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buckybabybaby · 4 years ago

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café d'amour

A/n: my entry to @firefly-in-darkness 's challenge. Thank you for letting me enter! I left it to the last minute once again, but! This time it's not late so... fingers crossed next time I'm early xxx

Proof read with a text-speech device.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader (gender neutral)

Word count: 3537

Warnings: none! :]

Plot: Maybe covering a friends shift in a city park coffee kiosk won't be too bad if it means running into a certain super soldier.

coffee-shop sort of au, fluff and more fluff.

Masterlist

*****

The machine humming quietly in the corner of the tiny hut seems to be mocking you, a constant reminder of just how out of your depth you are. People who think working in a coffee shop, or in your case, a take-out kiosk, is easy, should try it for a day and see if their opinion changes. This is so far away from your usual job, safe and warm re-shelving books in the colleges library, but a promise is a promise, so you've just got to suck it up for the next few weeks and hope you don't mess anyone’s orders up too badly.

Peter is going to owe you big time after this.

When he'd asked you to cover for him in his small business, you had agreed without properly thinking about what time of year it is, and how cold the wind can be when you're stood still in it for hours on end. Two days in and your hands have aged about ten years from the combination of frequent washing and the icy air, and the layers of thermals you've got on under your uniform fleece and matching joggers are making you look a little rounder than you actually are, you couldn't care less though as long as you are warm. The water heater provides a little warmth, leaking through to your skin if you press up against it, but you've found the best way to escape the freezing gusts is to crouch down below the counter when the queues have diminished.

That's where you are now, half heartedly straightening the packets of treats, getting distracted by the many different types of cookies and brownies, and not keeping an eye out for potential customers.

“Hello? Is this self-serve or what?”

The voice startles you, so close without warning, almost like they crept up on you. Hopping up quickly, you hover your hands under the sanitiser and rub them together as you collect yourself and prepare your speech.

“Hello! Sorry! Hello,” You start again, marginally calmer, “Welcome to-”

That's as far as you get, not even able to ask what they 'fancy today?' before the customer interrupts.

“Just a coffee. Black. No fancy milks or syrups or anything, no cakes or anything extra. Just coffee, okay?”

Finally looking up from your now dry hands, you take in the man who has placed such a blunt order. He's attractive enough, the little you can see underneath his hat, something about him familiar to you, his tone definitely one you've got used to over the past day or so, though he's not anywhere close to the rudest person you've served.

You smile pleasantly, in the disarming way you've learnt. “Okay, just coffee, got it. And a name for the cup?”

He looks around at the lack of other customers. “Is that necessary?”

Laughing self-consciously, you say, “Probably. If it gets busy I'd hate for it to get mixed up. I'm new.”

“Ah.” He tuts. “James.”

“James, cool. That'll be a few minutes.”

As you grab a pen to write his name on the sleeve of a cup, he shuffles off to the side, adjusting his hat as he does, and when his coat slips a bit down his left arm your mind goes blank. He's not paying attention to you so your staring goes unnoticed as you realise why you thought he was familiar earlier, wondering how it didn't click when he said his name, but then again wrapped up in his scarf and gloves it's not surprising. You're guessing he doesn't want to be recognised right now, hence the use of his real, less known name, so before he can catch your mild freak-out you look away and messily scribble on the side of his cup.

Even a simple order can be a struggle for you, and now, slightly flustered from serving the Winter Soldier, you make sure to double check the measurements before you start, concentrating hard to make the greatest cup of coffee he's ever had. There's a reason this kiosk has a reputation for the best hot drinks in the park and you aren't about to ruin it by messing up the order of Captain America's best friend.

Breathing a sigh of relief as you place the lid on top of the perfectly brewed coffee, you tap it against the table to get his attention. “Here you go. The machines ready.”

Pulling his hands out of his pockets, he swipes his card to pay then grabs the cup off the counter, murmurs something that could have been a 'thanks' and takes off along the dim path leading him deeper into the park.

“Well.” Huffing as you lean against the glass front of the booth, you watch his retreating form with a small frown. He wasn't anything like you thought he might. The media has built him up to be some sort of tragic figure, one to be feared and pitied in equal measure, but all you saw was yet another city dweller on a quest for caffeine.

At least now you have a story to tell from your time working in the coffee kiosk, aside from the ones about frozen fingers and half-spilt drinks.

*****

The next day he's back, around the same time in the afternoon, as the daylight is dying and the street lights are flickering into life, about an hour before closing. You're finishing up a complicated order for a group of friends when you notice him standing away from the small crowd, waiting for them to leave before he approaches.

“I want a coffee like yesterday,” He says, adding as though an after thought, “Please.”

“One black coffee?” You confirm.

He nods, watching closely as you locate the pen to write on his cup. Before you can even open the cap, he's butting in. “Why don't you have a name tag?”

You freeze, confused. Meeting his eye, you flush under the intense way he's staring you down. “Why don't I-?”

“You see, I have a very good memory, despite my age. I distinctly remember telling you my name is James, so imagine my surprise seeing my nickname written on my cup when I looked properly.”

His expression is not giving away any clues on how he feels about this invasion of privacy. Heart racing, you search for the right words to apologise, and convince him you're not some crazy stalker.

There's no chance to speak as he's continuing. “So I thought I'd come back today and find out your name, then we'd be even. But you don't have a badge on. Why not?”

“I'm so sorry,” You breathe, unsure what more you can say. “I swear I'm not a weirdo, I just recognised you yesterday and I must have written the wrong name by accident.” A beat of silence, then you propose a way to make it right, “How about free coffee for life?”

He laughs, a glorious sound in the crisp air, and your shoulders relax at the genuinely happy noise. “Aren't you new? Are you allowed to make promises like that?”

Wincing, you admit, “Probably not. But when I explain it to Peter I'm sure he'll understand.”

“Peter?”

You start working on his drink as you talk. “He owns this place. And normally works this shift, I'm only covering whilst he's away.”

“Oh.” The hissing of steam drowns out his next sentence, you only catch the last half, “-here how long?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe? Not too long hopefully. You'll have a professional barista back soon, don't worry.”

“I think you're doing fine.”

The words are spoken so softly, such a contrast from how you thought this conversation would end, and the shock has you fumbling with the finished cup of coffee, nearly spilling the scolding liquid all over your fingers.

“Careful.”

Taking the cup from you, his hand lingers against yours for a moment too long and you force yourself to stand up straighter and away from his touch. The last thing you want is to become a horrible cliché, falling for a customer after a few sweet lines.

He grabs a few napkins to wipe the cup dry, then looks expectantly at the card machine.

“I meant it, free for life,” You say, determined.

Shaking his head, he roots around in his pockets, pulling out a couple of notes and sliding them across the counter towards you. “Old fashioned money it is then. I didn't mean to come across as angry earlier, or yesterday, thinking about it. Sorry about the whole,” He waves his hand around vaguely, “Murderous vibe I give off, or whatever Sam calls it.”

He rolls his eyes fondly when talking about his team mate, and you giggle as you reassure him. “You didn't look murderous, just a bit like you might sue me.”

“Ugh.” He wrinkles his nose. “Not really my style.”

Your bank balance is thankful. “And to answer your question, I'm Y/N.”

Blowing on to the top of his drink, he takes several steps back, all whilst keeping eye contact. “Well then Y/N, I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”

“I'll be here.”

With that, Bucky waves goodbye with a wide smile, disappearing into the dusk as you wonder just how much trouble he's going to be.

*****

The kind of trouble you don't mind, you find out when you run in to him again the next day, a lot earlier than you imagined. In an attempt to keep yourself warm for the long hours stood in the open, with only a waist high counter between you and the frozen air, you've taken to walking around the park before you are due to start, so the heat generated by the exercise keeps you warm for at least a proportion of your shift.

The sunshine is deceptive this afternoon, doing nothing to raise the temperature as you wander around the edge of the lake. Lost in thought, a sudden shout from behind makes you jump.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait up.”

Turning around, you struggle to place the voice as you scan the few people also on this side of the park. None of them are even looking in your direction, let alone trying to draw your attention, and you're about to continue on your way thinking you must have misheard when a body nearly crashes into yours. This is not an image you ever thought you would see; the Winter Soldier panting to catch his breath after jogging up to you, all because you're on first name terms and not because you've suddenly turned to a life of crime.

“Bucky?”

At your bemused tone, his face drops. “Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt. If you want to be alone, I can go, I just thought-”

“No! No, it's okay. I don't mind a bit of company.”

You share a smile, and he lets you take the lead back along the small track, winding its way between the trees and the water.

He breaks the silence a few meters along. “So, what do you normally do?”

“Me? Err,” You pause, trying to think of how to make yourself sound interesting to someone who spends his life side by side with superheroes and literal gods. Sighing in defeat as you conclude you're always going to be boring in comparison, you mumble, “I work in the library where I'm also a student.”

Bucky doesn't appear to think you're dull. “That's cool!” He says, like he means it. “I miss being in school.”

“So did I, so when I got the chance I went back. I'm a bit older than most of the students-”

He snorts. “I know how that feels.”

“But I'm determined to get my degree this time.”

“I'm sure you will.” He grins at you and you're inexplicably filled with hope that he's right. “And after? Do you know what you want to do once you've graduated?”

You shake your head. “Right now all I'm focused on is passing exams and submitting essays on time. I'll think about the future when it's closer.”

“That's fair. Nothing wrong with waiting to figure things out.” More reassurance from this relative stranger. You didn't know how much you needed it until just now.

“Most people say I need a ten year plan or something.”

“Most people are wrong. But,” He pauses, and you hold your breath as you anticipate his words. “Can I suggest if you go into business, maybe don't start off by offering life time free supplies at the drop of a hat?”

Two minutes in to this 'friendship' and he's already teasing you? What is going on? Turning your face away so he can't see your stupid grin at this turn of events, you really would believe this is some sort of perfect daydream if it wasn't for the all too real frozen mist clinging to your coat and the ends of your hair.

“I'll try to remember that, thanks.”

Dodging a puddle in the middle of the path, you're trying to come up with a witty retort to impress him when your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“If you need to get that-”

“Oh, no. It's only my alarm to remind me not to wander too far from work before I need to start.”

“Soon?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll walk you back, then.”

Not wanting to leave his side quite yet, you let him accompany you back through the trees, but you refuse his offer to carry you across a muddy part of the path where the stream has burst it's banks. Flushing as he laughs at your careful steps, you manage to get across without completely ruining your shoes, informing him you've learnt the hard way that these trails aren't exactly 'white trainer friendly' as the kiosk looms into view.

Relieving the worker from the morning shift, you rearrange the counter back to the way you like it before any customers turn up, watching Bucky hovering nearby until you give him a questioning look.

He clears his throat. “If I came this way the same time tomorrow, would I bump into you then?”

