whispers, licks his lips.

You love it when he calls you baby, when he says it like that. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to call you, the most natural thing.

And wasn’t it?

You try and suppress the ghost of a smile that’s threatening to spread across your mouth, but you fail. You fail as you turn in his embrace, and smooth your hands up the soft sweater he wears. It was terrible, red and green and white with little gold bells and ribbon bows stitched into the fabric. You had bought him that sweater, had told him that everyone should have something ugly and tacky to wear for a Christmas party.

“Yes, but I’ve got to go away.” You explain, not making one motion to step away from him.

“But…it’s cold outside.” He reiterates and you do grin then, grin bright and wide, as his arms wind around your waist and pull you ever closer.

“This evening has been – ” You start, pulling away for a moment to look for your keys.

“I was hoping you’d drop in – ” He says, and now he’s smiling too, he’s walking into the kitchen for a moment.

“—So very nice.” You continue, finding them. You had placed them in the little dish on the table by the door, and you can’t help but think that they look so good there, next to Charlie’s keys.

You wondered if it was the holiday atmosphere or something else, that made you emotional over that. Charlie sees in your face how you’re getting choked up, choked up over something as simple as two keys in a dish, and he comes to your side with two glasses of champagne from the kitchen.

He hands you one and when your fingers touch, he gasps, gives you a big toothy smile that makes you want to kiss him.

“Here, let me hold your hand, they’re just like ice!” He hisses dramatically, takes your hand in his.

It’s then that you realize the curtains are open, and anyone on the street could see. You immediately pull him away, pull him down the main hallway where no one would be able to look in, no one would be able to know this is what the two of you get up to.

What will the two you get up to?

“The neighbors might think…” You explain with a chuckle, and he waves it off.

“Oh, but it’s so bad out there.” He says sarcastically, nodding to the softly falling snow that’s barely sticking to the manicured lawn outside.

You laugh too loud at that, a nervous giggle that shakes your body as he pulls you in close in the dark of the hallway. You feel dizzy, feel dizzy in the best way, lightheaded with love and giddiness.

“Say, what’s in this drink?” You tease taking a whiff of the champagne, but he frowns.

“That’s not funny.” He tucks a bit of hair behind your ear, warms his palm on your cheek.

You look up into his eyes and see the softness there, and suddenly it’s all too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

“I wish I knew how…” You sigh, nuzzling into his embrace for a moment. Your back is resting against the wall of the hallway, and he’s standing between your legs, your stomachs practically pressing together with how close you are, and soon the nuzzling turns into kissing his palm, “To break this spell.”

“Give me your hat, your hair looks swell.” He whispers, sliding your coat off of your shoulders and taking off the wool beret you had worn, a festive thing that matched your dress.

“I ought to say ‘no, no, no, sir.’” You grin, blush and bat your eyelashes, being teasing, playful.

“Mind if I move in closer?” He asks as he braces his arms against the wall, caging you between them.

And you decide to play with him a little longer, so you duck out from under his arm and laugh with another, “I gotta get home!”

You try, but Charlie chases you, chases you and spills his champagne in the process, chases you and grabs you around your middle, hoists you up in a way that makes you laugh and laugh and laugh, like he were some great fireman and you were in need of rescue.

Maybe you think, as he sets you down on the couch and closes the curtains, maybe you were.

“You’d freeze out there.” He shakes his head, hiding your outerwear in the closet by the door.

“So lend me your coat.” You challenge and he scoffs.

“It’s up to your knees out there!” He makes up, points to the window.

There absolutely wasn’t even an inch of snow yet, not yet. But you knew that, and he knew that you knew that, and you settle into the couch anyway, settle in further, taking another sip of champagne. That dizzy warm bubbly feeling spreads through your whole body in the most pleasant way, and time feels like it’s standing still.

What time even was it?

“There’s bound to be talk tomorrow.” You roll your eyes and smirk, beckon him forward with a crook of your finger as you slip your heels off of your feet.

Charlie didn’t like shoes on the couch, and you don’t blame him. He watches your movements carefully, watches as you rub your ankles together, toes probably going so so cold from being exposed to the air. He puts both his hands over his heart and gives you the most convincing heartbroken look you’d ever seen, a true actor.

“Think of my holiday sorrow – ” He starts, making his way back to you, following your finger, entranced by you.

Who was under the spell now?

“At least there will be plenty implied.” You wink, already envisioning the talk of the theater community tomorrow. Surely there’d be gossip, surely there’d be theories. There were already theories, and ones that weren’t unfounded.

“ – If you caught pneumonia and died.” Charlie continued, the thought of that being so absurd that your laugh rings brightly in the still warm air of the living room.

You open yourself up for him, let him fall on top of you on the couch. He’s heavy, a pleasant weight that’s sturdy, warm. He was always so warm, everything about him. From his smile and those dimples, to the chocolate of his eyes, those eyes which are so deep, so soulful.

It breaks your heart sometimes, all of this. The divorce.

You wondered how he was coping, this being the first Christmas without Henry and all. You wondered if he was coping at all, or if the party was a distraction, a means to have people in the house. The house was so empty these days.

Well, except for you.

“I really can’t stay.” You whisper once again, echoing the same sentiment from earlier, and not meaning it any one ounce more.

“Do you really still have doubts?” Charlie whispers back, and there it is, the act has dropped, and the real concern – that you really don’t want him, that you really don’t want this – has returned.

You chew the inside of your lip and cast a glance to the window, making sure the curtains are pulled nice and tight, making sure no one could see, no one could compromise this affair, this love that you shared. You card your fingers through his hair and sigh once more. You’re so content, you could live here like this, live in his embrace.

Maybe one day, one day when all this bullshit is over, you will.

“Oh baby, it’s cold outside.” You grin, and he knows he’s won then, knows it when you wind your arms around his neck, when you let your eyes close for him.

He smiles against you, smiles as he kisses you. The snow falls, the children sleep, the trains run. But in the living room, on his couch (and soon in his bed), it is safe and you are so in love that nothing matters – nothing matters because Charlie loves you back.

And really, is was cold outside.

-----------

Tagging my Charlie lovin’ pals! @driverficarchive @adamsnackdriver @dreamboatdriver @kyloxfem @solotriplets @tinyplanet-explorers @candycanes19 @callmehopeless @kylo-renne xsister-serpent @girlyisthatweirdkid phoebewalker04 @stylelovechild @formerly-anonhamster @magikevalynn @ccorleones @whiskey-bumblebee @scheherazades-horcrux

#reader insert #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber #marriage story #adam driver #my writing #12DoO #12 days of oneshots

162 notes · View notes

skullvins · 4 years ago

Note

What about your trans bots :0

I HAVE. SEVERAL but I'm mainly gonna talk about voider because I have more art of him

if you go on my art blog pictures of him are tagged #ap voider!!! he is a purple halibot/a violibot and he's at like??? a low ranking captain kind of position. during the plot of another planet, which is what I Call this set of ocs, he's sent as part of a mission to kidnap important management figures for a company based on saturn, who have significant investments in major trade in the solar system, which is the location of the next lep'ridae invasion (halibots being robots that work for the lepridaes). he's responsible for leading the charge on andru, who is some kind of up and coming middle management and speculated to be important to the future of the company, however once on the journey back to base, there is a mild emergency and voider, not being used to being on a ship of this size/style, decides the best option is to use an escape pod/small ship to get him and andru out of there, and to head to mercury, which is an old lep'ridae base, so that he can send a message to his higher ups to come pick him up. along the way they meet judi, an engineer from neptune, and roban, a space pirate from mars. shenanigans ensue until they get to mercury and then the plot hits you in the face with feels

also these two end up boyfriends did I mention that????

anyway. voider is SPOILERS actually technically more of a cyborg??? sad stuff happens on mercury man im :'(

post-mercury he gets a scar and a scarf but he MIGHT also get some other details I just need to think them over. for now have these doodles I did in college

he is a noodleman and I love drawing him

explaining his transgenderisms in detail requires I talk about major ap spoilers, HOWEVER it's all planned out so he kind of. realises he was trans The Whole Time, so we get the coming to terms with being trans thing without having to spend half the time misgendering and deadnaming him, thank God.

