#i am a simple person. i see a woman in button up and flannel and i crumple like a piece of wet tissue paper. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writerwrites · 4 years ago

Text

A Cruel Tide

Pairing: Steve Rogers (nomad!Steve) x Reader

Summary: A lost hero thinks she needs saving, but this divorcée’s needs were different, fleeting, and then full of attachment. Can they overcome the burdens on their shoulders and keep their word?

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: Smut 18+, specifically unprotected sex, soft Dom Steve (if you squint), some mentions of a divorce and criminal father and hints of winter holiday cheer.

A/N: *THIS IS A ONE SHOT* This is the Week 1 prompt to the Optimistic Captain Donut Challenge created by @captainchrisbaby @captain-a-rogerss , @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho , and @donutloverxo ... The Week 1 Prompt was based off of the moodboard below and “What Could Be as Lonely as Love” by Amber Run

“Please come back, Baby. It’s Christmas! Where are you going to go?” She heard her ex plead on the other end of the line as she stood soaking wet in the lobby of a cheap hotel. Even the weather had turned to shit on the first holiday since the divorce. “You didn’t even take your bag. What am I supposed to tell them when they come out of the kitchen with your favorite dessert?”

“The truth.” Her words were as cold as the sleet pelting the glass door by the empty concierge desk. A few taps on the phone screen and it was over, screen black. Silent. Merry Christmas, no more lies. Just as her hand went for the bell again a stranger cleared his throat. Hand snapping back to her side, her gaze caught the movement out of someone by the vending machines in her peripheral vision. It took a minute to place him, the grown out blonde hair seemed darker and his thick beard certainly changed the alter boy appearance that the world had made synonymous with his Captain America persona. Then it hit her like a ton of bricks: this was a wanted man. She could have pulled her phone back out, could’ve called for help or ignored him, but when her eyes met his, despite the long disheveled hair and thick beard, the softness to him was undeniable. The only thing she could muster was a simple, few hours too early, “Merry Christmas.”

“You just missed him, the manager. He left to get a good seat at midnight mass.” His blue eyes flitted to the window and back to you. It was like he was waiting for the woman to say something as he flipped a coin in his hand and tucked it back into one of his pockets. “You’ve got to be cold. No point in waiting around or paying for a room when I’ve got an extra bed.”

Even with his nod for the young woman to follow him she was reluctant, wondering why he had a second empty bed and why he wasn’t with someone for the holidays- even as a fugitive. She couldn’t remember all of their names, never really following all the ‘super terrorism’ headlines, but knew there was at least a half dozen of Stark’s former friends that had stood against him, were arrested, and went ‘missing’ from some prison facility she couldn’t recall the name of. Despite her mind trying to dredge up whatever fleeting bit of news she’d heard, her feet were still following him through the dim hallway until they made it to his door. “What were you doing in the lobby if you knew he wasn’t there?”

“Vending machine. No room service tonight… I’ll get you some clothes and head back over. Do you want anything?” The grit in his voice was familiar, the sound of exhaustion, and her eyes moved over his frame as he spoke to the door handle and then the closet rather than looking at her. Where had he been while the world was looking for him? She mused as she watched him dig through a duffle bag and pulled out some extra clothes. When he turned to give them to her, the Avenger’s eyebrows knit together. The look of concern made her shoulders turn in self-consciously. “You’re shaking.”

In the subtle exchange of a flannel button up and worn in sweatpants her hands brushed over his, finding them rough with soft and slightly raised scars at his knuckles. “Sorry.” She looked for the bathroom door and stepped around him, pausing before reaching for the handle, talking to her heels. “I’m sorry. Uhmm, no thank you, I had dinner. I’m just cold, wet… Thank you for being so nice to me.” She couldn’t do it, couldn’t pull her gaze off the floor, and with nowhere to go she couldn’t run. An apologetic smile found her lips and he saw it but gave her some space, leaving the room to go back to the vending machines before she walked into the bathroom and changed.

Steve stood at the vending machines, texting on his phone while he dropped money into the machine. His thoughts were on the phone call his superior hearing had overheard and the subsequent stammer in the young woman’s heartbeat. He knew the feeling of love lost too well, but to see it written on her face, to see even her dark skin pallor, it brought back a sorrow he’d thought he’d buried when Peggy died. By the time his ordered assortment of chips, cookies, and honeybuns had thunked to the bottom Natasha and Sam had joined him in the lobby. “I’m not sure she’s going to talk to me.” Steve started, only to be interrupted by Natasha.

“I told you that I should have gone in. You’re not as clever as you think you are, Rogers.” Nat smirked, leaning against the wall after catching a bag of chips he tossed at her. “We’re running out of time. The longer he’s out there…”

“It’s not that. She was on the phone when she came in and it wasn’t about her father. Something doesn’t add up. Why would she even make this trip?”

“Eavesdropping on phone calls? Step up your game. She’s been tapped for a week, we don’t need your ears, we need a conversation. You got this, brother. Do what you’ve got to do to get her to talk.” Sam gave him a smirk and clapped Natasha on the back. He heard Steve, but time was of the essence and with no one at the prison talking, their targets only connection to the outside world, that they knew of, was sitting in this hotel room and they needed answers. “If you can’t make it happen then send Nat a text and we can pretend she’s back for the other bed early.”

“Whatever it takes,” Nat crushed the empty bag in her palm and chucked it over the concierge desk and into a waste bin as Steve nodded and walked past his comrades, but the blonde grabbed his arm. It would have been an understatement to say she hadn’t taken the agreement to have Steve lead the interrogation felt a little personal, but she knew he could do it, perhaps just not as quickly as her. “Try and have a little fun while you’re at it, Cap.”

The jacket dripped into the tub as it hung over the shower curtain rod. It was on sale, a thoughtless gift from her father three years ago, but the only coat she owned with lining since the separation led to a move to Miami. The knee length silver dress was new and now ruined, tag discarded in the trash and the heels next to it over the vent. As she looked in the mirror, water running for what seemed like an hour before it reached lukewarm, she twisted her dark locks so that they were out of her face and less likely to frizz. The waxy soap doing little to rid her of the full face of make up which hadn’t budged in the fray of arriving at the one hotel in the small town that she could afford. Despite freshening up, her body was still shaking. The flannel’s too long sleeve flapped past her fingertips and the sweats kept riding down to the widest point of her hips, making her look like a tired college kid.

With both of the beds made, she couldn’t be sure which one to take and settled for the one nearest the bathroom. As soon as she collapsed onto it she could smell the same scent as the shirt she now wore. The distinct sweet woody smell of patchouli, slightly cloaked in a hint of fabric softener. Her teeth chattered as the door opened, but she didn’t bother to move outside of hiding her face. She felt the weight of his body slumping onto the mattress at her side, the sound of plastic raining down on the sheets was what made her peak her head out. “Oh, wow! Was there a malfunction in the machine?”

His steely blue eyes looked at the young woman with worry but it seemed to melt away in a blink or two. “No, I couldn’t decide and I remembered you said you’d had dinner but not dessert, so Merry Christmas.” Both of their fingers moved toward the honeybun and he laughed a little, “A deal? One of us gets the honeybun, the other gets to pick the movie?”

Her chin quivered, as she tried to smile while she reflected on the options. “No deal. We split the honeybun and agree on a movie.”

Taking her lip in her teeth to stop the chatter and anxiety, her sad eyes looked up at him. “All right, you win.” He got up and passed her the remote, taking his time to go back to the closet where he turned up with a stack of clothes under his arm and socks in his hand. “Here, I forgot these. I’m just gonna hop in the shower, maybe be five minutes. No stealing my half or starting a movie without me.”

By the time he emerged, warm steam poured out of the bathroom with him. Steve thought she would have warmed up and calmed down, the sound of her heartbeat and shivering no longer ringing in his ears. Instead, he found all of the food in a little pyramid on the nightstand and a black and white movie waiting for them on the television. “You can have the whole honeybun if we can watch this…”

The glimmer in her eyes and swollen red bottom lip, she could tell he knew she’d been chewing on it the whole time. He slumped back onto the bed next to her, his damp hair dripping down into his beard. His brow furrowed thinking she’d leaned in when it was just his weight on the cheap mattress sliding her in. She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t pulled away immediately and then she felt the shiver of his warm, minty breath on her skin. A wave of relief washed over her when his features warmed. “No deal, we split it and we’ll watch your movie.”

His words had been whispered and he didn’t pull his blue eyes from her face. She felt naked being looked at so seriously and her eyes moved down the slope of his nose to the beard. Reaching up, her small hands brushed the droplets of water out of it, surprised to find it softer than she could remember a beard being. Her thoughts immediately went to the last beard she touched, the last hotel room, the last person she wanted to think about and her thighs clenched together with want while her eyes pressed together to hold back the emotions she had been running from for a year and had literally sprinted from an hour ago. “It’s The Lemon Drop Kid… it’s the Silver Bells movie.”

Steve leaned his face into her palm and offered up a simple grunt of acknowledgement before he opened his eyes again. She watched him in shock, that little act of intimacy making her aware of how lonely she was in this world. He seemed to notice, covering her hand in his. “Your hands are still cold.” The tension between them, the unblinking gaze, the whispered words, both of their hearts were racing. Steve caved, giving her a choice. “Want me to stay? It would probably be easier to share snacks?”

Before she could stop herself she was nodding and he was leaning over her, taking the honeybun off the nightstand before collapsing back on the pillows. Steve watched her lick her lips but assumed it was a natural reaction to the honeybun passing her nose. With her hands pulled to her chest, she swallowed when his solid frame hung in front of her for that fleeting second and when it was gone her hands covered her mouth to stop herself from taking in a deep breath of the intoxicating smell of him. Her eyes stayed glued to the television as she blew shaky breaths onto her fingertips. The monologue in her mind about all the little anxieties of life that led her to the desperate place where she was okay sharing a hotel room with a fugitive stranger over Christmas was louder than the man opening the plastic, chewing, starting the movie, and then talking to her about her half of the honeybun. Her dark eyes blinked at him when his face was in front of her again, her thick lashes fluttering in confusion. “Hmm?”

Steve set the snack down and took her hands in his, rubbing them gently as his callouses brushed against her soft skin and his beard tickled her palms when he brought them to her full lips. He only let one hand go with a nod to the food before he continued on his little mission. She nibbled at the sticky treat and watched him, holding it out every bite or two for him to steal a bite for himself until it was gone. Nothing made sense to her anymore, she wasn’t a flirt and certainly never fell into the category of being overtly trusting. He picked up on the nerves, the expression of her being trapped in her thoughts, it reminded him of Bucky and a pang of guilt to his closest friend being in an icebox in Wakanda fleetingly hit him. Neither of them needed to be alone with their thoughts on a holiday, he decided, so he tried to get to work and strike up a conversation, “Why’d you pick this movie? Not trying to make me feel good by picking an oldie, are you?”

“I used to watch it with my dad… Everyone has a go to Christmas movie, I guess. I just didn’t think I’d see it on television. When it comes to holiday movies, I guess most channels play Miracle on 34th Street if they’re doing a classic… most do the newer films. Do you have a favorite?” She watched him settle in next to her once more, reaching for his hands as he pulled away and, to her surprise, he took it back in his and draped the other arm over her shoulders.

She grabbed a pack of cookies with her free hand and Steve’s blue eyes watched her more than the movie. The woman no longer shook or shrunk in on herself with a little bit of reassurance and comfort, again, reminding him of Bucky. “Why aren’t you with him this Christmas? Why aren’t you with anyone?”

The questions felt immediately too intrusive, despite the casual tone in his voice and her body tensed against his briefly before she decided they were totally normal questions. “I haven’t heard from him in two years. I don’t really have people… I gave up most of my friends over a relationship that ended a year ago.” Her gaze fell to her hand in his, the ring finger glaringly naked as the Avenger’s thumb brushed over her knuckles. “You have a lot of scars too.”

He was processing every word and micro-expression when his gaze followed hers to his hands, initially wondering if she’d heard something about his story. “Part of the job. I take a lick just fine though.”

She nodded, noting the present tense to his response before deciding she hadn’t meant just the scars on his hand. Though she didn’t really know the depth of it, there was some mutual sentiment she couldn’t put her thumb on with him. “Doesn’t make it right. There’s enough pain in the world to not need to carry the memory of it on our skin until the end of time.” Her own were hidden under the long sleeves of his flannel and she’d almost forgotten how she swam in it despite her curvy frame. “Have you seen this one before?”

“No, I missed out. I’m sure I’ll love it. I’ve always been a fan of film.” He stole a cookie, mulling over how to keep the conversation on her father, “I’m sorry you haven’t talked to your father. Have you thought about calling him tonight? Tis the season, right?”

“It’s easier said than done.” She sighed. “I don’t have a number to reach him and he doesn’t have mine. I… I don’t even know if he’s alive.” The words came out in such a broken way, at first rushed and full of closed off frustration- not at Steve but the situation. Then came the familiar burn of grief and the internal conflict of trying to determine how much information was too much information to share on the subject. “Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” He quickly interrupted her apology, but he felt the damage had been done. Steve pulled her to his chest in a slow but gentle hug and again she didn’t fight it. She rested her head against his chest, listening to his strong pulse beneath the hard muscles and her legs tangled in his as his sweats slipped lower on her hips. “For what it’s worth, I can’t get a hold of the person I’d like to spend the holiday with, too. Missed a lot of Christmases.” He swallowed down the knot in his throat, “Maybe we can just focus on being present and what we can change.”

Resting her chin on his chest, she looked up at him, “If you want to talk about it, you can. I’m a better listener than a talker.” It was true, after a year of keeping a massive secret about an ended marriage full of them, she became a master of doing as she was told.

Steve moved his hands up her back, inadvertently sighing when she pressed herself closer. They were both touch starved and though he thought he should keep his guard up, that this was work, the way she looked at him made his new hard exterior feel like a facade. Looking at her through his long lashes, he felt torn for the first time between the job and physical needs, his thoughts trying to just find some balance. His palm brushed against the skin peaking out at her lower back, “I don’t really have much to say about him. My best friend, he’s getting some help and I can’t be with him while he’s doing it. I feel helpless about it and then a bit torn up about missing more time with him. It’s a complicated relationship and complicated circumstances.”

Reaching up, she scratched her fingers through his beard, “But does he know that you’d be there supporting him if you could?” Steve nodded and she offered up a small smile and a few more words, “Then that’s all that really matters. You’ll be there for him once you can. I may not know anything about you outside of this room or by any names except ‘Steve’ or ‘Captain America’, but I can tell the news read you wrong.”

Her dark eyes searched his as she chewed on her bottom lip. Though she’d never thought of herself as a good judge of character and had certainly found good in horrible people, the man’s little gestures and something in those blue eyes told her that she didn’t need to be afraid of him. His hands moved up her back, under the flannel shirt massaging the soft expanse of her supple curves. Just as slowly, she untangled her legs from his, the sweatpants slipping down her thick thighs with the traction. She left them there, climbing onto his lap with little regard to the fact that she was now in her silky knickers on a soldier’s lap, fingertips still pawing at his beard. Steve’s hands moved over her waist, her body as pliable as his wasn’t and he watched her throat and savored the hiccup in her pulse every time his hands brushed over a new part of her skin. “We should probably…”

With a nervous laugh she agreed, but her hips were still rocking against him and his mouth was still inching closer to hers. “…or we could ju-”

Steve wouldn’t be able to explain why he’d crossed this line later when Nat and Sam asked him about the lack of intel. A part of him didn’t care. Her full lips were soft against his and the way her wanton whimpers poured into his mouth when his tongue drew across them made his cock twitch. Every little sound and taste of her made his body react. Steve’s hands reached up her full frame, opening the buttons of his shirt and discarding it until the curvy young woman was on his lap in nothing but her bra and panties. His bright blue eyes were alight as they gleaned over her frame. His sex life wasn’t anything to write home about, chaste in comparison to Sam, Nat, and even Bucky; it also happened to revolve around work- agents in peak shape. He ached for her, a natural beauty with soft edges. Steve palmed up her back and she followed his fingers, helping him undo the clasp before helping the silky number join his shirt somewhere over the edge of the bed. Her eyes were on his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed at the dry knot there, as she continued rolling her hips against his. The woman’s were cheeks pink with embarrassment at her level of exposure in the warm light of the room, the tips of her fingers slowly plucking at his own clothes before Steve leaned in and pulled her mouth back to his. “You’re beautiful.”

The sweet words pouring from his lips just before they latched onto her breasts made her laugh and then gasp for air. His tongue drew circles around her nippled before he nipped at them and his hands caressed the soft flesh. As he marked her with three wine stained blemishes on her chest, she finished removing his shirt, only laughing again at the contrast of his toned body to her swelling curves. Her laughter filled the room as he smiled against her skin and she responded by reaching into his pants and stroking him until he was completely hard in her hand. She couldn’t help herself, panties soaked from every touch. She pulled them to the side, rubbing her wet slit against his length. Like animals they both pawed and groaned over the new friction. “Do you want me?” Her nervous whispered words brushed against his ear and Steve lifted her off his lap just enough to pull shimmy off his pants and line himself up to her entrance. Pulling his mouth to hers she kissed him softly, slowly lowering herself onto him despite his firm grip on her waist a clear bruising plea for more. “Be gentle with me.”

Steve groaned as he filled her slowly and completely, her warm wet cunt milking him as she gasped into the curve of his neck. His lips ghosted across every inch of her skin as he stretched her out, hardly moving or encouraging her to move, simply appreciating how good it felt to be inside her. When her breathing steadied, Steve palmed over her ass and pulled on the silky fabric of her panties like they were reins. Her back arched and she started to grind on his cock, her clit taut against the fabric and his pelvis only causing her to moan loader as she gripped the soldier’s broad shoulders. With a firm clap and squeeze to the round soft skin of her cheeks she picked up her pace, eyes closing with satisfaction as his thick cock filled her and stroked her walls again and again. “Good girl.” He groaned, his hands moving down her thick thighs, the veins in his arms prominent as he helped lift and drop her down on his length. Steve’s blue hues settled on the view of her dripping down his length, so wet for him. How long had it been since he gave in to just wanting someone? His thoughts were fleeting, drawn back to the reality of the stranger riding him like she hadn’t been satisfied in her entire life, now her fingers pulling his mouth to her, but he nibbled on her lip and pushed her back, his mouth drawn back to her full breasts.

With here hands clutching the bedsheets behind her, back arched as she rode his slow deep thrusts into her, she couldn’t help but tighten around him, watching him hold her was one thing… a simple delight she’d not had in a year. It was listening to him grunt and growl when her pussy throbbed around him because of the little delights. As he sucked on her breasts and he squeezed her ass holding her down on his thick cock with every thrust, she felt him hit her sweet spot, sending little heat waves through her core until she was begging. “I’m so close. I need you, Steve. Please, please make me cum.”

Steve obliged, easily laying her back on the bed and tangling his legs in hers as he lowered his weight onto her small frame. His hips rutted against her and he grunted against her mouth between greedy kisses while his hands, which had been pinning her to the bed spread her legs further apart, giving him complete access to push her over the edge. She bit her finger on one hand as the other pulled at his thighs, muffling her pleas for release, “Come on, sweetheart. Let me hear you. Let me hear that beautiful voice say my name.”

His thumb brushed over her clit in teasing flits, back and forth and her hand left her swollen lips, clutching his wrist as he continued to rub her sensitive bud through her release. “Steve! Please. I…” Her orgasm came hard, pouring her juices over his cock he kept warm and deep inside of her, savoring that tight pussy now clutching him like she’d never let go and all the subsequent little earthquakes from his ministrations on her clit. Her thighs shook and she laughed and purred and pleaded, but he gave it to her and when she was undone on the bed, his hard length still deep inside he laid down next to her, and rubbed her back. “Don’t stop.” She whispered after a tired soft kiss up his neck to the scruff of his beard at his jaw. Her leg slid over his hip and, again, he abided her request, his hand moving down that leg and back until he was sure she was ready. Her soft kisses confirmation as he began to rock into her once more.

This wasn’t just a fuck, it was slow and sensitive, pleading. He worshiped every inch of her as he felt her soak his cock two more times from the slow, deep grinding and nipple play. Each time he marked her skin with another hickey, groaning into her neck and shoulder and mouth about how sexy listening to her cum was, how good she felt around him, how perfect her soft curves were. The praise made her throb around him and he pulled her onto his chest, asking her where she wanted him to finish. Her pleading to stay inside her, the purrs of how much she loved being full of him set him off. She rested her body gently against him and, cradled there, he claimed her in broken and hungry thrusts, his coarse hands holding her tightly to his frame as a final thrust to the hilt and he poured hot spurts of his seed into her. Her lips brushed across his salted skin before she let out a satisfied sigh. His blue eyes closed, a sleepy laugh passing his lips, “It doesn’t get better than this does it?”

Her tired eyes peaked open at him and she giggled as his hands flopped to their sides, only his finger tips tickling her tired thighs. “I’ve never had better.”

A peaked ‘hmm’ passed his lips as if to ask, is that so, but neither of them had energy to spare for conversation. Steve managed to tuck one arm under his head, his heavy eyes watching her slowly fall asleep, the unprofessionalism of his decision to sleep with her now sinking in as the charm of her melted into a warm, silent comfort. In bittersweet introspection he thought of how to rectify the interrogation that needed to happen. Knowing she wasn’t from this city and likely to go home under the circumstances, he settled on making plans to find her in a week. Nat and Sam wouldn’t be happy, but he’d find a way to keep them busy with other leads until he could talk to her again. Silver Bells echoed through the room and Steve fell asleep, just for a little while, basking in the comfort of being adored and held rather than objectified or idolized. For the first time, he dreamt of a dance with a partner that wasn’t Peggy.

The familiar quiet buzz of her phone woke her up with a cat-like stretch and sigh, momentarily forgetting where she was. Clumsily smacking her hand around in the direction of the sound she quickly hit the wall of muscle at her side. “Good Christmas morning. You’re up early.” He smiled with a quiet laugh on his lips. “I plugged your phone in when mine stopped charging. I think all your messages are coming in.”

Her eyes sheepishly looked up from the pillow at him, processing the fact that the night hadn’t been a dream. “Merry Christmas morning, Sir. You’ve been up long?”

With a shrug, he let her process the fact that he was in dark tactical gear. He broke her thought process with the soft whisper of her name, waking her up with delightful surprise and curiosity as his expression looked hopeful. “What are you doing New Years Eve?”

She bit her lip and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling with no desire to look at her phone or confess how dull. “Home alone, I guess.”

“Don’t have to be if you don’t want to.” Steve set his phone next to hers and slid down next to her, “All you have to do is ask.”

Her heart raced and she felt like she was still dreaming, but he reached out and brushed her dark hair from her eyes and met his gaze as Steve waited for her answer. “Find me in Miami and kiss me at midnight?”

With a satisfied hum, he closed the space between them. Steve hovered over her, craning his neck down for a quick peck when she shyly pressed her lips together. “That explains the coat.” He laughed, unpinning her so she could get out of bed, watching her as she slipped out of bed and picked up clothes from the floor as she tiptoed to the bathroom. Though she hadn’t gotten the door closed, she already saw her things neatly folded on the edge of the sink, a little travel kit set atop it all. As if he could see her smile, he hollered toward the door. “I hope you don’t mind that I spoke to the manager when they came in this morning about needing some basics.”

The rest of the morning went by too quickly for either of their liking. He didn’t join her in the shower, distracted by a disagreement in a group text with Nat, Sam, and the other nomads about trying to interrogate her again in a week. Meanwhile, she was glad for the privacy to do her hair and clean the night from her brown skin, the only reminders left were the tender aches and the plum bruises. Just thinking about it made her wet again and, despite the work related distraction in his hands his superior hearing made him hear her moan more than once, making his twitching cock semi-hard in his tac suit. He sat with her while she waited for her ride, he took her number, and when he kissed her goodbye, his flannel shirt tucked into her purse, both of them found a slice of happiness in a lonely holiday.