The hopeful look he gives you would be enough for you that, even if this walk wasn't part of your daily routine already, you would have made it so in order to see his again.

“Uh huh. Are you planning too?”

“Whenever I come with Sam, we always end up getting recognised with the way he can't keep his voice down. It's nice not having that sort of attention. So if you don't mind?”

“I don't mind.” A patron approaches and reluctantly you turn away, sending a quiet promise to your new friend. “See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

*****

The days past so fast now they're full of work, both at the kiosk and in the library, trying to study, and, most importantly, walking with Bucky every afternoon. Some days the two of you talk the whole way, conversation flowing so easily you're amazed at how honest you are, like you've never been with anyone before, and other days you walk together in relative quiet, completely comfortable in each others presence.

Falling for him is the quickest and easiest thing you've ever done. Dealing with your feelings, however, might be somewhat harder.

With the lighter evenings comes the message that Peter is finally on his way home and soon you'll be free of your second job. It feels like a bolt from the blue, to be reminded that this is only temporary and in not too long you will no longer have an excuse to see Bucky.

You mention it to him a week before your last shift.

“Isn't that good?”

“I guess.” Your reply is short and unenthusiastic, changing the subject quickly to hide how heartbroken you are.

Time moves too fast, and before you know it you're greeting him on that last day, taken aback as he presents you with a small cardboard box, which when you take it, is much heavier than it looks. “Natasha gave it to me for you. Apparently it's really good for your hands. I thought you could try it? Now you won't have to wash them constantly?”

Scanning the sides reveals that it contains a moisturiser, from some luxury brand you've never even thought to try, too far out of your price range. “Oh, this is too much, I can't take-”

“Yes you can.”

“Let me give you something-”

Gently tugging your hand back out of your bag, he stops you from grabbing your purse by enclosing his gloved fingers around yours. When he doesn't let go, instead pulling you along and down towards your now usual route, you let him, gaping at the back of his head before coming to your senses and squeezing his hand in a kind of thanks.

“This is a very kind present.”

He shrugs it off. “It's nothing. When it's your birthday or something, then I'll get you a proper present. Presents, plural,” He emphasises as your eyes widen at the thought. “Nah, this is just one of the hundreds of products Natasha gets sent in the vain hope she'll provide the companies with some free advertising. Better you have it than it go to waste.”

It still feels like a gift to you. “Well then, thank you for thinking of me.”

“Always.” The implication of that one word would have been entirely missed if it wasn't for the panicked look on Bucky's face as he corrects himself. “I... I mean, of course.”

Stopping in the middle of the path, your joined hands cause him to halt too and the atmosphere grows tense as you stare at each other, unsure where to start. The minutes haven't stopped ticking down until you're due on your last shift, and with the implication that comes with hanging over you like a dark cloud, now seems just as good a time as any to bring it up.

You hesitantly begin. “Bucky, can I say something?”

Mutely, he gestures for you to proceed.

“Right, so you know today's my last day at the kiosk, at least until Peter goes away again, so, that means I won't have a reason to walk around here any more. Or I won't, unless...”

“Unless?”

“Unless I do. Unless you still want to come around the park with me, even if it's for no more reason than simply going for a walk?”

“I'd love that.”

The relief that flows though you as he agrees is almost physical, gripping onto his hand in yours just a little tighter.

Feeling brave, you dare to push your luck. “And if it was more than just a walk?”

It takes a moment, but then you see the realisation dawning on his face, a slow smirk appearing as he takes a step into your space. “More?”

You know he knows what you mean, that he's playing with you. That doesn't soothe your doubts though, hoping beyond hope that you're not misinterpreting his teasing.

“Yeah. More.”

Letting go of your hand in order to bring one arm around your waist and pull you closer, your own come to rest against his lapels as he dips his head down.

“I think I'd like more,” He whispers.

You swallow as his gaze slips to your mouth, sinking in his embrace as his lips brush against yours, so soft and brief it barely registers,

Moving back to put a bit of room between the two of you, his thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth as you pout sadly.

“You can have another one once you've finished tonight. Maybe. Or maybe you'll have to wait until after our date tomorrow.”

You frown. “Tomorrow?”

“Yep. If you're free?”

“Always.” Repeating his earlier phrase with a sly smile, you turn around to continue along the track, leaving him speechless for a second before he rushes to fall into step.

His arm slides through yours. “So, is it okay to wait for you tonight?”

“You've just kissed me and you're still asking that?”

“I'm just checking.” When you don't answer he presses, “Is it? I don't want to impose.”

'Too late for my heart', you think but don't say, not wanting to scare him off, instead nodding in reply and leaning into his side as you wind your way through the woodland path. The fear you had felt this morning at potentially having to say goodbye to Bucky feels like a distant memory, and as you watch the sunlight dance across his hair you realise you could never have let today be the last. You started this job reluctantly and now, instead of Peter owing you for the favour, it seems you owe him.

Peter doesn't needs to know just yet, you decide.

That usually particularly muddy part of the path has become even muddier after the overnight rain, and this time you allow him to pick you up in his arms and carry you across, feeling its finally appropriate now your relationship has changed. Setting you down on the other side, he presses a kiss to your forehead almost absent-mindedly, and your tummy does a flip as you take a second or two to admire his profile.

You sigh happily. So much for not becoming a cliché.

*****

Thank you for reading!! Masterlist

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybabybaby

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 4 years ago

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That Someone- Roope Hintz

AN: yeah, idk man. This took far too long to write, esp with thought of quality that isn’t there. HOWEVER, I can’t stare at it any longer so here ya go.

Word Count: 2,5k

TW: alcohol, slight angst, general pining

Roope has never been an easy person to understand. One moment he is your best friend, and other times he’s one of the star players of the Dallas Stars. And the two roles, they shouldn’t be all that conflicting, but apparently they are, and you don’t know how to change that.

“Roope, can you please for one second listen to me?”

You speak up in between giggles as he is curled up in your lap.

“No.”

He mumbles into your stomach, the vibration of his voice against your stomach making you chuckle.

“You promised. The deal is that you make dinner every other time.”

“But m’tired.”

His protest makes you card a hand through his hair, which you know is a bad idea. It only makes you feel like your best friend is something more, to you.

“Please just make dinner Roope.”

You sigh. And with a grunt he actually gets up and moves to the kitchen while rubbing his eyes in a childlike manner.

You twist around on your couch and grab your phone from the coffee table.

People always scrunch their noses when they see that your lockscreen is just black. Most people call you boring for it, most of all Tyler Seguin, the Star that you feel closest to, if you don’t count Roope.

You don’t care though, because you don’t want to have anything there. (If you were to have anything there it’d be Roope though). And that about sums up how far into the deep end you are. You have a creeping suspicion that this is what Tyler knows, and that’s why he keeps teasing you about your black lock screen.

Shaking your head, you turn on some soft music on the TV speaker and wander into the kitchen.

Roope has a towel hanging over his shoulder and is quietly humming along to your music.

“You really only know how to make pasta?”

He turns at the sound of your voice.

“It’s damn good pasta and you know it.”

He teases with a smirk. You have told him on multiple occasions just how good his pasta is.

“Maybe so.”

“It’s finished soon, Miss Denial, will you set the table please?”

Roope asks as he turns back to the carbonara he has been making.

It’s the domestic, small things like this that make you fall even further. He just doesn’t realise. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the only person you have admitted your feelings to is you. Because when other people ask about Roope, he’s always just your best friend. As jokingly as he does it, calling you Miss Denial rings more true than he thinks it does.

------

As one of the Star players of the Dallas Stars, Roope acts a little bit different. He brings you out after a big win, he does, but you never go together. There is always some excuse, mostly that he thinks you will have more fun getting ready with the WAGs. Because of that it’s just easier if you carpool with them. Or take your own car. For better or worse, because that means you have to stay sober for the entire night.

And even if you think every night is gonna be different, it never really is. Tonight is apparently no excuse.

They have just won over the Islanders on home ice and are the usual suspects en route to the regular club. Roope had the winning goal and was over the moon when he got out of the locker room and media.

You had dressed in an emerald knit sweater, not being able to put on the jersey Roope had given you. You had tried to put it on, you really had, but feeling the weight of having “Hintz” on your back was just too much for you. Especially when you know that it’s all you’ll ever get.

You’re all sitting together around two tables, doing shots and nursing different drinks. Roope is beside you on the outer end of the table. Tyler is on your right, for once having sworn he isn’t gonna get completely wasted.

You’re all laughing at Miro as he downs another shot of something he supposedly likes, you can tell he’s close to the limit now. However you aren’t too scared, you’re his ride home anyways.

Roope’s arm is resting behind your head and as the time starts nearing one am, even with the flashing eyes and loud music, you’re starting to feel drowsy. You lean into his chest and rest there, unknowingly making the whole table swoon.

“Hey, I’m gonna go get another water.”

Roope’s eyes are slightly glassy as you look at him. Carefully he moves out of his seat to allow you to move.

“Want anything?”

“Just a beer please.”

Roope mumbles softly and you nod.

The queue to the bar is longer than expected, and ten minutes have passed when you walk from there.

You’ve almost reached your table when you notice an absence. It makes you stop and causes someone to bump into you, making you spill half the glass of water. You know they’re gone before you can register who it is.

Sighing, you make your way over to the table and the vacant spot.

“Hey, anyone know where Roope went?”

The group around the table is more reduced now than you first realised. Apparently also feeling very pitiful, ‘cause no one wants to answer the question. Until Tyler does.

“Uhh, some chick came up asking for a dance.”

Miro stumbles to your side, positively hammered, and folds his frame over yours.

“Roope s’stupid.”

He slurs against the top of your head.

“Stop Miro.”

You sigh.

“But s true.”

“Please not now, here drink this.”

You say and hand him the half empty glass of untouched water.

“I think I’m gonna try to get this mafioso home for the night.”

The remaining team members and their significant others all nod understandingly. And since you can’t see Roope, you start to hug people goodbye.

“Don’t worry, he’ll come to his senses sooner or later.”

Tyler whispers into your ear as he hugs you, giving you an extra squeeze.

You set the still full glass of beer down by Roope’s spot, and take Miro’s arm so you can lead him out of the club.

“C’mon, let’s get you and me home.”

“Okay, I feel a little dizzy.”

Only a few minutes later, after you and Miro have departed, Roope comes back to the table still fixing his cap and wiping lipgloss off his lips. Immediately he spots the glass of beer and takes a big swig of it. It’s not until he finishes swallowing that he notices the eyes on him, all except one pair.

“Where did Y/N go?”

He questions.

“So you finally notice, huh.”

Tyler mumbles, yet somehow Roope catches it. Making him frown at his teammate.

“She went home, took Miro back to his place as well.”

Jamie’s date of the night replies. Roope looks towards the exit, but sees no sign of you or his teammate.