he's also very very gay tbh. he's very cocky but he's a bit all bark and no bite. all the halibots have a bit of a 20's - 40's aesthetic going on, and so he talks like an old timey bbc news presenter and uses bits of old slang. he thinks he's hot shit and he's not really but he is in my heart I love him 🥺🥺🥺

yes his three fingers are floaty

he LOVES the smell of chocolate and generally loves cute deserts and makes andru buy loads of them so he can feed his organic boyfriend cute things. he's infodump and stimming friends with roban and the pair of them generally snoop on andru and judi doing stupid stuff together. he's honestly Lovely but he IS very mischievous and a huge bastard. if you've ever seen that skit about the guy who moves into an apartment and instead of filling his toiletry box with. toiletries he just fills it with rubber ducks and it just gets Worse, that's voider. just good old bastardly fun

hes Very gay for andru but kind of doesn't realise it and andru only comes to terms with his sexuality over the course of the series, so the two are absolute Idiots when it comes to asking each other out, but they're very cute together imo

tbf tho andru is like. Considerably Short compared to the rest of the main ap cast, who are all over 6 foot compared to his 5'6-5'7 kind of height

btw it's not an eye! it's a black screen that kind of functions as an eye

anyway I could talk about ap all day but take this for now. these r just the doodles I had on hand on mobile, I might rb and slap some more on later. for now like I said there's stuff on my art blog if u wanna have a nosey there and the wonderful @psikind drew him once which is ALSO on there because voider deserves ALL THE LOVE

I ALSO FORGOT TO TALK ABOUT ALIS who is an enby yellow halibot/goldibot and kind of started out as a self insert to drop into the background as voider's old boss but is now kind of their own character with Issues™ projected onto them.

halibots come in eight colours depending on ranking (green/cyan/blue/purple/pink/red/orange/yellow from lowest to highest ranking) and there is also One white halibot called Lancer who works Directly for the leader of the lep'ridaes. the last two significant halibots in the series are chessi, a pink halibot/rosibot who is like voider's old co-worker, and one I can't really talk about much because SPOILERS

anyway you asked for trans robots and I have delivered I hope my noodle twink bot is satisfactory

#I LOVE VOIDER SO MUCH HE'S A SWEETIE BUT ALSO A BASTARD #for now bowser's theme in super mario 3d world (I THINK? IT MIGHT BE LAND? UHHHH. THE JAZZY ONE) is his theme in my head #THE FASTER VERSION. IT HAS HIS VIBES #i might link it in a rb #anyway #ap #ap voider #anon #asks

5 notes · View notes

prettyboy-parker · 6 years ago

Text

starker: the snack bar

words: 623

warnings: none!

“Um, do you know when Steve Rogers is done his shift? The lifeguard?”

Tony sighs heavily, ceasing the clicking of his heavily branded pen. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the permed brunette in front of him.

“Are you going to order anything?” He grunts after a few beats of silence. The girl just rolls her eyes and walks away. Tony walks away from the window and hoists himself up on the peeling countertop.

“That was impressive.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows and takes a slow drag of his cigarette.

“Don’t blow that shit in my face, Barnes.” Tony huffs, taking a sip of his Diet Coke.

Bucky smirks and blows the smoke into the air, making Tony cough.

“Asshole.”

“Dickwad.”

Bucky throws his head back and lets out a deep belly laugh that Tony adores despises. Before Tony can snap back, the flimsy door next to the fridge slams open.

“America’s favorite lifeguard!” Tony exclaims dramatically, not moving from his spot on the counter.

Steve rolls his baby blues, shutting the door behind him.

“A girl came lookin’ for you, doll.” Bucky tells the blonde, putting out his cigarette in the ash tray next to him. The boy has the biggest puppy dog eyes that Tony’s ever seen.

“Did you tell her I’m off the market?” Steve responds, large hand resting on Bucky’s thigh. Bucky quickly looks out the windows to the snack bar, checking to see if anyone is near, before leaning in to press a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek.

“Bleh. You two are gross.” Tony groans as he hops off the counter, heading to the fridge to grab another Coke.

“You’ll see one day, Tones. Besides, there’s a new kid that’s right up your alley.”

“New kid? This isn’t school, Steve,” Tony says when he turns around, fridge door slamming behind him.

“I didn’t recognize him. Talked to him for a bit, says he just moved in to his Aunt and Uncle’s place. Definitely your type.” Steve tells him, wiping his sweaty forehead.

“And what would my type be? Please enlighten me, because I don’t even know.” Tony asks, crossing his arms over his teal t-shirt. Steve ponders for a moment.

“Tiny, lanky, pale, big eyes, blushes a lot.”

“Oh, sounds twink-y.”

Steve shoots him a glare.

“Don’t say twink-y.”

Tony shakes his head.

“I’m just telling it how it is, Rogers. Why don’t you show me where this kid is?” He offers. Suddenly, the bell next to the ordering window dings.

“Too bad. We have a customer.” Bucky points out, Steve’s hand quickly removing itself from Bucky’s thigh, resting on his own hip instead.

Tony groans and makes his way to the window.

“Bring him over here.”

☀☀☀

“Jeez, darlin’. Took you long enough.”

Tony groans from where he’s head first in the ice cream freezer. He could’ve sworn they had some more Firecracker popsicles, since they had a restock a few days ago. Luckily, his fingers graze the white wrapper with the name on it. He turns back to the window, giving the little girl her much needed ice pop.

“Sorry if I held you up!” A voice squeaks, sweet as honey.

So this is the boy Steve was talking about.

He definitely fits the definition of a twink.

He’s pretty, from the chocolate curls on his head to the thin legs leading to his feet. His sun flushed cheeks are upturned in a smile, the corners of his honey brown eyes crinkling.

“No problem. I’m Bucky, by the way.” Bucky says with a little wave.

“H-Hey, I’m Tony.” Tony stammers.

The kid smiles wider.

“I’m Peter.”

This was going to be an interesting summer.

(and that’s all I got. thank you for reading!!)

#starker #starker fic #starker drabble #starker ficlet

206 notes · View notes

jui-imouto-chan · 6 years ago

Text

Wanted to write some fluff for my dear @manadrite / @manatheauthor, who was a bit down earlier.

Thanks to @isumi828 for supplying me with some ideas!

The aroma of brewed coffee beans and the syrupy sweet scent of pastries flutter about, wafting through the air and into the noses of the patrons leisurely sipping from their warm mugs, eyes bright and and posture contented.

Forks glimmer in the soft light of sun, tiny clinks following the contact of the tips of the prongs with the small white plates below speared pieces of dessert.

A bell’s tinkle sounds from the door, a swirl of icy breeze immediately quelled by the warmth of the cafe.

“Welcome!” greets the employee behind the counter, eyes and hair mocha as the coffee he prepares. A smile can be heard in his voice, his back to the majority of the room, but clearly he knows who’s entered the building, as his hands work the machine to prepare a drink before he’s told, no one else in the queue.

He spins on the balls of one foot and smoothly transitions into bending over and sliding out a tray of pastries from the display case beneath the counter, picking a slice of raspberry cheesecake to place on a plate he collects from a shining stack nearby.

He sets a fork atop the empty space beside the desert and swipes the plate into his left hand, his other hand grabbing the handle of a mug, now filled with a cappuccino. He seems to have made a heart design in it, and upon the image becoming visible to the customers in the cafe, giggles and teasing smiles arise.

“You need a hand with that?” the man who’d entered the cafe asks the employee, adjusting his bag’s strap to free his hands and immediately moving to take the items from him.

The employee spins gracefully out of reach, grinning smugly at the mocha-skinned man sighing at him, his apron fluttering. It’s impressive, how not a drop of drink spills over the edge of the mug, despite the dangerous slosh of the scalding liquid.

His name-tag glints in the sunlight he steps past, a brief illumination of his, admittedly already quite bright countenance.

He sets the plate and mug down with barely a sound, bending at the waist with deliberation.

Once more, he twirls about on his heel like a misinformed ballerina and in that single movement undoes the bow tied at the small of his back, the apron hanging off of him, now.

“Just a moment.” He says, polite as ever. He usually sounds genially chipper, but now his voice has the adoring undertone of delight.