The loft apartment felt vacuous compared to the cheap hotel room, but she managed to make the most of the long week. Decorating the place with a small tree draped in tinsel and silver bell ornaments, draping the window sills and counters in twinkling garland, and counting down the days to New Years Eve. Each day felt like a month, trying to reconnect with her father while juggling her meaningless job. Each night she pulled on his shirt and her hands slipped between her thighs until she fell asleep blissed out in the memory of their night together. There hadn’t been a single word from the nomadic Captain until a dozen roses waited for her on the doorstep of her apartment, a small card with silver bells detailing the corners that simply read: One more day, doll. - S.

Though Steve thought a week’s wait to see her again would have been painless compared to the lifetime he’d missed in ice or the subsequent years he’d spent mindlessly droning on until he joined the Avengers, but the task had been anything but speedy for an unexpected reason. Sharing the limited information he’d gathered, Nat and Sam took new perspectives on getting the answers they needed for their mission, all three of them tasked with finding people connected to the family. All the digging, shared intel, pointed to an intricately planned prison escape gone wrong. While Nat and Sam thought his worries for their target’s daughter were unfounded due to estrangement, Steve had every intention of keeping his word, simply too busy moving and looking for answers to engage in the formalities of modern flirtation. Every day was busy with work and every night, surrounded by pictures and papers, he’d wonder if she was drowning in thoughts of him too. The roses were his way of making it up to her, his confession, and every detail was carefully thought over.

As she sat in the twinkling holiday lights, the sun long since set. She clicked on the television to a channel showing the Ball Drop in New York, muting it to play her own playlist of holiday songs. To be fair, Steve hadn’t given her a time he’d show up. Cracking open the red wine, she danced alone in the shimmering silver dress that ghosted across her knees and hugged her hips, time slipping by mildly unnoticed with each sip and song. Just as she’d descended into the cushions the door to the apartment opened, startling her and causing her wine to spill across the cushions. It was the broad shoulders filling the doorway that made her hold in her scream. The familiar silhouette stood speechless and her mouth bobbed open and closed like a fish when they closed the space between the living room and front door. Her eyes moved to the television, expecting to see some sort of red tape Breaking News alert that pigs could now fly. Instead, her eyes fell on the time, bright white in the corner and reading seven minutes past midnight. She ran her tongue across her painted lips, closed her eyes, and laughed. Fate, she decided, had little regard for New Year promises.

Taglist: @caplanbuckybarnes

#captainsweeklychallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #fic: steve rogers #writer: writerwrites

145 notes · View notes

heythrrdelilah · 5 years ago

Text

Treemendous (Sam Winchester x Reader Holiday)

Request: @awesomesusiebstuff For the holiday prompt, can you write the one about "being alone and needing help getting your Christmas tree into your empty apartment" with (I'm sure you guessed it!) Sam. I have to get working on my own holiday spirit!

A/N: I love this one. I think I am going to test out my saucy side with this prompt! Thank you for requesting and being a great friend! It's a meet cute since you wanted a fluffy ending!

Word Count: 1,298

Warnings/Tags: Fluffy, holiday, Au, Hallmark level cheese

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

“You have to get into the holiday spirit!” Your friend Melanie scolds you as you walk into your office, tightly gripping the carrying case of coffees and two pink boxes of donuts. You shook your head at the split-dye haired friend of yours as you pressed the 13th floor. You worked for the local newspaper in your average size city. A lot of people believe that the newspaper will become absolete, which is probably true, but news can still be reported online where all the hype is at. You tried to avert the attention back to the paper, “So, we have to edit Tom’s article on the woman owned bakery downtown. It’s a little… unintentionally offensive to say the least.” You were the main editor of the paper and only had the board above you. It was your job to keep everything organized, ethical, and on time. Basically, you were the general manager in simple terms. Melanie nodded her head and stepped out of the elevator the minute the door opened. “Do we expect anything else?” She laughed, grabbing a box from you, pushing the falling glasses from the tip of your nose to the propper position. “Thanks,” You mumble as you walked into the busy, but quiet office. “Place these in the break room,” You motioned towards the glass room with two open doorways. It was directly in the center so people could go there conviniently at any time. “Well, you and I can go to the bakery for lunch. Then we can discuss your festive issues,” She smiled at you, taking both boxes and the coffee carriers. You took a donut and your coffee before unlocking your closed off office. You set the coffee on the table, sat at your desk, and scrolled through the tree catalog melanie had pulled up onto your computer the day before.

You had no idea why it was so important for her that you get a tree, but it had to be done. You wrote down the address of the top rated one and then drank your coffee peacefully.

After a brief meeting on ethics in the articles, due to Tom’s anger of the edits, you took your lunch break. Instead of getting food, you decided to get the tree. To your advantage, the lot was just outside of downtown, within walking distance. Your city was big enough that the use of a car would be highly unnecessary, therefor you prayed the tree place delivered. You walked down to the lot, greeted by the smell of pine and people bundled up picking out trees. You walked around, not particularly picky, and found a small tree that stood about your height. You stood there, waiting to see if someone would offer you help.

A tall, muscular man with long hair(for a man) tucked behind his ears. He had kind facial features the kind that you felt comfortable talking to, but so handsome your stomach flutter just looking at him. He was wearing jeans, a red button up flannel and a tan jacket. He smilex down at you, as your height difference was astounding, "find one you like?" He asked, motioning to the tree beside you. You nodded slightly, "yuppers." Yuppers? Did you just say… yuppers? You asked yourself. Mentally slapping your face. "I mean, I like this one. Can you deliver this week?" You asked cheerily up at the man. Your stomach was fluttering with butterflies with every glance at this walking Greek god. He didn't say anything, just laughed. You furrowed your brows at him in confusion. "Well, we don't deliver. I would be happy to help you tie it to your vehicle though." It was your turn to laugh. "I… don't have one, " You shrugged. His green almost Hazel eyes wandered over you for a slight moment. "Tell you what… you seem nice and I'll personally deliver it myself. I'm about to head out anyways,” He smirks down at you, placing a hand atop of the tree. You shake your head, “you don’t have to if you don’t deliver. I don’t want to seem like a princess.” He furrowed his neat brows together, “You should. I mean... er… it's no issue." He picked the tree up swiftly and walked to the register with you. You swiped your card on the reader and followed this man out to his truck in the busy parking lot. You were skeptical about getting in the truck with him. Hot or not, he was a complete stranger. You listened to too many true crime podcasts to feel secure. "So I live in an apartment or else I would say you could just leave it at my front door,” You laugh, deep in thought. You had to find some way to get it home. “Take a picture of my license plate, text it to a friend. Create a codeword for danger, send that too,” He laughed walking to the back of his truck as if he read your mind. “Smart. Take a lot of people their trees?” You flicked a brow accusingly but laughing. He shook his head chuckling, “No, you’re the first one. Usually, people without cars buy fake trees or none at all.” You nodded, taking a picture of the truck and creating the code word ‘ Christo’ and hopping into the passenger side.

After telling him directions to your apartment, you hopped out of the truck and punched the code in for your building. He carried the tree in swiftly as you held the door open. After struggling with the elevator and your apartment door, you both managed to get the tree placed into the corner of your one-bedroom apartment. You felt tall in your apartment, however with this man next to you, you found yourself feeling small. “I’m Sam, by the way. Need help decorating?” He asked, noticing your bland apartment. It wasn’t meant as an insult, he meant the tree and you knew that. “Nice to meet you Sam, I’m (Y/N). I don’t actually own any decorations. I haven’t had the time to get any,” You shrugged it off, pulling out your wallet to pay him for the delivery. He shook his head and placed a hand on yours to push it away gently. The slight touch, even with it being just a brisk, you felt butterflies throughout your whole being. You were pretty sure your cheeks were turning pink, so you turned to put your wallet back in. “Well, If I can’t pay you this way, how else shall I pay?” You mentally smacked yourself for how suggestive that sounded. He hadn’t seemed to notice, which benefitted you tremendously. He smiled down at you, “Let me take you and your beautiful green eyes out to buy some decorations. Maybe get to know you?” He asked, watching you push your glasses up for the tenth time in the last hour. You felt flustered to the max. You didn’t need a mirror to know how pink your cheeks were. They were radiating heat extensively. You couldn’t manage to find the words. Why was this guy into you? Did you even have time to be sitting here talking to him? Even so, why would a god-like man be single?

After a moment, you realized you hadn’t answered, and Sam was fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. The poor guy was nervous. You reached for your phone and texted Melanie:

Caught a cold after the tree search. Thanks a lot.

Quickly she responded:

Yeah right!! I saw the hunk in the photo with the truck. Have fun!

“Looks like my afternoon just cleared up,” You laughed up at him. As his smile grew, your heart fluttered. “Lets get to it then, (Y/N),” Sam motions towards the door, following shortly behind you.

Return to Sam Winchester Works

Return to Masterlist

42 notes · View notes

wildefiction · 5 years ago

Text

Hunger: One

PAIRING: Jared x Reader

WORD COUNT: 4,558

CHAPTER(S): 1/?

SUMMARY: When reader isn't attending a Supernatural Convention, she's preparing for the next one. Staying busy is the only thing that keeps her sane. While it's difficult for some people to understand her motives, one person will show her that he knows exactly what she's going through. Will Jared be able to make the reader believe she deserves to be loved or is she too far gone already?

SERIES WARNINGS: While this first chapter has little in the way of warnings, future chapters may contain content difficult for some readers. Each chapter will be tagged appropriately but may contain topics such as: Mental health, severe depression, trust-issues, and abnormal psychology along with eventual forms of healing and discussions centered around relationships and support systems. Please heed the warnings for each individual chapter.

A/N: This is the first chapter of what I’m guessing will be a fairly long series. Originally I was going to try to tie this up in a neat little one-shot, but it’s just not going to happen. This was completed for @saxxxology‘s Plus Size Reader Challenge

“It’s called Alexithymia.” “Yeah, I don’t know - I’m just glad I’m not actually a sociopath.” “What? No I--fuck!” “Fuck these fucking pants!” The sleek metal phone slipped from its precarious position against your shoulder and fell to the floor with an ominous clatter. Closing your eyes in frustration, you filled your lungs with several deep breaths - in through your nose, out through your mouth.

In-out, in...out.

Rolling sideways from the mattress onto the floor and reaching a cautious hand towards the new device, you prayed to whatever God would listen that the screen was still intact. Opening one eye a fraction of an inch, a deep sigh of relief flooded your body as the smooth, black screen flashed once; the tinny voice echoing from the speakers prattling on as if nothing had gone awry.

Standing from the walnut floorboards, you turned to face the floor length mirror. While it had taken almost a decade, the wide, curving hips reflected in the glass had become the favorite part of your body. Only problem was, finding jeans that fit well was nearly impossible. “I need new pants.” Whining into the receiver, the woman on the other end of the phone simply snorted in amusement.

“Well if you’d spend more than twenty-dollars on your clothes, you’d have a helluva lot easier time finding ones that you liked.” “I’ve offered to take you shopping how many times?” Your best friend had a point. Focusing again on the phone call, you relented - one outfit couldn’t possibly cost that much, could it?

Two hours later, your arms rested atop a cool wooden counter; a scowl painted across your features while numbly holding out a metallic blue credit card. The woman behind the desk smiled brightly, faltering a bit when she had to wrestle the card from your grasp. Walking from the store with what felt like an entirely too-small-bag-for-the-amount-of-money-you-spent outfit, you joked about what else you could’ve done with that money.

Shaking her head in exasperation, your friend tried again to argue her point. “These clothes will last you a long time - the photo ops you so voluntarily throw your money at last all of - what? Ten seconds?!” Pushing one hand through the hair covering your eyes, you tried again to explain why you paid large sums of money for those ten-second interactions. Violet’s expression let you know that she still didn’t understand. Funny thing was, she’d been the one to introduce you to Supernatural in the first place. “Well this weekend you’ll be at the boys’ beck and call, so I think you spending the money here is worth it. Don’t they give you a free photo op for working anyhow? While far from glamorous, you’d been thrilled when the company hosting the event had accepted you as a volunteer. Rolling your eyes, you assured her (and, okay, yourself) that you likely wouldn’t even see any of the cast. Only seasoned help got to be handlers.

The rest of the week flew by, and Thursday afternoon found you trying (unsuccessfully) to clear the sting of sweat from your eyes while simultaneously carrying an arm full of poles and light posts. They’d put you on stage duty for the first day. Afterwards, you were pretty sure if you ever saw another velvet-backed chair again, it would be too soon. Two-thousand of them sat in neat rows filling the main theater room. “Alright [Y/F/N], could you please take these and label the seats?” Suddenly conscious of the slight tick in your right eye, you nodded silently - sliding the heavy rolls of numbered stickers over your wrists before walking to the end of the front row to begin your new assignment.

You don’t recall falling into bed Thursday night. The melodic voices of Rob and the boys from Louden Swain cut through your dreamless sleep far too early Friday morning. “Is it cool if I come over…”

Excitement warred with irritability while dressing in the new jeans you'd purchased the day before. The dark denim clung to your hips, the waistband taut once the button was fastened. “Woah! What. Is. This?!” Turning to the left and then the right, your mouth fell open in a soft “oh” - there was no gap! You'd never been able to find pants that fit both your hips and waist simultaneously. It was a miracle. Still - you weren't about to complain. Pulling the basic black volunteer tank top over your head, you slipped on the trusty pair of Chucks that had followed you to every convention over the last decade. Some people cherished a hat or a cozy flannel, for you - these shoes filled that spot.

“WHAT!?!” “What do you mean she’s not here today? How..what am I supposed to do?!” You’d been about to duck behind the heavy black drapes dressing the stage to report for your morning assignments when a familiar voice made you stop short. Derek, a fifty-something event planner was pacing just the other side of the divide, his simple brown loafers kicking up small torrents of dust with his agitation. Startled as the man threw open the curtains and stomped across the stage, you decided it was probably a better bet to find someone else to talk to about how you could help for the day. Turning, you were nearly through the opening and had started to descend the rickety metal staircase leading to the volunteer break-room when a heavy hand landed on your shoulder.

“ ‘Scuse me. You’re working here...yes?” Unexpected tension lanced through your body at the sudden contact and some part of you froze. As if he could feel it, Derek removed his hand rather quickly, absentmindedly shoving his ring-adorned fingers into the pocket of his slacks; the other hand busily scrolling through his phone; artificial light illuminating his tired, pale blue eyes. In your silent contemplation of the man, you’d failed to answer his question. “Ms…[Y/L/N] - right?” “Have you been assigned yet today?” With a slow shake of your head, his hand shot out of his pocket as he threw an arm around your shoulders - laughing heartily at something you’d missed. The mans face was jovial, faint creases of forehead wrinkles and crows’ feet framing his watery irises allowed you focus on what he was saying, rather than the pressure of his proximity.

“You’re savin’ mah bacon Miss [Y/L/N] - I tell ya what.”

The shrill screaming of his phone was sudden and briefly you felt bad for Derek. Raising the device to his ear, his body language calmed significantly; assuring the person on the other end that he’d found a replacement. A replacement for who, you still didn't know. Not that it was really any of your business. Nodding once, Derek turned back to you, sliding the small device into the clip on his belt.

Fishing into the pinstriped fabric of his pocket, he pulled a cluster of keys out. “Okay, take my car to this address” -- procuring a pen from his jacket, the man scribbled some notes onto a slip of paper; the handwriting sharp and messy -- “Have you got a phone?” Tentatively reaching into your back pocket, you slipped the oversized Samsung into your fingers. “Good! When you get there, call this number..” --more scribbling-- and bring everyone here.” “Let me know when you’re back.” Glancing at the unfamiliar handwriting, you squinted, trying to make out the address.

“Ms. [Y/L/N]..?” The impatient snapping of his fingers focused your attention on the man before you. “Please hurry - lots to do...lots to do!” With that he turned on his heel and hurried back through the curtained wall.

Although it was still well before noon, the parking lot held hundreds of vehicles, including two beautifully restored impalas. Sunlight glinted across the deep onyx paint as you walked by. The only clue to what car you searched for was a familiar gold emblem embossed on the black key fob clutched in your hands. Anxiety prickled along the base of your neck. You should've asked where Derek had parked. As your mind filled with every possible worse-case scenario, continually jamming your thumb to the unlock button prevailed when a flash of golden light several cars down caught your eye.

The engine roared to life with the press of the ignition, the lumbering bear of a Tahoe easing from it's reserved parking space as you wondered why anyone needed this large of a vehicle. Twenty minutes later, the truck settled into a quiet hum in front of a downtown hotel. Derek hadn't bothered to write a name on the paper he’d hastily scribbled upon, and you really had no idea who you were supposed to be collecting.

Craning your neck to see through the windshield, the immense hotel tower rose impossibly high before you; the steady ticking of scarlett hazard lights keeping time with the ringing as you waited for someone to answer.

The tall, revolving glass door caught your attention, several people clambering into the contraption at once made you smile; a generic voicemail message kicking on after the fourth ring. The group spilled from the door in a mess of laughter and a tangle of bodies.

Why you felt the need to duck behind the steering wheel upon recognizing them, you'll never know.

Rob, Rich, Briana, Kim and Billy were still laughing amongst themselves. Inside, you were happy the windows were tinted, as you were fairly certain you sat there with your mouth hanging open while you watched the group of friends wander over to talk to a street performer. Eyes darting to the clock on the dash, you quickly realized it'd been nearly an hour since Derek had sent you on this assignment.

Without looking away from the group, you tried the number again. The phone clicked and a cheerful voice answered with a giggly hello. Immediately you refocused on the task at hand, “Uh, hi. I think I'm supposed to be picking you up?” The mean bitch in your head snickered at how uncool you sounded.

“Scuse me, what was that?” A blush crept across your cheeks when you realized who you were talking to. Looking from your lap to the window, Rob stood halfway between his group of friends and where you were. Twisting and looking back over his shoulder, he must’ve put two and two together because he waved before beckoning the others to follow.

You weren’t prepared for this - you’d volunteered with the direct understanding that behind-the-scenes was where volunteers stayed. Occasionally one would bring the cast bottles of water or coffee, but picking them up at their hotel? Didn’t they have drivers for that? Your thoughts were cut short as three doors opened almost simultaneously and bodies began to climb in around you.

That had been the start to a whirlwind weekend. The Creation staff kept you on your toes constantly, although somehow Derek continued assigning tasks more cast-centered than had been expected. It started with picking up the Friday guests, sure - but since then you’d done everything from coffee runs to walking the ladies’ to the bathroom and photo-op room, to helping with the sound check for the concert currently taking place on stage.

Now in the green room, crouched in front of the mini-fridge, your mind wandered while removing water bottles from their thick plastic casing, stocking the shelves for the guests.

A faint beeping and the murmur of voices caught your attention as the door opened across from you. Osric, Clif, Jensen and Jared sauntered in, lost in their own conversation. A familiar prickling sensation that often assaulted you in new situations made your shoulders tense. Luckily, the repeated exposure to the guests this weekend had given you plenty of practice to collect your emotions quickly; stuffing them into the deepest recesses of your mind.

A few breaths later, you stood from the position on the floor, a large smile plastered across your features as you approached the small group.

“Hey guys, anyone need a drink?” Osric smiled widely and accepted one of the chilled bottles. The others followed suit, Jared’s eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as his fingers closed over yours.

“Hey, thanks…” “What’s your name?” Your eyes darted between his brilliant hazel irises and the long fingers wrapped around the drink; beads of condensation wetting your skin as his hand rested on yours.

Hurriedly pulling away, you scrubbed a palm against the denim of your jeans before extending it and introducing yourself.

“Hey, I’m [Y/F/N].” The others said their hellos as well, your gaze shifting between them while they chatted animatedly for a few moments. Occupied as you were, you failed to notice that Jared didn’t take his eyes off of you for even a moment.

She was nervous. Not that he wasn’t used to the look. But this one was different, Jared decided. He recognized the determination to hide her anxiety as something he’d gone through as well. He could see she was excited to meet them, and yet, she held back; likely protecting a small part of who she really was as she presented the version of herself she wanted everyone to see. While genuinely happy to interact with all of his fans, Jared felt intrigued by [Y/F/N]. He wanted to know more about her. About the discomfort she tried her best to disguise as nerves. Something was off.

Crossing her arms over her chest while making small talk with the others, Jared noticed how proficient she was at distributing her attention to each of them equally, pausing for only a moment before looking to the next person.

Releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Jared turned his attention to the door, having opened for a second time; watching as Rich strode in, beckoning to Jensen.

“C’mon man, your public awaits.” He bowed dramatically, waffling his hand in the space before him. Jensen huffed, shaking his head as he clasped Rich’s shoulder, following him from the room. [Y/F/N] trailed along behind them and Jared allowed himself to take a longer look at the woman. The tank top she wore clung to her body, the curve of her full breasts and thick waist led his eyes to her hips.

“Damn.”

The word of admiration was muttered under his breath, but as he focused on her face again, the pink in her cheeks made it clear she’d heard him.

“You coming Jared?” She’d stopped, holding the door open for him. Nodding, he quickened his stride and disappeared into the darkened hallway as he headed for the holding area backstage.

If Saturday had been busy, Sunday was borderline chaotic.

Attendance surged for the final day of the convention. Awake earlier, you were due to report in by 6:30 even though the first panel wasn’t due to begin until noon.

Shuffling through the abandoned corridors of the hotel, you could only hope there’d be caffeine waiting at the check-in station.

“Good morning Ms. [Y/L/N].” Blinking several times in rapid succession, you focused on Derek as he sat behind the assignment table. The quiet murmur of his voice as he looked over the sheaf of papers laid out before him only partially registered in your mind.

The concert the night before had been amazing, and you’d been up until the early hours of the morning from the level of energy you’d absorbed. It didn’t help that a certain phrase kept replaying in your mind. You’d definitely heard Jared last night and you liked to imagine he’d been talking about you. The thought brought a smile to your face, regardless of how absurd the notion was. While pretty sure he likely had some gorgeous girlfriend waiting for him back home, you were content with the small amount of time you did get to spend around Jared. Silent pining was more your style anyhow.

“...order.” “Ms. [Y/L/N]?” Snapping out of your daydream, you worked harder to listen to the man in front of you.

“I’m sorry...what was that?” The middle-aged man smiled kindly.

“I know it’s early Ms. [Y/L/N], but we really need you to be completely present at these briefings. Otherwise, the chaos about to descend on this place will be ten-times worse.” Shifting oversized reading glasses from where they’d fallen down the bridge of his nose, the man cleared his throat, consulting the Sunday schedule. Finished with his admonishment, Derek held a slip of paper out to you.

“As I was saying, please grab the coffee order for the cast. It’ll be ready precisely at 9:50. That should give you enough time to get back upstairs so everyone can get their daily dose of caffeine.” “Until then, make sure the green room has plenty of breakfast items and if the cast need anything, it’s on you to make them happy.”

Derek’s last sentence drew your attention from the list you’d been perusing. Outwardly, you nodded so he’d know you were paying attention, even though you still struggled with the personal Hell that came with sleep deprivation.

Later that morning, as you stood in line at the bustling Starbucks just outside the hotel, your mind once again turned to thoughts of the cast. Although you were tired, you wouldn’t change these experiences for the world.

As silly as it seemed, these conventions had gone a long way to helping prevent you from falling into your depression. In-between event weekends you often busied yourself with planning the next one and it got you through each day. It was refreshing to see mental health being addressed more by the media. When you’d been diagnosed several years prior, only your doctor had believed it was a real thing.

Walking up to the waist-high counter and pulling the folded paper from your back pocket, you began to list the order scribbled upon it. At one point, squinting your eyes in an attempt to read Derek’s handwriting you gave up and handed the barista the list, hoping she’d be able to help discern it.

“Maybe I can help?” Clutching the paper, you raised your eyes to the woman in front of you. She stilled as a hand reached over your shoulder and gently took the list from your grasp. Breathing deep, you turned to find Jared standing behind you, long strands of auburn hair falling across his face while he perused the handwriting.