----

In all honesty, when you got the first message from Roope, asking why you left, your heart couldn’t take it. So you just shut off your phone and went to bed. And thank god for Sundays, cause you sleep until 11am that morning. It’s not good sleep, and you still feel tired when you drag yourself to the bathroom, and sad. The person in the mirror doesn’t quite look like you, she is much more bleak, faded.

Regardless, you step into the shower and try to wake yourself up. Even though you don’t have anything to do, you still want to wash last night off your body. The soft almost non exiting pressure stream of water doesn’t help much, only adding to your frustrations. So you step out and dry off, before going back to your bedroom. You dress in a pair of old sweats that hang off your hips ever so slightly and a henley sweater you find in the back of your closet.

Your phone is still on the kitchen bench when you walk in, and you decide to power it on again. As soon as you punch in the pin code, it’s overflowing with messages from Roope. And the general gist is worry and confusion. When you click on his contact, and see the messages and the times they were sent, it’s your turn to get worried. They go from tree am to ten minutes ago.

Me: Roope, you need sleep

You type before you can think twice, and send the message. Almost instantly there is a new message, but this time only the one.

Roope: I’m on my way over.

And you swear you are frozen in time, cause minutes go by and you don’t notice, only staring at the screen. A knock on your door shakes you from your stupor, and automatically you go to open it.

Roope looks rough, to put it mildly. He is still in the same clothes as last night, his blond hair is messy even hidden underneath his cap, and his eyes are red and droopy.

“You need to sleep, Roope.”

“No, I need you.”

You sigh and open the door a little further, motioning for him to come in.

“Roope, please. You have to sleep.”

It feels like there is little else to say. You don’t want to have this conversation with him now, when he might not remember it in the morning. Much less when you are on the verge of crying yourself.

“Please, ‘jus wanna talk.”

And he sounds so so sad, when he talks. You never could resist a sad Roope, there is something in the way his eyes plead with you. So you close the door and turn towards him, and are met with that exact look.

“Okay, just go sit on the couch.”

You sigh, watching as he stumbles over to the couch. The trip to the kitchen seems far too long, but when you make it you pull out a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen. It isn’t until you shut off the running water, that you hear the soft snores coming from the living room.

Walking into the living room, you see Roope completely collapsed in what has to be an uncomfortable position. At that moment you decide to let him sleep it off. Even if he doesn’t end up remembering this moment when he wakes up. You set the glass of water on the coffee table along with the ibuprofen, and decide to go about your day in other ways.

Like getting your laptop and sitting down by the tiny kitchen table you have, to attempt some work. In reality you end up editing some playlists on your Spotify and getting consumed by it. The next time you look at the clock on the stove, it shows 3pm. And you figure you’ve wasted enough hours on the internet.

Quietly you close your laptop and take off your headset. When you walk into the living room, Roope seems to have realized how uncomfortable he was and has curled up into a ball. Crouching down in front of the couch

“Hey, you need to wake up.”

He groans, but you can tell he is starting to wake up from the way his brows scrunch together. Reaching out, you place a hand on his upper arm and shake him a little. Slowly but surely, his eyes flutter open, meeting your gaze. The whites in his eyes are still a little red, but he seems a little clearer now.

“Morning”

Roope mumbles, while getting up. He swings his legs over the edge and his upper body follows. You can’t help but let out a little chuckle while shaking your head at him. He leans his elbows on his knees, and lets his head drop into his hands.

“Here, drink some water.”

You hand him the glass from the table and go to shake out two pills from the bottle.

“No no, I’m fine without.”

He says after taking three generous gulps of water from the full glass.

“It will help with the pain.”

You tell him, holding your hand out towards his.

“Why?”

He asks, and you answer absentmindedly.

“Because there are chemicals in this that will help you relax.”

Roope shakes his head at you and sighs.

“No, I mean, why are you always so kind to me? Why do you care so much?”

You feel your heart sting and sink to your stomach.

“Do you not want me to?”

The fact that you are getting defensive about this should tell him enough. But he only seems to get more fired up.

“Don’t answer a question with another question.”

And you swear, time stops for a second, giving you time to think a few thoughts. First, that you should never have let him stay. Second, that there are a million better ways to do this. And third of all; fuck it.

“Because I want to be someone to you.”

He frowns at that, trying to take a step towards you, only to discover that you’ve moved to the other side of the coffee table.

“Of course you are someone to me, you’re my best friend.”

Roope even cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“I want to be that someone to you. Not just your best friend. I want you to hold me in public, I want you to take me out on the dance floor when we go out, and I want you to not rush home after a night in. I want to be able to put on your jersey and not feel like an imposter. I think I want more than you’re willing to give. And that’s fine. I’ll get over it.”

You don’t realize you have moved through the apartment, and you don’t realize that Roope has followed you. You do know though, because you can see his reflection behind you in the window.

“All of me, if you’re willing. I’ll give you all of me, because you’re not just my best friend, you’re the friend I call whether I’m happy or sad. When I’m having a crisis or don’t feel well I think of you, or come here. I just didn’t think you’d want all of the public stuff, cause I know you’re a private person.”

He has been moving closer and closer, now you can feel him behind you, across the entire plane of your back. In the reflection, his head is a little bent and his breath is fanning across your neck.

“All of me, is what I can give you.”

Roope whispers, sending tickles down your spine.

“Are you sure?”

You close your eyes as you lean into his chest, feeling him wrap his arms around your front.

“Never more sure of anything.”

The confirmation makes everything fall into its rightful place inside you, so you lift a hand to the back of his neck, which causes him to lean down and place a soft kiss on your lips.

#roope hintz #roope hintz imagine #dallas stars #nhl #nhl imagine #roope hintz angst #roope hintz fluff #roope hintz fic #roope hintz blurb #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars fluff #Dallas Stars angst #Dallas Stars Blurb #nhl blurb #nhl fic #nhl angst

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Just Below the Surface (Taywhora) - Phryne

A/N: Hello all and welcome to the shark fic, an absolute labor of stupidity, a half-processed thought come to live in the middle of the night. This fic is inspired by @incorrectdruk’s post. Please comment and like if you’ve enjoyed; it means the world! Also a shout out to my wonderful girlfriend, @scarletenvy, who reviewed and supported me throughout this fic. All my love to you.

Tayce tries to get Aurora out of a design funk by taking her to the aquarium for some inspiration. Aurora has never actually seen a tiger shark in real life—she gets a rude awakening about sharks, and imminent failure.

When her drab little apartment is getting her down, with its peeling pre-war paint and hard water stains; when the rain no longer feels soothing and mesmerizing and sleek; when Aurora finds herself tapping her pencil against her face instead of against her sketch pad, Tayce insists on a change of scenery, even when sheets of rain are splattering against their windows.

She comes up behind Aurora, spreading her fingers over her shoulder. It’s a risk, knowing that Aurora might startle and throw her head back into Tayce’s nose, but she kisses the crown of her head anyway. “Not going good, is it?”

Aurora groans, but nonetheless leans into the touch. “Looks that way, doesn’t it?” She holds up her sketch pad with nothing more than the model on the page.

“Reckon you can’t send nudity down the runway, love?” Tayce laughs, digging her thumbs into the base of Aurora’s neck. “Though I’d call off work to model that one for you.”

Ignoring the quip, but for quirking a brow, Aurora shrugs out of the touch and continues. “I’ve got nothing. No inspiration. No real idea. No thoughts about structures or colors or fabric I’d like to work with.” She slams the pencil down. “I’ve started from every square one I can think of and I’ve still got nothing. I’m supposed to put more of myself into these designs but myself is giving me nothing useful.”

As much as Tayce understood the classic Aurora ‘I’m not amounting to anything, everything I do is dull and boring and meaningless, but, insert forced laugh here, if I give up now I can still be your sugar baby, right?’ speech was coming, and would typically be chased by a reminder that she was only a couple years younger, exceedingly talented, and a retail worker’s salary could never sustain both of their tastes, Tayce decides to cut off the monologue before it even starts.

“Let’s go.” Tayce says, releasing Aurora’s shoulders and giving a hearty clap. “Grab your slicker, we’re going to the aquarium.”

Aurora hums before letting the request fully sink in. “Why are we going to see a bunch of scum covered fish?” She pauses, pushes her hair out of her face and tries again. “It’s a lovely idea, but I don’t have much time for a date right now. I need sketches and fabric samples by Monday.”

But Tayce ignores her, taking the pencil and pad from Aurora’s hands and stuffing them into her purse. She continues absently, “There’s a new tiger shark exhibit that I think—”

“A fucking tiger shark?” Aurora turns around, resting her arms on the back of her chair, glancing up at Tayce and speaking through that Cheshire Cat smile of hers. “You’re telling me we’ve got a tiger shark now?”

Tayce feels herself brighten along with her. “It looks rather interesting, world’s greatest predator and all—”

“Of course it is, it’s a tiger shark. Like, just try to think of something more fierce than that.” Aurora punctuates every word as she hauls her purse into her lap and sweeps the contents of her desk inside, zipping the top even as her fuchsia and forest green pencils stick out from the corners, muttering on about the world’s greatest predator, how it’s an absolute destroyer.

Tayce takes Aurora’s sudden disinterest in organizing her pencils into their case—by most to least used—as her cue to leave and slip on her boots, already wearing a pleased little smile.

They settle into the tube, Aurora securing her umbrella before sitting down next to Tayce. It’s easy to find a seat, the car less crowded than usual, likely thanks to the weather. Aurora thinks she’d like to stay inside with the rest of London, put the kettle on, and work in the living room where she can see the damp landscape before her and Tayce on the couch beside her, but that wasn’t working before. So here she is, wet blonde hair plastered to her forehead, the thought of seeing the tiger shark still coursing through her, lighting her like neon.

“Concept: a tiger shark suit,” Aurora poses, just as Tayce holds her hand out for Aurora’s purse. She obliges and continues. “A little shift on the color forecast. Instead of yellow and grey—so bloody industrial, I’m thinking orange and grey. Would need a poly to get that wet-look of vinyl though…”

Aurora tends to work like this, rambling off her ideas in a whirlwind, usually tearing apart the flat for the nearest pad of paper to get it all down before the idea’s lost forever and she’s left pouting while Tayce is trying to work as well. She’s become used to the smattering of Post-It pads around the house, reminding Aurora to dig the pens out of her pockets before running the wash, cheeky grins as she pulls pencils out from Aurora’s frantically done bun before properly lying down for bed. It’s endearing though, the chaos Aurora works in, the way Tayce’s chaos stabilizes Aurora’s.

So Tayce digs around in the tote until she pulls out a little baggie with her croissant, and Aurora’s notebook, pleased at how she’s taken to the leather bound folio Tayce gifted her for their last anniversary. She hands it over before picking at the almonds atop her croissant, adding, “bitch to make though, isn’t it?”