The mocha-skinned man settles in the cushy booth seat he always sits in, hand curling around the mug with familiarity that is not unusual for the regulars of the cafe. A smile pulls at his lips, freckled cheeks shifting with the uneven expression.

He doesn’t take a sip at any point, an observer would note, and his eyes remain in the distance, past the window he’s beside, where icicles hang precariously over the edges of roofs and gutters and drip arrhythmically, into thick bunches of snow gathered at the corners of sidewalks and roadways. One such corner has a toddler-sized disgruntled snowman sporting a tiny foil fedora.

“I’m waiting on Eli to make my hot cocoa, so I can spare a few moments for you.” the employee, sans his apron, slides into the opposite booth, his arms lain over the tabletop casually.

The tan man gasps exaggeratedly, shoulders rising as a hand moves to hover near his mouth, lush green and soothing blue wide in mock-surprise. “I honestly can’t believe that the Connor Anderson would grant me the privilege of moments of interaction! My poor heart feels blessed; I can die without regrets.”

Connor appears incredibly bemused, though his cheek twitches as he bites back laughter. He tilts his head into a palm, resting on an elbow while his fingers idly drum a vaguely familiar tune.

“Alright Drama Queen--”

“Excuse you, I prefer King of Theatrics.”

“Oh, whatever. I give up on you.” Connor’s eyes roll, but he’s finally let his lips tick up until his eyes crinkle, huffing air out through his nose.

“Aw, man, I guess North wins that bet.”

“Bet?”

“She said that you’d leave my sorry ass in less than 2 minutes.”

Connor allows a soft chuckle out and shakes his head. He moves out of the seat when there’s a call of his name. “What was your side?”

“That it’d take 3 minutes.”

And then Connor closes his eyes as a surprised snort takes over, his shoulders shaking in barely-contained laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m lovable.”

“That, too.”

And the tan man’s eyes blink rapidly, clearly not having anticipated that response. A hint of red creeps up his cheeks, and Connor smirks to himself as he collects his hot cocoa and nabs a small, pink cupcake.

Only after Connor sits back in front of him does the darker man move to slice a chunk off of his raspberry cheesecake. In lieu of bringing the bit to his mouth, he directs it to Connor’s, bumping against soft pink and leaving a small dot of hibiscus-colored-syrup. Connor’s taken off guard for a moment, but his lips eventually part to allow the dessert in, closing over the fork to drag the piece off, lashes batting in an effort to physically express the bliss he’d gotten from the taste.

The fork still hovers near his mouth, heterochromatic eyes watching his reaction raptly, and he takes his chance to snatch the utensil out of the other’s grip. He swallows and cuts another piece off of the very cake he’d tasted, spearing it.

“You’ve got to give it a try, Markus.”

Markus obligingly opens his mouth when Connor mimics his earlier actions and feeds him, savoring the taste of the sweet.

He hums in appreciation. “Good pick.”

“But of course. Only the best for you.”

His line is undercut by the teasing lilt to his voice, but Markus forgives him for that only because another slice is brought to his mouth, which he chases down with a sip of his cappuccino.

“Once again, I’m honored.”

Markus reacquires his silverware with ease and pointedly stares at the hot chocolate near Connor’s elbow, still steaming but thankfully much cooler than the piping hot chocolate-lava that Connor would insist on drinking immediately. Markus has spent plenty of time locking mouths with Connor after filling his with cold water, only for the purpose of aiding him in dealing with the consequences of his stubborn habits.

Well, okay, not only for that, but the other reasons are to be considered added benefits to his good deeds.

Connor and Markus lapse into an amicable silence, their free left hands creeping across the tabletop, until Markus’ rests atop Connor’s, thumb stroking over the back of his hand.

They almost don’t appear to notice the contact, perhaps from how naturally such actions of affection come to them.

“Am I keeping you?” Markus asks, his mug clicking as he sets it down.

Connor blinks, then shakes his head. “No, no. Eli’s got me covered, and it’s a little slow right now. I think you guys are stealing our business for today.”

Markus can’t help the smug grin crawling up his face. “If only we could steal one of the employees, here, too.”

“I’d rather French Sumo than join you heathens.”

“I’m hurt, really, I am. I’m also going to go legally change my name to Sumo Manfred.” Markus’ fingers dance up Connor’s arm and then move back down so he can intertwine them with Connor’s.

“Oh? Such drastic measures, when all you’d have to do is ask and receive.”

Markus finger’s jump, and Connor gives him a squeeze the same time he sends over his favorite methods of stopping Markus’ thought processes and heart at once: a cheeky, mischievous wink.

Markus groans, dropping his fork to shield his face and cover his eyes. “Oh my god, stop. You know I have a weakness for that. --In Josh’s words, ‘you put the wink in twink’.”

Connor scoffs, affronted, but not really. “Josh can catch these hands.”

“Your twinkie-fingered hands.” Markus sing-songs, wriggling his digits.

Connor’s hand tightens over his, painfully squeezing with his lithe ‘twinkie-fingers’. “I will end you.”

“You love me too much.”

A frustrated sigh, and then, “Ugh, why do you have to be right?” Connor shoots Markus a glare when the taller laughs at him, though his scowl may well be a pout, in Markus’ book, with all the effect it has.

“Aw, it’s okay that you have twink hands, babe. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Connor stands, collecting their dirtied plates and mugs with a huff. “Yeah? Well, you’ve got big, meaty, claws.”

“You did not just--”

“Oh, but I did.”

There’s a vindictive satisfaction that takes over Connor’s face as Markus growls.

Markus moves to follow him out of the booth, his messenger bag all but forgotten on the seat, and Connor dances out of the way of his searching hands with all the grace he can muster. Can’t let Markus get too handsy in his workplace, now can he?

He places them on the back counter to take them to the sink, later, about to address Markus’ sulky frown, but the bell’s jingle and a momentary brush of cold air makes Connor snap his attention to the potential customer entering the cafe, cheery disposition coming forth.

“Welcome, how may I--North?”

“Oh, shit, North?!”

Markus makes to hide behind Connor, but, thanks to the factors that are too numerous to list, he’s spotted and approached with a frighteningly calm and blank expression.

“You’re supposed to be working right now. I’ve got Alice taking orders at this point, the fuck are you doing?”

She swipes her hand to Markus’ ear to pinch it between her thumb and fingers and drags him out of the cafe, giving him an earful. Connor laughs nervously, waving to his boyfriend as he goes and watching Markus feebly attempt to return the action and receive a swift smack to the back of the head, the spike of fear that had shot up Connor’s spine upon North’s arrival thankfully dissipating.

He’s only just turned to the back counter when the door slams open, the bell a cry of alarm, and footsteps advance on him rapidly.

Connor’s arm is grabbed and he’s spun around and dipped, and then lips meet his gaping mouth to give him a fleeting but passionate kiss, in front of all of his customers, before he’s set upright and released.

His cheeks burn with mortification and maybe, just maybe, the tiniest surge of arousal, as he uncomprehendingly watches Markus dart to their booth to retrieve his bag and take off out the door, the blast of winter air doing nothing for his heating face.

There’s a wolf-whistle from the back room, followed by muted giggles, and Connor inwardly curses his boyfriend.

Outwardly, he groans and slumps against the counter, panting softly.

Elijah’s never going to let him live this down.

#markus rk200 #connor x markus #markus x connor #markus dbh #markus detroit become human #connor dbh #connor rk800 #conkus #marnor dbh #marcon #rk1k #rk1000 #rk1k dbh

88 notes · View notes

thebeaumontboys · 7 years ago

Text

The Masquerade (Maxwell x MC (Bozhena))

I wrote this for the @choicessecretsanta event for… @maxwellbaemont!!! I hope you like it and Merry Christmas. Also, I wrote this before some recent chapters came out so it’s not really compatible with canon any more or anything but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Even before she entered the grand oak doors, she could hear the sweet strains of the live orchestra. Bozhena paused before the door, a grin turning her lips into a smile. She ducked into a neaby hallway and slipped a blue mask out of her purse. She pulled it over her head and smiled at her reflection in the polished maple cabinet. She gave herself one last look over and spun once letting the satin folds of her dress swish around her. Then, she walked resolutely back to the oak doors and pushed them open. The room was filled with the rustling ball gowns and sleek suits of the royal entourage. A large christmas tree stood in the corder with real candles twinking on the boughs. Garlands of pine and holly trailed around the room and bunches of mistletoe hung mischievously by the secluded corners. For a moment, Bozhena was lost in the color and whirl of the room, but she had gotten used to it with her time in Cordonia and the fear that strangled her fro a moment passed. Slowly, she descended the stairs and entered the crowd. The party had begun a few hours earlier with a meal spread lavishly over the tables. Bozhena had sat with Hana, Maxwell, and Drake at a table towards the corner of the room, but they didn’t mind. Bozhena was pretty sure their laughter could be heard from anywhere in the room, so it really didn’t matter. As soon as the meal ended, the ladies had been escorted to private changing rooms where they changed and put on masks to disguise themselves. The idea of the ball was that no one was supposed to know who you were.