Shifting to stand next to Jared’s tall frame, you took a moment to point at the line you were having trouble with. His body was like a heater, the intoxicating scent of his cologne made all the more apparent by the warmth of his skin.

Jared brought the paper closer to his face, squinting at a particular cluster of letters.

“I..think that says...skinny?” Glancing at the rest of the scribbled letters, he was able to make out the order for a non-fat soy latte. “Huh, I didn’t know Mark was here today.” Shrugging, his eyes flicked up to yours; an easy smile replacing the serious expression he’d worn moments before. “Did you get everything okay?” Nodding, the young woman behind the register added up the total while you handed her your credit card.

Moving to the end of the counter to await the several drinks, you turned to the man behind you. “My hero.” The smirk on your face was genuine, even if your tone erred on the side of sarcasm.

“Hey, no problem [Y/F/N].” God, the way he said your name… Clearing your throat as you settled against the far wall, you did your best to continue the conversation.

“Why are you up so early?” “Figured you’d be sleeping while you could.” Jared shrugged his massive shoulders before answering.

“Went for a run. Couldn’t sleep.” You wanted to ask why. You wanted to ask a lot of things, but instead you kept to yourself. He likely had his reasons, and you’d be willing to bet - if he was anything like you, that he wasn’t keen on sharing the details of his life with a relative stranger. Nodding in understanding, you turned back to the counter, gathering the three drink trays and rearranging the cups so each carrier held the same size. Stacking the grandes atop the venti order, you slid the coffees into one hand, grabbing the third tray with your free arm.

“I can carry one if you want..” Jared was at your side again, talking to you as if he wasn’t a gorgeous, successful actor with his own security detail. Speaking of which, where was Clif?

“Uh, nah..I’m okay.” Scoffing, the man saw right through your feeble attempt to decline. Removing the top tray from where it rested under your chin and taking the second one as well, he simply smiled. “Lead the way [Y/F/N].”

There was something about her that occupied Jared’s thoughts. She was strong, sure of herself (or so it seemed) and gracious. He wanted to know more. “So, [Y/F/N] where are you from?”

The chill bite of a fall day in the Pacific Northwest swirled around your body when the two of you stepped from the relatively warm coffee shop. Breath fogging in the early morning air, the small-talk you made with Jared as you crossed the street to the hotel gave you a small look inside the finer points of Austin, his hobbies and the show. Back in the green room, you passed out drinks to their respective owners, everyone murmuring their appreciation to you for your efforts. Pulling the phone from your back pocket and realizing it was nearly time for the Sunday morning gold panel, you ushered Jared and Jensen out the door as politely as you could.

Grabbing two mics from the table set-up behind the stage curtains, you handed one to each of the boys and turned to leave. Jared’s hand on your shoulder made you freeze momentarily, more out of habit than anything. Apparently it didn’t matter who it was, the discomfort of being touched still prevailed.

“Thanks for the chat [Y/F/N], we’ll talk more later?” Searching his face for any hint of what was going through his mind, you nodded numbly. A wide smile spread across his face as he squeezed your shoulder before turning and taking the stairs two at a time. Wild cheers assaulted your ears as the gold members screamed for their first panel of the day.

The voices of Rob and Rich joking with Jensen buzzed in Jared’s ear, but his thoughts were still on [Y/F/N]. She’d flinched when he had touched her shoulder. Whatever made her react that way, he hoped it was something she’d be willing to talk to him about. For the hundreds of people who thanked him on a daily basis for noticing their struggles and standing in solidarity with them, he knew there were many others who couldn’t bring themselves to share.

Before you realized it, the afternoon autograph sessions were scheduled to start. Walking through the main theater hall, your most recent task was simple enough: Provide each of the guests with a handful of colorful sharpies at their table. The headphones connected to the phone in your pocket piped Swain music into your ears and you danced happily while completing the mundane task. You’d do this job full-time if you could.

“Oh, there you are!” Turning abruptly, you pulled the cords from your ears, effectively silencing the indie rock as Derek strode up to you.

“Ms. [Y/L/N], did you receive my text message? You’re wanted in Adam’s office as soon as possible!” His blue eyes searched yours frantically, even while you became acutely aware of your quickening heartbeat.

“Oh, uhm..do you know why?” The man shook his head as he hurried away, staring intently at the clipboard clutched in his hands. A million scenarios chased themselves through your mind; the least of which involved the numerous bottles of tums you were sure Derek consumed regularly. Walking through the side doors and turning down the long hallway where the convention offices were set up, you busied yourself with the pattern beneath your feet. There were fifty-two blue diamonds set into the grey carpet between the main theater and Adam’s office. After several deep breaths, you squared your shoulders and rose your fist to knock on the oak door. The sound of a chair tracking across the floor echoed from behind the barrier and when the door opened, you were surprised to see the man still sitting.

“Ah, Ms. [Y/L/N], do come in.” Following him inside, you paused to close the door at Adam’s insistence.

“Ms. [Y/L/N], it appears we need to have a chat.” Shifting uneasily just inside the door, you tried to still the worried thoughts still cavorting in your subconscious.

“Is something wrong sir?” Adam barked out a laugh and you were disappointed when you jumped at his tone.

“Quite, the opposite actually.” The man still sat in the office chair, his head thrown back as it swirled in lazy circles. “We’ve had a request to add you to our permanent staff.” He said it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Furrowing your brows, you tried to think of a reason why, or, for that matter who’d sent such a request. Sure, you had thought about talking to Adam about the possibility, but you hadn’t made any solid plans to do so.

“Can I ask by who?” Maybe Derek? I mean, he’s really the only staff member I’ve interacted with on a regular basis this weekend. Stephanie perhaps? Adam chuckled to himself and shook his head, his eyes bright.

“Mr. Padalecki has asked for you personally.” Of all the people you thought might’ve suggested it, Jared certainly hadn’t even come close to making the list. You were quiet as you absorbed the information. Looking up at Adam as his chair lazily swayed behind the card-table turned makeshift desk, you cleared your throat.

“Did he...did he say...why?” The little conversation you’d had with Jared this weekend had been pleasant enough, but you couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d make such a request.

“We discussed it.” “Suffice it to say he is impressed with your dedication to the job.” “This opportunity doesn’t present itself often Ms. [Y/F/N], strictly because exactly zero personal requests have occurred. Like, ever. I’ve been doing this a long, long time...and this is a first.” “Usually we staff the more experienced volunteers as handlers, it just so happened that our senior team member bowed out with the flu this weekend and you were the first person Derek saw upon finding out.” “Simply a ‘right place at the right time’ kind of scenario.” “Jared came to me earlier today after his gold panel and asked about you.” Shrugging, the black suit jacket he’d pulled on over his grey t-shirt bunched at the seams. “That’s all I know.” “Think about it Ms. [Y/L/N].” Nodding slowly, you turned, grabbing the overly shiny brass door handle to let yourself out.

“Oh, and [Y/F/N]?” Looking back over your shoulder at Adam as he started gathering papers together, you paused; “Jared’s about to start his autographing sessions, I suggest you make haste.”

CHAPTER TWO

TAGS: @jaredsunflowergoddess @arses21434 @wings-of-a-raven @jamielea81

#wildefiction #Jared Padalecki x Reader #Jared Padalecki #SPN x RPF

34 notes · View notes

the-canary · 6 years ago

Text

Bel Ami - B.B (6)

Summary: You had bigger fish to fry in NYC between your new job, living in a new city and old friend – you were sure in over your head, but who’s that cute stranger that keeps helping you out?(Reader/Bucky Barnes)

Prompt: Person A: “Okay, I have something to confess… I like you. I have for the past two years now and it’s been killing me to hold it in this long but I think you deserve to know.” Person B: “You nerd, we’ve been dating for the past two years.

A/N: this is for @sgtjbuccky‘s writing challenge. please welcome to even bigger idiots :)

Feedback is always welcomed.

“Are you telling me that’s the girl Bucky can’t stop thinking of?”

“The exact one.”

“Well, no wonder the date was a failure. You should see the eyes he was making at her.”

“He’s not in love,” Steve remarks as green eyes look at him in disbelief, “His words not mind.”

“That poor deluded bastard.”

You aren’t sure what to think about Bucky and his invasion from before, as the weekend comes closer and he sends you a message to meet near the library close to the Barnes Towers. You are sure it is just meant as a friendship sort of thing and as much as you feel a certain type of disappointment with it all, you are just happy to have Bucky back in your life -- maybe, he’ll bring another dog with him too.

You weren’t sure if in the eleventh hour, you should be freaking about what you should be wearing or enjoying stuffing your face with pizza on the couch and looking for something to watch.

“What do you think that you should be doing right now?” Wanda asks like she knows your inner turmoil, as she watches you hang up from ordering from your favorite pizza place. She is currently putting on some extra earrings, to match her silver heels and red dress for a night out on the town with Viz.

“I think,” you sigh out, “I should forget about this and fantasizing over being Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman again.”

“Richard Gere again?” she questions as she takes a seat across from you and the shitty little thing you call a kitchen countertop.

“Peek Richard Gere,” you correct her as she laughs. You pout for a second, waiting for the second show to drop as Wanda enters mother hen mode.

“If it’s just as friends, just be casual and happy you,” Wanda explains her point-of-view, “If not, maybe you should--”

“I don’t want him like that, Wan,” you whisper as brown eyes give you a sympathetic look.

“I didn’t spend a whole month see you mope over this Borky for you to lie to me,” Wanda fights back, before cupping your cheek so that you could look at her straight in the eyes. You let keep going though you want to correct her and oh so many things, “But, if denial makes it easier for you, and I’ll gladly help with that--”

“But?”

“But,” she starts off once more with a sympathetic smile, “If being around someone hurts you, you can always cut them off. It’s always in your power to do so.”

“I know,” you remark, thinking about why you followed with your plans from moving to New York from Syracuse in the first place, as she smiles and nods once more before the doorbell rings. Maybe, Viz was here to finally pick her up.

She gets up from her place and grabs her bag before looking at you once more: “Enjoy your 90’s movie binge.”

“I’ll try!” you yell back as she disappears through the small hallway and you are left once alone.

Now, you aren’t so sure if you could watch the damn movie without thinking of how much Richard Gere’s character reminded you of one Bucky Barnes, though you weren’t exactly Julia Roberts. Eventually, you decide on watching Top Gun instead and ignoring that denial could be an island of one.

As you binge on old 90’s movies to forget your anxiety over tomorrow, you are completely unaware that there is another person pushing all the details that he loves about New York into the itinerary for tomorrow with a lovestruck look on his face -- though he’ll deny it when asked by Steve or Sam. However, with a certain red-head, it is a completely different story.

“So, I am guessing she’s the reason our date went so bad,” Nat gives him a small smile, though there are no bad feelings behind it, “The one Steve told me about.”

“Stevie doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about,” Bucky remarks as Natasha gives him a skeptical look, “She’s just a friend.”

Natasha tries her hardest to stop herself from singing the second part to a certain song, as she proceeds to shrug: “Sure, but just remember you’re just going to have the same problem again.”

“I know that,” Bucky remarks in frustration as he pushes a hand through his face, “But, it isn’t like that...I don’t see her in that way.”

Natasha just shakes her head before stating that she has to go back to work and back to seeing Clint, because as least she didn’t have the rich kid problems that came with being one James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky drives the memory from his head before moving forward with what you guys should have for lunch.

You end up meeting Bucky in the steps of one of older libraries in New York City. The weather is slightly cooler than usual and are falling asleep on the couch after crying over The Green Mile for the what seems like the 20th time, you end up taking a quick shower and picky a breezy open top, a light sweater, and jeans. You aren’t sure what the day is going to entail, but as you see Bucky wearing a simple flannel button up and jeans with Lucas at his side, you can’t help but secretly rejoice over your choice of clothing.

I mean, you didn’t want to seem desperate to the man.

“Morning,” you exclaim with a grin as the large dog perks up for a second, and for a second with those big blue eyes staring at you and you can’t help but hope that Bucky is as well.

“Hey,” Bucky breathe out, as you take a step down and greet Lucas as well. He can’t help but grin at the sight of the dog leaning into your touch before you get up once more and look at him prepared to start the day.

“So, where are we going, oh great tour guide?” you laugh just a little and Bucky can’t help but feel that butterflies in his stomach as his heart speeds up for just a second.

“The Planetarium,” Bucky manages to answer back, as you nod while motioning for Lucas to follow you. The dot agrees to do so with a bark, as Bucky stays in the back.

And as the three of you walk the busy streets of New York, Bucky can’t help but feel like this is going to end up being a very bad idea.

Bucky ends up taking to around Central Park, his favorite bookstore, and a very good pizza place not too far from Madison Square Garden. You also got to know more about Bucky -- about he has gone a few tours when he was younger, how he got connected to the Service Dog Academy he worked with after he came back (as you took Lucas back), and even a little about his family and how he grew up in Brooklyn with his best friend. In exchange, you talked about Wanda and Pietro and how you moved around a lot before settling in Syracuse for the rest of your school, though you didn’t talk much about what lead you to New York.

“Do you like dancing?” Bucky remarks as the afternoon slowly turns into evening and while you had never been the best dancer, you can’t help but want to try it out with Bucky.

“Here and there,” you remark vaguely as Bucky smiles, grabbing your hand and dragging you down the sidewalk.

That’s how you end up at a place called C’mon Everybody.

It’s a quaint little place that seems to be playing a little bit of everything tonight, completely different from that other club where you had meet Bucky before you knew him. However, instead of standing at the sidelines, he quickly grabs a small table, orders drinks, and quickly moves you to the dance floor. You aren’t familiar with some songs, but you do your best with Bucky’s instructions.

It’s a fast twirl of laughs and bad dance moves, as you move from one song to another, quite unsure of where all of this is going but if Bucky is happy you are as well. It hits you like a rock and at that moment, Bucky dips you.

The world pauses and shrinks to the two of you in the darkly lit room, as your eyes meet blue eyes and you realize just how close your face is. Because if you move your face in the right angle, you swear that you could capture his lips with yours and--

That’s when the song comes to an end.

“I have to use the bathroom,” you admit and thus breaking the moment as Bucky lets you go. You run to where the restrooms are indicated to be, as Bucky starts to move towards the table once more. His breathing was a bit heavier than usual, as he tried to calm down whatever adrenaline and emotions he was feeling from that dance.

“Fuck,” he curses to himself, “What the hell was that?”

Bucky knew deep down what it was, everyone had been telling him so for months but now he was finally facing the realization that he really was attracted to you -- he wasn’t sure what to do.

He really couldn’t do anything about it, unless he wanted a Dot incident all over again. Bucky runs a hand through his hair in frustration over his idiocy and just how much he might actually like you. It’s another twenty whole minutes before you come out of the bathroom and by that time he has already called a cab for you.

“W-What?” you manage to stutter out, as Bucky pushes you towards the front of the dance hall. Your heart is jumping in anxiety and fear over what had happened, but you didn’t think that his reaction would have been so negative.

“I-I just realized I have a long day tomorrow,” Bucky remarks trying not to look at your soft lips and watering eyes, “I’m sorry I can’t take you home, but it’s better that way.”

It’s better this way.

The familiar and all too heartbreaking phase causes to you freeze and move forward without another word, as Bucky pushes you into the cab with a weary smile but you aren’t looking at him anymore. You give the man your address and Bucky spots him a hundred before giving you a brief goodbye. He tries to grab your hand but you pull back and say goodnight.

“I’m sorry,” he states, though he isn’t sure if he is saying it for you or for himself as he begins to close the door.

“No,” he hears you whisper, “You aren’t.”

You pull the door to close completely as the cab drives off. You’re left in hurt and confusion as to whether James Barnes was just playing with to begin with or if he just realized he was wasting his time, as you try your hardest not to cry on the way back home.

Bucky is left standing there on the sidewalk, unsure of what to do next but he knows everything is more fucked up than it should be now.

#salinaswritingchallenge #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes #james barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fan fic #series: bel ami #fabiola trying to write

127 notes · View notes

sweetpea-skarsgard-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Pretty As A Picture pt. 2 // Henry Pearl Imagine *smut*

(( okay so as promised here is part two of my Henry Pearl imagine. This baby deserves the world, and I certainly hope that I did him justice in this!))

Warnings: smut, really fluffy smut,

(since you asked to be tagged @skcrs <3 <3)

It had been a few days since the diner, where Henry had suggested that he paint you… those days in between were full of excitement and anticipation, seeing as you had never really been used as a model before. Of course, to some people in the small town of Battlecreek, a nude portrait would be raunchy or blasphemous- but you knew that with Henry’s sharp eye and skilled hands, it would definitely be something beautiful- something worth keeping- if he chose not to paint it on his wall, as he was used to. Oh, imagine the look on Miss Tallulah’s face if she got a look at that, you in all your naked glory spread out over Henry’s wall. That would be viable to give the woman a heart attack.

But even as you drove your way down the street towards Henry’s house, you only grew more excited, goosebumps trailing over your arms as you looked down at what you were wearing. Battlecreek could be pretty cool at night, even in the summer- so your choice of clothing had just been a long sleeved shirt and some cute overall shorts- figuring that something easy to put on, and remove would be the best option for you.

It seemed that you had not arrived a moment too early though, dimming your car lights as you saw Tallulah’s own vehicle pull out of the driveway.. She was probably off to go to a bar or something, not likely to come home until late the next morning or even afternoon. If anyone deserve the strong reputation that was thrust upon you, as the promiscuous woman in town- it might have to be miss Tallulah. Though you would never insult Henry in telling him that his mother deserved the title- no matter how much of a bitch she could be to you or anyone else at times.

Turning off your car, you looked up at the house, silhouetted against the night sky, before the porch light turned on, Henry stepping out through the doors, and giving you a gentle wave. His small but charming smile just warmed your heart, as you took a breath, completely calming your nerves as you stepped out of the car, and into the night air. “Now Henry.. I only have one rule.. “ you stated, holding up a finger as you stepped towards him. He seemed to swallow thickly at the comment, wondering if you were serious or something was wrong with what he suggested. He tended to get very self conscious about these things.. But you only smirked. “Not that I think you would manage to do it- but I don't want to look like a frog. Make me at least look a little sexier than I already am.” you teased, reaching up to put your fingertip to his nose, just gently touching it before you walked into the home.

“I don't think that I could make someone as pretty as you look like a frog, Y/N.. In fact I think that it would be downright impossible, even if i had tried.” Henry reassured you, making your heart beat fast, as even those simple words seemed to warm your heart. He just had a way about him, an innocent face and care to him that couldn't be corrupted by anyone, or faked no matter how much they tried. Henry was a genuine soul- someone who cared for people, and you only wanted the world for him. He deserved that much.

“Who knew you to be such a charmer, Henry Pearl?” you winked, before allowing him to lock the door behind him. Henry just blushed and flitted his eyes at the ground for a moment, seeming to take the compliment to heart before he took your hand gently and lead you up to his bedroom. You couldn't tell, but Henry’s heart was beating like a birds wings, the look of you in those overalls, and shirt, just seeming to drive him crazy as he anticipated seeing what you were hiding underneath. Sure, he wasn’t experienced in the least when it came to women.. Not really having the chance to be, when it came to his affliction and how the town had perceived him. But you were different.. And with you he felt comfortable. As comfortable as he could feel to want to artfully analyze your naked form, as you so allowed him.

Once the two of you were in the bedroom, Henry cleared his throat, gesturing around the somewhat familiar territory. You had come here once, to deliver one of his books, getting a glimpse of the artistry on his wall that he had since painted over with a whole new scene. Now there was an easel and blank canvas, as well as several bright lights pointed towards the bed, all from one angle to try and get the best shadow placement. It seemed that Henry really had thought about all of this, and planned it through, something you hadn't expected from the man who seemed so effortlessly talented.

“You umm.. You can go ahead and get undressed in the bathroom if you want to.. - I mean.. If that’s okay with you. I-I could just paint you in your clothes too.” the man said nervously, his cheeks turning a bright pink as he scratched the back of his head. God, he hated the fact that he was backing down.. But at the same time there was no part of him that wished for you to be uncomfortable, or think of him as some sort of freak that just wanted you to show a little skin. But that wasn't the case at all, you just giggled slightly at his bashfulness, and put your hand on his arm. “Henry.. It’s totally fine.. I don't mind getting a little naked.. As long as you’re the only one who is going to see… Promise?” you said reassuringly, the taller male’s blush intensifying before he nodded.

“I promise.” Was all you heard, before you moved back towards the bed, looking at the stark white sheets, slightly mussed up in some areas so as to look more textured. Yes, you understood somethings about art, and lighting, and what the composition of a good piece was.. But The way that Henry had so masterfully planned this all out was still beyond you. He was someone great, and you knew that he could be so much more than stuck in this little podunk town of Battlecreek.

As you unsnapped your overalls, Henry was standing by the easel, his eyes watching over you as he poured out certain colors of paint over his pallette, getting the best match for your skin tone and hair. But he seemed to get more and more distracted as you shimmied the shorts off, letting them fall to the floor to step out of them, before pulling off your shirt, slowly with your back turned to him. He coughed slightly despite himself, seeing you in nothing but your panties, as you thought it was a little silly to wear a bra to something like this- it was unneeded, and if you were being totally honest.. You didn't want to have anything else giving you a chance to rethink stripping yourself totally in front of him.

Turning towards Henry, you blushed and looked down, arching an eyebrow as he seemed frozen in a state of shock. “I umm.. I’ll give you some time to get your paint ready.. But- when you want me fully - nude... Just say so.” You said with a shy uncertainty plain in your voice, looking up at the male who snapped from his thoughts, and started to move again. He looked back towards the prepared canvas, and cleared his throat, with a smile and nod.

Now.. he wanted you fully nude now.. But he wouldn't admit that outright- not when he was trying to hard to be a gentleman and not let his eyes ogle your body in the way that they truly wanted to. You were gorgeous.. Your curves, the changes in color on your skin, tan lines, freckles, scars, stretch marks, all of it.. Just stunning, and so real..

And as he stared at you, he wanted nothing more than to keep this picture in his mind forever. “You can just do whatever feels comfortable, sweetheart.” he reassured you, giving you that blushy yet lopsided smiled that you had grown to love. “I’m just about ready.. - B- but.. I figure that we should be at least a little even.” he stuttered out, putting the palette down on the side table, before he started to take off his flannel, and then the t-shirt beneath it, leaving him half bare. “There.. Are we square?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow before grabbing a rag, a paintbrush, and his pallette once more.

You just giggled as you looked at him before hopping back on his bed, and getting into a comfortable pose, with a pillow beneath your head. Your hair flowing freely over the white fabric.

“Square enough.” With that, you adjusted your position, and started to take off your panties, blushing at the contact of the cold air against yourself- it seeming so strange to be so vulnerable and nude in front of a person as wholesome as Henry. The way he looked at you.. It wasn't like he wanted to consume you, or use you the way that most men wanted.. In fact- it was more like an admiration. Like he couldn't believe that an angel like you had fallen from the heavens and graced his bed with your presence. You were just absolutely stunning in his eyes.

Henry swallowed thickly, as he let his eyes trail over your soft skin, his fingertips tingling slightly in want as he grabbed the paintbrush- wanting more than anything to allow himself the pleasure of ‘feeling out the texture’ of your skin. You were such an art piece in yourself that he was sure his paint and brush strokes wouldn't be able to compare. Once you were in a position that you deemed comfortable enough, you nodded silently to him.

“Alright.. Try not to move too much.. Or I might just make you look a little frog like.” he teased, though his voice had a much lower tone than before. And with a click of a few buttons, some soft jazz music was playing in the background, no doubt shown to Henry by the resident jazz musician and mechanic extraordinaire, Arthur himself. You smiled gently at his joke, but otherwise just rested there, staring up at him, not feeling the least bit self conscious as he eyed over your most sensitive features.