Aurora knows what Tayce is referencing and almost shudders at the thought of more vinyl after her Spring/Summer 19’ collection. She spent hours on end cursing the fabric, trying not to tear the tissue between, which she used to help the panels float smoothly under the presser foot as she sewed them. On an industrial machine, no less, which was a bitch to haul up into their flat. It was a disaster to get an invisible zipper into the gown, the damn thing ripping itself out with every try-on. And at the end of it all, she had to sew Tayce into the finale catsuit not fifteen minutes before the show, which meant she had to cut her right out of the garment at the end of the show, with her girlfriend’s reassurance that it was “bloody sexy” and “what’s a little bit of scissoring between two lesbians?” doing little to sage her qualms about ruining hours of work in a snip.

“Maybe some treated leather.” Aurora nods solemnly and writes notes wildly, not sure she’ll even be able to read anything besides the “SS19” with an angry cross over it when she reviews them later. “Either way, I’m thinking it’s going to be fierce, especially if I can figure out the movement; move like the tiger shark, no? To get that floating through water feeling.”

Aurora doesn’t expect an answer, seeing that Tayce is occupied with picking almonds off of the pastry. She holds her hand out for them, throwing them back in one shot before taking half the pastry as well. “Why get the one with almonds if you just got to pick them off?”

“The taste, the flavor,” Tayce says through a bite. “And I know you prefer them, so…”

Aurora gives her a light shove before pulling her back in by the crook of her arm. “You’re soft,” she taunts, capping her pen and sticking it in her hair.

“We can’t all be tiger shark ladies, babe.” She gives her pastry a deep bite, raising her brows at Aurora as she does so, if for nothing but to catch a chuckle from her, from what was a miserable day.

Aurora shakes her head, but nonetheless shifts closer, taking a bite and swallowing quickly. “Stupid, absolutely dense—”

“—The idiocy, the dullness, dimwittedness, superficiality of it all,” Tayce continues, brushing the crumbs off of her black trench jacket, picking a couple tricky ones out of the red stitching with her nail. Head resting against Aurora’s still damp shoulder, she adds between a cheeky grin, “We gotta finish up; Waterloo’s in just a bit.”

By the time Aurora gets her things gathered and finds the umbrella, Tayce is taking her hand and leading them to the exit. They schlep along to County Hall, Tayce holding the umbrella high above them, Aurora wrapped around Tayce’s arm, bundled up against her, pressing her bag flush against her side. She’s practically buzzing by the time they reach the aquarium, her childish enthusiasm endearing, and Tayce feels it bubble up in her as well. It’s contagious really, Aurora’s joy. It practically travels through the air, filling the room.

“Here, let me,” Aurora says, fishing for her wallet as they approach the ticket counter. “Since I’m spending our date looking at a shark.”

“Tell me what you really think of me, why don’t you,” Tayce quips back, laying on as much annoyance as she can while still holding a grin, studying the exhibit poster in front of them.

Aurora takes her card back, muttering as she stuffs it back into its slot. “It’s the world’s fiercest predator, babe. I don’t know what to tell you.” She hands Tayce her ticket before taking her hand, dragging her to the queue. “It’s me in animal form, though I wouldn’t typically pair black and orange, especially for spring.”

Tayce breathes out a laugh. “Then what am I?”

“Dunno. Maybe a squid.”

This time, Tayce fully cackles. “A squid?” she asks, and she feels the rest of the queue turn to look at them. She shakes her head playfully as Aurora eyes her long legs and arms before she shrugs, already moving on, focused on a poster next to the queue.

“Or maybe an absolute hound.” Aurora pokes Tayce’s side before wrapping herself around Tayce’s arm, tugging them forward.

“Shark fact,” Aurora continues, reading off the line-marker. “Tiger sharks have a near completely undiscerning palate. Some tiger sharks have eaten sting rays, birds, squids, old tires—even other sharks.”

“Sounds like you, A’Whora,” Tayce teases, pulling her in closer, draping an arm around her shoulder.

Aurora rolls her eyes and pats Tayce’s forearm. “I obviously only go for the finest of squids,” she says, before glancing up and giving a pronounced chomp.

“Babe, please don’t bite my pussy.”

Aurora doesn’t get to respond, finding herself right in front of the ticket scanner, who’s shifting around a bit in his uniform, unable to look at the two women in front of him. Not that Tayce or Aurora particularly care about offending some greasy twenty year-old boy at an aquarium with the concept of pussy. He scans their tickets and gives them a nod, so they walk off toward the exhibit, breaking into laughter once they clear the lobby.

The hallways are lined with fish, of all different colors and sizes, flitting in and out of coral and anemones and grasses. There’s a reception class gathered around a circular tank, trying to find the Nemo, but to no avail. Tayce knows that usually, Aurora would stop by the tank and help the kids out, wholeheartedly join this hunt for the orange and white fish. She’d remind the kids that the little clownfish might be taking a break in his anemone, just like he did in the movie, but that he’ll surely come out, especially if they’re kind and patient. And usually, Tayce would stand back a few feet and watch the scene play out, heart swelling in the process.

Today, however, Tayce’s heart is going double-time as Aurora takes her hand and pulls her through the crowd. Aurora’s on a mission, weaving in between strollers and other couples, skirting behind tour guides as they explained how algae grows, following the signs pointing toward the tiger shark exhibit with a cutting precision Tayce hadn’t seen since last year’s Arlington sample sale.

Aurora breaks free when she sees the tank, running up to it and practically smashing herself up against the glass, with no care for the second years or the family of four next to her.

Tayce catches up. “Love, you don’t gotta press your tits up against the glass, he knows you got them,” she breathes out, wrapping an arm around Aurora’s waist, pulling her back in the process.

“What the fuck,” Aurora whispers. The look of wonder she once carried is replaced with shock, her face fallen, a dangerous pout forming. “That’s not a tiger shark.” She trains her eyes to the tank and speaks quietly, pointedly, like she’s jabbing the shark with each syllable. “That’s just a shark.”

Tayce gives her a moment, her own lips pursed as she studies Aurora, then the shark, then Aurora again, searching for the disconnect but unable to find it. She was so excited to see it, but in a moment, something had gone exceptionally wrong.

She gives up, drumming her fingers against Aurora’s waist, before pointing to the sign. “We went to the right place, babe. The sign says it’s Oliver the tiger shark and he’s 17 years old…today.” Tayce turns Aurora toward the sign, but her feet stay firmly planted, her eyes trained on the shark. Nonetheless, she continues. “It’s his birthday, love.”

“Fuck his birthday,” Aurora grumbles, head following the shark as it passes by them. “He doesn’t look like a bloody tiger shark to me. Why’s he gray? Where’s the stripes?”

“Aww, he’s old. That’s why he doesn’t have any stripes.”

Aurora shakes her head like Tayce doesn’t get it, and frankly, she doesn’t. As far as Tayce sees, it’s a perfectly good shark, swimming about, living his life, being as inspirational as any shark can be. But Aurora’s miffed, her mood as clouded and dreary as the weather outside.

She hikes her purse up her shoulder and leans forward again, her nose and two fists pressed right against the glass. “You’re a filthy liar, Oliver.”

“Babe, it’s a shark—”

“I’ll still fight an old bastard like you. You’ll pay for your lies.”

Tayce takes her by the shoulders and spins her around, marching them out of the exhibit. “Ok, you can’t fight a shark so it’s time to leave him alone. Time to find some other inspiration in the…” Tayce looks up at the next exhibit’s sign as they walk. “…sea spiders.” She shakes her head. “Christ.”

As they walk away, Aurora softens, though she’s still dreary and listless. The spiders, of course, aren’t helping—they’re disgusting little heathens, what with their spindling legs and radioactive green backlight. Even Tayce has to admit that. But as she pulls Aurora in for pictures, she finds her limply pressed against her side, disinterested in the pursuit, even though in one of the pictures, it looks like the spider’s balanced on Aurora just so, like it’s woven itself into her waves, made a nest atop her head. Tayce quickly sets this as a new background; Aurora only gives a hum in response.

They continue with the deep sea creatures, with their dark tanks and neon blue tint, stopping at the octopus and its inky purple light, all spread out against the wall of its tank, its orange tentacles sticking and peeling periodically. Tayce again insists on a picture, “for memory’s sake, even though he looks like a bollock, all pruned from the bath.” Reluctantly, Aurora lets out a breathy laugh and gives in. Tayce counts this as a win, even though her pouting resumes once they move on.

At the next tank, Tayce is amused by the little round fish that dips in and out of its hole, its mouth forming an “O” as they approach it. Aurora cracks a smile, but for a moment, when Tayce pulls her in by the shoulder and makes the same face, jaw slack and nude-painted lips rounded like the fish’s. Aurora claims she’s not going to kiss “fish lips over here,” and yet she does, giving Tayce a peck. Tayce snaps a picture of her now smiling girlfriend, the red light from deep within the fish’s hole haloing her.

Aurora needs a bit less prodding in the stingray exhibit, sticking her hand in the open tank as soon as she’s given the go-ahead. “He’s a velvet pancake,” Aurora comments, petting the flat beast, its mouth flap opening and closing as it moves through the tank. Tayce reaches for Aurora’s folio prematurely.

“Velvet is super 2018. I’m bored of it,” Aurora explains, drying her hands before taking Tayce’s. “Thank you though.” She says it quietly, but Tayce knows she’s appreciative from the way she tightens her grip, by the way her thumb lays on top of Tayce’s as they walk into the next exhibit.

“Look at all these fucking sharks.” Tayce glances upward, dragging Aurora’s hand with her as she points, full of awe, glued to the shark gliding above her, cutting through the water seamlessly. “Look at them go. Absolute beasts they are.”

Aurora sees it’s clearly Tayce’s turn to be struck with wonder, and at the sharks no less. So, she tries to wipe the pout off of her face, smooth out her furrow, and take in the moment. Take in Tayce, arms spread before her. How the blue light reflects off of her cheekbones. Her still rain-slick hair and jacket. And the sharks passing above her are beautiful, with their milky white bellies and steel body, their rounded faces and sharp fins. There has to be something inspiring about them, she’s sure. Maybe in the shapes, or the colors? She could play with the sharp and round structure, surely. Or work in grayscale. Imitate the leather-y touch of their skin. She rests against the wall, pulling out her folio, clicking her pen aimlessly.

Tayce continues with the sharks, pointing at them one by one, asking each, “let’s be having you? And you? And you?” with a silly point. She takes pictures with a few.

But when Tayce returns, suggesting they head out and have lunch while the weather’s clear, Aurora finds her paper blank yet again, more and more sure that she has nothing left to give.

The cafe Tayce picks out is splendid and quaint, though Aurora wouldn’t expect anything less. The server wipes down their seats and the metal table before they take a seat, hands over the menus, and gives them a moment to look them over. Aurora doesn’t even bother looking, knowing she’s too upset to eat much at all, instead laying her head against the cool metal, trying to focus. Or, rather, pull her focus away from her imminent failure and toward Tayce’s new story in the saga about the lady who orders all these clothes online, and every single week, comes into the store, three shipping bags in hand, demanding that everything be returned.