Now, Bozhena looked around the room at the merry faces laughing behind the elaborate masks. She thought she saw Hana dancing with Drake, but she couldn’t be sure.

“I heard the King is wearing the white maske,” said a voice close to her ear.

Bozhena jumped then smiled. Besider her, a woman dressed in a flowing red gown with a matching red mask smiled at her.

“Olivia.”

“Took you long enough.”

Bozhena grinned.

“You should snag the King from Madame Madeline’s clutches.”

She meant it kindly, but Olivia’s face paled.

“I can’t! He’s engaged to someone else and in love with you. and … and I still love him. That much is obvious.”

Bozhena sighed and softly touched Olivia’s arm.

“It it makes you feel any better…” she paused and looked around then hurried on, “I don’t care for him. I could never say yes to being his queen.”

Bozhena turned away as Olivia stared at her.

“What?!”

“It’s true.”

“Spill.”

Bozhena’s lips turned in a smile as she shook her head.

“Sorry. But please win his heart back. I don’t want to hurt him. He’s my friend.”

Olivia nodded slowly.

“Shall I?” she asked, her grin returning.

“Please do. Look at that smug look on Madeline’s face.”

Bozhena gestured towards the woman in a sleek green gown clutching the arm of a man hidden behind a white mask.

“Oh, it wont be there for long, I assure you.”

WIth one last sly grin, Olivia headed off in the crowd. Bozhena turned to make her way towards Hana and Drake when she felt someone touch her arm. She spun and saw a man in a bright yellow mask grinning at her.

“Maxwell?” she asked softly.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You’re the only one I know who’d wear a bright yellow mask.”

“Hey, it’s in style.”

She laughed.

“Hey, want to try some of the deserts with me? They look delicious.”

Bozhena looked over at the table in the corner crowded with all sorts of delicious looking food.

“Of course.”

They made their way to the table of treats. Maxwell looked adoringly at a chocolate slice of cake.

“Ooh. A dark chocolate slice of heaven with caramel drizzle? I think it’s calling my name.”

Bozhena pulled a plate off the table and stuck her fork in the dark chocolate piece of cake. She smiled as it melted on her tongue.

“So good.”

Maxwell mumbled something through a full bite of his own piece of cake that sounded vaguely like some sort of a agreement. All too soon, they had finished and put the plates aside. Maxwell brushed the crumbs off his fingers.

“May I have this dance, Future Queen?”

The song had come to a close and the dancers were drifting off the floor.

“Of course.”

Maxwell led Bozhena to the dance floor and the music swelled in the swinging rhythm of a waltz. She glanced over and saw Olivia standing smugly with a white masked man. Bozhena smiled, then her face fell and she sighed.

“What is it? Are you doing alright?” Maxwell asked as they glided around the dance floor.

“Oh, as well as you’d expect, I suppose,” Bozhena turned away.

She hoped the mask was covering the emotions surging across her face.

“Is something wrong?” his smile fell.

Bozhena struggled for a moment. Then, she sighed. She had kept everything in for so long. She couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Maxwell,” she said hesitantly, “I know how much it means to you and Bertrand for me to be queen. But… what if I didn’t want to?”

Maxwell’s brown eyes were boring into her.

“What do you mean?”

“What if…” Bozhena paused then rushed on, “What if I loved someone else?”

A sob slipped into her voice and her eyes began to fog with hot tears. They had stopped dancing now and Maxwell was staring at her.

“Come here,” he murmured softly and guided her steps to the edge of the room away from the crowd and the vibrant colors.

“It’s OK,” he whispered.

Bozhena reached out blinding, tears falling down her cheeks and slipping down her satin dress. Maxwell pulled her into his arms and let her tears fall onto his suit. Her shoulders shook with her sobs. As the music swelled around them and laughed wafted through the air, they stood together, their arms wrapped around each other, her shoulders shaking. Slowly, Bozhena’s sobs quieted and she slipped off her mask to wiper her eyes.

“Hey, it’s OK. No one can force you to love anyone.”

“I know.”

She let out a sigh.

“I just wish…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure someone else would love to take your place.”

“You mean Olivia?”

Maxwell smiled.

“Of course I do. You see the way she looks at him like he’s a sad little corgi that needs rescuing.”

Bozhena gae Maxwell a teary smile.

“Yeah.”

Maxwell paused then said hesitantly.

“Is it Drake?”

“What?”

“Is it Drake who you love? I know he likes you more than the rest of us.”

Bozhena shook her head.

“No.”

Bozhena was still touching Maxwell’s arm and she felt his heartbeat quicken beneath her fingers.

“Then…who is it?”

A rose of pink bloomed across her face as she looked into Maxwell’s caramel colored eyes.

“It’s you,” she whispered the nrushed on, “I know you probably dislike me or only like me as a friend and IM not…”

She was silenced by the soft touch of Maxwell’s finger across her lips. The words died on her tongue and she looked at him with shining eyes, her heart fluttering in her chest Maxwell was smiling with the kind of smile that makes your mouth hurt.

“Bozhena,” he whispered softly.

His fingers trailed down her arm until he reached her mask. Gently, he returned it to her face.

You’re not lying to me? No one put you up to this?”

Bozhena gave a smile laugh.

“No, Maxwell,” she whispered, “It’s always been you.”

Maxwell looked up at the mistletoe hanging over their heads, he looked back at Bozhena, his eyes dropping to her lips. Then, his arms were around her and she felt his lips meet heres. It was soft at first, questioning almost, but as she kissed him back, he pulled her closer. Or a moment, she hesitated and pulled away gasping for air.

“Maxwell, what will Bertrand say?”

“No one knows its us,” he murmured.

And she let herself mlt into him. For once, she didn’t think of Liam or Madeline or finding out how she had been framed. For once, she just thought about the present, herself, and Maxwell. As the music swelled and the snow fell in the frosty air outside, Bozhena let herself be free under the mistletoe with the real man she loved.

The end.

#choicessecretsanta #maxwell x mc #fic #trr #choices #playchoices #i hope you like it #merry christmas

8 notes · View notes

organicli · 8 years ago

Text

Day 38, Mardi Himal trek

We got up at 5 this morning to be led to the viewpoint by Nabin. Harry was sleeping. This last stretch to the final and best view was taxing and involved some steep climbs, pulling ourselves up the rocky staircase. Shortly after we’d set off, Clara lay down on the ground. Alex asked her if she was okay and I heard her cute French whisper, “I don’t know.” She put her feet up on a rock and ate some biscuits. She’s a doctor, so I guessed she knew how to look after herself.

They told us to go on without us but they caught us up soon. The tufts of grass on the hill were blackened from being burnt but there were white sprinklings of frost patches around as well.

The view at the top was magnificent. At so many peaks I thought we would reach it, only to find t was further along. But we’d finally made it and we all high fived. We all had a celebratory mars bar, which I forgot to mention had become a favourite of ours in the mountains, as the only chocolate available.

The trek back down to high camp was quite fun because you had to be ninjalike and strategic with your footing. Matt didn’t like it so much and descended without grace.

We had a short tea break at the camp and continued down for lunch. The dinner last night was the first one I hadn’t enjoyed. Having not worked up and appetite from an afternoon of walking, a plate full of bland carbs was less appealing. Lunch was okay though and we met some nomadic looking French men at low camp. I thought one of them was really beautiful, with a ponytail of long tussled brown hair, bronzed skin, sculpted features and a gorgeous frown, squinting through a set of thick lashes. He and his twink-like counterpart smoked cigarettes and ate only handfuls of nut mix and honey.