Henry never once made you feel uncomfortable- looking over your stomach, and holding out his fingers for sizing and differences. He didn't speak either, the two of you just basking in the silence, and company of one another. Due to the angle of the easel, you were only able to get a glimpse every now and then when Henry moved out of the way.. But otherwise were stuck staring at his side with the most scars, as well as looking at his expressions. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and his tongue teasing at his lips when he worked on detailing.

It was after the first hour and a half that you spoke again, sighing out and finally letting your curiosity get the best of you. “Your skin.. Does it hurt to touch it?” you asked him, biting at your lip, when you seemed to throw him off of his concentration. He was working on shading now, but he could still hear your question even as he was lost in his own mind.

“No.. not a bit. I mean, sometimes it smarts, and can be pretty sensitive.. But other times it is just like any other part of my body. Just a little less.. On the pretty side.” he commented, seeming to give you a slight pained smile at that thought.

But you disagreed wholeheartedly, looking at Henry and shaking your head ever so slightly. “I think you’re wrong about that.. But- i’m glad that it doesn't hurt too bad. I just- I happen to think that you’re gorgeous too. If I had a hand at art, I would probably try and paint you… but laying here on a bed is what I’m good at.. “ you teased, though you meant every word that came out of your mouth.

Henry blushed at that concept, nodding a bit. “I think that if you tried, i might look like a patchy little frog.. Won’t I?” he teased, but you could see from the smile on his face that what you had said carried into his heart. The hour that passed by next was a bit less quiet, Henry cracking a joke, or saying something to ease the silence that was falling over the both of you, even as he stared over your body. It was so freeing to be like this in front of another human being.. Someone you cared about and trusted- even if it was for a short time that you had know each other…

But as he finished the painting and turned it towards you, you wouldn't believe your eyes at what you saw, slowly sitting up on the edge of the bed, while your mouth stared agape at the masterpiece in front of you. “Oh-.. Oh my god Henry.” you smiled, covering your mouth in shock before you looked up at him. “Are you sure that’s me, darlin’?” you asked in a somewhat teasing way, Henry only blushing and rubbing at the back of his head with his paint stained hands before he nodded.

“I’m pretty sure about that.. You- you’re a beautiful model.. Beautiful person, really. All that beauty on the outside, as well as the inside.. It was pretty hard to put it all on here, but I think that I got it down a bit.” he said sheepishly, as if he didnt believe the effect his artistry had on you. What he wasn't expecting though, was the tears that started to slowly fall from your eyes, even as you smiled up at him.

Henry furrowed his eyebrows, and immediately put his brush and palette to the side, the rag falling off of his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around you. “Shit, Did I do something wrong?” he asked, even his cursing held an innocence- so that you knew such words would otherwise not be coming out of his mouth, unless he thought he had messed up royally. . “You didn't do anything wrong, not in the least bit.. I just.. I never thought I could be that beautiful..” you admitted. All of your life you had been told by others that you were less than what you were, a reputation of promiscuity, and people who you didn't even really know already assuming things about you. But after only a short while of knowing you, you felt like Henry could see the real you- the parts that you wanted shown, as well as the parts you hid in a manner of self preservation.

Henry seemed to be dissatisfied with that statement though, looking at you seriously and tipping your chin up towards his face before he spoke. He needed you looking into his eyes.. He needed you to hear this with your whole heart. “Y/N. You’re gorgeous. And there ain't anyone that should ever convince you otherwise.. “ his eyes broke away from yours, as he started to look over your shoulders, pushing away the hair, and then touching certain spots on your skin. “Every freckle.. Every line, anything about you.. It is all gorgeous. You’re you.. And you’re one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. That painting isn't even ten percent of the beautiful that I see in you.” he said, speaking with more conviction than you’d ever heard from him before.

His words were just chipping away at your heart, something that was a once rough shape smoothing out due to his careful hands and calming words. As his fingertips moved over your skin, you felt shocks and fire beneath them.. Henry was everything you’d ever wanted and more.. And you felt the need to show him that.

Leaning in, and pressing your lips against his, it took a moment before Henry got the sense to kiss back, seeming to be hesitant as his mind raced and tried to comprehend the reality of what was happening. Sure, he hadn’t really kissed many girls before.. But as he pulled you in, he was lead by his passion telling him what to do, his hands travelling up and down your sides as you sat perched in his lap, still nude with nothing but his jeans, and the sheet wrapped around the lower half of your body to separate the two of you.

Being the more experienced person, you deepened the kiss, letting your hands come up to grasp at his cheeks, and tenderly massage into his scalp, your chest pressing against his and feeling the warmth as you drew him in closer. Henry seemed to get the jist of what was happening though, as his hands started to wander from your shoulders, down to the small of your back, gently pressing his fingertips in to draw you closer.

Regrettably, you were both running out of oxygen, as you pulled back, breathing hard with your forehead against his as you looked down at him. “Y/N I’ve never-” “I know.. I.. I’ve never been a model.. But.. I know that you made me think that I could be one.. Even when it seemed impossible.” You could sense his hesitation, as you trailed your fingertips over the red skin of his scars, his breath hitching as your eyes watched over his features. You knew that Henry did not see how amazing he was.. And that alone was a shock to you, causing you to lean down, and press your lips against the reddened skin. “Henry I-... “ you couldn't find the right words.. But luckily, Henry stopped you, tipping your chin up so that he could press another much needed kiss against your lips.

“Y/N.. would you ever.. Do you think-” he was now bright red, and squirming slightly underneath you as you straddled his lap. There was something obvious that was bothering him.. And while you knew what it was, you were unsure if he would be able to come right out and say what he wanted. “You think you could ever touch me they way that you would any other man? I mean.. I am a little different.. No one’s ever.. Wanted me that way.” he admitted, making you smile, as something resembling a laugh left your lips. He was taken aback by that, but otherwise reassured as you rubbed your hands gently over his chest.

“Henry Pearl, I am literally sitting here.. Naked in your lap, and you’re asking me if I would ever fuck you.. I mean- the obvious answer has gotta be yes.. But- is that something that you would want?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. Maybe your choice of words was crass.. But Henry didn't seem to mind too much, only blushing and trailing a fingertip over your jaw, and then then down your neck, as his eyes followed to your breasts.

“I guess that was kinda silly of me.. But it’s hard- wanting you for a while now, and not knowing whether or not it would ever be a reality.” he admitted, holding one of his hands on your hip, before he gently put his hand over your breast. His movements were small, and always calculating- as if he didn't want to push your comfort zone too far and upset you.. But honestly, you’d been feeling an ache between your legs ever since you've arrived at his house and saw him.. The whole thought of the situation you were in turning you on to no end.

“If you want it.. Then of course I’ll make it a reality.” you hummed gently, now taking the lead, as you pressed your lips against his. You arched your back to give him a signal that it was okay for him to touch your breast, grope them and discover them in the ways that he wanted. Of course, his movements were not as nuanced as yours, but he was catching on quickly, feeling you pant softly against his mouth as one hand moved to tease over your nipple. Moving your lips from his, you started to trail soft kisses down his neck, adn over his chest, Henry watching you and leaning back as you reached the buckle of his pants. Undoing them nimbly with your fingers, before slowly moving your hand down, and tugging at the waistband of his boxers. Henry stopped you for a moment, grunting at the contact before he shook his head, making you worry that you were going a bit fast.

“I wanna try something.. Is that okay, darling?” he asked, looking hesitant and flushed, before he gently turned you so that you were lying beneath him. “I mean I have been looking at this body for a few hours.. And I kind of have to get through all those thoughts that were in my mind..ya know?” he asked, making you blush and nod.

“A-Alright.. Just do what feels good to you- don't push yourself.” you told him, Henry only nodding bashfully, before he started to kiss over your body. His kisses were as light as the soft touches he had pressed to your breasts and neck when you were in his lip, only intensifying s he drew lower, now circling his tongue over your nipple and tracing patterns on the sides of your body with his long fingers. Pulling back, he gazed over you, and trailed a line with his hand from your throat down to your navel, then slowly below, before he ever so gently parted your thighs. That was something that he had not gotten a good look at. The soft pink of your folds, as well as the growing slickness of your arousal. He blushed at the very thought of it, but looking up at you he saw your small nod, as you took your own lip between your teeth and moved your hips gently against him. Gently, his finger tips made contact with the sensitive skin of your wet heat, allowing himself to rub up against it for a moment, and delight in the way you slightly writhed, and moaned for him. No wonder people said that sex was artistic- the look on your face was something he never would be able to forget. As he trailed a finger over your entrance, you gasped when the upper part of it touched your clit, lifting your hips slightly as a jolt of pleasure reigned through your body, Henry figuring that he did something right, and continuing to rub at that area. “H-henry.. That is really good.. R-right there.. My clit is the little nub on top and - it feels real good to touch that.” you told him, figuring that this would be a great learning experience. Henry only smiled, and then leaned down to press a kiss over the top of your belly button, nodding his head. “I’m glad I’m doing something right.” he teased himself, before pulling one arm around your hip, and spreading your legs more so he could get a better look at your flower, now pushing one of his fingers in, and assessing your reaction.

He knew that he was pushing this for himself though- taking his time to bask in his discoveries as his cock twitched in his boxer shorts- but he couldn't help it as he looked at the beautiful way you moved beneath him. He needed to feel you though- that was what he wanted most of all. Eventually you had enough of the teasing, and knew that it was his turn, panting and putting your hand over his before you shook your head. You were growing too close, and you knew that you wanted him inside you when you came. “Henry.. Lie back.” you asked, Henry taking a moment to clear his head before he did as he was told, and rested with his head against the pillows.

Easily, you removed his pants from him, dragging them down his long legs along with his boxers, before he blushed brightly and watched you carefully. “Y/N.. I wanna feel you.. Please?” he asked, feeling hesitant. Sure, he was no little angel when it came to sex.. He knew what went where, and everything.. He just had never really gone through the motion of it.. He had never found someone that he would be comfortable enough to until he met you.

“I know.. I want that too.. “You panted, looking at his cock that seemed to already be red and aching for him, as your smaller hand wrapped around his shaft and moved up and down. Henry shut his eyes in anticipation of the feeling, his hips bucking against yours hand since he didn't seem to have control over the sensation and was allowing it to overtake him.He wouldn't last too long.. But that was of no consequence to you- In fact.. You just wanted to make Henry feel good above all else. As you said before..he deserve the world. Adjusting your hips, you moved so that you were straddling over him, his hips directly underneath yours, as you lowered yourself down on him.

That was enough for Henry to melt right then and there, strings of moans and light cuss words escaping his lips as you slowly moved down on him. His eyes were shut while his hands gripped at your hips, only opening them once you were fully bottomed out, and you were both moaning against each other. “ Feels good… please.” Henry panted out politely as though he lost track of his words, making you nod, and start to move your hips up and down against his. It felt like bliss to have him inside of you, Henry quickly getting a hang of things and moving his hips up to meet yours with every thrust.

Though it was obvious that he was new at this, his hands on your body never once left you wanting more, his thrusts getting more passionate, as did yours as you both attempted to reach your climax. Henry sat up in increments, until he was pressed against you, helping to pull you up and down while he reached his limit. His moans only got louder as he came close to his release, bucking up into you one final time before it happened, you following suit soon after due to the warm feeling bubbling inside of you.

Once you were both spent, Henry fell back on the bed, panting and staring at the ceiling as he pulled you down with him, before catching his breath and pressing a warm and soothing kiss to your forehead. “Thank you.” he told you, making you giggle slightly, before shaking your head.

“You don't have to thank me.. I want to thank you for that painting.. But you’re gonna keep it right? “ you asked, panting as you just stayed in your position, now lying over him and he moved your hair behind your ears.

“Of course I am.. Though I’d rather have this pretty little masterpiece than all the paintings in the world.” he said in a low tone, obviously spent from exerting himself in a way that he wasn't used to. You just blushed and shook your head, nuzzling into his neck for a moment before you spoke. “You’re the one who is as pretty as a picture, Mr. Pearl.”

#henry pearl #henry 'sunshine' pearl #henry pearl imagine #bill skarsgard henry pearl #henry pearl battlecreek #bill skarsgard #bill skasgård #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard battlecreek #insomniac-writes imagines #sweetpea-skarsgard imagines

226 notes · View notes

themarchblessing · 6 years ago

Text

DULCE VIDA

SABRINA

Grabbing the scissors I sat down on the floor of the nursery cutting into these packages. I ordered some more stuff for the baby last week and it’s finally arrived so I’m super pumped to see all of her clothes in person.

My nausea had subsided greatly meaning I don’t have morning or evening sickness as often but the feeling is still lingering around. Now it’s more so certain smells that really bring me to my knees versus adjusting to a new baby. We got our house set up on the outskirts of Brooklyn which means that Izaiah technically should be going to a new school but Brian and Ravyn both play a big part in why he’s still at the same school. Izaiah had an amazing summer. Corey and I tried our best to get his travel bug going and I think we did an okay job. The further along I became in my pregnancy it made certain trips difficult to bear but I pushed through for our son.

Corey’s parents, Hassan and Carla, even came to visit a couple of times during the summer months. They also took Zay on vacations without Corey and I but that’s alright. I was happy to see Zay bond and interact with his other grandparents. They are all so smitten with each other.

Corey finished putting together his gallery which is by far the coolest I’ve ever seen. He really did his thing with the designing and I swear it’s the cutest thing to see him in his zone when he’s there. Since we relocated he had to close down his two smallest labs and put in a decent sized one in his gallery. I had never been to his other laboratories but when he finished with this space I got to see everything and I was so amazed. Brian helped him out a great deal which was stress off of Corey’s back and music to my ears.

Speaking of my handsome fiancée I wonder when he’s coming home with our baby boy.

“Aw this is such a cute onesie..” I gushed holding up the soft outfit in the air. Most of what I ordered from Childsplay Clothing is little t-shirts, pants with booties attaches to them, baby crewnecks, and simple shit like that. I’m putting my best door forward to be more prepared for when my daughter arrives than how I was with Izaiah. Saying that in relevance to their clothing. Placing the opened boxes aside I set the clothes I’ve taken out and grouped them together by color and style.

“Mom!” I heard Izaiah yell out suddenly.

“Nursery!” I called, opening up another box to see what’s inside here. “Oh this is what you’re coming home in baby girl. No question.” I smiled in certainty loving how soft this two piece set is. The top and pants are cream with a lavender block of color around the wrists and ankles.

Footsteps coming closer earned my attention to see Izaiah walking in the door holding what I take is food. The closer he walked I felt my stomach growl at the confirming smell that my baby got me food. I kid you not, being eight and a half months pregnant has made me eat so much. I crave food all the time and I get it all the time. When daddy isn’t here I spend so much time in the kitchen cooking for myself. And to think I slowed down on time in the kitchen when that’s all I ever did with my mother growing up. But to be honest I take full advantage of Corey being such a good cook. He loves it and so do Zay and I. I do try to give him breaks sometimes so he doesn’t get sick of it.

“Hi baby, how was school today?” Placing more of the clothes in the piles I kissed Zay’s cheek, making room for him to sit with me.

“It was alright. We got you food.” Zay set the bag down away from the clothes taking out what looks a sandwich and then he pulled out what appears to be soup. Oh my boys know me so well. The first four months of my pregnancy were a battle. Constant nausea, dizzy spells and a lot of napping! But once I made it to 28 weeks, I was able to move throughout the day without feeling so out of control. The foods I’m eating nowadays have a lot to do with the morning sickness. I try to eat very light and very simple. Every meal I consume has ten ingredients or less that won’t possibly upset my stomach, per my decision. “What did you do all day mom?” Izaiah removed his sneakers and joined me in opening up the remainder of the boxes.

Unwrapping the sandwich and not wasting any time digging into it, I stretched out my legs. “Well after I did the laundry, cleaned up the entire house, took a bath, and made like twenty pancakes, I didn’t do much else. This stuff came to the house finally so I’ve been working on this.” I explained, finishing one half of my sandwich.

Izaiah shook his head in silence probably at the fact that I ate this turkey sandwich so fast. I must admit I did demolish this pretty quickly and while talking. “Where’s your dad?” Eating the other half I thought about if I wanted to eat the soup as well but decided not to.

“He’s downstairs. Want me to get him?” Zay began to stand but I ushered him to sit back down. He and I continued to open up the mail. With his help I managed to get the baby’s room in order to completion. Corey and I finished decorating due to how excited we are to meet this little girl of ours. The only thing that I hadn’t gotten around to until today was organizing her clothes.

Once we finished I helped him with his homework. Night fell and that’s when the hunger struck. Corey was downstairs in the kitchen, per usual, Izaiah was getting cleaned up in the bathroom. I got my shower in for the night and just as I was leaving our ensuite to go and change I felt myself step in something wet. Stopping in my tracks I looked down at my feet seeing liquid running down the side of my leg.

There’s no pain but I don’t understand why my water is breaking. I made an advance to move but I felt paralyzed. By the grace of god I looked up to see Izaiah staring at me with his t-shirt halfway on.

“What’s wrong, mom?” He walked closer as he situate his shirt on his body.

“I think my water just broke. I want to sit down but I can’t move. Please help me.” I begged. I reached for his hand. Zay held onto my hand and walked me back into the room over to the bed.

“Sit down.” He ushered. I twinged with pain doubling over. My hand caught the bed spread in time so I had some leverage to keep me from falling.

“Go get..” I breathed not able to get the words out. My mind is racing and my heart is doing the same. I’m not expected to have this baby for another two or so weeks but the pain that’s now hitting me is unbearable.

“Dad, I know.” Izaiah helped me sit down then he bolted for the door. “Dad!” He shouted descending the steps loudly. I can’t hear if Corey is responding. “Come upstairs, mom’s water broke!” Just then I heard something crash and both of the boys running.

I managed to get to the closet and get out a pair of shorts and a bralette. With some strength I changed into this simple outfit.

“Bri?” Hearing Corey’s voice I walked into the bedroom and stood by the bed. He rushed over to me guiding me to sit down. “Your water broke this early? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m not due for another two weeks. I started having contractions though, heavy ones. They faded so I don’t know if these are the warning or the real thing.” I explained looking up at him.

Going to the ER is the route we decided to go with. Zay was getting dressed, Corey pulled out the hospital bags and loaded up the car. I threw on a flannel not bothering to button up. It gets hotter by the second, the contractions came back and drew closer together every few minutes. Maybe I am gonna have this baby early.

“Sabrina?” Corey called out in distress. I met him in the hallway carrying my small duffel bag on my arm. “You ready?” He asked. The stress in his face is making me feel bad. Of course I didn’t plan to have my water break this soon but what’s done is done. We prepared for the birth last month together with my doctor but not this soon.

Setting my bag down I wrapped my arms around him hoping to decrease his anxiety. “Breathe Corey, everything is gonna be fine.” Funny how I’m encouraging him to relax when I’m the one about to have a baby. He laughed at my tactics and hugged me back. The warmth of his hug and the security I feel helped to ease my mind. I’m seriously so blessed to have such a great guy like Corey. I feel like I say this so much but it’s only the truth.

“I love you Sabrina, I love you so much for everything.” He muttered, rubbing my back underneath the shirt. His lips on my neck soothed me all the more.

Smiling at his will to keep me at peace I told him I loved him back. We left the house in a hurry. Izaiah was holding my hand from the backseat and rubbing my right shoulder to help take some of the pain away. I practiced the slow breathing techniques I was shown in my classes the whole ride to the emergency room. Eventually I rolled my window all the way down to bring in more fresh, cool air. When we arrived at the doors Corey came around to help out.

“Zay stay with your mom.” He said handing the small bag to him. Corey went off to move the car while Zay and I walked into the hospital. The strongest urge to cry hit me full force almost bringing me to my knees. “Mommy!” I heard him distress. For a minute I didn’t feel him holding me anymore. But when I looked up I saw him wheeling over a chair for me to sit in.

I sat down still uncomfortable in my own skin as I began to go realize that I’m definitely having this baby tonight. I’m still not prepared for this mentally but clearly my daughter is ready to come out and give us her grand introduction. Zay pushed me over to the counter where a nurse seemed to writing or typing or something.

“Miss? My mom needs her doctor.” Zay approached the counter making his presence known boldly. The woman stood up and took one glance at me before paging someone. Corey met up with us and took over pushing me towards a room that the nurse directed us to.

Everyone and everything moved so quickly. The only person that seemed to move slow enough for me to keep up with was myself. Corey was talking to a different nurse most likely asking about why my water broke so soon. Izaiah was trying to help me get comfortable in this hospital bed. Time seemed to speed up too. A man walked in wearing a doctor's uniform. He gave me a run down on what he was about to do. I fumbled with my necklace listening to him tell me that I’m fully dilated and I’ve got to have to my baby right now or else.

Another man walked in dressed the same holding what looked like the shot for an epidural. The second he was in reaching distance of me I snatched the shot from his hands and snapped it in half. Launching it across the room away from my boys I glared at the doctor. “Do not come near me with any drugs. Don’t!” I warned, pointing my finger at him. The strength I possess right now is unmatchable by anyone. I’m not in the mood to be messed with or pissed off.

A hand gripping my wrist scared me. I jumped when I turned to see it was just Corey. I switched up my voice quick. “Please don’t let them give me drugs Corey. I don’t want any.”

Corey kissed my forehead gently, “I won’t.” He promised sincerely.

“No matter what?” I challenged.

“No matter what.” He nodded.

“Okay Sabrina it’s time.” My doctor walked in making me feel relieved that I don’t have the men in here helping me to deliver my baby. She and two other nurses in the room worked in a pace that was easy to monitor. I can’t handle fast paced movement. Not at a time like this. Izaiah was sitting in the chair waiting on standby in case he was needed paying close attention. Corey was dressed in the traditional gown keeping a tight hold on my hand.

You can guess what happened next right?

***fast forward ----- two months***

Rinsing the suds off of me I followed through with my hair, braiding it back out of my way. Peering to my right through the window I sighed just watching the small waves get picked up by the wind. The water transitioned into bigger waves that crashed against the shore violently. The sight made me gleam. I can’t believe I get to wake up to a view like this every single day now. Hearing that familiar hiccup I looked to my left grinning at my baby chew on her own fingers. Her eyesight bounced off of everything in the room before finding me. Ending my shower I filled up the tub with warm water that would satisfy me and not burn her skin.

I used her baby wash as bubble maker and added in the oil my doctor said was safe to be on her skin. Bringing Elle into the tub with me I laid her against my chest and washed her back using the sponge Corey just got for her. Because I had changed her right before I got in the shower and I’ve learned her routine I knew she wouldn’t go again for a while. After I got her backside I pushed my legs up to wash the rest of her. The look of surprise on her cute little face filled with me so much laughter. I guess she didn’t expect to get off my shoulder so soon.

“You are so funny, my love. Just like your brother and definitely just like your papa.” I snickered. The day after we brought Elle home from the hospital Corey had movers come and pick up the furniture from the house. I had no clue what was going on but I got the picture when he, Ravyn and Brian began packing up our personals. At the time we still hadn’t decided on whether or not we wanted to move. But Corey being the sneak that he is, had a plan all ready to go. I still hadn’t decided on where I wanted to go and Zay didn’t care either way. To my surprise Corey bought us a beautiful home on a slight hill along the coast of Panama. Punta Paitilla to be exact. We love it here!

The weather is beyond perfect and better than California. The views are spectacular, the air is so fresh, the amount of vegetation is unbelievable and the coziness of this city is wonderful. Not to mention the economy is at its peak. Corey and I owning our first home together with our beautiful babies has had me on cloud nine ever since we signed the papers. Our realtor was amazing too. She really worked with us to get a fair price and that made me so happy. Izaiah is in love with the new house as well. He loves being so close to the beach. He’s made friends with just about every kid who lives within a mile from us, in our area. He actually enjoys going to school these days.