“They’re not even nice clothes.” Tayce adds, dipping a chip. “We sell some nice shit, but she keeps buying garbage and complaining that it’s garbage.”

Aurora hums, ripping at the bits of lettuce hanging out of her sandwich.

“So she comes on in, throws her shipping bag onto the counter, whips out this polyester blouse, and sticks her hand through it and starts ranting on about how see-through the top is.” Tayce sticks her hand up, wiggling her fingers around.

“She shouldn’t have bothered with a polyester Zara shirt to begin with.”

“Shouldn’t have bothered buying a top labeled “sheer” to begin with,” Tayce threw back. “I thought she’d stop her nonsense after I took her around the store, pointing out everything that was good, would look good on her, would fit her enviable work-life-balance, but she still comes back, every Thursday with more shit.” Tayce takes the now ketchup-soggy chip out of the ramekin and sticks it in her mouth. “Even if we didn’t go to the aquarium, I would have called out today. Like I just couldn’t look at those shirts anymore without frying my mind.”

“Couldn’t have that, could we?” Aurora tries at a laugh, finding it coming up faint.

Tayce tilts her head, analyzing the situation in front of her. She opens her mouth, like she’s got something to say, before stealing one of Aurora’s chips.

Pointing the chip at Aurora, she doesn’t ask if Aurora’s okay, or if she’s still disappointed by the aquarium, or if she’s still racking her brain for a sliver of a design idea. Instead, she asks “Well, Whora, what did you think a tiger shark was?”

Tayce always cuts down to the bone, even when she’s not meaning to.

Aurora throws her head into her hands, speaking through her fingers. “Fuck if I know, something fantastic and inspiring and shiny and fierce and—”

“Orange?” Tayce laughs before popping the chip into her mouth.

“Fuck off,” Aurora mutters, raking her fingers through her hair. “I thought it’d all just hit me, babe, and now I’ve got no idea what to do.”

Aurora looks up, blinking rapidly. Her nose starts feeling peppery, and she knows soon her face will become red, blotchy, and streaked with tears.

But Tayce reaches over and takes her hand between both of hers. Aurora dares a glance at Tayce, before resting her gaze on their hands.

“Look, I know you’re not going to tell yourself this, but you’re brilliant and talented, and your brain is, like, dancing so fast, even when your feet aren’t moving.” She gives Aurora’s hand a squeeze. “You’ve got so many ideas up there, and I’m sure you’ll have the work to show for it soon. And those ideas are surely better than a tiger shark pantsuit, promise.”

Wiping a stray tear, Aurora breaks into a chuckle. “It was like, my dumbest idea.”

“Not your dumbest, no.” Tayce says. “But a dumb one.”

When they get home, Tayce all about shoves Aurora into her office, throws a can of Fanta in behind her, and tells her to look through the pictures from today, get inspired by nature, sort it out, and come back when she’s got a design.

“Can I at least get a kiss for good luck?” Aurora shouts through the door.

“How about one for good work?” Tayce quips. And before Aurora can fire back, she hears the faint sounds of the Mortal Kombat theme through the crack in the door, and thinks better of disturbing Tayce when she’s in the zone, getting out the stress of Polyester Blouse Lady on Johnny Cage.

So, Aurora picks the Fanta off of the floor, sets it on her desk to rest, and settles into her chair. She moves around in her seat, trying at least a dozen positions before taking a deep breath, flipping to a fresh page.

She pulls out her phone, scrolling through the pictures Tayce sent her today. There’s a few of the two of them on the tube, Tayce resting on Aurora’s shoulder. Anyone who didn’t know Tayce better would think she looked ready for a nap, with her closed eyes and relaxed lips, but Tayce wasn’t one to rest in the middle of an adventure.

There’s another of Aurora, taken from behind, stood in line, bouncing on her heels, a neon wave floating above her head, as though she were under the water herself.

There’s Aurora, plastered against the tiger shark tank, her face blue tinted by the water and the lights in the tank, her gaze steely as she watches that shark—who is an arsehole, she might add.

And then the next series of pictures—the two of them again. Painted in neon green, a sea spider nesting in Aurora’s hair. Then in purple, shocking purple, the octopus behind them looking ready to strangle them both, it’s tentacles plinking off of the glass like pennies into a well. Then they’re kissing in front of the little fish that kept opening and shutting its mouth, forming a perfect “o,” bathing them in a bloody red tint. She’s not sure how, but Tayce managed to miss all of the miserable faces Aurora knew she had on throughout the aquarium. But when she thinks a bit deeper, she’s not sure when she’s ever looked truly miserable around Tayce.

She nearly puts her phone down when she comes across the next picture. She couldn’t even remember the moment; Tayce must have asked someone else to take it.

It’s Tayce, resting against the far wall of the shark exhibit—the tunnel-style tank, with the sharks swimming all around them—glancing off to the side with a lazy grin, eyes vigilant, wild. And the neon blue all around her, bouncing off the shine of her slicker, hitting her cheekbones and her collarbones just-so, filtering through her hair.

Tayce cackles from the other room, the metallic clash of swords following.

Absolutely radiant. Aurora chews at her pencil, studying the picture further, the way the light bounces off of the wet jacket…

And Aurora’s scribbling, the model she sketches nothing more than a handful of lines, led by memory, as she’s working desperately to draft the design. The pencil sweeps, once, twice, three times, as she sees the fabric floating. But it’s floating over something tight, sleek, but still soft and shiny. And there has to be a shimmering quality to it, or course. It’s not opaque either, no, much more sheer. She’s going to have to work with chiffon, damn it to bits, but it’ll give her the look she’s after, the wet shine she needs. And in a moment’s time, she’s flipped over to another page for another design, one that drapes lightly. She glances once more at the picture, before following the tempo of her pencil, this time switching it out for a light blue.

In a blink, she’s filled four pages.

So she grabs her folio and runs out into the living room, knowing from the sound of the TV that Tayce is still there, and still ripping Polyester Shirt Lady a new one, mentally.

“I’m here for my kiss,” Aurora announces smuggly, throwing her folio into Tayce’s lap.

She’s smart enough to pause the game right as Aurora makes her presence known, surely anticipating her dramatics after all this time.

Tayce flips it open, staring Aurora down like she’s about to rip her designs apart, though she knows Tayce would never, or really, wouldn’t have the reason to do so. It’s that serious look Tayce has, though Aurora knows it only shows up because she’s serious about Aurora’s designs. “And I’m here for some good fashion, love.”

Aurora falls beside her on the couch, pulling her legs up on the seat and curling in against Tayce. She’s warm. It’s comforting.

“So I’ve got this one, like the octopus tank. And it’s got this iridescent purple that just flows off of the pantsuit, like it flows right off of it,” Aurora explains, leaning in further, pointing out the details. “I’m thinking Bim for this one.”

“I can definitely see that. Definitely. With all that movement, ugh.” Tayce runs a finger over the design, outlining where the fabric would trail off steaming behind the model, like the wind’s carrying it, like it’s suspended in mid-air.

“Okay flip,” Aurora instructs, pressing her cheek against Tayce’s arm. Aurora continues, answering questions about fabric, structures underneath the garnments, styling. Tayce slips the pencil out of Aurora’s hand at some point, jotting down answers as she rambles on and on, far too excited to manage writing it on her own. So Tayce scribbles down her directive to add wirey jewelry around the wrists, heels with lacings up the calf, everything looking like it’s floating just below the surface. At some point, the Xbox powers off, until all that’s lighting the room is the standby logo.

Tayce reaches over the couch, turning the lamp on.

“So, which one are you thinking of for me?” Tayce pokes at Aurora’s side, her voice trailing into a whine.

Aurora takes back her book, flipping through the pages aimlessly. “Oh, you know, the first one. From this morning…”

“You didn’t even have—”

“…Absolute nudity.” Aurora curls in closer, a devious smile forming. “Or maybe full vinyl?”

“I thought no more after last time?” Tayce begins flipping through the book. “I guess I’ll just have to find it on my own, now won’t I?”

“Gimmie that,” Aurora takes it from her hands and flips to the page easily, holding the design close against her chest. “And you look good in the vinyl, is all I’m saying.”

She plops it down in Tayce’s lap. “You’re obviously getting the finale gown, moron.”

Tayce scans over the page, over and over, tracing along the outline with her finger, as though she can feel the slip of the iridescent blue chifon layered over black organza, how it gathers at one hip, falling down in crashing waves, with the other side draped cleanly, softly.

“It’s supposed to be murky, like you’re coming out of the depths of the ocean where all the weird spindly things live, that have, like five eyes and spikes and stuff.” Aurora bristles for a moment. “At least that’s what I was thinking. But really, you could wear any of them if you wanted, it’s all inspired by you,” she says, soft, feather-light, like she’s letting the words float on down from the surface.

They continue on in silence, Aurora watching as Tayce scans over the design, mouth agape. Tayce swallows and mutters, “lil ol’ me, the finale?” She turns to Aurora. “It’s just gorgeous. So, absolutely gorgeous.”

And Aurora smiles, closing her eyes, breathing in the moment, the relief, the momentum of the collection. She places the folio on the coffee table and sets her sights on Tayce.

“So, did I earn my kiss?”

Tayce rolls her eyes playfully. “If you insist,” she says, not leaving Aurora much time to think before pulling her in closer, thumb stroking along her cheek. Their lips meet comfortably, knowingly, in a way that would seem commonplace if not for love.

They break apart, Aurora resting in the crook of Tayce’s neck.

“You did an amazing job, love,” Tayce says, quietly this time, as though the moment deserves quiet. And the two hold the silence, open palmed, soaking in the golden, still light of the lamp.

“Oi, you!” Aurora taps on the glass, sure she’s the subject of a few wandering eyes, and the reason why the aquarium security tests the receiver of their walkie a few times. But she doesn’t care. She has some unfinished business, business that’s been keeping her up at night, making her toss and turn right into Tayce’s spread-out, sleeping form, ever since she began production on her collection.

So she’s returned to Oliver the tiger shark. This time, she’s bearing gifts.

Aurora points at the shark as it passes, hoping in vain it’ll stop for her, just as she’s stopped for him. She tries again, snapping at him as he passes by once more, before giving up, feeling lucky Tayce wasn’t around to mock her attempts. Aurora continues on regardless.

“We’ve had our differences, but I must thank you for the inspiration…” Aurora trails off, spotting the shark stopped on the other side of the tank. She scurries over, hoping she can get a good view of him, maybe take a reprieve from looking like a lunatic, talking to nothing.

“But thank you, Oliver the shark,” she says to him, before he swims off again, practically to the spot Aurora was just standing.