Clara and Alex were going to lengths to try and film Nabin saying, “eexcuuuseee me please,” the way he does which is so funny. He’s so lovely and friendly, but madder than a frog full of boxes Matt says.

The rest of the trek down was brutal. We took a different route down after our lunch and all took a big stick to help us walk. We concurred they made us feel like wizards, especially as we made our way through the enchanting forest. It felt very mystical, as the fog had crept in between the trees and every branch and trunk was coated with green fuzz.

The trek had started off feeling like an adventurous path, requiring a certain tact to get down, but by the end my legs and knees were ruined from hundreds of metres of descent. I contemplated actually crawling the last part if it weren’t for all the buffalo dung.

We rested right before the last leg on a stone podium. A man came up the hill wearing a silk hat and a sarong around his waist held up by a very chunky belt. Harry translated for us that the man was a farmer and had built the podium we were sitting on. He was also 65. He certainly looked spritely. Alex told him he looked 45 and the man did a little dance.

The last guesthouse was so nice. It was adorned with buddhist flags and red flowers. The rooms were actual rooms, indoors, and there was a bathroom attached with a door and a western toilet and a hot shower that was just heavenly.

I feel like our group really got closer together today and we spent the evening having beers with a third couple, Welsh/Cuban. The Cuban girl gave me of Clara a little salsa lesson and it was so much fun!

I was paranoid of the bugs again last night. There was a large cockroach in the corner earlier but it had gone before I went to sleep. There was also a shit tonne of moths. Something crawled down the back of my neck while I was asleep and it woke me with a dramatic and flamboyant start. I fumbled around for my phone but I couldn't find it straight away but I needed to check there weren't bugs in my bed. I reached for the light switch but wasn't about the go slapping my hands all over the walls when there could be a fat cockroach there. I got my phone torch on and kept it on. I flinched and shivered at every tickle from then on, not knowing where the cockroach was, for about two hours.

#travels

3 notes · View notes

cinnalock · 7 years ago

Text

Quinn Rhea-Broderick Masterlist

((The collection of info/headcanons for Quinn. Like with some of my other OCs, I’ll make new, separate posts for any new headcanons for her, but then I’ll update this list as well so everything can be altogether for convenience.))

Quinn Rhea-Broderick is an albino with very short white hair, pale skin, and green eyes and she has a mole under her right eye. She’s tall (5’8”) and has a toned, but not bulky build with defined muscle structure.

Quinn is the only daughter of Martin and Charlotte Rhea. Martin was the former hero Black Corsair and had telekinetic-based shielding powers; he died when Quinn was a child by trying to smother an explosion that would’ve killed tons of civilians. This has made Quinn slightly resentful of heroes as she believes they’re glory-seekers who don’t care about the people they leave behind.

Charlotte re-married Aaron Broderick a few years after Martin’s death. Aaron is an ex-Marine and former championship boxer, but he settled down after marrying Charlotte and built a farm next to their house. Quinn was slow to warm up to Aaron, but with time and patience his presence helped her cope with the loss of her biological father.

Quinn dropped out of high school at age 17 to enlist in the Marines. She actively served 6 years before she started working at an autoshop in Sternbild for the brother of one of her commanding officers. The brother ended up attempting insurance fraud by burning the business a few months after she started. He was caught and arrested for this, and Quinn moved on to being a bartender and bouncer for a strip club afterwards.

Quinn’s NEXT ability is called “Feral” and it functions similarly to the 100 Power. While Feral is activated, Quinn gains immense physical strength, speed, and agility (though not to the same capacity as 100 Power) and heightened senses. There is no time limit to how long Feral can be activated, but when it’s deactivated it has a 4 hour “cool down” before she can use it again. The downside of Feral is that the longer she has it activated, the less rational Quinn gets as she slowly becomes a rabid beast. If she’s too far gone to know to deactivate Feral, the only way to stop Quinn’s violent behavior is to knock her out.

Quinn is a mechanical genius. It all started with her working on cars, tractors, and other farming equipment with Aaron but even as an extremely young teen the inner workings of machines just “clicked” with her. Her mother tried to convince her to go to college and get an engineering degree, but building and fixing machines isn’t her passion as much as it is a skill and a mild hobby at best.

She also has an extensive knowledge of agriculture due to her family owning a farm, and she knows how to cook very well because of her mother and step-grandmother, but doesn’t think she’s good since she’s not as good at cooking as they are. Their farm was relatively small and had cows and chickens, but was mostly a produce farm along with a few pecan and apple trees.

She owns an iguana named Charlie and an african grey parrot named Hilda. Hilda’s a very intelligent, but mischievous bird with a wide vocabulary due to Quinn leaving the TV on for her while she’s at work.

Quinn’s a former smoker and struggles with the addiction on a regular basis. She started in high school shortly before she dropped out and it got worse when she enlisted. Once she started working at the autoshop, she put in an active effort to stop. She’s quit for the most part, but she still has an electronic cigarette she uses if she’s desperate and it’s not uncommon to see a nicotine patch on her arm.

Quinn’s background music would be “Spiteful” by CFO$. 

Quinn’s voice actor would be Ashly Burch (Cassie Cage, Mortal Kombat). 

Quinn starts the series with short hair and starts growing it out through the timeskip.

Quinn enjoys drinking sweet tea, and God have mercy on any soul who brings her unsweet tea and sugar packets thinking it’s the same thing.

She spends a lot of her spare time at the gym or at a circus arts school where she takes classes in acrobatics and pole dancing.

Quinn’s favorite food is prime rib with horseradish sauce. (in reality her favorite food is basically horseradish and she’ll eat anything smothered in it, but she thinks it goes best with beef)

Martin, Charlotte, and Quinn are white. Aaron is half-black, half-Korean and Quinn is fluent in Korean because of him and his mother (her step-grandmother), but she cannot read Korean.

Martin’s parents live on the other side of the country. They grew distant with Charlotte and Quinn after Martin’s death, but became hostile towards Charlotte and harassed her via the phone and internet when she decided to marry Aaron and the family severed ties with them completely. Charlotte took Aaron’s last name, Broderick, but Quinn’s last name is Rhea-Broderick.

Quinn’s guilty pleasure is Animal Crossing (or at least a non-copyright T&B equivalent of it). She bought a 3DS specifically for New Leaf, but now anytime she’s staring at her phone there’s a 100% chance she’s playing Pocket Camp. Marjorie is the only one she speaks enthusiastically about the game with, but she’s horribly embarrassed about it in front of anyone else.

When Quinn becomes a hero herself, her hero name is Sergeant Wolf. “Sergeant” comes from her rank in the Marines, “Wolf” references her Feral ability. Quinn’s hero suit is similar to a military stealth uniform (imagine a hybrid between Omega Squad Teemo from League of Legends and Ana Amari from Overwatch) which includes a cowl with decorative wolf ears, bodysuit/fatigues, and a gas mask.

As a hero, Quinn tries to utilize her military training as best as she can and uses Feral as a last result. Her arsenal includes batons, pepper spray, tasers, and various firearms equipped with rubber bullets and concussion rounds.

Given the nature of her hero persona, part of Quinn’s hero duties involves being a presenter and educator in firearm safety programs.

She likes dark chocolate and puts candy bars in the fridge/freezer before eating them.

Since Quinn has albinism, her skin is extremely sensitive. She uses spray-on sunscreen if she goes out during heavy sunlight or otherwise wears lots of clothing and sunglasses. She and Marjorie (@eclatantfemme) also splurge on hypoallergenic and/or organic laundry and bath products because they like to have scented products, but can’t buy mainstream items that’ll break Quinn’s skin out.

Quinn is bisexual, though she was never a huge one for relationships as much as she was open to just casual sex. Her “type” was feminine girls and androgynous/effeminate/twink boys. Keith is her first boyfriend who’s considerably masculine, but it doesn’t diminish her attraction to him in the slightest.