Corey is working from home in the basement on some days. He wanted to be closer to us. I stopped working altogether since Elle is so young and she needs me around the clock. Being a stay at home mom isn’t all that bad. With Corey being here most of the time I get the extra help from him more than I anticipated. And I get to play house on a constant loop with my man which helps to add to my happiness.

Elle is such a sweet and quiet baby. She’s much quieter than her brother was way back when but she favors him in character. The bond that she has with her brother and father make me cry happy tears. Corey and Zay are in total infatuation with Elle, as am I. When we first settled back in New York Corey was petrified to be alone with Elle because he feared he wasn’t prepared for a newborn. Every time I would try and leave the room he would beg me to stick around or he would just follow me. Every single time. Bathroom trips included. His explanation for wanting me around so much in the beginning is because he didn’t want her to get hurt on his watch. I did everything that I could to ensure him that nothing would happen to her if they were alone but he was so paranoid.

That faded and now two months later he’s a lot more at ease with not always having me there. He still prefers to be in my line of vision which is perfectly fine. And me? Well I don’t have the words or the time to tell anyone how much I like being a new mommy again. I didn’t realize how much I missed the baby stage until I had my daughter. It’s a pleasure getting help from my boys when I have to change Elle, bathe her or just spend time with her. They enjoy doing those simple tasks alongside me to learn what it is that I do with her.

Placing Elle back on my chest I laid my palm flat on her back to hold her still. She was gazing out the window just like I was. Everyday we do the same thing. Our morning routine is simple yet very relaxing. I wake up when Elle wakes up. And since she sleeps by our bed I know when it’s time to get the day started. I go through my own morning routine at the sink while she sits on the bean bag. After that I get in the shower, get out and draw a bath for her and I. Once she’s all clean we sit in the tub admiring our view. At times she might get hungry while we were in the bathtub and other times she won’t. I have yet to force her into eating. I wait until she’s ready, no matter where I’m at.

“My sweet baby.” I murmured. Kissing the top of her head repeatedly I crossed my legs. Shortly after I heard movement downstairs I drained the bath of water, getting out to dry off. Setting her down on the towel spread across the bed I wiped her down and put a cloth diaper on to start off today with.

“Lori..” I heard Corey coming down the hall.

“In here babe..” I said, retreating to the bathroom to grab the lotion for her and the one for myself. Going back to finish Elle off I saw Corey backing into the room. He had a tray in his hand covered with a beautiful spread of I’m guessing my first meal of the day. Shaking my head promptly and grinning from ear to ear I sat down turning Elle over on her stomach to lotion her back and legs.

Corey sat the tray down and took over what I started. He instructed me to dry off so I could go on and eat before my food gets cold. I did as he said without any argument.

“Where’s Zay at?” I said in between forkfuls of pancakes.

“Outside with them boys from up the street. They came down here and knocked on the door asking if he could come out this morning. How was your bath? You miss me?”

Catching his hint and his side eye I playfully, softly kicked him. “You play too much,” I chuckled. “Yeah I missed you. Where’ve you been all morning? You usually stay up here until we go in the bathroom.”

Corey silently begged for some of my food so after he got that he took Elle into the closet. “I had to finish boxing up that stuff for my mom. I sent it off so I’m hoping she’ll have it by next week. She needs it by Thursday. What you want to wear today baby?” He asked from inside the closet.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t really have anywhere to go. Oh no wait, we have to go to the market. I need to get a few things for dinner this weekend. Brian and Carli are still coming right?” Picking up my mug I began slowly sipping down my tea careful not to burn my tongue like I always manage to do so at some point during breakfast.

Corey appears with a my sandals, a white tank top dress and a sweater draped over his arm. “Yeah they’ll be here Friday afternoon. I think they come in at like two or three.” He explained while laying my clothes out for me.

“We have to call and make sure that bed is gonna be here by tomorrow. Or else they’ll be sleeping on the floor. Here..” sliding the tray over to him so he could finish my omelets like he nevers passes on I stood up and finished getting myself ready.

“It’s coming tomorrow. I already talked to the dude this morning. How do you smell so good after baths with mommy?” Turning over my shoulder to see him goofing off with Elle I lotioned myself down.

Afternoon came quickly. Izaiah stayed behind with his friends while we hit the market to finish gathering supplies for our big weekend. Since moving here, our friends and family have been begging to fly out and visit. Now that our house is all set up we planned the visit and did a round of calling to our loved ones. Our parents, Brian and his girl are coming to stay with us. We’ve got the space which is great because I would’ve been sad if we couldn’t accommodate our company.

We came back to the house, I fed the baby and rocked her to sleep. Corey and I squeezed in two rounds of love making that we got to fully enjoy. We didn’t have to rush this time and that’s what made it all that it was. Fucking fantastic. I was even blessed with the opportunity to lay up under my husband once we were done.

Instead of waiting for Elle to walk to have a big wedding we had a small ceremony with her and Zay. However we did agree that once Elle is a little older we would do it all over again and have our family and friends there. His reason for wanting to marry me so quickly was due to not wanting to hide my new ring any longer. And that thing is jaw dropping gorgeous. I wear the proposal ring on my right hand and my wedding ring in its rightful place. They’re special enough to wear together all of the time.

“I like being married.” Gushing over the details of our miniature wedding I kicked my feet up on the table. If we stay here for a long time I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view from our backyard.

Throwing an arm behind my back Corey leaned away from me taking countless pictures of myself and Elle who was doing absolutely nothing. All she can do is look around regardless of her not understanding where she is.

“You mean as in being married to me or just in general?” He quipped with a little attitude. A sly smirk spread over my face tempting me to feed into his reach for me to tell how I feel about him.

“Both. I never put any thought into marriage. Like whatsoever before you came along and popped the question which took me by complete surprise by the way.” Raking my nails through her hair I squeezed my arm around her just a tad.

“I mean..what can I say? I was tryna keep up with you and your spontaneous ass. You never once shown yourself to be the predictable type Lori. But nah then again I’ve taking you by surprise our entire lives. Always felt like you deserved that and more.” Playing back the first time confession I looked next door seeing Izaiah play some unknown game with the kids who live in that house. “Would you believe me if I said I was nervous to ask you and on your birthday for that matter? A huge part of me thought you were gonna say no before I even came up to the room. No one knew about me wanting to propose so I didn’t have anyone to give me that last minute push so I just went for it.”

“That would’ve been one hell of a turn down.” Corey and I had a rich laugh. He, just like I, were no doubt reminiscing over that night but with a different outcome. “Where do you think we’d be if we never hooked up at Brian’s party?” I asked seriously. Not once have I let it cross my mind on where I’d be in life without my husband. I never wanted to until now. We’re settled and comfortable in our life and our marriage so I think it’s safe to speak on this. Turning to my right I swiped my thumb over his cheek. I swear I have the sexiest man in the whole world. When I think about who Corey’s father is I get all weird inside. Only because I feel like I just complimented Hassan in ways I shouldn’t.

But if we’re being honest here, Hassan passed his looks down to his only son.

“To be honest with you baby, I don’t know. I don’t want to know where I’d be without all this.” In reference to everything he’s speaking of Corey outstretched his free arm.

“Only God knows. I like being with you. I thought it would be just a little weird with us being a couple. Take out the sex. I’m talking about everything else that comes with a relationship. A long time ago I pondered on what it would be like to be Corey Howard’s girlfriend and once it actually happened I was just like..” pausing to look at our baby I took her off of my chest to find her once again nibbling on her fingers. She smiled at me, those deep set impressions of dimples in her cheeks are a sight to see. She’s such a beautiful little baby. A perfect mix of Corey and I. For a two month old she’s smart and a surely a charmer to everyone she meets.

“She wouldn’t be as perfect as she is if it wasn’t for you. You know that right, baby?” Corey moved in closer to me palming the one side of my face to kiss all over the side he was closest to. The tickling sensation of his wet kisses made me squirm.

“Touché papa, touché.” Laying my head on Corey’s shoulder I passed Elle to him since she was eyeing him heavily. Anytime her daddy comes around Elle forgets about anyone else but Corey. “Clearly she thinks you’re just as handsome as I do.” Holding her hand I closed my eyes to soak up this moment. There was a pause and then I came to realize something. “I’m glad you made that switch.”

“Where did that come from?” Corey threw an arm around my shoulder keeping me snug and warm.

Opening my eyes back up I checked on Izaiah smiling to see him full of joy. He must have felt someone staring at him so when he turned to make eye contact with me he waved. I waved back seeing him and his friends go inside the house.

Focusing on Elle I cuffed her sleeves so she wouldn’t chew on them. “I really don’t know. Just thinking about all that we’ve gone through together, expanding our family and seeing how great of a father you are touches me in a way I can’t explain.” I have to confess. For a long time I was so mad about what happened. Overtime is when I learned to appreciate Corey on a different level.

In full confession, I wouldn’t be where I am in life nor would I be this happy if we never drunkenly hooked up last year. I also wouldn’t have my little girl. In the end that switch changed Corey’s life for the better and it surely did for mine.

#the march blessing #short story

15 notes · View notes

mayorcocko · 6 years ago

Note

sung sees the booty perform for the first time and is just so blown away by the sheer volume of sexual energy up on that stage that he has to speak his mind. what happens next is up to you

a few things

is it 3:30 AM? yes

Is this over 10K? yes

would i consider doing a follow up for it? yes

am i proofreading it? hell no.

should i post this on ao3 and say to hell with it? you tell me.

anyways, it’s here for now under the cut.

Sung likes to think that he’s got this whole dramatic entrance thing down by now. It’s the theatrics of it, he’s learned, the willingness to simply throw yourself about with wild abandon and make a complete fool of yourself without a second thought.

And that was something that Doctor Sung excelled at more often than not.

So he can’t help but be surprised when he all but flies into the room where Havve and Meouch and Phobos have situated themselves and they don’t even react, barely even blink, at his sudden appearance. For a moment he just stands there and looks at them before clearing his throat in a not so subtle way.

Yes, Sung? Havve doesn’t even look up from the whetstone in his palm (which Sung supposes is a good thing given the fact that the other hand wields an already wickedly sharp knife.) Do you have something to say?

He bites back a sigh and glances around the room first, taking in Phobos’s curled form on the nearby loveseat with book propped in lap and Meouch sitting opposite to him, the Leoian tuning his bass in an almost casual manner. “Y-yes.” Sung stutters before he finds himself again. He throws out his arms, doing his best enticing finger waggles his digits can muster. “Who…………” He drags the word out, eye touching upon each of his friends meaningfully before he grins just so. “Wants to come to a concert with me tonight?!”

A strange note is plucked out by Meouch in response and then, in turn, Phobos flips a page and Havve runs his blade across the whetstone with a strange, sharp noise. Sung can only stand there, brow falling over his eye in confusion as the lack of response continues until it finally becomes unbearable.

“I said-!”

“We heard you, Sung.” Meouch finally looks up. “Goin’ to concerts with you is gods awful, so I’m going to have to pass.”

“Awful!” He blusters as he strides up to the Leoian. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you get worked up.” Phobos explains in a soft voice, antennae twitching with amusement. “Excited.”

“One would assume that’s a good thing.” Sung grits out before he’s narrowing his eye at Meouch. “You got something against having fun?”

“No Sung, but I can’t do the whole screaming twelve year old girl act that you somehow always manage to pull out of your ass every time we go see someone perform live. I have a migraine, okay? I want to work on my bass and then I want to sleep and that’s final.” The Leoian snaps before he’s settling back into the couch, tail thumping against the cushions in annoyance. Well, that answers that… He sighs under his breath before turning in the opposite direction.

“What’s your excuse?” He says in a quiet voice, already knowing the answer given how Phobos is nestled up in a blanket with Dangus purring at his side, the book in his hands just nearing the halfway mark.

“Just got to the good part.” Phobos says in an apologetic voice, not looking apologetic whatsoever. “Sorry Sung.”

He turns to Havve finally, eyeing the robot, still working the knife methodically over the whetstone without pause.

No. He says before Sung can even open his mouth, can even form a thought. The empath deflates and begins to slump his way out of the room, not even bothering with saying any kind of goodbye. Stop Charlie Brown-ing over there, Sung. Havve calls after him. He stops at the door before throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.

I should have never introduced you to pop culture, you bastard.

Another low note on the bass, a page flip, the sound of the knife scraping on the whetstone.

No one’s saying you can’t go by yourself Sung. Havve says with a barely perceptible tilt of his head.

Sung’s going stiff with it. Where’s the fun in that? He shoots back and Havve tilts his head back to it’s original position, holding the knife up for inspection while he does.

You’re you, Sung. I’m sure you can find someway, somehow, to have fun tonight on your own. Their eyes meet across the room and there’s something in Havve’s optics that fills him with resolve.

“Fine.” He says outloud. “I’ll go myself, and I’ll have the best time of my life, and you’ll all regret it.” He’s stomping off and Havve’s quiet laughter is the only thing to follow him, ringing through his head across their link.

It’s some hole in the wall bar where you can see the stage the moment you walk in the door. He’s as human as you can get, he supposes. Some scrounged up thrift shop band tee for Led Zeppelin with a flannel over it, jeans and beat up sneakers, the dark visor band that covers his eye the only real stand out thing in that moment, but that’s what you got for being, you know, not of this world.

He doesn’t even bother with the bar, instead just find a spot off to the side, watching as everyone else filters in. His core is covered but that doesn’t stop him from getting a read on the room and what everyone is feeling. There’s quite a few newcomers, people who don’t really know what they’re getting into like him, and then there’s the handful that do. Excitement, eagerness, a completely unexpected seuxal undercurrent that seems to run through quite a lot of them. Sung hadn’t even bothered to check what kind of music this band Planet Booty made, deciding instead to go in with virgin ears, but now he was very, very intrigued.

“Oh boy.” A voice says next to him. He looks over at the stranger, a young woman with short blonde hair and kohl rimmed eyes. “I know that look.”

His brow raises some from behind his visor and she’s giving an easy chuckle. “What look?” Sung says slowly and her lips pull up at the corners in response, a mischievous look coming about her.

“First Booty experience.” Not just me, he wants to say as he glances around the room again, but he lets the human girl continue- morbidly curious in the face of her growing glee. “Dylan’s gonna wreck your shit.” Her endearing tone is at complete odds at her dangerous words. Sung’s mouth opens but she’s already flouncing off to the stage, throwing a “good luck!” over her shoulder at him.

Alrighty then.

He’s considering the inevitable drink that he probably ought to just get when the lights dim, the crowd leaning forward with quiet anticipation. This is why he loved this kind of shit. The thrum of excitement shared between each other, the emotions that could be evoked by just the right note or tune. The rest of the guys didn’t get it, couldn’t get it the way he did.

Oh gods, Sung can’t help but think a moment later, what was he wearing?

The empath supposes it’s very pot calling the kettle black of him, but he can’t help but just stare as the lead singer comes out onto stage wearing a fitted black blazer decorated in fine silver and gold threading, black dress shorts, and a white button up underneath with a black tie on top of it all. His eye widens considerably as he (Dylan, he’s assuming) swaggers up to the mic, whipping his sunglasses off as he does. “Hello all you sexy, sexy people.” He murmurs into the microphone before his entire face lights up with a smile, the joy in him boundless.

There’s other people joining him now, a bored faced bassist wearing a simple white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and black pants, another male with a snapback and a weird combination of casual-athletic gear and dress clothes. He makes it work though, hell, the whole thing they’ve got going works for some reason. “I’m seeing some of my favorite people here.” He points right at the girl and she’s throwing her head back with a pleased laugh. “But a lot of you are new here, now don’t worry, we’re all gonna get to know each other real well by the end of the night. I’m gonna have to ask everyone to move in closer, cos we can’t have a real Planet Booty show without being up close and personal. That includes you, shorty.”

Dylan’s staring right at him from the stage and Sung flushes from head to toe at the unexpected attention, feeling more than just Dylan’s eyes on him in that moment. “None of that wallflower shit, you hear? We don’t operate that way here at Planet Booty. I better see you dancin’ later.” And then he has the gods damn audacity to wink right at him. “Alright, alright, enough of that! We’re here to have fun tonight, to love tonight, to sweat tonight.” A cheer goes up and the one in the hat is leaning over his keyboard and gods-

He really isn’t ready for whatever the hell this was.

It’s good. Better than good, it’s gods damned amazing. It’s hypnotically rhythmic and Sung can’t help but be drawn in by the pounding bass that begins to issue from the speakers. He draws up next to the blonde at the front of the stage and she smiles at him, nudging his side just so before mouthing a “just wait” at him.

And then Dylan looks right at him and starts singing…

…About ass.

“Your face!” She shrieks in delight as his mouth falls open. “Ugh, this is what I live for!!!” Without warning she wraps her arms around him and begins to gesture wildly at Dylan until he looks back over at them, eyes widening just so. Sung’s attempting to clamp his lips shut but by then it’s too late, he’s seen it all. Dylan’s entire face lights up and he’s barely suppressing a laugh between verses before he’s wheeling back over to his friend, their voices overlapping as the song goes on. “Let me give you the deets. See that’s Josh, and over there is Rob on the bass, and this song is called Junk in the Trunk.” She says it all so matter of factly over the speakers. “And you have seen nothing yet, my friend.”

What else can there be at this point? He really shouldn’t be questioning any of this given his penchant for high kicks and light up shoes and TWRP’s whole aesthetic, but Sung’s reeling, trying to make sense of whatever the hell it was that he was seeing, hearing, experiencing…

They’re halfway through the song when it happens. Dylan just hops off on stage left, mic in hand and blazer being thrown behind him with wild abandon, grabbing the closest person and just dragging them in until they’re hip to hip, chest to chest, body swaying with the beat as Josh starts to sing about having a good time.

“Is that normal?” He says over the music to his companion. She nods, looking absolutely Cheshire in that moment. Gods. He’s never felt so out of his element before. “Is this what you were telling me about?!”

“Not even close.” And Sung doesn’t even have time to react because he’s being pushed forward by her, right into Dylan’s personal space.

“See you finally decided to join.” Josh is still singing and Dylan’s got the mic away from his mouth, the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone, tie hanging about his neck loosely, taking in Sung’s sudden presence without breaking his stride. “You havin’ fun?”

Despite how lost he was, Sung supposes he is having fun in some sort of sense. And hadn’t that been the plan all along? He can’t help but manage a near breathless smile, his core taking to the excitement pouring off of Dylan, the pure electric energy that seems to thrum through him nonstop. “Attaboy.” Dylan murmurs in a fond voice, fingers grazing over his hip just so before he’s pulling away with a playful grin. For a moment Sung can only stand there in shock before his friend from before is pulling him back, propping her chin on his shoulder. “So…” She hums. “You know- the funny thing is that was like, the PG version of Dylan Germick.”

“PG?” He parrots back in a strangled voice.

“Just. You. Wait~”

It doesn’t take long either to see Dylan in his full glory either because it only takes three songs for the sweating frontman to strip down to just his dress shorts. He’s done everything from twerking on stage to sensually thrusting his trumpet at the crowd to grinding up against his mic stand and Sung swears his core is this close to melting out of his chest. Everyone’s a little drunk off the energy coursing through the room, their emotions smearing across his senses in a strange and unavoidable way. Poor Havve, he can’t help but think, the coherency of his own thoughts startling him. Hopefully he had already gone and put up a wall between them because the empath knows he’s not any good for it in his current state.

Somehow, at some point, Dylan’s finds his way to him once more in the crowd. He’s singing something but Sung could really care less because all he wants is to get closer to the other male, make it so there’s not even an inch of space between them. The human turns so his back is pressed up against Sung’s chest and it’s all too easy to put his hands on the other’s sweat slicked chest, knowing that’s exactly what Dylan wants in that moment without words. He rocks back and Sung’s hips cant forward until they’re both rolling against one another, Sung’s hands slipping down further and further until they’re working the human’s belt off, dragging it slowly one notch at a time.

There’s screeching and wolf whistles and all kinds of approval and amusement at the sight of it all but Sung’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about how badly he wants the other in that moment. Gods, this was all kinds of fucked up but if Sung didn’t absolutely love it either. He’s pulling the belt off then and Sung can’t help but notice the way that Dylan practically purrs with the action of it. It takes everything he has to not just shove his hands down the front of the other male’s pants- Instead, he reaches back up with is free hand and guides Dylan’s own hand down until his fingers are brushing the button and he’s making a show of it too.

“Attaboy.” Sung whispers, unable to help himself, and Dylan’s stilling for just a moment before a chuckle of disbelief slides out of him.

“You lil’ shit.” He hisses back before he’s untangling himself away from Sung, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder before he’s returning to the stage. There’s a pause in the song where it’s all just instrumental and the entire time Dylan doesn’t take his eyes off of Sung as he works the zipper down.

And for a moment all of the crazy lust and pent up sexual need is forgotten because Dylan Germick is wearing booty shorts.

Bedazzled booty shorts, mind you.

The smile on Dylan’s face isn’t so pointed anymore as it is just genuine and unceasing, a beautiful thing that lights up his entire face. Sung’s returning it and in that moment he can’t help but think that this was meant to be. The fact that he was here tonight alone, that he had even heard of this performance in the first place… The Fates had a funny way of working like that.

He turns then to the girl from before, smile more shit eating than anything. “How was that for a newbie?” Sung says breathlessly. Her eyes are wide with disbelief but he can feel the approval pouring off her and it feels like a rite of passage. “Was that too much?” He says after a beat and her expression changes as her eyes screw up and she doubles over with a whooping laugh.

“It’s never enough with Dylan Germick!” She finally manages out and when Sung looks back up at the stage at the other male’s cocked hip, the fire in his eyes as he leans out to thank the stage, their eyes meet and he’s nearly bowled over by the need and want the other male feels in that moment. For skin on skin.

For something tactile and real.

Oh gods.

He’s grinning like a wolf as he begins to saunter off stage, hips twitching with each step, the shorts catching in the stage lights after the encore. “C’mon.” The crowd is breaking up and his new found friend is twining their arms, smiling up at him. “I’m buying you a drink.”

“But…” The word isn’t even audible as it passes his lips. But what, Sung? Whoever Dylan Germick was, whatever he was, he had gone out into the crowd and fooled around with just about everyone, not just you. And even if there had been something there it’s not like Dylan was just going to straight up pursue it. People just didn’t do that.

Besides, you’ve got nothing else better to do, do you?

He relents then and she’s giving a squeal of excitement, pulling him through the people, past the merch table and to the bar. “I can’t believe you just- you actually did that.” She’s saying as they sit down next to one another. “Someone’s a brave boy.” She jabs him a few times in the arm with her index finger.

“It just felt right.” He says with a sheepish smile as he ducks his head, hair falling over his visor. There’s something being slid his way and he can only pull a face when he smells the rubbing alcohol scent of vodka, but a free drink is a free drink, right? She’s holding her own out and Sung’s cocking his head just so. “Cheers?”

“To Planet Booty, and to being your sexy sweaty self.” She gestures with her glass. Sung clinks the glassware together and they’re both throwing back the drinks like they’re shots. “Oh God, that’s terrible! Jesus. What did you put in this?”

“It’s rail, sweetheart.” The bartender deadpans and the woman next to him curls her lip and rolls her eyes in response.

“Yeah well it’s shitty rail.” She huffs under her breath, her annoyance spiking. “But hey, if it gets the job done, right?”

“Right.” This is a nice cool down, he thinks, after everything that happened earlier on. The searing stare Dylan had pinned him with is becoming a pleasant memory, something like his own personal secret of sorts. The fun he had sworn he would have had been managed and it looked like he was making a new friend, something he never objected to. Tonight had been successful, tonight he had been daring, tonight he was happy.

“Right.” A voice drawls as someone steps between them.

“Dylan!” She shrieks and Sung’s stomach drops with it, the cup still held up to his face, partially obscuring his vision. “You sweaty bastard! Do not hug me if you’re sweaty, I swear if you hug me and you’re sweaty-! Remember last time?” “How could I not?” And just like that Dylan Germick is turning to him, putting a hand over both his shoulder and hers. “Me and Tess go back, way back. Context- she comes to a show in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere…”

“You don’t get to call anywhere Bumfuck when you’re from Indiana, Dylan.” She’s already got another drink and holding it up to her mouth, her eyes narrowed in silent judgement at the singer.