She huffs and hauls herself back to the other side of the tank.

“You’re a right dick, you are.” Aurora breathes in deeply before digging into her bag, pulling out her phone, pressing it against the tank, as though he’ll look at the picture and have any idea who she is. “It was really her, my girlfriend here who did the heavy lifting, and she got more than a thank you for it all.”

Aurora bites at her lip a bit, locking her phone, muttering, “sex, obviously, but you don’t get it, you’re a dumb, heterosexual shark, so…” into her purse as she plops her phone in.

“But I figured giving you some thanks would earn me back some ocean karma points—” The shark swims to the back of the tank, facing entirely away from Aurora, and she has to remind herself not to stomp like a petulant child.

She settles for muttering a “fucks sake” under her breath.

“Anyway,” she hikes up her purse. “Have a good one, Oliver the tiger shark.”

She gives a half-hearted wave before walking away, dividing to give that funny, little, perpetually surprised fish a visit, hoping he’ll appreciate her company more.

#rpdr fanfiction #rpdr uk #uk2 #phryne #just below the surface #tayce #a'whora #taywhora #lesbian au #aquarium au #shark fic #established relationship #fluff #concrit welcome #submission

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morethanaprincess-a · 3 years ago

Text

I know this is quite a bit of time after I posted this meme, but I wanted to respond to all of the kind comments I received on the positivity meme when I really needed some last week! So I thought I’d save it for a Munday post, complete with pet tax beneath the cut. Mundays are better with pet tax, right?

@electricea

Thank you so much for your compliments, Jassi! I adore writing with you too, it’s so much fun coming up with new AUs for Ryuji and Sonia (and expanding on our established verses as well). You’re such a positive and encouraging person in the tumblr RPC and I’m pretty sure your dash agrees. Here’s to more IC adventures and me sending you ramen related news and saying “we’re working this into a thread, right? Right??”

Does Ryuji have the ramen pool float/raft already? Because that needs to happen.

@cadcnce

So uh, on a scale of 1-10 how mad will you be if I get a draft back to Eira by mid-week? To be fair, it’s not the same day please don’t point that gun at me

Joking (about what will likely happen on my dash) aside, I love writing with you and your many muses too! Bonus that we have plenty in common too, including being Old Muns with Old Mun Problems. Like roleplaying before tumblr and the fact that pogs are a bottle/milk cap game (I think I had close to 100 of them as an elementary school student, before I said I wanted beanie babies instead).

In short, I have so much fun both writing IC and just chatting about fandom and life OOC. Though the more I keep looking at Las Vegas-related things for RP research I’m just “Well, now I want to go and not gamble at all but do everything else.”

But I’ll finish with this: I do try to put my happiness first, and for me that’s when I’m writing every day and have a consistently-running queue. This is partly due to how organized I am about my work and my hobbies, and partly due to content creation and social media being a large part of my professional life. It’s not that tumblr RP is work, it’s that I can’t help but approach it, in a way, in a professional sense, taking in algorithms, patterns, activity, etc. into consideration. I look at a variety of statistics tumblr provides on my blog and often make judgement calls about content I post here that way.

It’s super nerdy and I know it. I also just can’t help it because it’s ingrained in me at this point: content planning, creation, calendars, analytics, etc. Pain for me is disorganization, a queue that isn’t updated, or answering asks/taking on more threads when I have replies I could write.

@despairfiles

Excuse me, every hour is Sin loving hours! Thank you so much for your encouraging feedback. You’re absolutely right: I’m definitely someone who likes to develop complex, long-term interactions over a variety of interesting situations. I know that can be frustrating sometimes with queued replies and wall-of-text replies, but it really is fun for me to show so much of a scene: the setting, the dialogue, the action, the thoughts and feelings. I tend to come up with most of my headcanons through threads at this point, too.

And I’m always going to say ‘challenge accepted’ when it comes to writing new stuff with Hajime and Shirou. If you feel compelled to bring Hajime back at some point I’m always here to write with you, and there’s so much story to tell with Sonia and Shirou too. I actually have a plot idea development for one of our verses on that front, I just haven’t put it into words yet!

Oh, and of course: Chatting OOC with you is one of the best parts of my day! Politics, spilling tea, me bemoaning that England lost Euro 2020 (the rest of the world doesn’t agree with me and I know it), you sharing your adorable dogs and wine sodas (I’m going to find the wine soda here. Somewhere.), agreeing that Lord El-Melloi II is a SNACC even if the fandom doesn’t agree with us, I adore it all.

Seriously though I love him he is A++++ husbando material. This is where Sonia and I differ: she loves Shirou and I’m here just “He’s a professor who barely adults and realizes it is, indeed, a crisis when your favorite tearoom is closed. Husband material right here.”

@phantasmalcalamity

Thank you so, so much for your compliments regarding my Sonia portrayal! That’s really nice of you! I’m not sure that my version is perfect by any means as plenty of people offer different takes on her, but I’m so glad you enjoy writing with her! Our Sonia/Gundham threads have been such a joy to write so far and I hope to continue and do more of them (without adding too much to your plate of course. I’m hoping you start feeling better, first and foremost!). You’re also wonderful to chat with OOC and I love seeing your costumes when you share them. It’s so cool having RP partners who are also cosplayers because you understand that unique struggle of “do I write drafts or do I work on costumes for upcoming con/event?”

I’m trying to balance both but it’s been interesting. Definitely after the fall cons/events I should have some more photoshoot stuff to share. I miss cons and photoshoots so much!

And as promised, some pet/life photo tax underneath the cut!

One of the two usual views I have when writing drafts/shitposting/chatting with you all on discord. Princess Molly received a new bed recently, befitting her royal status. She’s judging the quality of my drafts and wondering when she will be given pets.

And the other view I usually have while on tumblr. I’m missing Paris (and London. And Edinburgh. Let’s just put missing the U.K. and France in general here) quite a lot. I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to go back (probably whenever I go on my honeymoon), so I’m having a small taste of it at home. My family’s going next month, but work wouldn’t give me the time off to join them.

The Laduree Marie Antoinette tea is my favorite version of the MA tea, and with shipping so expensive, it made sense to grab some macarons to go with it.

I just miss Europe so much right now. Most of my off-tumblr friends are trying to plan trips to Japan next year, and I’m over here just “I actually miss Heathrow and Charles de Gaulle.”

#more-than-a-princess musings #(Happy Munday! Here's a too long Munday post)#(But at least there's pet tax)

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wtf-yoongi · 5 years ago

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“Let me play you what I have.”

pairing | yoongi x reader

summary | yoongi asks for your help with a song

genre/warnings | you’re both musicians (even though you don’t work in the music industry) so musician fluff i guess?

words | 1,648

note | i’m not even kidding at this point i think i’m in love with yoongi and i’ve never been more serious in the entirety of my life

“Mine was never this glamorous,” you joke as you stare into the high ceilings of the ground floor of the building. “This place is gigantic.”

“Well, it is fancy and over the top,” Yoongi agrees and shrugs as if he’s 100% indifferent to it all. “But this is just to impress visitors.”

You look around, trying to take in as much as you can while you follow Yoongi to the elevator area. Everything seems to be made of either glass or marble – well, the best glass and marble money can buy. The attention to detail is remarkable and you can’t help but agree with Yoongi: this is a little bit over the top.

“I thought you had seen this the last time you were here.” He looks at you now, taking turns between staring at your face and your hands. You can’t do it here where the walls are made of glass even if he’s wearing a cap and a mask, but you know his fingers are twitching.

“Not really,” you correct him and shake your head lightly. “First time I was here was before the tour. You gave me a ride and we took the elevator straight from the garage.”

“Oh…” Yoongi nods. He remembers now. “I should have showed you the place that day, sorry. We were in a rush.”

There’s a soft sound, signaling one of the elevators has finally arrived. Yoongi impatiently taps his right foot on the ground like he just wants the doors to open faster. You know he’s a little apprehensive from the moment he calls you to come around earlier, but you didn’t think you’d find him like this.

You just want to calm him down somehow.

As soon as you’re safe inside the elevator with the doors closed, you extend your hand to him and his fingers stop fidgeting immediately to take yours. “You didn’t have to come greet me downstairs,” you comment casually, but there’s gratitude in your eyes.

“I know, I wanted to,” he says, taking his mask off and putting it in his pocket with his free hand. “And I needed to get out of the studio a little bit.”

“Something wrong?”

“Just a song that won’t come together, the usual,” he mocks and smiles to the ground. “This one is going to be stubborn, I just know it. I’ve been playing with this idea for days now and I don’t think I have a full verse yet.”

Yoongi’s voice is tired and passionate at the same time. Even if he’s complaining about it, you know he likes this sort of struggle to accomplish something he’s happy and satisfied with – the reward may be as grand as the effort. He’s always hoping for that. Artists are always hoping for that, you know it all too well.

“I was actually hoping you’d help me, if you don’t mind.”

He brings it up quietly and casually, but when you turn your face to him he’s not looking directly at you, deciding to keep his stare into the ground. He isn’t exactly comfortable with that idea and doesn’t know if it’ll work, but he’s happy to try.

You’ve talked about doing something together, working on lyrics or melodies or whatever came to mind, but never put much thought into it. Like that old group of friends who keep on saying you should meet sometime, but never actually do. You’re not mad if it never happens, somethings aren’t supposed to happen anyway.

Yoongi finally raises his head after he doesn’t hear it from you for a while, eyes expecting a positive reply so he doesn’t have to pretend that never happened somehow. Inside his mind, he’s already thinking about ways he can make it less awkward.

“That’s why you asked me to come?” You ask in a curious tone.

“Well, yeah,” Yoongi laughs lightly and presses his left hand to the back of his neck, scratching it a bit in a nervous habit. “It’s ok if you don’t want to, though. It’d be good to just hang around and do nothing as well, I’m just waiting for some papers I have to sign and we can go somewhere if you want. It’s probably good to give the song some time as well, since…”

“We can try something, yeah,” you interrupt before he runs out of air. “I’m a little rusty, though, I don’t really know if I’ll be able to help with anything.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Yoongi shakes his head and his hand follows. “I want you to listen and give me your opinion, that’s already enough for me. And I highly doubt it.”

You don’t have time to question him what the last part is about. As if on queue, you arrive on the 21st floor and it’s really not as fancy as the lobby, just like you remember, but you can see someone was still thoughtful enough to add fresh flowers to the vase in the corner. The people in charge of running the building are not sleeping on the job.

Yoongi is silently dragging you around the corridors and you can see the directions on the wall, but not for long enough to make any sense of them. A dozen more steps and you both stop in front of a door, Yoongi quickly tapping the keyboard on the right. There’s a beep before it opens.

He reaches inside to turn on the lights, but ultimately lets you in first. The room looks just like the last time, simple and straightforward in furniture and color, but not in music equipment. You can see he upgraded the digital piano to one that looked more like a real one, but still plugged to the wall. Maybe it makes him feel better knowing it’s a little similar to the real deal?