For the most part, Quinn’s bad with electronics. Not with the hardware, just using them for personal reasons. She doesn’t get on the internet or check her email regularly or use social media. She doesn’t get the appeal of streaming sites like Netflix and doesn’t know how to set it up on the TV if someone asks to switch to it from the cable. If someone tells her she should learn how to do these things or get an account on a social site or lecture her about not checking her email, Quinn just shrugs them off.

Quinn’s image song is “Bubblegum Bitch” by Marina and the Diamonds.

I’m having trouble finding an anime faceclaim for her, but currently she looks most like Najenda from Akame ga Kill. After the post anime series timeskip, she grows her hair out similarly to Ria Iwamura from King’s Game.

Quinn and Marjorie’s apartment is impeccably clean all the time. Between Marjorie’s speed and Quinn’s military training, chores get done fast and efficiently before they ever have a chance to pile up.

Since Marjorie’s power gives her a hyper fast metabolism and Quinn’s a gym junkie, they have an entire cabinet and a drawer in their fridge dedicated to high protein snacks.

Both of them are mature in general, but the girls get childishly competitive when they get into eating or drinking contests with each other. There’s two buffets in Sternbild that have banned them and a few more that are weary of them ever coming back.

Quinn is aware that Marjorie is a strong woman who can take care of herself, but Marjorie is her sister and if you hurt her then Quinn doesn’t need Feral to turn your face into a bloody pulp (upset Marjorie then just go ahead and skip town or maybe flee the country, for your own safety).   Quinn has this ritual/joke with Marjorie’s partners where she tells them that they have to beat her in an arm-wrestling match before they can date Marjorie. She’s never enforced this, though, and it’s mainly just to show them that if they hurt Marjorie then how easily Quinn could hurt them back with how quickly she wins the matches. The only one that’s ever beaten her is Barnaby; since he and Quinn are both super serious when it comes to how much they care for Marjorie, they actually ended up breaking into Feral and 100 Power to try and win over each other. Barnaby actually accidentally broke Quinn’s arm in the process, but she wasn’t upset despite him being apologetic (and a bit horrified with himself for taking a “game” so far) and she doesn’t hold a grudge. In fact, she was happy he didn’t hold anything back since she felt it showed how serious he was about being able to date Marjorie.

If she were a Pokemon or a trainer, her type would be fighting.

At the Disney parks, her most favorite ride is Mt. Everest at Animal Kingdom. She also loves Dole Whip and churros (especially the special edition flavors) to the point where her companions have to remind her she should probably drink water and eat a vegetable at SOME point during the day.

Quinn’s really great at carnival games that involve tossing balls (shooting baskets, getting the ball in the milk jugs with the rubber rims, knocking down the stacks of bottles). She’s surprisingly bad at any games involving guns (the water squirters and the shooting range). The only arcade game she’s good at is skeeball because #BadAtTechnology  Charlie’s a lot more docile than Hilda in terms of pet maintenance, but he’ll scratch at his terrarium (or just climb out) and crawl over to watch TV if cartoons are on because he likes the bright colors.

Speaking of Quinn’s pets, the two actually get along quite well despite being vastly different species. Even though Hilda loves causing chaos, one trick she actually obeys without question is when Quinn tells her to share their fresh fruit treats with Charlie; Hilda will fly over and drop the pieces in Charlie’s terrarium.

When talking about them, Quinn refers to Martin as “Dad” and Aaron as “Papa” (in the transition his name went from “Mister Aaron” to “Papa Aaron” to “Papa”).

Despite being physically active for the most part, Quinn does actually read a lot when she gets the chance. If she’s warming up the treadmill or bike before really getting into her work out, if it’s a slow shift at work, or if she’s waiting for tasks to complete for Pocket Camp, she’ll have a book to peck through to keep from getting bored. Since she’s not always a consistent reader she doesn’t like anything too complicated to read so it’s easy to pick up and put down as necessary. She mostly reads memoir books or books written by celebrities and saves any story/plot-heavy books to read before she goes to bed.

Quinn had a couple of summer jobs in-between school years before she joined the military. The first was at a small frozen yogurt shop that closed down the following winter due to not enough business during the colder months. The second job was as an assistant to one of her classmate’s fathers, a wedding photographer (she has a good amount of wedding horror stories from that summer alone).

Regarding her second summer job, most of her responsibilities were helping carrying equipment and assisting with directing posed photos (like she’d be the person to throw the bride’s veil up in the air and then jump out of the shot for an in-motion picture). Her boss taught her the basics of how to use a fancy camera, but the knowledge didn’t stick, but she managed a video camera just fine so he’d let Quinn manage that part if a wedding video was part of the contract. A meal for each of them was also part of the contract and, if she could, Quinn took a tubberware container to take a piece (or two or three) of cake to take home for her and Marjorie to eat while they gossiped about the event. (“Yeah, the groom and best man getting into a fistfight was bad, but the real tragedy was the bride thinking that lime buttercream would go with german chocolate…”)

#quinn rhea broderick #quinn masterlist

0 notes

kenbinru · 7 years ago

Text

I Can’t Believe I Have the Girlfriend of My Dreams! (An Unromantic Love Comedy LN)

CHAPTER 14

“I’m gonna marry you!” said Yui.

I’m a little nervous right now getting squeezed by my best friend’s little sister. I’m in World A(kane), and to be honest I feel terrible. We decided to stop by to see Daisuke’s 10-year-old sister who’s in the hospital right now. Daisuke finally revealed his secret to his friends after Mary grilled it out of him. According to him, he “didn’t want us to worry about a little sickness” that was serious enough to hospitalize Yui. Last time I was here, I had just woken from the accident that started this whole thing, and it turns out she was right down the hall, but I never noticed.

“Ha ha…maybe someday.” I say.

“Sorry, but Kazuki already made a promise to me, right?” said Akane.

Akane grabbed my other hand and squeezed it tightly.

W-what promise?

It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Daisuke’s little sister. She was always full of spirit and energy, something that’s the complete opposite of Daisuke today. From what I’ve known, Daisuke loves his sister more than anything in world. After all, for most of his childhood, it was just the two of them. Their father tragically passed away when they were young, and their mother followed just a few years ago. Although Daisuke never talked much about his personal life, every time he mentioned Yui it seemed as if he was a different person. His sister was the world to him, and I couldn’t imagine what could be going through his head right now, seeing his sister in the hospital.

“I want chocolate Big bro.”

“Your big sis makes the best chocolate.” said Daisuke.

Mary’s face turned red.

“W-well…if it’s for Yui-chan it’s no problem.”

Mary patted Yui’s head.

“That’s a promise Big Sis!” said Yui.

Mary’s face turned increasingly red at the adorableness of being called a big sister for the first time. It seemed Akane wanted her to say that too.

“We’ll all make chocolate. Let’s see which one Yui likes the best!” said Akane.

So it was settled, next time we visit her we’ll bring her some chocolate. It was good to bring a smile to a little girl’s face. Unfortunately, we had to leave due to visitation hours being over. We still had an errand to run anyways. Being put in charge of the school festival event for our class, Akane and I in this world were supposed to pick up the maid uniforms. It was just a slight delay since we wanted to see Yui instead.

“We’re here.” said Akane.

We arrive at a big warehouse that seemed to be an old factory that had been turned into a store. There was no sign outside at all, but when we walked in there was a small poster that read “Costume Party: Costumes and Uniforms Galore.” Inside the dimly-lit warehouse were costumes and cosplay far as the eye could see. There were multiple sets and props for sale from various professions and TV shows too, like a Masked Avenger costume for sale.

“Hey! Close the door ya kids! The flies will come in.” said the old man sitting at the cash register.

“I’m sorry mister!” shouted Mary.

The old man looked suspicious. He was smoking a cigarette and reading the newspaper with his big glasses. It also didn’t help that he was bigger than Daisuke, with some dragon tattoos visible from the sleeve of his shirt, which read “SECURITY.” There was very little light in the room, but his shiny bald head managed to sparkle like a disco ball that lit up his immediate surroundings.

This guy looks like a gangster…what kind of place is this?

“Hey Sojiro-san! Is that how you greet a fair young girl?” said Akane.

Immediately the old man put down his newspaper to get a look at us. His stone cold face smiled.

“Look what we have here! It’s Akane-chan! Long time no see. How’s my old friend manager-san?” asked Sojiro-san.