“Okay, listen, Indiana’s not that bad. Have you ever been to Indiana?” Sung doesn’t even get the chance to answer before Dylan’s continuing on. “Anyways, I see her and I’m like oh Tess is getting it. She’s fucking getting it tonight.”

“I’m screaming at him that I have a flight the next day and I’m not going to have the chance to shower and of course the bastard doesn’t care.” She pinches his arm and Dylan’s yelping in response, bumping his hip up against her chair with a warning look. “Just puts my face against his gross chest and drags it doooown.” She points her finger until it’s basically between her legs.

“All the way down town. See you need to employ that reverse psychology Tess. If you tell me not to, I’m gonna.”

Sung’s eye is wide behind his visor as he watches the two of them banter with such practiced ease. There’s a warmth there between them, a kinship of sorts. He basks in it, eye closing as a pleased smile touches his lips.

“Alcohol already gettin’ you?” A low voice says next to his ear and he’s jumping with it. Dylan’s close. As close as he was during the show. There’s an echo of what he had felt during the show and Sung’s core is greedy for it, running hot and bright under his shirt.

Fuck.

“A little.” He rasps out and Dylan’s lips curl at the corners just so. “You were great out there, by the way.”

“Me!?” Dylan crows and throws Tess a look. “Shorty, you stole the show. And my belt.” That hand on his shoulder feels like a brand and the empath hates how much he likes the feeling of the other male’s hands on him. “Did Tess tell you to do that?”

“Fuck no, I let him go in blind. He managed that all by himself.” She snorts into her drink. “Even I couldn’t believe it.”

“Well shit. You’re a fucking natural.” That hand is sliding down his bicep now and Sung can feel Dylan’s surprise when he finds the muscle there, followed by a growing interest that’s burning through him like wildfire. Shit. Shit shit shit. Maybe he should get another drink. He’s just about to say something about it when Dylan leans forward.

“Get us some shots.” He says to the bartender before throwing a look over his shoulder at Sung, almost feral. “I’m feelin’ Fireball.”

He’s always been a gods damned light weight.

He’s far from drunk but he’s not sober either. He’s a pleasant level of tipsy that makes his body feel loose, the kind that sweeps his inhibitions to some dark and forgotten corner for the night. Tess is slumped up on the bar, cackling wildly at some insane story Dylan’s recalling about the time they apparently went to the zoo.

“Josh would not shut up about the rhino for like, five hours following. Rob was gonna fucking kill him.” He slaps his hand on the bar and Tess howls back. “You just had to show him the rhino, didn’t you?”

“I’m getting him a plush. Don’t tell him. You-you too. You keep your pretty mouth shut.” Tess is wasted by this point and reaching over Dylan to touch his face. “Why… why you gotta wear this thing? Whuz the point? Are you legally blind? DID I MAKE A BAD JOKE EARLIER!? I said… I said you were… you went in blind.” She pulls away and puts her face on the bar again, groaning loudly. “Fuck!”

“Ah, no it’s… it’s just a personal choice.” He looks at Dylan then and the other’s head is cocked just so. He was being studied, he realizes a moment later. Dylan had been staring at him. Sung’s blushing and ducking his head, carding his fingers through his hands. “You know me, Cool Guy over here.”

“Well, does Cool Guy wanna help me get Tess back to her hotel?” It’s nearly 2 AM and almost everyone’s cleared out by this point from the bar. He nods and Dylan’s smiling in quiet thanks, his gratitude all kinds of soft against his senses. “Tess, you got your keys on you?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” She shoves a hand into her purse and comes up with two hotel keys, still not even looking up. “I walked!” She announces to the wood grain joyously.

“That’s nice, Tess.” Dylan’s giving a good natured roll of his eyes as he goes to her other side. “You got the other side, shorty?” Tess is just a few inches shorter than him so it’s easy enough to loop his arm around the girl to steady her. “There we go. Okay Tess, you ready?”

“Born ready!” She throws her head back. His own core got weird when he drank but it was even weirder feeling what drunk people felt. Still, at least he could tell she was having a good time, just drunk enough to be gone from the world but nowhere near ready to puke (thankfully.) The streets themselves are still warm for the earlier summer heat and complete deserted, not another soul but the three of them skirting under bright lamp light.

“So- I didn’t catch your name.” Dylan’s voice breaks the silence some time later as their shoes catch the concrete, causing Sung to look up and over at him. He had went and changed out of his sweaty clothes before he had hopped into their little group and now he was just in a v-necked t-shirt and a pair of form fitting jeans. “Unless you really do go by shorty, to which I have to say man, my intuition is good.”

He hesitates before throwing all caution to the wind. He’ll probably never see this guy again, and Tess is so far gone from them at this point. “It’s Sung.”

“Sung?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Past tense of sing? You’re telling me that’s your name?”

“There’s much worse names out there.” Sung says dryly and Dylan’s relenting with an easy, amused laugh which Tess copies unknowingly and drunkenly, causing them both to snort.

“I like it. It’s unique, like you.” Oh? He feels his cheeks heat because while Dylan’s words are easy and unbothered the intent behind them, the emotion that causes them to be spoken, is anything but. “You’re all kinds of special, you know that Sung? Never just had someone get into it like that.” He’s grinning that knife sharp smile of his again and it’s doing things to him. Terrible, awful things.

“Ha!” The laugh barks out of him awkwardly and into the summer night sky. “Tess was right, she didn’t tell me what to do, but she was giving me shit for being a newbie and I was like ‘oh I’ll prove her wrong.’” He looks down at her then and back up at Dylan. Her feet are dragging and her lids are heavy and the poor thing is this close to just falling asleep standing up. “…Should I… should I carry her?”

“Can you?” Dylan’s brow is inching up towards his hairline in incredulity.

“Oh, easily.” He hefts her up and she’s like feathers in his arms. “See?”

“Jesus, alright. I got a good feel on your muscles but-” He wipes a hand across his mouth and eyes Sung, his interest reaching a gods damn fever pitch. Sung’s flushing and readjusting his hold on Tess, causing her to murmur softly in her nearing sleep. “Let’s get this one home, yeah?” He manages in a tight voice.

Dylan finally drags his eyes away, putting them forward once more. “Yeah.”

Sung’s not quite sure what’s happening in those first few steps because it’s quiet and it’s almost strained but then Dylan starts to ask questions and they’re the kind that he can answer. What brought him out to the concert, had he heard them before, did you have a good time? At the last one he can’t help it. He tips his head towards the other male and stares in silence until Dylan’s giving a snort of amusement.

“I like to make sure.” He says in a soft voice and then he’s dropping it, but Sung can still feel it- the other questions and comments that want to follow that statement. Dylan’s pushing them back though, not away but to somewhere where they be brought up again later, when Tess isn’t here.

He gulps at that.

They reach the hotel and have a grand time explaining Tess’s current status to the night auditor at the front desk and within minutes they have her in her room on the bed, her jacket removed and the blankets pulled up to her chin. “She’s like an angel.” Dylan muses, only half joking. He reaches down then and brushes the hair back from her face. “You think she’ll be okay?”

He’s a interesting one, this Dylan Germick. The stage persona is so much, so in your face, but even then underneath it you could see this Dylan, soft spoken with so much love and care inside of him. He had leaned over the crowd at one point, talking about being true to yourself, to loving yourself, to living in the moment. It wasn’t some schlock that had just sprung from his lips to please the crowd. He had felt it with every word, every syllable and Sung had felt it all.

“She’ll be just fine.” Sung finally says. They’re friends. You didn’t need to be an empath to see it, to know it. Whatever circumstances that had brought Tess and Dylan together, they had been for good. “You going back to your place now?”

“Implying I’d come back to yours?” Dylan means to tease it, he’s sure of it, but something in his voice goes low and his stare becomes that much more in that moment.

“Ah, ha… I dunno how the guy’s would feel about that.” His throat feels horribly dry and he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Got myself three other roommates.” They were between legs of their own tour and sometimes it was just easier staying on Earth rather than going back and forth.

“Sounds like a party.” They can’t be doing this here, in this poor girl’s room. He holds a finger up to his lips and jerks his chin at Tess before he’s pointing at the doorway. Dylan brings his own finger up to his lip and nods and they’re out into the hallway just like that. “Sung, before-”

Dylan goes very quiet and Sung has to stare up at him. He’s terribly tall, and terribly handsome, and everything about this isn’t quite right and yet everything feels right in this moment. “Was really good.” He supplies and Dylan’s giving a choked noise. “Not good?” He says moments later, only able to joke about it because despite Dylan’s incredulity at his words, his sputtering disbelief, there’s something there.

The same thing that’s been between them the whole night.

A spark, ready to explode into flame.

“God, no.” Dylan’s shoving his hair back from his face. “Holy shit, don’t even start to think that kind of nonsense. It was perfect, like you knew exactly…” The older male trails off and gives a huff of a sigh. “Listen, whatever the fuck it was, it was good.”

And? The question is moments from springing from his lips but he keeps them firmly pressed together, letting his core take in the trepidation pouring off the other male. Dylan looks down at the floor, releasing a low groan, before he’s leaning in and there’s barely an inch of space in between them. “I think I like you, shorty. I think I like you an awful lot.”

No one knew he was an alien here, no one could ever know what any of them actually were. There were laws in place to ensure these things but stupid Dylan Germick and his sparkling booty shorts and ridiculous mustache had him all sorts of twisted up and not caring about the consequences/

Gods, Havve was going to kill him.

“That’s good because I like you too.” He tries for low and confident, because that’s sexy right? But his voice comes out all kinds of strangled and tight and nervous and he’s quickly giving a choked laugh. “Oh, wow… Can I- can I get a redo?”

Dylan stares at him before he’s cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together, face turning red as he begins to hold his laughter back, but gods if it isn’t beautiful. Pure, unfiltered elation and bliss, and underneath it all an endearment that Sung’s not quite sure how he managed to cause in the other but he relishes in all the same.

“You are too much.” Dylan kisses the side of his face, right under his visor, and laughs against his flushed and freckled skin. Sung turns his head into it then and there’s just a breath between their lips. “Jesus, Sung.” He hears Dylan say.

“Dylan.” He breathes back, just as softly.

And they’re kissing.

It’s soft and careful even as Sung feels his back press up against the door to Tess’s room, the cool of the wood pressing through every inch of his back as Dylan holds him there. His hands find the front of Dylan’s shirt and he’s balling the fabric up in his fists, dragging Dylan that much closer. He wants to be as close as they were during that show, closer if possible.

There’s fingers in his hair and he almost doesn’t notice when the other starts to pull his visor off. He throws his head back hard and doesn’t even register the pain as it connects with the door, the near panic of it all drawfing it. “Visor stays on.” And later, what about your shirt? And yours ear too, currently covered by your hair but how easily could that be pushed aside? Dylan’s staring at him with hurt confusion and Sung’s caught between guilt and a little thing called a legal obligation.

The guilt wins out.

“…But it doesn’t have to if you don’t freak out.”

Dylan’s scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Sung, PB’s kind of about body positivity and about loving yourself so anything that you think is weird or wrong isn’t going to-” And as the other male is speaking his heartfelt words Sung decides it’s one of those things that you have to treat like a bandaid.

You just have to rip it off.

He pulls his visor off without warning and Dylan’s freezing up at the sight of it. His eye. He draws in a breath and the empath almost doesn’t react fast enough, his fingers just catching the scream that threatens to leave the human and holding it back. “You said you wouldn’t freak out!” Sung hisses and Dylan’s looking at him with two very wide, very human eyes.

A hand on his wrist then and Sung’s careful and slow as he removes his hand. “That was under the assumption that you were human!” Dylan hisses back and the dread is immediate. This was stupid. This was such a stupid, awful mistake…

But then the surprise fades and all that’s left is awe. “You’re like, literally out of this world.” Dylan whispers in wonder, those same hands that had framed his face moments before finding their way back. “What else?”

He can’t help it. He smiles. Sung pushes his hair back then and Dylan’s marveling at his pointed ear tips, touching the oh so carefully. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he wants to say, but he keeps quiet, throwing a few quick looks down the hallway before he’s pulling his shirt up. The light of his core shows up even now, faintly through the bandages that cover it. “Is that an Arc Reactor? Are you fucking Tony Stark?” Dylan’s voice is raising once and Sung’s shoving his fingers at his face again, shushing him furiously.

“Unfortunately no, I’m an empathetic cyclops in a band called Tupper Ware Remix Party.”

“Band!” Dylan chokes out and Sung can’t believe that’s what he takes from everything he’s saying.

“Really, not even questioning the name?” That was, oddly enough, the usual question they got more often than not. He’s pulling down his shirt and glancing down the hallway again surreptitiously before bringing his eye back to the astounded human. “Listen, Dylan… this is not public knowledge, at all. This is actually kind of insane and super illegal that I’m telling you all this, much less showing you.”

“So why?”

Great question. His mouth works, an odd sound issuing from the back of his throat as he tries to mentally process it. What made Dylan Germick so special? What made him worth the risk, the chance? All of that and more?

“Because I think I like you.” It leaves him in a rush. “I think I like you an awful lot.”

Dylan’s brows jump just so before his head drops, a low and amused laugh leaving him. “That’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.” Dylan says in a measured voice after a moment’s hesitation, his right arm bracing above Sung on the door, his left hand finding the empath’s chin. “Gone and used my own words against me.”

“You like it though.” A pause and he’s cocking his head, a slight grin coming to his face as he touches his core through his shirt. “I know, I can tell.”

“You-” Dylan says with a breathless laugh and before Sung can counter once more the human’s lips are on his again.

It’s so much more than the few kisses they had shared before. Dylan’s mouth slots over his and Sung can’t help but arch up into it. He can feel the other’s hands on his hips before they’re working their way up over his sides underneath his shirt and he’s moaning with it. “Dylan, we can’t.” He manages between kisses roughly.

“Now why?” Sung’s words are a challenge rather than a deterrent, causing a stubbornness to rise up in the other. Dylan’s leaning down then, breath hot against his neck before he bites the skin there. “Give me one good reason, shorty.”

“H-Hallway.” The word gasps out of him as Dylan begins to suck on the skin with the intent of marking him up. “Gods…” Another hickey just a few inches away from the other and he can feel Dylan grinning against his skin, wild and pleased.

“You wanna get a room? Cos I think at this rate we’ll just be kicked out for a noise complaint.” Dylan’s fingers are pressing into his ribs, creeping that much closer to his core. He’s giving a desperate laugh, knowing full well if Dylan touches it when he’s all strung out like this, he’ll lose it.

“So where?” There’s no stopping this now. Not when his own fingers are hooking into Dylan’s belt loops, not when he can feel his cock straining in his pants and Dylan’s own hardness pressing up against his thigh.

“Nothin’ can be easy, can it?” Dylan turns thoughtful for a moment and Sung wishes he could help the other brainstorm, he really does, but the human is tracing his fingers against his skin and it’s the most gods damned distracting thing in the world. “Now don’t go judging me.” He starts.

“Implying I haven’t this entire time.” Dylan’s snorts but Sung’s continues to push, nearly drunk off their shared joy. “What with the bedazzled booty shorts and the blazer and not to mention this…” He skims a finger across the other’s mustache.

“You oughta try it, you’d look good…” Dylan’s own fingers find his face and they’re outlining his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, pausing when they reach his mouth. There’s a thumb then pressing down on his lower lip and Sung’s inhaling sharply at it. “But I think you look perfect just like this.”

“You were saying… earlier…?” He’s breathless with it, from the intensity of Dylan’s stare, from the heat pouring off of him, the desire there and the nearing desperation of wanting and needing Sung in that moment.

“I’ve got a car.” Dylan manages hoarsely. “Ain’t nothing special, but at the very least we don’t have to worry about anyone bothering us.”

Were you really going to do this? Fuck a near stranger in their car? He swallows thickly before he nods, pulling his visor back on. “Well, what’re we waiting for?” He grins, hoping to the gods that his voice doesn’t shake.

“The fuck if I know.” And Dylan’s pulling away to twine their fingers together and his excitement bolts through Sung’s spine and core, tingling down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes. They can’t even wait, mouths finding one another as they fall into the elevator, Sung laughing uncontrollably as Dylan stumbles over himself, his own laugh bubbling out of him.

“What happened to all those sauve moves?” Sung says and Dylan’s giving him a dirty look with no menace behind it whatsoever. “Could it be, Dylan Germick is a big huge dork?”

“Could it be…” A pause, they go down a floor. “I…don’t know your last name, oh my God.”

“I don’t… I don’t have one.” It’s a bit jarring given that they’re this close to banging but he’s laughing it off, being light hearted about it. “But if you want a full name, you can call me Doctor Sung.” That’s his title, after all.

“Doctor!” Dylan’s eyes go wide. “You’re telling me you’re a bonafide PhD holding, medically trained porno stereotype?”

“Porno stereotype!?” Sung pushes at his chest and Dylan’s pulling him closer, peppering the side of his face with easy-light kisses. “Never mind, on second thought, I don’t think this is going to work.”

“I put that part at the end for a reason! You’re a talented man, Doctor Sung.” His voice dips dramatically and Sung’s being pulled close once more, their lips brushing each other’s just as the doors open up again. “After you.” Dylan’s releasing him, holding his arm out with a beautiful smile.

Gods.

Gods damn.

It takes a lot to nod a pleasant good bye to the night auditor, especially when Dylan sneaks up behind him and begins to push him out the door, tickling his sides as he does. “Bastard!” Sung yells when they’re back outside in the humid night air. It’s 3 AM and his face hurts from laughing and kissing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can tell it’s the same for Dylan too, his cheeks flushed red and his laugh lines undeniable as his eyes crinkle up with a loud laugh.

“Now c’mon, don’t be like that.” How easy it is to let the other grab him and manhandle him. Gods, he wants it, likes it. His own hands are sliding to Dylan’s back, down until they’re tucking into his back pockets and he’s able to squeeze the other’s ass through his jeans. “Oh, okay, now this is a good Sung.”

“Yeah?” Are they even going to get to the damn car at this rate? He doubts it, but they still ought to try…

“All up in my biz, getting handsy, looking so damn good.” Dylan leans in and Sung sighs into their next kiss. “Gettin’ me all worked up without even having to try.”

“Dylan…” His lips are numb at this point and his core feels like molten fire in his chest. “C’mon.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His fingers carding through his hair, grazing past his ears and down the column of his throat. How did humans do it? Feel so much? Experience so much? His eye is rolling back and the realization hits that this isn’t even anything. This isn’t even skin on skin. This is just them fooling around, not even foreplay.

Holy shit.

“The car, please.” He groans. “I’m gonna die…”

“Dramatic.” Dylan muses as he pulls away. “You think you can manage for another ten minutes, Doctor?”

Can he? He leans up to nip at Dylan’s bottom lip before he manages a tight nod. “Then let’s go.”

Sung’s nervous that ten minutes to the car means ten minutes to reconsider, to question what he was doing. It was like when he had been carrying Tess. It’s not though, not when he can feel the lust pouring off Dylan the entire time, the growing desperation.

Ten minutes passes by in an instant.

The car is parked behind the bar still and Dylan’s pressing his hands together in front of his face, eyes closing. “Thank you for not being towed.” He whispers to the sky. “God is a woman and she is good to me, Sung.”

“Not even a ticket.” He teases lightly as he comes up to the other’s side. “She’s really looking out for you.”

“She brought us together tonight, so yeah, I’d like to think so.” Dylan’s spinning the keys lazily around his finger, lips pulling at the corners as he smiles at Sung. He’s leaned up against the car and he looks so gods damned good. “Is that what you would say up in space?”

“We uh, we’d say it’s the Fates. One of those ‘everything happens for a reason’ things.” Dylan’s putting a hand on the nape of his neck and his eyes sliding closed at how good it feels, how right.

“You seem a lil’ too spontaneous for that kind of shit, shorty.” Dylan’s pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as the lock unclicks. The sound echoes out in the empty parking lot, deep inside Sung at what it implies. “…You still good?”

“Just a little nervous, I’ve never…” A pause. “Do we even have the right stuff?” Gods, he sounds so inexperienced when he says it like that. He gives an embarrassed noise and glances away, hugging himself self consciously.

“Yeah I’ve got stuff in the glovebox. You never know when the opportunity will arise.” Dylan’s turning him so they’re facing each other. “I do need you to tell me if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with though.”

Oh, he means so well. He gives a short laugh and covers his face. “I’m just nervous, I’ve never-” He’s pushing his visor up his head, hating how he can feel how flushed his cheeks are.

“Like, never never?” Dylan picks up on it right away, thankfully. He’s blushing harder now, nodding furiously. “Oh, oh wow. Okay. Fuck, that’s okay! Surprising but okay.”

“Surprising?” Sung manages out in a weak voice and Dylan’s nodding earnestly.

“You’re good looking and funny and very genuine. I’m surprised you haven’t been scooped up before this, shorty.” Dylan’s pulling his hands away, a comforting noise leaving him when Sung blanches. “Don’t start acting shy now.”

“It’s a lot.” Sung finally says and Dylan’s nodding, leaning in close.

“I know, and that’s why I’m gonna take good care of you. Shame it’s gotta be in a car. Would love to take my time with you…” Oh, oh that brings up a slew of emotions in Dylan, all of them tinged with a sensuous heat. “But I don’t think either of us can wait for that though, can we?”

No, no they can’t. The nerves are sliding away as he’s remembering how eagerly he had touched Dylan in front of who knows how many people, how easy it was to get along with the other, how good each kiss they had shared had felt. He’s circling his arms around Dylan’s neck and Dylan’s giving a pleased purr as he follows the action. “Please.” He whispers with a desperation he’s never felt in his life. It’s nothing and everything to him in that moment- in the large scheme of things it’s just two bodies becoming one, it’s something that happens every day, but this is Dylan and he really likes the other and despite virginity being held up on a stupidly high pedestal there really is something crazy about the fact that he’s finally going to lose his after twenty five years.

“How can I say no when you go and ask me like that?” Dylan says against his lips and Sung’s losing himself just like that.

He finds himself again when he hears the car door closing behind Dylan. Leather seats, Sung notes absently. He can’t really take inventory of anything else because the human’s got his hands under his shirt, pushing his shirt up without a moment’s hesitation. “Dylan.” The other’s name gasps out of him, back arching up with it.

“Am I allowed…?” A finger catching the underside of the wrappings on his core. Sung hates how desperately he’s nodding, a high laugh bubbling out of him as Dylan begins to work it all off. “Oh, wow… this is… can I touch it?”

“If you want this to end right now, f-feel free to.” Sung manages shakily and Dylan’s eyes go wide. “It’s just… it’s how the whole empath thing works. Takes it all in…? Processes it? Listen… p-point is, it’s overstimulated right now, sensitive…” He glances away.

“I fucking love this space shit.” Dylan breathes out and Sung manages a choked laugh. “D-do you have like, a weird space dick?”

“NO!” Sung yells loudly, jerking his knee up to catch Dylan’s side. “I’m not Phobos!”

“Who!?”

“MY FRIEND. THIS ISN’T THE POINT. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT PHOBOS’S DICK RIGHT NOW.”

“Oh my God.” Dylan puts his face against his shoulder, his whole body shaking with loud and unapologetic laughter. Sung’s laughing then too and beating his fists down on Dylan’s back. “Great now I’m going to meet your friends and that’s gonna be the first thing I think about.”

“Oh gods, shut up!” Sung groans. “You’re killing the mood. You’re killing me!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s try this again.” He sits up and his head hits the roof of the car, causing Sung to give a snort of amusement. “Gonna just uh, grab the stuff.”