“New piano?”

“Yeah,” he assents, closing the door behind him. “These keys feel a little better, you know?”

Yes, you know. You can always tell when the keys just feel better under your fingertips. Playing becomes easier, practicing technique feels less like a pain. You nod.

“Let me play you what I have.”

You sit on the couch in one corner while Yoongi sits on his own chair, moving his magic mouse to light up the screen in front of him. You can see there are many layers on top of one another, but definitely not as many as you would expect coming from him.

You’ve seen him working from home well past midnight, shirt half dressed with headphones on, keeping quiet so he doesn’t notice you behind him. Making music is intricate, but Yoongi likes it even worse, adding one thing on top of the other, filter after filter, until it feels like it’s too much and he can finally recognize what is standing out in a bad way. Then he mutes and saves the ones he likes for another time.

He makes some quick adjustments before pressing the spacebar, turning slightly so he can see your reaction. The beat you hear is nothing out of the ordinary – it’s a 4/4 time signature major key song, exactly how most happy pop ones go.

However, in true Yoongi style, there’s something else to it. The bass line tricks your head into some sort of rhythm and, despite having the poppiest of beats, you can hear an acoustic guitar streaming in the very background, almost unnoticeable. More bars pass and you can now hear a piano playing some sort of arpeggio – simple, but effective. It grows into what you feel is a chorus and then Yoongi is hitting the spacebar again.

“That’s all I have,” he confesses and shrugs, looking at you from under his eyelashes and trying to figure out your puzzled expression.

“It’s good, I like it,” you start and he’s soon looking at you incredulously, waiting for the real response. “Yeah, it needs work, but you made it sound like you had nothing.”

You’re both chuckling softly now and Yoongi lets his body fall into the chair completely, covering his face with his hands.

“Tell me what I have to do!” He begs with a muffled voice. “I hate this song already.”

All of a sudden, you feel like you should have done this earlier. His busy schedule kind of gets in the way all the time, but not really all the time. You wish any of you had enough courage to bring this up earlier, to stop being that group of friends that say things with no real weight to them.

Musicians are sometimes overprotective of their work or scared to stick their noses into somebody else’s, but Yoongi falls into his normal self too fast – too comfortable, no sign of nervousness anymore. He’s not scared to show you his unfinished and imperfect work. It feels like you’ve been doing this for ages.

“I told you I’m a bit rusty, I…”

“Oh, don’t say that,” he interrupts with a smile, letting his hands show his face again. “You’re a classically trained pianist, 15-plus years of music classes under your belt, three years of being a trainee with top marks in songwriting. You can’t say you’re rusty when I hear you playing my piano at home. You’re not. At all,” he emphasizes as you continue to laugh at his reaction.

“Yeah, but I have almost zero experience in music production. And I also gave up being an idol so…” You try to argue, but he’s not having any of it.

“I bet you my new piano you have at least 13 ideas for this, I just feel like you do.”

There’s a smirk on his face now you can’t resist.

“Where are the lyrics you wrote for this?” You ask and Yoongi soon hands you a notepad with many lines scribbled on the first page. “Can you hand me that pen?”

Read more ›› masterlist

#bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi x you #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #yoongi scenarios #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga x you #yoongi fanfic

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

In Another World

Summary: In another world, it was Jensen that got the role of Captain America, not Chris. You have dreamed of meeting Jensen ever since you saw him in his CGI glory in The First Avenger, and your comicon experience you discover to be underwhelming. But then you meet a cosplayer in the bar... and life takes an altogether different turn for you.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Comicon, Comic Convention, Strangers at a Bar, Cosplay, Captain America Cosplay, Unprotected Sex, Hotel Room Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Blow Job, Anal Play.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader (no race specified)

The above Jensen manip i cannot trace, it was sent to me years ago by a now deactivated tumblr user, with the signature half chopped off. Its the artwork that inspired this fic. In case you weren’t aware, Jensen auditioned for the role of Captain America but it of course went to Chris.

I do not operate a tag list, but feel free to go ahead and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified when i post a new story. Oneshots will be posted on Tumblr and AO3, Multichapter stories will be AO3 exclusives.

Due to the amount of stories i have written over the years i no longer have a masterlist, instead please check out my AO3 HERE.

In Another World

You sat at your computer, staring at the screen as you streamed the latest press junket. Marvel was going all out with its ten-year plan for The Avengers and with this press tour for The Winter Soldier you had fallen in love even more with Cap.

As the images streamed live from the far east, you watched as Jensen flexed his muscles and his co-stars laughed in admiration. He was born to be Captain America.

But you weren’t the only one watching.

In a small apartment in Boston another pair of eyes watched with an added level of sadness. He remembered the audition. Standing in the hallway with a bunch of other guys, all in their 20’s, all having a few bit-part roles under their belts in teen TV shows or low budget horror movies. The same green eyes that stared out of the screen had looked at him in the hallway, holding his hand out to shake;

“Hey man. Jensen”

“Chris”

Jensen smiled;

“Strong Boston accent there dude”

Chris chuckled;

“Say the same about you, what’s that Houston?”

“Dallas”

“Eh, close enough”

They chatted for a while as the guys ahead of them in the line entered the room, only to leave 5 minutes later. They didn’t look up at the guys left, no-one wanted to read expressions to give themselves fake hope. The door opened and the annoying droll voice of the elderly secretary called out;

“Ackles”

Chris looked up, holding his hand out to his new acquaintance;

“Break a leg man”

Shaking it briefly Jensen nodded;

“Thanks man”

You clung to your priority tickets, the excitement so intense you weren’t sure if you were going to puke or cry. You hoped for neither. It was your first convention and you had maxed out your credit card and called in sick from work when the special edition tickets had been released, refreshing your computer every ten seconds so that when they had been released online you had made your purchase within 30 seconds.

Now standing towards the front of the queue you were terrified. You had loved Jensen from the first moment you’d seen him in all his CGI glory in The First Avenger. You’d followed his career and had even gone back and watched his entire back catalogue. He was a natural for the role and the stealth suit from the most recent movie had made him look so handsome you had actually swooned when you had seen those first opening scenes of the movie aboard the Lumerian Star.

The con volunteers were doing an amazing job, herding the fans into some form of order, and as you got closer you could hear the laughter and squeals of joy as fans ahead of you were rapidly shown in.

It was your turn. The flimsy black curtain was pulled aside, and you were pushed into the brightness of the well-lit area that was surrounded on all sides by vivid blue panels that bore the con’s logo. Jensen turned and smiled, putting his hand out and you found you were standing next to him. Your head swam;

“Do you have a pose?”

“Umm…” You could see the con workers and volunteers moving their arms in a ‘hurry up’ motion; “I guess… a hug?”

“Sure thing”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pointed towards the bored looking photographer;

“Smile sweetie”

You did. You smiled, your saw blobs as the flash blinded you. You didn’t even register as Jensen pressed his hand to your back, thanking you before turning to the next person who had already been pulled through the black curtain. A volunteer took your wrist and pulled you gently through the curtain on the far side, giving you your photo number as they apologised it was so fast.

The curtain closed and you stood there, blinking as you tried to focus on the small piece of paper you held. It was done. Over. You’d met Jensen and it had been so rushed you hadn’t even had chance to look at him.

The bile started to rise, you looked around and saw a trash can, leaning over it and vomited into the piles of used coffee cups and candy wrappers.

The hunt for a bottle of water at a con hadn’t been something you would think would take so long; a lot of the vendors had already sold out, others the line was so long it would have taken you longer to get the water than the queue for the con in the first place. It seemed as if everyone was walking against you, or you were going against the flow of them, but when you finally got your water you drained the entire bottle, soothing your bile parched throat. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you heard an announcement over the PA system;

“We apologise, but the Jensen Ackles panel won’t be broadcast out of the auditorium due to technical issues”

“WHAT?” you grabbed your wrist, looking at your watch as your eyes went wide. You’d been so dazed by your photo op and feeling ill afterwards you had forgotten about the panel. You needed a drink, and something stronger than water.

Chris adjusted the helmet of his costume as he looked in the mirror. The men’s room was quiet, the main panel of the con was on and he couldn’t bring himself to sit in the same room as the guy that had won the role that had made him millions; of fans and dollars.

After not getting the Captain America role Chris had continued to take bit parts and small independent movies. He was recognised occasionally but he hadn’t hit the big time. In fact there were months when there was nothing coming in and it was only after someone had asked him to fill in at a kids party where one of the superhero guys had fallen sick at the last minute did the idea of cosplaying come to him. Now however he was well known in cosplay circles, even getting paid for some appearances. He was called a natural for the role, but that was the hardest to hear. He’d worked hard with his costumer and within just a few weeks of the latest movie coming out they’d successfully recreated the amazing Stealth Suit in its darker colours.

Checking his pants for his wallet he decided he needed a drink, and something stronger than a soda.

Nodding to the bartender, you thanked him as he set the beer down in front of you before he went to the far end of the bar to pull the latest load of glasses out of the dishwasher. You sat picking at the label and tracing patterns in the condensation that gathered on the cool glass. You were vaguely aware of other people coming and going, and when the barstool next to you was taken you didn’t look up.

“What’ll it be Cap?”

The bartender’s greeting drew your attention from your drink, casting your gaze to your side and your breath was sucked from your body. You watched as the man set his helmet onto the surface of the bar before nodding to what you were drinking;

“Same as the lady please”

Your eyes travelled from where his hand sat on the countertop of the bar up the dark sleeve of his stealth suit, taking in his wide shoulders and up to the fluffy dark blonde hair, slightly messed up from where he’d been wearing the helmet. You couldn’t help it, but you were staring. Your jaw was hanging low as he turned slowly to you, his blue eyes sparkling with just the faintest hint of green as he looked at you and a self-conscious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth;

“Hi…”

“You’re… you’re…”

“No, just cosplaying…” he turned back to his beer for a moment until you finally found your voice

“No. You’re Chris”

He set his beer on the countertop and turned to you, this time a genuine smile on his face;

“Do we know each other?”

“Well…” you blushed; “We spoke on Instagram” He cocked an eyebrow, but his attention didn’t waiver from you as you continued; “You’re ‘AlmostCap’, right? You posted about wanting advice on how to dye leather boots a deeper colour? I messaged you with the details of the dyes costumiers use”

His face broke into a wide smile;

“Oh yeah, that really worked! How did you know that?”

“Majored in theatre design at college”

“Well that titbit of knowledge brought the whole costume together” he motioned to his stealth suit and you couldn’t help but to look him up and down; “Without you I wouldn’t look this good”

You snorted back a laugh;

“I’m sure you look just a good without the suit”

Bringing your beer to your lips you took a sip, not realising Chris had moved closer until his lips brushed against your ear;

“Would you like to find out?”