“Oh my! He’s doing fine. He has someone else now to keep him out of trouble.” said Akane.

The two seemed like old friends that were catching up on old times.

How does she know someone like him?

“Sojiro-san, I’m here to pick up some maid costumes for our school event. Anything you think would look good?” asked Akane.

Sojiro-san put out his cigarette and walked over to us. With every step he took, the ground shook, due to his massive size and muscular legs. Despite being old, he seemed to still be a formidable man who could probably take on anyone in a fight.

“Over here in the maid section we have some new arrivals. Take a look around Akane-chan! I just put out some of the cute uniforms there myself this morning!”

He pointed us in the direction of the maid section that was on the other side of the building, past all the butler uniforms and the replica sword collection.

“Thank you Sojiro-san!” said Akane.

Akane grabs my hand and leads me all the way there. Walking there, there were so many different maid costumes of multitudinous design. There were some maid costumes that fully covered the mannequin on display, and other costumes that, to be generous, barely qualified as “maid” costumes, and instead were pretty much bikinis with frills and a tiny apron.

“L-lewd!!!” Mary lightly shrieked as she tried to cover her eyes.

“This one looks pretty cute.” said Daisuke.

He was examining the maid costume and looked back at Mary with a perverse grin on his face.

Knucklehead’s probably imagining the girls in them isn’t he!

Mary had the same thought and hopped off her feet a little to bump him square on the head.

“That’s from the Victorian-Era!” said Akane.

We all turned to look at a display of a maid costume that Akane was marveling at, as she began her lecture.

“Stylized to match the look of an English Victorian-Era maid near the end of the 19th century, it’s the “standard” for what most people think of when it comes to maid uniforms. As a general rule, it’s required that their hair is tied back and in a cap. This might be a little too drab for what our class needs for the café though…”

The rest of us were listening intently as Akane unfurled her vast knowledge of maid uniforms.

She’s like a tour guide when it comes to this stuff.

I walk around the maid section a little more and notice a large display showcasing a uniform with a mini-skirt and frills all over the dress.

“That’s probably our modern-day version of a maid uniform, and the closest to what my old job had. It was made famous in Akiba and honestly it’s my favorite!” said Akane.

“It looks really cute.” I said.

Akane leans by my ear, cupping it softly with her hands.

“Maybe I’ll even wear it for you Kazuki…” whispered Akane behind me. The sensation of her breath along the side of my neck was intoxicating.

“Y- You will?!?” I choked.

Akane became flustered at her attempt at seduction and pushed me away. Her typically pale face became bright red like a tomato.

“I- I’m just joking you pervert! Don’t take it the wrong way!”

She gave me her trademark cute pout.

“Y-you suggested it!” I retorted.

Daisuke and Mary were looking around at the other maid uniforms until they found us looking at the display. I could tell that Mary was uncomfortable being around a place like this. To her, it seemed that we were shopping for lingerie (which in a sense, we kind of were). Daisuke was gripping her tiny hand, trying to make her feel better.

“I think this one will work! All the other ones are a little too risqué for us …” said Akane.

We all agreed that the main display was the best combination of cute, conservative, and authentic.

“But there’s only one way to find out…come on Mary-chan!” as she dragged Mary with her.

“Where are we going?!?” asked a terrified Mary. She knew all too well the answer to her own question.

It was too late. Akane dragged Mary off into the changing rooms in order to try on the maid uniforms. Suddenly a pair of gargantuan gorilla mitts land with the weight of the lord on our twink shoulders. I turn to see Sojiro-san had appeared behind Daisuke and me.

“You wouldn’t be gentlemen if you just stood there…if you catch my drift.” said Sojiro-san.

“Uh…what do you mean sir?” asked Daisuke.

He grabbed two butler uniforms and tossed them to us. I narrowly manage to catch the set in my hands.

“Go on and change you two, it’ll look adorable to see you couples dressed up together. Akane-chan would appreciate it.” said Sojiro-san.

He points us in the direction of the men’s changing room.

“B-but I’m good Sojiro-san-” I say.

Sojiro-san got right into my face. I can see every wrinkle and scar lining the surface of his face. They told a story, and that story was that this man did not ask; he told.

“Don’t make me tell Akane-chan you two were peeking…”

I gulped along with Daisuke at the threat of not only getting killed by Sojiro-san, but also incurring the wrath of Akane, who we knew all too well was capable of punishing our lack of enthusiasm.

“Guess we have no choice, huh Daisuke…?”

“Yep…let’s just get this over with Kaz.”

“Just where are those knuckleheads?” asked Mary.

I could hear her shrill voice outside of the changing rooms. Daisuke and I were still changing in our stalls. They were small rooms with mirrors on every side, except for the door, on which the basic instructions for properly tying a bow-tie were outlined on a small poster. The ensemble I’d been given was made up of an all-black suit, accented with a white dress shirt, along with some white cotton gloves, a pair of black leather shoes, and a blood red bowtie. I take a look at myself in the mirror with my full costume and I can hardly recognize myself. I’ve got to admit, this was the first time I’ve ever worn anything as elegant as this. The suit was a perfect fit for me, almost like it was made specifically for my measurements. I tap the ground with the tips of my feet to find that the shoes are an excellent fit as well.

Looking fly there Kazuki!

I point finger-guns at myself in the mirror before walking out of my stall.

“Hey Kazuki? Do you know how to tie a bowtie?” asked Daisuke from inside his own changing room.

“Yeah, just come in my stall.” I responded.

Daisuke opens the door and walks out wearing an identical outfit, except without a bow-tie on. If I thought I looked great in this, Daisuke looked even better. His muscles and broad shoulders were wrapped snugly by the suit, which made him look even more tall and slick. He walks into my stall, hands me his bow-tie, and pops his collar up.

“You couldn’t follow the instructions inside?” I ask with a smug grin.

“Geez…it was confusing looking at the instructions and the mirror at the same time.” he says.

I wrap the bow-tie around his neck, and try to recall the exact steps I did earlier, but now in reverse.

Up and over, make this knot, side-to-side, and….done!

I pat Daisuke on the shoulders and we both take a moment to look at each other.

“They’re waiting Kaz.” said Daisuke.

“Right behind you, partner in crime.”

We step outside of the changing room to see Akane dressed in her maid outfit, with Mary shocked by our abrupt appearance. She hides behind Akane, embarrassed at her current state.

“Eep!” muttered Mary.

“Wow…you two actually look decent for once.” said Akane.

“Ha ha, very funny Akane.” I respond.

Mary gathers her courage and steps forward to get a closer look at me and Daisuke. Needless to say, she was awestruck by the two handsome gentlemen standing in front of her. Mary’s breath was taken away.

Akane gives us a quick spin to show us her full maid uniform. Although it wasn’t as erotic as the costume I saw Yuki-san wearing in World B, somehow she seemed more elegant and refined in this outfit. Akane’s hair was wrapped with a headband, along with her red ribbon. The short skirt she was wearing exposed only a small area of her long legs, as the rest was covered by her white thigh-high socks. There was also a large oversized red bow adorning her neck, similar to our bow-ties.

I can only take so much cuteness! This is too good to be true!

Mary looked cute in the maid uniform as well, so much so that Daisuke was at a loss for words. It was the first time I’ve seen Mary Kaneko let her blonde hair flow instead of wearing it in her trademark ponytail, and I couldn’t believe that I was looking at the same loud mouthed tomboy I had tutored all year. Although the roadrunner of Kasumigaseki High was wearing the same uniform as Akane, she gave a different vibe, almost like that of a little sister. She didn’t have the same curves that Akane had, but she was small and cute enough to melt the hearts of every boy at school. It helped that she was embarrassed, trying to lower her skirt to cover more of her short legs that were partially exposed despite the thigh-high socks. Finally, she wore her trademark Masked Avenger pin on her chest, right next to her oversized ribbon.

“You two look amazing…” I say to them.

Akane tries to hide her laughter with her hand. Daisuke’s mouth was still agape, staring at his girlfriend

“C’mon, stop staring perv. You’re embarrassing me!” pointed Mary.

Mary slaps Daisuke out of his daze, as she hugs him in his uniform.

“Oh, one more thing…”

Akane stands in front of me, and takes out a comb. As she swipes away the strands of my messy hair, I can feel her exposing my forehead.