“Mmm hmm.” He’s getting a face full of Dylan’s ass and he’s shoving the other forward into the front of the car, laughing even harder now. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dylan backs up and Sung’s laughing even harder. “Listen, you were at the show, you know that this is just what happens when you’re around me.”

“We get it, you have a nice ass!” Sung brings his hand down on it and Dylan’s casting a look over his shoulder, brows arched and lips pulled into a smirk. “Stop! You’re awful! Dirty and awful and-”

“You love it.” Dylan’s back between his legs, looking all to pleased with himself with a line of condoms and lube in one hand. Sung’s eye rounds just so and for a moment Dylan softens, his cockiness dissipating. “Don’t look so worried now…”

“I’m not just- just nervous… But if anyone’s gonna make sure I get taken care of, it’s Planet Booty’s frontman Dylan Germick.”

Dylan gets adorably embarrassed at that but he plays it off with a scoff and a playful roll of his eyes. Still, Sung knows, and it causes a warm smile to come to his features. “Now what’s that look for?” Dylan squints at him.

“You’re cute.” He says simply.

“Handsome.” Dylan counters.

“Both?” Sung offers.

“I’ll take it.”

Dylan’s laughing against his throat and his shirt’s coming off just like that. His own hands are pulling at the bottom of the human’s, desperate to feel that skin once more. “God damn.” Dylan shudders when Sung’s hands accidentally brush across his stomach, right below his ribs. Without warning their crotches are pressed up against each other and it’s not even funny how fast he gets hard again. Dylan takes notice, a low chuckle sliding out of him. “Someone excited.”

“Shut up.” He’s throwing the shirt into the front seat and running his hands up and down the other’s chest, thrilling at the feel of Dylan’s pounding heart through his skin. “You’re one to talk.”

Dylan rolls his hips and Sung’s jerking violently at the sensation. “Yeah? That feel good?” Dylan’s voice pitches low as he repeats the action and the empath is whining with it. “Oh baby, that’s nothin’.”

He knows that but it feels so good. He’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, eye screwed up as a heavy flush spreads across his cheeks. “So sweet.” He hears Dylan murmur fondly. He can’t manage any kind of response, his hips rocking desperately in order to feel more friction between the two of them. “You really want it, don’t you?” Now there’s fingers touching upon the hickies at his throat and then sliding down, circling just outside where the rim of his core is and the light of it flickers, filling the car with a warm, bright light.

“Dylan.” He gasps out. His long digits are sliding down further and further until they’re reaching the button and zipper of his jeans. “Oh gods, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on anytime soon.” Dylan dragging his zipper down oh so slowly and Sung’s arching his lower half into it, a weak laugh leaving him. Gods, this is insane, this is really happening… “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Just… just doing what feels right.” What felt natural. Dylan’s hands frame his hips and Sung can’t help the shuddering jump that he issues when the human’s thumbs press into his inner thighs. “Dylan.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get tired of hearing you say my name. Just watching your pretty lil’ mouth say it does things to me.”

“When… When are you going to start doing things to… to me?” Sung finally chokes out. Dylan stares at him with wide eyes, his surprise causing the empath to manage a weak laugh. “It’s a legit question.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Suddenly Dylan’s hand is flush against his hard on and Sung can’t even believe the noise that issues from him in response. “…Remember how I talked about us getting a noise complaint, shorty?” Oh gods. Dylan’s jerking him off through his boxers, grinning in a pleased manner the entire time. “Here I’m thinking I’m going to be the problem…”

He’s panting now, trying to stifle those moans that Dylan’s calling him out on (while also being all too eager to wring them out of him.) Just like that the other male is pulling his boxers down and oh-

Oh he’s sucking him off.

It’s a fluid motion that should be impossible (but that may just be the inexperience and his lack of knowledge on these things.) Dylan makes it look so easy though. He’s on his knees between Sung’s legs and he’s got his cock halfway in his mouth, tongue working the underside just so.

Sung arches off the leather with a loud gasp, pushing his dick further into Dylan’s mouth, nearly sobbing at the perfect wet heat of it. Dylan’s huffing and it could very well be a laugh but his mind is too far gone at this point to make sense of anything. He doesn’t even hear Dylan snap open the cap of the lube, too distracted by how Dylan’s bobbing his head just so, tongue circling the head. The other male pulls off and smirks down at him and Sung hates the desperate noise that leaves him in response, a drawn out whine of need that has no right being something that he can even manage.

“You like that?” He says, his tongue passing over his bottom lip as he cocks his head towards Sung. He gives an exasperated sigh at that and Dylan’s snorting in response, making a show of how he pours the lube out into his other hand. “Kay, try to relax. Tell me if it feels bad, or even if it feels just weird.”

Sung’s not even sure how he’s going to manage words at this point but he nods. A slick finger prods his entrance and he’s tensing without meaning to before giving Dylan an apologetic look. “S’okay, just trust me. We’ll take it nice and slow.” He presses it in and gods, that feels weird, but not terrible. He closes his eye and lets out a deep breath, trying to follow Dylan’s earlier suggestion.

Relax.

He gives a startled noise when the second finger slips into him but Dylan’s soothing it away with kisses against his inner thigh. “Doin’ so good.” He feels the words more than he hears them, spoken against his skin. “So good Sung. Gonna take me so nice.” The fingers are moving and it’s starting to feel kind of good, especially when he starts to scissor and curl them. He gives a choked moan when he brushes up against something. Prostate, his mind supplies a moment later, playing catch up. That’s your prostate, Sung.

Dylan’s tongue is pressing up against the underside of his cock as he begins to work three fingers into him now and Sung can’t even try to stop the slew of choked noises that escape him with each angled thrust of the human’s fingers. “Dylan. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…” He chants. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Dylan says in a thick voice and Sung looks at him finally, eye widening when he sees how he’s gone and undone the front of his own jeans, one hand shoved down the front of his underwear. Gods, that’s hot. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” He manages a weak chuckle.

“Don’t apologize, just-” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and shifts his hips desperately without meaning to. Dylan’s eyes follow the entire motion, dragging down from his face all the way down to line of his erect cock. “I don’t know how many times I have to beg for it.”

“Not anymore.” He’s shimmying out of his jeans and tossing to the front with the rest of their clothes. “Just gotta be patient for one more moment.”

He doesn’t want to be but he gets it, especially when he hears the wrapper ripping in the silence that follows. Safe sex practices seem so mundane in the face of all this, the steamed up car windows and his own breathlessness, but thank the gods Dylan knows what he’s doing. “Alright, alright. Hey.” Dylan’s leaning over him then, brow knitted with concern. “We’re gonna take it real slow, even more than before.”

Do we have to? He barely bites back the question, nodding shakily instead. He misses the feeling of Dylan’s fingers inside of him and the moment he feels the other’s cock pressing up against his entrance he’s shifting his hips just so, desperate to have something more.

Dylan’s right though, going slow is what Sung needs in that moment. He’s thicker than his three fingers and he swears he can feel each inch push into him. “Got no right feelin this damn good.” He hears Dylan whisper above him. “God damn, Sung.”

For a moment it’s just the two of them covered in a fine sweat, Dylan leaned into him with his hand braced on the headrest awkwardly, Sung’s legs bunched up and around his sides. “You feel good too.” He sighs out as his hips move of their own accord, pushing further down, taking more of Dylan inside of him. There’s a subtle ache there but he’s not focusing on that, instead letting his core take in everything the human was feeling in that moment. So much. It was a barely checked anticipation, eagerness, lust and desire, and then past all of that until he finds the care and concern there.

Dylan moves his hips and Sung’s coming back to reality, gasping as Dylan pulls back onto to fuck back into him. Good, it felt so good. He’s giving a weak noise as his legs tighten around the other in a mindless attempt to drag him closer. Dylan swears in response and moves one hand to grab at his hip, helping guide the motion of his frantic thrusts. “Like that, s-slow, fuck.”

They find a rhythm that’s all kinds of right. It’s just like earlier, Sung reading the exact things that Dylan wants in that moment, their bodies taking to it so naturally. “You’re killing me.” Dylan says as Sung’s hands skim up his chest, palms on his throat and fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He slides up the leather some and Dylan’s really crowding over him, spreading his legs even further apart. “F-fuck…”

He’s babbling on about how Dylan can’t stop, how he doesn’t want him to, about how good it feels. It’s falls out of him in a desperate slew and pitches higher with each frantic thrust. The whole car smells like sweat and sex and it’s not even funny how the sound of skin hitting skin turns him on. “Ride… w-wanna… wanna ride you.” He gasps out, causing Dylan to pause for a moment.

“Wha…”

“Y-you heard me.” He gives a desperate little laugh. “Wanna ride you. Gotta just… c-change positions…”

And they manage. Dylan has to pull out and it gets a bit awkward for a handful of moments but sometime later he finds himself in the human’s lap, his cock teasing against his entrance once more. “What’s causin’ this?” Dylan muses. He looks a whole different kind of wrecked than what Sung had seen at the end of the performance earlier. It’s flushed cheeks and an unfocused stare, all accented by the way he rocks his hips just so, causing his dick to rub up against Sung’s backside.

“Dunno.” And really, he doesn’t have a reason except for the fact that it seemed like it would work better like this. And it does, he realizes the moment Dylan slides back in, work better. It’s more natural like this in the cramped car, his own smaller stature causing him to not bump up against the hood of the car, his legs braced on either side of Dylan allow for the other man to grab at his thighs with a crazed desperation as they find their pace once more. “B-but it feels, nnngh, it feels real fuckin’ good.”

“Oh I bet. I bet you feel all kinds of good right now. Are you close?” A hand on his dick, working the length eagerly. Oh gods. His mouth finds Dylan’s and he’s kissing the other, sloppy and desperate, knowing he’s awfully close. “Can I touch you?”

“Y-you… you are?” His head lolls back with the statement and he hears Dylan laugh. “Huh?”

“Here.” He circles just around the rim of his core and Sung jolts with it before he gives a high keening noise of need. “Poor thing, all strung out and desperate, yeah? You’re so fuckin’ good, Sung. Holy fuck.” He leans in, fingers posed over his sternum. “Tell me when I get to see you again.”

“Whu… what…?” He can’t make sense of the statement right now but he swears the other’s implying they’re going to meet again, someway, somehow. “I don’t…”

“I’m not letting you get away, shorty. Besides, I still gotta hear your music.” How can he be calm, managing a near breathless but still complete conversation like this. “So tell me…”

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Sung chokes out and Dylan gives a disappointed hum, fingers inching away. “Dylan, I-I can’t… oh my gods, I can’t…fuh-focus…”

“Next week. Say it’s a date.”

“You are not asking me out a date when you- Oh! W-when you fuck me!” Sung hits his shoulder but Dylan’s really grinning now, his thrusts going slow and measured, causing the empath to groan weakly. “Dylan.”

“Say it.”

“F-fine! Fine it’s a date!” Who cares what he has going on, who cares what everyone will say. Fuck it. Dylan’s smiling at him and he really does like the other and besides…

They still had to do this the right away, after all.

“Gods, please, Dylan.” He presses his head against the human’s and one hand braces on his hip, helping angle the thrusts deeper and harder, and the other hand…

The other hand is brushing up against his core.

He comes without warning, his entire body jumping with the action, bending dangerously but gods if it doesn’t feel good. There’s cum all over his stomach and Dylan’s chest and he can only stay in place as Dylan continues to fuck him through his own orgasm, his own groans becoming shorter and more frantic until finally he follows suit.

“I can’t believe…” Sung says breathlessly, his arms still thrown around the other male’s neck, his forehead coming forward again to rest upon Dylan’s. “You really did that.”

“Fucked you?” Dylan’s just as breathless, his chest heaving with exertion. “Or asked you out.”

“Both.” He’s laughing without warning and Dylan’s joining him moments later. “Both! Holy shit!”

“What can I say, I think I like you, Doctor Sung.” Dylan’s hand is on the back of his neck, drawing him in closer, his lips just brushing over his, causing his core to flicker happily. “I think I like you an awful lot.”

#long post #SUPER LONG POST #twrpclub #dylan's a fucking top fuck off the edge of my dick #Anonymous

15 notes · View notes

waywardnerd67 · 7 years ago

Text

The Best Part of Me - The Devil’s Den

Summary: The find the hunting ground is a local dance club. (Y/N) and Dean go undercover but their plan goes all wrong. Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Fluff/Angst Word Count: 3667 A/N: As always this is unbeta so all mistakes are mine. Likes, comments and reblogs are splendid and I will love you doubly for them! Enjoy!

Sam shook (Y/N) awake first. She looked up at Sam groggily and then felt Dean move under her. “Good morning you two.” He said as they both looked at one another. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but how did you end up on my lap?” Dean asked as she got off him. “I was trying to wake you up so you could sleep on the bed, but you pulled me on your lap asking for five more minutes. I must have fell asleep too.” Dean snickered as he scratched the back of his head. “Dean, we need to get going to talk to the head detective to see if we can link any of the victims together. (Y/N), can you do some research online about the women?” She nodded as Dean grabbed his Fed suit and went into the bathroom to get ready. She pulled out her laptop and began researching each of the girls’ names. Once Dean was ready to go, they left waving to her as she continued researching. She remembered the song Dean had been listening to and looked it up on her Spotify account. She began listening to the lyrics and tears came to her eyes thinking about her feelings for Dean. (Y/N) thought the song was a little sappy for Dean and wondering if the song had any special meaning to him. She put the song on repeat and went back to her research.

A few hours later, the brothers came walking back in. Dean loosen his tie and fell back onto his bed. “Rough time?” she asked as Dean gave her a thumbs up. Sam walked in kicking off his shoes and sitting next to her. “The cops think they just left town so they have nothing. What did you find out?” (Y/N) smiled and handed her notes to Sam. “Seriously, is there nothing you can’t find on the web?” Sam asked as he flipped through her notes. “Well, in this case, it was really easy. All three of them were at the same bar picking up guys hours before they went missing. I don’t know if this really matters or not, but they all went to the same high school as well. Funny enough it was the high school I went too.” Dean sat up and looked at Sam, “That is either a really big coincidence or…” Sam started as Dean finished his thought, “(Y/N) is being targeted.” She shook her head, “That’s impossible guys. How could I be targeted? I have basically been living in the bunker for the last year. I only go out when I have one of you with me. Who would want to target me?” Sam sighed running his hand through his long brown hair, “She has a point Dean. It may just be coincidence since this a small town.” She nodded agreeing, “Let’s just come up with a plan and go from there. We know I’m the dragon’s exact type and he is picking them up from the same bar.”

Dean was now pacing taking off his tie and jacket leaving him in dress pants and a white button-down shirt making it hard for her to concentrate. “I don’t like this. Something feels off. Let’s go over everything. Where is he taking them from?” Sam looked at (Y/N)’s notes, “A place called The Devil’s Den. What a great name for a bar.” (Y/N) laughed, “It’s not really a bar but more of a dance club.” She groaned, “I’m going to need to go buy an outfit that is going to completely embarrass me. Awesome.” Dean and Sam both started laughing. “I wouldn’t be laughing because you two are going to have to buy something to wear in this club as well and that means going to a mall. Jerks.” Now Sam and Dean looked horrified at one another. They then played rock, paper, scissor to see who was going in with her and Dean loss. October in Missouri was usually a hit or miss month with weather. Luckily, it seemed that the weather was going to be nice and warm. Dean and (Y/N) walked into the local mall where she watched all the women stare at Dean. He was in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a black undershirt and his normal jeans with boots. “Why is everyone staring at me?” He asked as (Y/N) giggled, “You look like a Greek god in flannel. Face it Winchester, you’re a pretty boy.” Dean smirked and then shrugged nonchalantly. “Well this is your territory so where do we go for clothes in here?” Dean asked as (Y/N) pulled him into a store called Express Men.

Dean immediately felt out of place and wanted to run. “You know what, I trust you to buy me whatever you think I need to wear. I will just wait for you outside with Sammy in the car.” Dean started to leave, but (Y/N) grabbed him. “Dean Winchester get your butt back here. I need you to stay so I can get the right fit and size. Look, here comes a gorgeous lady to help us. Just flirt with her and forget about the fact you are uncomfortable.” A young blonde came right up to him asking if she could help him with anything. Before (Y/N) could say anything, Dean dismissed her, “No, my girl here wants me to get all fancy so she is all the help I need. Thanks though.” The blonde turned looking at her then to Dean and then walked away without a word. She hit Dean’s shoulder hard causing him to flinch. “What the hell?” he asked rubbing his throbbing shoulder. “We might actually need her help, jerk. Come on big baby.” She dragged him further into the store. She asked him his size in shirt and pants which got him hit again when he made a joke about being big in important areas.

As (Y/N) pushed Dean into a dressing room he was actually impressed with her choices. She picked a solid dark red button-down shirt that fit like his Fed shirts. She picked out a pair of dark blue jeans and a simple black blazer. Everything fit perfectly and he had to laugh at himself looking like a complete douche. “Come on Dean, let me see so I can decide if we need to change anything.” He stepped out and saw a group of ladies who worked there stop immediately what they were gossiping about to look at him. (Y/N) had her back to the dressing room but knew exactly when he had stepped out. All the women in the store were staring past her to Dean. She turned and her jaw nearly dropped. He no longer looked like a hunter, but like a gorgeous model on the cover of GQ. “Wo-ow, Dean you clean up nice.” Her eyes traveled from his feet all the way up to the cocky smirk on his face. “Thanks, I am officially a douche now.” He smiled big and went back into the dressing room. She laughed, “That is what we were kind of going for.” (Y/N) took a deep breath and turned to look at a pair of nice looking boots to go with his outfit.

The blonde came up to her, “Sorry about earlier. He is the best-looking man I have seen in a while so whatever you have done to get him keep it up because wow is he a catch.” (Y/N) smiled, “He saved my life and the only thing I have done is be myself. Really, he is…” Dean cut her off by putting his arm around her waist saying, “Hey babe, are we getting those boots as well? I need a size twelve, do you have them in that size?” He asked as the blonde nodded going into the back room to get them. (Y/N) shook her head at Dean, “What? I would rather be yours than anyone else’s.” He said simply as he put the clothes on the counter. She felt her face heating up as Dean paid for all his clothes. “For Chuck’s sake, three-hundred dollars for one outfit!” She laughed as Dean had sticker shock as they walked out of the store. “Come on, now it is my turn to be embarrassed.” Dean clapped and rubbed his hands evilly. As they walked into Torrid, someone called out to (Y/N). “(Y/N) (Y/L/N)! (Y/N), hey wait up!” Dean felt her tense up as a woman with short brown hair came running up to her.

“Wow, Mandy really great to see you.” She tried to say with a smile on her face. The one person in this world she did not want to see was the woman standing in front of her now. As if things could not get worse, (Y/N)’s ex-boyfriend came up behind Mandy. “(Y/N)? Wow, it’s been a long time. How have you been?” Justin Wilhelm asked as he put an arm around Mandy. She gritted her teeth and then put on her best smile and most pleasant fake voice she could muster. “I have been alright Justin. Just in town for a few days for some business. How are you two?” She felt Dean’s arm come around her waist, “Hey, I’m Dean, by the way, the boyfriend.” (Y/N) looked up at him with a confused look and then nodded, “Yeah, sorry this is Mandy Shilder and Justin Wilhelm. We all went to school together.” Dean shook Justin’s hand and squeezed it a little tighter than he needed too. “Actually, it will be Mandy Wilhelm in a week. We are excited about the wedding and here to pick a few odd items up.” Mandy was beaming as Justin just stared at (Y/N) and Dean’s hand tightly on her hip. “Congratulations, I’m sure you both will have a happy marriage and life together. We shouldn’t keep you then. We’re just here to pick up something to wear this evening. Great seeing you both.” Dean nodded as they walked into the store. (Y/N) looked back to see Mandy giving Justin an ear full. She took a deep shaky breath to calm down as Dean stared at her.

“Who was the douche?” He asked. She looked up to see that Dean had a stern look on his face. “Justin and I dated on and off throughout college. I caught him cheating on me with Mandy. To say they are my least favorite people in the world is a great understatement. Now, can we please find me a godforsaken dress and get out of this hellhole.” Dean nodded as he mumbled, “Took the words right out of my mouth, sweetheart.” They were all back at the motel as Sam and Dean went over the game plan for the night. Dean was also complaining about not getting to see (Y/N) in her dress. “It is only fair I would get approval of your dress since you approved of my clothes.” She huffed in annoyance, “Dean, you will see it when we go into the club. We’re not going together but you will see me as I leave her all dolled up. You got to see my shoes.” Dean let out a groan that only Sam heard thinking about the black heels that she picked out. Sam chuckled as he shook his head.

(Y/N) was starting to get nervous and still had an hour before she needed to start getting ready. Sam was laying down listening to his podcast and Dean was showering since she was going to be needing to bathroom for a long time. She decided to go outside and clean Baby off. She opened the trunk to grab the extra cleaning supplies she kept in there. She had special cleaner and towels for quick cleanings whenever the guys were on the road. Baby really did not need cleaning but it would help relax her so she started at the trunk and had made it all the way around to the front hood when Dean spotted her. He watched from the doorway as (Y/N) skillfully cleaned his car. She had her earbuds in and was swaying her hips to whatever song she was listening too. Dean sighed happily watching her and feeling his heart swell. He remembered hearing her say he was making her fall in love with him and it wasn’t fair, but she was equally making him fall in love with her as well. Her song changed to something more upbeat as she started dancing a little more. Then she surprised him by singing part of the song out loud, “Get down, swaying to my own sound, flashes in my face now, all I know is everybody loves me, everybody loves me.”

Dean was amazed by her voice and how beautiful it was. “I didn’t know she could sing.” Sam said startling Dean. “Dude!” Sam laughed which got the attention of (Y/N). “Hi guys, what’s up?” Dean was clenching his chest as Sam laughed even harder. “Nothing, Sam just scaring the crap out of me. Hey, I didn’t know you sang?” She turned bright red, “Uh, yeah I was in choirs throughout high school and college. I’m not very good but I enjoy singing. Dean, are you done in the bathroom? I need to start getting ready.” Dean nodded as she put away her cleaning supplies in the trunk. After an hour of (Y/N) being in the bathroom, Dean was getting worried. He was dressed, ready to go and getting tired of Sam’s teasing. “(Y/N), are you almost ready? I’m going to kill Sam if you don’t get out here soon.” She sighed, “I will be out in a few minutes. Do not kill your brother.” She looked in the mirror one last time to make sure she make-up looked alright. It had been so long since she had done her make-up that it was like relearning how too. She was satisfied with her smoky eye look and red lip stick which was the same color and brand that the other woman had worn. She had bought a curling iron so she could curl her long hair which she had pinned to one side and cascading over her shoulder. She opened the door and stepped out as she was smoothing her short strapless emerald party dress.

She was putting on her shoes when she noticed Sam and Dean looking at her funny. “What? Do I look bad?” she asked as every insecurity she had flew through her mind. Sam spoke up first, “(Y/N), you look fantastic. Wow, we’re just used to seeing you dressed like us.” She smiled taking a deep breath and then turned her attention to Dean. He looked amazing in his new clothes and boots, but something was not quite right. “Dean, let me fix your hair.” She went back into the bathroom and came out with a bottle. “What’s wrong with my hair?” He asked before letting her touch it. She giggled, “It’s not douchey enough.” He chuckled as he sat down on his bed allowing (Y/N) to easily fix his hair. She stood in between his legs and was right at breast level with her. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. He enjoyed feeling her hands work through his hair and then imagine how it would feel with her doing that as he did other things to her. “Okay, Dean you can open your eyes now.” She was looking at him funny and his jeans were a little tighter now in a certain area.