“There! Now you look professional.” Says Akane.

“Thanks.”

Mary, unable to bear another minute in her costume, starts to pout.

“Aww come on! Can we please change out of these things? I can’t take it anymore!”

If she hates these costumes this much, I wonder how she’ll be in her Juliet costume…

We make our way out of the warehouse. Akane and I sorted through the logistics of delivering the maid costumes to our school address as soon as possible. Thanks to Akane’s friendship with Sojiro-san, he gives us the goods for free!

“It’s on the house! Anything for my Akane-chan!” said Sojiro-san.

“Aww…don’t push your luck old man.” snapped Akane.

Sojiro-san steps back, but gives an odd smile after being insulted.

Guess he’s a masochist like manager-san.

“Come back whenever you want!” exclaimed Sojiro-san, as he waves us goodbye.

A few days have gone by, as the school continued preparing for the festival. I’m in my original world now, and in this world Yuki-san also got the same uniforms as Akane did, but without any of the rest of us being involved. According to the class president, she just “handed her a box of these cute maid uniforms!” To the dismay of the boys, she also brought the box of the same butler uniforms I wore with Daisuke. Although I didn’t want to admit it, I wanted to see myself in that suit again, for posterity’s sake!

It’s too bad no one will see the roadrunner wear one in this world.

The first day of the school festival had finally arrived. If anything went wrong today, it could potentially jeopardize the other two days. With the leadership of Class President and some background work by Yuki-san, they had trained everyone in class to be ready to serve, and to be the best maids and butlers Kasumigaseki High has ever seen. I was on the first shift with some other boys in our class, with Yuki-san being the head maid for her group.

“Yuki-san’s an amazing maid…I never would have expected that.” said one student in our class.

Our doors were going to open soon, and looking outside, there was already a line forming. Our marketing team was great, since they had very eye-catching pictures of some of our more popular students in costume, boys and girls. We were going to be busy, but our class was prepared to host one of the best events of the festival. Yuki-san and I make eye contact, exchanging determined looks before we open our doors.

Let’s do this Yuki-san!

Since I started working at Kasumigaseki High, it’s brought back memories of being in charge of the fortune telling booth. I remember when I was younger, all the boys in my class would line up down the hall for the fortune telling booth! Nothing has changed from when I was in school; all the boys still line up, and are told “You will be asked out by your crush!” It was strangely satisfying to see the genuine belief in young love plastered on their faces as they left my booth.

Lately, Father’s been encouraging me to join him at the hospital, since there’s plenty of eligible guys there… but today it’s time for the next generation to find their heart's desires, and hopefully seize the opportunities they can.

Opportunities…

I mustn’t think these sad thoughts! I’m still young! I’m quite a catch for someone my age! If only I could find my “prince” then I could live happily ever after, just like my childhood stories. It sucks that all the guys are intimidated when they see a female doctor working with high schoolers.

I let out a long sigh, until the familiar clank of my newly purchased coffee landing from its spot in the vending machine snaps me out of my sentimental daze. I reach under the chute, and crack it open to take a sip.

“What’s a woman like you doing out here?” asks a mysterious voice behind me.

“What’s it to you?” I reply.

I didn’t want to deal with any punk students, especially not after getting stood up again last night.

“That’s not very lady-like for someone like you…” continued the mysterious voice.

This punk! Alright time to give him some detent-

My breath stops and I drop my coffee can onto the ground. A handsome, tall, mature-looking man is standing in front of me, wearing a completely black suit with a red tie and a small red string tied into a ribbon on his chest pocket. The enigmatic man had longish black hair, which was combed and slicked back underneath his black fedora. Perhaps the most striking detail of his outfit was his black leather gloves. He didn’t look like any staff member or student I knew. He looked too old to be a student here, but then again, far too young to be a parent– he was around my age.

My chest starts to tighten up as my heart rate skyrockets. Whether out of fear or attraction, I cannot tell. All I know is that I have to find out who this man is.

“Um…who are you?” I ask, trying to compose myself.

The man goes towards the vending machine behind me, and I hear the machine buzzing and ringing, until I hear that same familiar clank, followed shortly by another. He reaches down into the chute and hands me a new coffee can, as he cracks open his own.

“Sorry about that darling, I didn’t mean to surprise you.” As he flashes me a smile with his shiny white teeth.

“D-don’t worry about it!”

Why am I getting embarrassed like a schoolgirl?

Still, it was strange to see someone like him here at this school, but it was the school festival after all. It wasn’t unusual for the events to attract strange people from around the neighborhood. Even so, there was something about him I couldn’t quite put my finger on…

“I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you’re here for?” I ask.

“Just passing by is all…” he says.

The stranger walks past me and throws his empty coffee can into one of the recycling bins behind him without looking.

“Thanks for the coffee!” I say to him, as he lazily waves his hand, not bothering to look to back.

“See you around, my darling!”

Yuki-san and I had been working non-stop for hours. The customers kept pouring in and out of our tiny classroom. Daisuke and Kaneko-san couldn’t come see us unfortunately, due to stage practice. On my last break when I stepped outside in my butler uniform, I saw a long line that stretched along the hallway. Fortunately, the line started to die down near the end of the day. We only had a couple customers in our room currently.

I let out a tired sigh as I sit on a chair next to our makeshift tables for four. Yuki-san and I were the only two left in the maid café as the rest of the class left to explore the other events. Although I wanted to see what everyone else was doing, I was glad to have a moment alone with Yuki-san. Since the school festival, we haven’t had much time alone, and awkwardness started to grow between us. Even during the occasional study sessions, Daisuke and Kaneko-san were present, so the atmosphere wasn’t right for me to make any progress with her. I hadn’t done much to further Operation Maiden’s Heart yet either, since I hadn’t noticed a change in Daisuke. Of course, knowing now what Yui was going through, it seemed even more impractical to give Daisuke more to think about.

A cup is placed next to me on the table, and I hear coffee being poured out of a pot. I look up to see Yuki-san in her maid uniform.

“Here Kaneshiro-san, you’ve worked hard today. I think you’ve earned this.” said Yuki-san politely.

“Thanks.” I say, as I take a sip of the coffee.

It tasted sweeter than the other batches. I wasn’t a really big fan of bitter coffee, so it was a pleasant surprise.

“I know you don’t like bitter coffee, so I hope you liked this one mast...“ Yuki-san stopped herself.

“Uh…what did you say?” I asked Yuki-san.

Yuki-san turns away from me and stands tall with the coffee pot in her hands, clutching it against her chest.

“N-nothing Kaneshiro-san! Finish the coffee and let’s start cleaning up.”

I finish the coffee and begin to tidy up the room for tomorrow’s service. Just as I’m about to take down the sign outside of our classroom a man dressed in a black suit and red tie appears and enters our cafe.

“Oh! I barely made it. Thanks brother!” as he pats me on the back.

“Excuse me, s-sir? We’re closed, please come back tomorrow!”

I try to stop him from entering but it’s too late. The man dressed in black was already sitting down at one of the tables. Yuki-san comes up to him to get him to leave, still “in character” with her pleasant maid persona.

“Excuse me, but we’re closed for now sir. If you’d like, you can come back tomorrow.” explained Yuki-san.

The man in black ignored her. Instead, he stood up and grabbed the coffee pot from her and started to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Ahh…a little too sweet for my taste, but still good. I can tell it was made with love.” he observes.

Yuki-san drops character and begins to look as if she’s prepared to throw him out of the nearest window of her classroom.

She’s living up to her “Ice-Witch” reputation right now…

“Get out. Now!” she yells at the man in black.

The man wasn’t intimidated by her order at all. He takes his coffee cup and sits right back down in his seat. This was something else. This was giving me flashbacks to the time at the “Purrfect Café,” and I had to do something.

“Hey, leave us alone!” I say to the man in black.

I stand in front of Yuki-san, who was trying to hold back her rage from this troublesome man.

“That’d be great, actually. If you could leave me alone with my darling little sister, I would be much obliged.” the man in black says.

Yuki-san steps in front of me and grabs the man in black by the collar of his black dress shirt.

“What did you say?” screams Yuki-san in the man’s face.

Just who is this man?

%X�

0 notes