He got up and looked in the mirror seeing that now she was right and he was full on douchebag material. “Alright boys, let’s get this over with and gank a dragon. Words I never thought I would say.” They laughed as Sam opened the door for her. They drove the twenty minutes to the club. (Y/N) and Dean got out of the car as Sam was going to stay and watch the back door. “If I see anything I will call Dean’s cell.” Sam said as her and Dean gave him a thumbs up. “Alright, I will go in first then you come in a few minutes later.” she said as Dean nodded. As they rounded the corner out of sight of Sam and not quite to the club entrance Dean grabbed (Y/N)’s arm and spun her around. “Dean, what are you doing?” She asked right before feeling his soft lips on hers. She melted into his arms as she kissed him back. He pulled away first, “If anything happens tonight then I don’t want to regret never have kissed you.” She looked up at him through her lashes and softly wiped the red lipstick off his lips. “Nothing is going to happen, Dean. You have my back which means I will be the most protected lady in the place. I trust you fully.” She began to walk away and then turned back to him, “By the way, best kiss I have ever had Winchester. I’ll be thinking about that all night now.” She smiled as she left him with a dumbfounded look on his face. “I swear, I am going to marry that woman.” He mumbled to himself.

As Dean entered the club, the music was thumping loudly. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer as he looked around for (Y/N). He found her sitting at a table talking with a couple of guys. Immediately Dean wanted to go over there but she made eye contact with him and slightly shook her head. She continued her over the top flirting with the two guys. Dean felt his phone vibrate as he took a long drink of his beer. “Heads up, a man in a black suit is walking in the back entrance. Keep your eyes on (Y/N) and I don’t mean undressing her either.” Sam said as Dean groaned. “Dude, this is my worst nightmare seeing all these guys hit on her.” He heard Sam sighing, “Alright, alright I will keep my eyes on her and a man in black suit.” Dean ended the call before Sam could start his lecturing. He glanced over towards her table and saw her heading out to the dance floor.

Dean finished his beer and order two shots of their strongest alcohol. The woman who he was falling in love with was dressed in a sexy lowcut short dress and was being grinded on by douchebags. Dean threw back the two shots quickly and decided he needed to pass along Sam’s message to her. He walked out to the dance floor and right behind (Y/N). He glared at the two guys who took the hint to leave. She turned around as the song changed to Nick Jonas “Jealous”. She started laughing, “This is literally your song right now.” Dean was not paying attention to the song at all. He grabbed (Y/N)’s hips pulling her closer to him and she put her arms around his neck. He leaned down and spoke next to her ear, “Sam says a guy in a black suit came in the back entrance. Keep your eyes out for him because he could be our guy.” She nodded as she turned in his arms pushing her butt right up against Dean’s crotch. His grip on her hips tighten and she could hear him groan. “How is it that you are a virgin but you know how to dance provocatively and driving me crazy?” he grunted as she began to swing her hips around in a small circle twirling slowly in front of him.

She put one arm around his neck and the other on his shoulder. Leaning up to his ear and saying, “I may be a virgin but it’s not my first time at a club. Plus, I have watched porn before just never had the right person to reenact it with.” She smiled wickedly as Dean let his head fall back with a moan. The song ended and he let her go but not before whispering, “After tonight your virginity will not be a problem for long, beautiful.” She smiled and put her hand on his cheek patting it. “Promises, promises. I’ll happily be waiting for you.” She turned and walked back to her table where a drink was waiting for her. Dean stalked back to his corner of the bar and ordered two more shots. It was going to be a long night for Dean watching (Y/N). After she drank what was waiting for her she felt kind of funny. That is when a tall, dark and handsome guy in a black suit came up to her. “Hello darling,” he said with a British accent. (Y/N) tried to say something but she felt sluggish. She looked for Dean but could not make out where he was. “Looks like you may need a ride home. Let me help you.” The gentleman said smoothly. She tried to get away or say something all she saw was black.

Dean looked up to see that (Y/N) was gone. He had only looked away for moment and now he was frantically looking for her everywhere. He even barged into the ladies’ restroom scaring a few of them but held up his FBI badge. When he went up to the bartender he showed a picture of (Y/N) he had on his phone. “Have you seen this girl? She was wearing a green dress and had guys all over tonight?” The bartender shook his head and Dean slammed his fist on the bar. “Look again, did you see her leave? This is important.” The bartender rolled his eyes, “I think she left with Mr. Barker. He is a regular who is known to leave with a different girl every time he comes in.” Dean cursed and ran outside to Sam who was getting out of the car when he saw a frantic Dean. “Sammy, she’s gone. She’s gone!”

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @waywardrose13 @ladywinchester1967 @carryonmywaywardcaptain

#waywardnerd67 #the best part of me series #the devil's den #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #supernatural

35 notes · View notes

deadlypressure · 4 years ago

Text

Some Wardrobe Ramblings and Self Image Struggles

I hate tight clothing. I hate the way it makes me feel about my body, I hate how it impedes my motion, I hate that I can’t wear anything tight/restrictive across my hips without massive pain from the waist down after 5 hours.

I like long, full skirts, I like the way they flow and make me feel elegant.

I like heavy denim/leather jackets and thick soled shoes, I like that they make me feel strong. Heels do this too, with more elegance. I like how light and quiet my feet are in converse and vans, I like how convenient they are. Same for flipflops. I like how cute my sparkly converse are, I wear them with men’s jeans and giggle at how confused some hyper detail-oriented super-cis would get at the combination.

I don’t like that I don’t have the patience for makeup and hair styling, I hate that I don’t know how to deal with either one. It makes me feel immature and kinda like I fail as an “adult” woman

I like how comfortable my men’s carpenter jeans and t-shirts are, I even kinda like how they look. I don’t like how immature it looks, I feel like I look like a 13 year old boy. It’s really bad with any kind of graphic t-shirt.

I like to pair my carpenters with tight-ish tank tops, I used to wear men’s undershirt tank tops, they looked good once I stretched them out just right. They were form fitting without being skin-tight, had an alt/punk look with my jeans and work boots, and were easy maintenance too. But I didn’t like the cultural connotations of the wife beater shirt. I haven’t found a suitable replacement yet, women’s shirts seem to all be made of that soft knit that pills after just so many washes.

I like to wear long sleeve button downs, like flannels and twill work shirts, as jackets. I buy them from the men’s department, the women’s shirts are always too small through the shoulders and bind and pull funny. Oddly enough, a size small, slim fit men’s button down will be more flattering and fit around my chest and hips better than a women’s size medium or large. It makes me smile to think about that. Sometimes I buy them grossly oversized, just for the aesthetic, but I also buy them so they fit as intended.

When I want to both wear pants and feel semi-formal, like date night or job interview appropriate, I feel like I have to wear tight pants. This is literally the only reason I keep women’s jeans anymore. I feel like dress pants are too formal for interviews or dates anymore, unless it’s extra important somehow, but loose jeans are too casual and skirts aren’t generally suggested when walking into an interview for a job in a traditionally masculine field that typically involves some amount of grime and lifting. Irritating, but not the point. I feel like tight jeans are the only step between loose jeans and dress pants in terms of formality in pants, and I hate it. Again, if I try to wear a button down with my loose men’s jeans, I feel like a 13 year old boy.

I like loose sweaters, they feel comfy and cozy. I pair them with my button downs and feel classy.

I like necklaces, long and short chains. I like to layer them, just two at a time. I like rings, I think they make my hands look longer and more elegant. I’d wear earrings, but my ear piercings are weird and wearing any kind of earring for any length of time makes my earlobes itch. I feel no need to get a nose ring, the upkeep seems like too much for an aesthetic choice I’m not terribly fond of, but I like the idea of getting gauges in my ear lobes. I like the look of the 5mm, just big enough to get some cool tunnel designs, small enough to conform to conservative looks with the right plugs. Stone plugs are cool.

I wish my eye brows were longer and fuller, that my chin was sharper. I like my eyelashes, I wish my lower lip weren’t quite so wide, sometimes I wish my lips weren’t so full. Sometimes my head seems too big, sometimes it seems too small. My eyes sometimes seem too small. I’ve finally embraced my long legs and thick thighs, they’re not double c thick, but they are by no means small. I don’t mind my foot size, they’re just big enough that I can sometimes get adult men’s shoes and can still wear some kid’s shoes

I can’t seem to get comfortable with my chest, it’s not that showing cleavage makes me uncomfortable anymore, except when I bend over, just the feeling of them. Bras are uncomfortable, even when they fit, I hate the tightness over my chest and shoulders. I don’t like the feeling of my boobs moving, though, and I don’t like to feel them resting against my chest wall. I don’t like the feeling of my stomach spilling over my waist band, I don’t like to see the double lump in the front of my shirt from it, and though in some lighting on some days it doesn’t bother me, I still hate to see it most days.

I used to get really uncomfortable and uneasy at the stares I got when I wore shorts or a lower cut top. There’s still some of that, but it’s pretty heavily diluted with irritation. If I’m wearing anything remotely empowering, odd, or alt, I might even feel slightly... Smug? I guess? Uhg, that sounds kinda gross in writing. Basically, it’s just me reveling in the attention I draw when I wear anything remotely odd or flattering, feeling powerful because I made a distinct impression on a stranger without hardly trying. It’s shallow and petty, but I can’t deny that I feel satisfaction in it.

I like to wear black, it makes me feel strong. I like to dress elegantly, and I wish I could do it more often, but it’s draining and feels like it takes so much effort just to wear the clothing, like it has to be for some specific reason or else it’s just not worth it. It’s kinda draining to wear virtually any feminine clothes anymore, even if it’s casual. I want to wear more green, I feel like wearing black too often makes me more irritable, like I need to wear more green, blue, or pink to take a break from the heightened aggressiveness that I get from wearing black. I like to wear green when I want to feel like a dryad. I wear pink because it’s a cute color that makes me happy and makes me feel cute. I wear blue when I’m not feeling hype enough for green or pink, and just want to be a mellow kind of positive. I have a lot of disparate styles of clothing and can’t commit to one specific aesthetic image. By far the most common, though, are a selection of aggressive, all black outfits of varying levels of formality with heavy alt influences, but are still largely purchased from mainstream providers. Uncommitted alt or noob alt, I guess you could call it.

I know that clothing has no gender. I know that wearing makeup or not, styling my hair or not, does not make me any more or less of an adult or a woman. I know that I shouldn’t care about other people’s opinions, that I shouldn’t live for them or dress for them or societal standards. That tight clothing means nothing. That clothing does not inform maturity, or make a personality. These are just weird, inescapable feelings I have towards myself, my body, and the clothing I put on it. Honestly, this is just me trying to sort out some of my gender issues and maybe force myself to take an honest look at my wardrobe choices. Verbalizing like this and shouting it out into cyber space helps in a way that talking it over with family or writing in journal just doesn’t seem to. It’s kinda all over the place and confusing, the language is kinda disjointed, but that’s just how disorganized my thoughts on all of this are.

I know that labels aren’t necessary, and that you can just like something without going so far as to associate yourself with the community attached to it, and that gender is a spectrum and that you can just say you’re unspecified and leave it at that, but I have literally no firm associations for myself. I’m white. I like the weird bouncy music that pays attention to clever word play that good kids shows like to use. It’s part of why I like Steam Powered Giraffe and Aurelio Voltaire. I like music that features layered instrumentals and complex vocals, rather than focusing on electronic sounds and a simple single lead and back up vocals. I require daily dosage of music with a heavy bass sound and strong beat, I like the older Disturbed albums. Deep voices make the serotonin go brrrrr. I’m not Judeo-Christian, and that has been a consistent source of ostracization for me. I don’t do the social well. I’m paranoid and have troubles getting out of bed or otherwise finding the motivation to perform simple tasks to fill basic needs, I get fixated on unsolvable problems. I have a nasty gossip habit and an unhealthy reliance on my mother for social interaction and validation, which are definitely connected. I am touch starved, I have always had to ask for prolonged physical contact. I’m terrified of vulnerability, and it prevents me from taking the chance of rejection to make friends or explore my sexuality. I have low self-esteem and often find myself using stupid, arbitrary things to make myself feel superior or victimized. I tend to sound like a snob when discussing my tastes in music and humor or my relationship with religion.

All of this, I know for a fact about myself, but nothing to connect myself to a larger positive culture. No social community to offer new avenues of interaction, if I have to move to another state, there’s no place I can go to reliably meet someone with some kind of common ground or shared experience. The only source of social interaction I get is family and work. This ties back into my gender issues, am I only questioning my initial assumptions about my sexuality and gender because there’s this enormous community out there that I could be a part of without even knowing it? Could relative mental stability be one teet-yeet away? One magical answer to all of my unsolvable immaterial mental issues? Would it be such a consistent gnawing concern if I were the societal norm, or is it just my indisputable anxiety taking hold of an untrue thought and refusing to let go of it? Yeah, my brain is a mess, and I need a therapist to work through this with me, rather than just smearing my emotional waste all over the internet. At least the tag based system means no one will ever find this.

0 notes

shannaraisles · 7 years ago

Text

Set In Darkness

Chapter: 52 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M Warnings: None Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

A Bit of Flouff

"Is it absolutely necessary to have me naked for this?"

Vivienne didn't even glance up from her book. "In Orlesian, dear."

Rory gritted her teeth, but obligingly dredged through her mind for the appropriate words. "Dois-je être nu?" she asked again.

Thank goodness I took French at A-Level, she thought to herself. It might have been a decade ago, but without that solid grounding in French, she would have been totally lost when it came to speaking in Orlesian. And both Josephine and Vivienne insisted that she spoke Orlesian at the upcoming ball. The Inquisition party would not have to, since all remarks would be addressed to them in the Common tongue, but as a guest of someone else, Rory would have an unparalleled opportunity to eavesdrop on the real opinions being stated in the ballroom on the night. Therefore, both women were making her converse in Orlesian as much as possible, to make certain she was comfortable with the language.

The seamstress answered. "Oui, madame," she insisted. "The gown must be created from the skin out if we are to disguise your condition."

"But my body is going to be a completely different shape by the time the ball comes around," Rory complained in her still slightly broken Orlesian, shivering in the chill that clung to the stones of Skyhold.

She was standing, completely nude, in the middle of one of the guest rooms, and had been for the last hour. She'd been poked and prodded and measured, had her posture corrected, the state of her hands exclaimed over in despair. Vivienne's personal seamstress, Francoise, was delighted with the challenge of dressing the healer for Halamshiral - not only was she a peasant, but she was also a redhead, which was apparently rare among the Orlesian nobility. And there was that very real need to hide the bump that would be beginning to make itself known by Wintersend. The Winter Palace would be teeming with enemies of the Inquisition; there was no point in pretending that they would not know she was Cullen's wife when she arrived, and that made her a target. If the nobility were also to discover that she was with child, she would be a very tempting target, if only to destabilize the commander. Thankfully, Granthis Perivale was fully aware of the dangers. He had been communicating with Cullen via letters to reassure the man that his wife would be in very safe hands all evening.

"Darling, by building the gown around you, Francoise can compensate for those changes as they occur," Vivienne assured her. "She's a sartorial genius."

"I'm sure she is, but as a healer, I'm sure that standing naked and shivering is not good for me right now," Rory pointed out, hugging her arms about herself.

"Ah, madame may dress again," Francoise said then, stepping away with her notes in hand. "We will discuss fabrics, no?"

As Rory reached gratefully for her flannel undergarments, the First Enchanter of Montsimmard rose from her comfortable seat to join Francoise, looking over the chests of materials the seamstress had brought with her from Orlais. It seemed as though Vivienne was determined to make sure Rory sparkled at the Winter Palace, probably because this was the only gown the Inquisition was commissioning. Everyone in the official party would be wearing the uniforms Josephine had decided upon, and none of them were particularly happy about it. Rory's gown was the only display of Inquisition fashion that would be on display, and for some reason, having her well turned-out meant a great deal to certain members of their group.

"Nothing dark," Vivienne was saying as Rory emerged from the folds of her woolen dress, shaking the loose strands of her hair back from her face as she twisted to tug the laces at her back snug once again. "She's too pale for these, Francoise; they will utterly wash her out. Something dusky, I think, to compliment her skin. And no red."

Francoise was muttering to herself as she rummaged through her chests, several rolls of cloth already laid out over her side desk. One - a deep, rich green velvet - caught Rory's eye, but Vivienne had already vetoed it, apparently. Shame, I like that one. The two women more versed in Orlesian fashion were now sorting through a chest of brocades and silks, seeming to communicate with little more than the occasional grimace.

"Isn't silk going to be cold?" Rory asked curiously, looping her belt back into place about her hips. "I mean ... it's still going to be winter."

"Nonsense, darling," Vivienne assured her confidently. "The ballrooms at Halamshiral can be terribly stuffy. You may find yourself overheating, even in the lightest of fabrics, especially in your condition."

Rory rolled her eyes. She'd been hearing that a lot in the last week. In your condition was an excuse people kept trotting out to keep her from doing things that were more interesting than her restricted day-to-day had become. She couldn't complain too much, though; Cullen might take that as an excuse to start expanding his duties again.

"So what is the fashion in Orlais?" she asked. She'd never really got a good grasp on the Orlesian style in the games - in Inquisition, it had seemed that the Orlesians actually considered the ugliest silhouettes the most fashionable.

"At the moment, the fashion is for bare shoulders or high necks," Vivienne informed her, despite the fact that her habitual fashion was neither. "Short sleeves must be worn with gloves. The ruff is optional, though more often worn with a high buttoned collar. The gown itself is full, worn with a long corset that extends well past the hips."

Rory grimaced - that sounded familiar. "I'd rather wear the gown without the corset," she pointed out mildly. "What's wrong with a short bodice? To just below my breasts, for example?"

Francoise looked at her sharply. "You propose to go to the Imperial Court, wearing a gown that is not the fashion?" she asked in astonishment.

"Why not?" Rory shrugged. "It's not like I really care what they think, and besides, it might even change the fashion. You'd be in the vanguard, Madame Francoise."

She could see that this idea was definitely intriguing to the seamstress, who turned hurriedly to unearth her sketch books from her desk. Vivienne eyed the healer with one raised brow.

"An interesting idea, certainly," she agreed in her measured way. "Francoise ... you have sketches of just such a gown, I believe? You offered it to Lady de Montfort when she was concerned about the breadth of her waistline." As Francoise nodded, flicking through her sketches, the First Enchanter glanced at Rory. "It was just an affectation in that case. The woman developed a passion for sugar, and it showed within months. She decided to encase herself in steel-boned corsets, rather than regulate her sweet tooth."

Rory snorted with laughter. She could sympathize with the lady in question; it had been so long since she herself had tasted anything sugary, she would definitely have trouble restraining herself. "So no one will automatically think I'm pregnant if I show up in this hypothetical style?"

"Ah, madame, they will not," Francoise said confidently, opening up her sketch book to show off a page of designs that looked infinitely more comfortable than the buttoned up, corseted styles the Orlesians were so fond of.

Scanning the page, Rory felt herself smile. It was a sweet surprise to find something relatively familiar in this world from time to time. The sketches Francoise was showing her were of empire-waisted gowns, very similar to the kind of costumes she'd seen on The Borgias. Italian renaissance was the style she personally considered them; here, they would likely be considered something very different. But they looked more comfortable than any of the other designs she'd been shown, and there was definitely room to hide any bump in the flounce of the skirt.

"These are lovely, Madame Francoise," she complimented the lady. "This really isn't my area of expertise - I will wear whatever you create, but ... surely the Imperial Court deserves to see what you can design to your own satisfaction, rather than theirs?"

Vivienne masterfully hid a smirk. The consummate politician in her could see Rory's rather blatant buttering up of the seamstress for what it was - a desperate attempt to get out of looking so utterly ridiculous as the rest of the court for the one night she would be circulating in their midst.

"Mistress Rutherford is quite correct, Francoise," she pointed out, allying herself to the healer. "You are not dressing a member of the Orlesian nobility. You are dressing a member of the Inquisition, one who does not traverse royal circles and therefore does not have to slavishly follow fashion. My dear, you have been dressing me perfectly these past years, and I have never been a slave to fashion."

Francoise considered the sketches thoughtfully. "I am tempted, Madame De Fer," she admitted ruefully. "These overdone styles are not to my personal taste. If there is no objection, Madame Rutherford, I will use these sketches as a base for your design. Simple decoration, I think. I know an embroiderer who will pounce upon an opportunity to create a ribbon for hemming that has more than animals upon it."

"Embroidery?" Rory blinked in surprise.

"Nothing over the top, madame," the seamstress promised. "This gown will be tasteful, simple in elegance. You will be noticed; I hope you will give those who comment with flattery my name."

"Francoise, if you can make it so that I don't feel like a complete idiot in this thing, I will wear your name written on my mask if I can get away with it," Rory assured her, surprised when the solemn woman burst into laughter.

"I do not think that is entirely necessary, madame," she assured the healer. "But you will require a chemise - cambric, I believe would be best for that. Long sleeves, I think, to show off the fine material of that chemise. Madame De Fer, would you suggest brocade for the outer layer?"

Vivienne eyed the sketch for a moment, turning to touch a bolt of pale blue brocade. "This, I think," she said thoughtfully. "And perhaps something a little deeper to contrast beneath, in green, or yellow?"

"Oh, no, Madame De Fer," Francoise objected, shaking her head. "If this blue is our choice, then the contrast shall be the white silk. The colors of the winter just passed, yes?"

Vivienne's brows rose in surprise, her eyes turning to consider Rory for a moment. "Yes," she said slowly, obviously imagining this combination on the freckled healer. "Not bare shoulders, but wide, I think. And, of course, she must wear her hair loose. Curled, perhaps."

"A cap of the same blue thread woven in place of a hat?" Francoise suggested. "Madame Rutherford, do you know what your mask will be?"

Rory blinked. She'd been lost in this conversation, aware that the ladies were planning not just an evening but the entire day between them. It was going to take forever to be declared presentable, she could tell. "Um ... I think it will be a simple half-mask," she offered uncertainly. "I'll ask Granthis in my next letter; he's the one procuring the masks."

"A half-mask would suit you better, certainly," Vivienne mused. "I shall also write to him. The man cannot be trusted with your sartorial elegance without sufficient guidance."

Francoise was scribbling in her notes as Rory laughed at this assessment of her friend. Vivienne was absolutely right; Granthis tended toward bright, obnoxious colors and deliberately unfashionable cuts, underscoring his physical ugliness rather than trying to hide it. She'd written him that way, and he certainly didn't disappoint. That Vivienne knew this about him was just funny, though.

"Very well, Madames," the seamstress said with a nod. "I shall begin work very soon. Mademoiselle Trevelyan's wedding gown must come first, but I may switch between as I work."

"Am I allowed to get a sneak peek at Evy's gown?" Rory asked hopefully. The inner fangirl was so proud of her - she wasn't normally interested in clothes, but the prospect of being dressed up like a princess was appealing on a level she'd not previously considered. She hadn't outright rebelled during the process once. Not yet, anyway.

Vivienne laughed, shaking her head. "Not at all, my dear," she informed the healer in amusement. "Not even I have been allowed to see the beauty under construction. It is dreadfully frustrating."

"Mademoiselle Trevelyan was very plain," Francoise offered in apology, but it was obvious that she was enjoying this small opportunity to hold something back from Madame De Fer. "None may see the gown until she walks into view on the day."

"I'm sure she was," Rory chuckled, shaking her head. "I'll just have to curb my enthusiasm and wait, like everyone else. Thank you, Madame Francoise. And I apologize for the complaining. I'm not used to being observed so closely."

"Not at all, madame, you are better behaved than some of my clientele," Francoise assured her. "The children, they never stand still."

I'm better behaved than a child. Well, it's something, at any rate. Smiling, Rory nodded to her, moving to back out of the room as Vivienne turned to go over the decisions made. Should she trust Vivienne De Fer with whatever it was she was going to end up wearing? To be honest, Rory didn't care. She just wanted Halamshiral over with. Pretty dress or not, she was going to be walking into a nest of vipers, and even if Granthis was a mongoose in secret, she would be very relieved when it was over.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #MGiT #modern girl in thedas #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #vivienne de fer #orlesian seamstress #orlesian fashion #preparing for halamshiral #pregnancy #to be honest #nothing really happened in this chapter #oh well #onward and upward

2 notes · View notes