The hotel room door crashed against the wall, the metal doorknob leaving a dent in the drywall. Chris had you pressed up against it, one hand holding you flush with his chest as his other hand blindly reached out for the door to close it. As soon as his fingertips grasped the cool wood he threw it shut with a thud that reverberated through the room.

Your hands clawed at Chris’s costume, desperate to find purchase, something, anything to hang onto and anchor yourself as he kissed you so hard you saw spangled stars. He’d put his costume helmet back on for the rather quick walk through the convention to the hotel where you were staying. His lips traced patterns over your cheek before he pressed kisses down your neck, whispering as he went;

“I don’t normally do this…”

“Me neither…

“...especially in costume…”

“Oh Chris…Cap…”

“It’s Captain tonight, Princess”

His fingers had found their way to the buttons on the front of your dress, skilfully plucking each one from its grasp on the thin cotton fabric, before his still gloved hand roughly cupped your breasts. As his lips found yours again, he groaned into your mouth as he weighed your breasts in his large hands, the rough leather against the lace of your bra sending chills through you. If Chris had a Captain kink you weren’t about to say no, hell, it would be one of your biggest fantasies.

You found yourself being manhandled towards the bed, Chris’s kisses hard and ravenous, and when he wasn’t kissing you his tongue was doing the most devilish things on your skin. The bed touched the back of your knees and you were falling back onto the covers, Chris following seconds later as he pressed you into the mattress. With a thick thigh he pushed your legs apart, the rough Kevlar fabric of his suit brushing against the delicate skin of your soft skin as his fingers sought out the juncture of thighs. The brush of the harsh leather of his fingerless gloves made you groan into his mouth as he tugged your panties to the side and his thumb found your clit. Rubbing small circles, he teased it from its hood, before his fingers slid through your folds to ease some of your slick moisture from you to smooth his efforts.

When his lips left yours you chased after them, but his voice made you settle back against the bed and open your eyes;

“Uh-uh… stay there Princess”

You watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, before his kiss bruised lips closed around his glistening digits and he moaned as he tasted you;

“You taste amazing”

“Umm… thank you?”

“Here…”

He brought his hand to your mouth and you grasped it as you sucked gently on just the fingertips, watching as Chris’s already lust blown pupils widened even further;

“Jesus fucking Christ, your tongue…”

Letting go of his fingers with an audible pop, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, resting on one arm as you slid a hand between your bodies and palmed his erection through his suit;

“What about my tongue?” you grinned before you tugged him down to lay beside you.

Pushing up onto your knees you ran your hand down his chest and stomach, the costume warm from his body heat and firm to the touch. Your fingers clawed at his suit to try and find the zipper, and after thirty seconds of searching you let out a huff;

“Ok, how the fuck to I get in here?”

With a low chuckle Chris reached down and lifted a hidden Velcro flap that revealed the button and the top of the zipper, and you eagerly tugged the pants of his suit open. The large bulge in his boxers immediately filled the space of the open zipper, and you found yourself nuzzling against the hardness that the soft jersey fabric could hardly contain. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the hard shaft through the fabric, you felt Chris’s hands on your head, he wasn’t pushing but you could tell he wanted you. With a smile you just about tugged his boxers down enough to free his cock, the thick shaft standing proud from the fly of his stealth suit. You wrapped your hands around it, the flesh hot to touch and pumped him slowly.

“Ah fuck Princess…”

“Yes Captain?”

“Please…”

He sounded wrecked, and as you leant forwards and licked at the bead of clear precum that was pooling at the tip you not only heard but felt the low rumble of his moan of appreciation. Wrapping your lips around the tip you started to suck, your tongue working over the hot smooth flesh as your fist worked up and down, pumping him slowly as you let the saliva pool in your mouth so you could take him deeper. In a moment when you pulled off to take a breath Chris’s hands were suddenly on your hips, moving you until you were kneeling on the bed and straddling his shoulders, and for a moment you squealed where his sudden strength had moved you with such ease.

“Gotta taste you…” he muttered from beneath the skirt of your dress, his hands smoothing over the globes of your ass and you could feel his breath hot on your skin. His fingers tugged your panties to the side and he was pulling you down onto his mouth, his tongue swiping through your soaked folds.

For a moment you lost yourself, Chris’s efforts driving you closer to orgasm than you thought was possible, but you found your senses and leant forwards again, taking him as deep as you could and you felt his moan deep in your cunt as he almost came on the spot. Working your fingers into his suit you cupped his balls, feeling them tight and hot in your hand as you sucked hard on his cock. At the same time you felt Chris drive his tongue into your soaked hole and his thumb sought out your clit. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, and you could feel your legs start to shake. The harder he drove forwards the deeper you took him into your mouth. You heard a muffled cry from between your thighs and you felt that first tremble of the thick vein that ran the length of his cock. At the same time you felt his fingers dance over the crack of your ass, one finger pressing lightly against your dark rose and you were cumming over his face as he pumped thick ropes of cum down your throat.

When your legs were about to give out you tactfully rolled to the side, laying on the bed next to Chris as he fought to catch his breath. With laboured efforts he wrenched his helmet off, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he started to fumble with his costume;

“Gotta get out of this…”

Watching a hot guy strip was not something you’d experienced before, and a hot guy dressed as Captain America? Well that was hitting all your buttons in one go. You smiled as Chris was muttering to himself;

“Fuckin’ suit, so fuckin’ hot… fuckin’ drenched in sweat…”

When he was down to just his pants you finally spoke up;

“Need a hand there Captain?”

Chris looked up and grinned;

“You mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure thing, it’s all yours…”

Chris started for the small bathroom door, his utility pants hanging low on his hips before he paused and turned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth;

“Wanna join me?”

Showering with a guy you had literally just met was a surreal experience. The comfort and security of being partially clothed during a hook-up was completely stripped from you as you stood in the small shower enclosure the hotel room offered. Chris had looked absolutely sinful as he had stood beneath the cascading water; his skin patterned with multiple tattoos and just the right amount of chest hair that made you want to run your fingers through it as the hot water coursed over his body. Your fingers had trailed down over his hard stomach, tracing the trail of hair that led to his thick cock hanging heavy between his muscled thighs.

His lips had met yours eagerly again, and he soon had you pressed against the wall, his leg wedged between your thighs as you ground yourself against the firm muscle. Chris’s hands found your ass and eagerly pulled you hard against him, trapping his now angry cock between your bodies;

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ sexy” he muttered against your ear, his fingers digging into your asscheeks; “You gonna cum for me Princess? Soak my thigh?”

“Yes Chris, please…”

“What do you need Princess?”

“Something…. Just more…”

He pulled back from you, searching your expression for something, anything as he chose his words;

“I can give you more…” The depth of tone sent a shudder down your spine; “I’m gonna ask you this and you can say no, and I won’t walk out that door if you say no, but do you like ass play?”

You growled. You god-damn growled like a feral wildcat, nodding eagerly;

“Yes Chris… fuck, yes…”

He captured your lips for another fierce kiss as his hands slid over your ass and one finger trailed up the seam of your cheeks before pressing gently against your rear;

“Now Princess” he muttered against your lips; “I haven’t got any lube in here so it’ll just be a gentle press, you tell me if you want me to stop”

You nodded, biting your lip as he pushed forwards, one hand gripping your hip as he slid you up and down his soaked thigh, the other pressing gently but insistently against your back door.

Just that stimulation alone was enough, and you were cumming hard, your head pressed against the cool tiles as Chris sucked a hickey into your neck.

You stood there panting as you tried to regain your composure, Chris holding you tight in his arms as he gently caressed you as you finally came to your senses. Nuzzling against his neck you felt him push his hips forward, his thick cock hard again against your hip;

“Ready for another round?”

“Anything for you Cap” you grinned.

The pair of you had fallen back onto the bed, half dry and oblivious to anything other than pleasure. Body heat rising, you felt your back naturally arch as Chris lay on top of you, pulling his knee up to part your legs further and you could feel his thick length laying hot and hard against your soaked folds. As his other leg pushed up and parted your thighs even further, you felt that first nudge of his tip at your soaked entrance, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist and with one firm squeeze you felt his breach your body and slide into you.

The base noise that escaped your throat as you felt each glorious inch stretch your velvet walls was music to Chris’s ears, and he let you take the lead even though he was the one on top, letting your body grow accustomed to his size. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke softly;

“You’re doing so good Princess, feel so fuckin’ amazing, takin’ me so deep”

You slowly relaxed your thighs grip on his waist and Chris started to move, sliding his hips back as he slid out, before pushing slowly back in. Propping himself up either side of you, you watched as his arms bulged as he looked down and watched as he pulled out again, your wetness liberally coating him.

With his tip just notched inside you whined at the loss, before with a powerful thrust he filled you completely;

“Holy FUCK!”

“Do you like that Princess? Like my thick dick splitting you open?”

“Fuck Chris, yes, do it again… please!” you whined.

The gorgeous man above you grinned down, seemingly turned on by your begging, and with a loud grunt he started to pile drive into you, his impressive girth stretching you in all the right ways, the slight upward curve to his shaft making your g-spot his number one target with every push. The man was a demon in bed, fucking you hard as he pressed kisses to your chest and breasts, all whilst uttering the dirtiest things about how good you felt, how well you were taking his dick. You begged for more and he eagerly gave it, fucking you through one orgasm before chasing another. His thrusts started to get sloppy, his hips stuttering and he cursed quietly under his breath;

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum soon…”

“Cum inside me… I’m on the pill…”

He pushed a hand between your bodies, rubbing hard circles against your clit and soon you were coming, your orgasm triggering his, and you as your body milked the cum from his body you both felt like you had found heaven.

With a grunt Chris rolled to your side, his dick sliding out of your soaked channel and he lay on the bed, his head propped up on one elbow, his dick full and swollen at your hip, still shining with your combined fluids. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, and you practically purred when Chris gently ran his fingertips over your breasts;

“That was fuckin’ amazing… I’m probably going about this the wrong way, but can I buy you dinner?”

“That’d be nice”

Dinner had been a fun affair; you had redressed, and Chris had worn his stealth suit pants but just wore the thin Under Armour undershirt instead of the full suit. Although the hotel was well used to people in cosplay costumes during the conventions using their facilities, Chris didn’t want to draw attention to himself, instead he wanted his sole attention to be able to be on you rather than people asking for photos. Throughout your meal the conversation had been fun and light, Chris telling you how he had in fact auditioned for the Marvel role but didn’t envy the craziness that came with the now worldwide recognition that Jensen had to put up with. You had explained how you now worked for a theatrical costumer’s agency on the West Coast, but had heard about some openings for a new series production out of Vancouver.

Chris laughed softly;

“Typical… I fall for a girl that lives on the opposite side of the country”

“You… you’ve fallen for me?”

Chris paused, resting his hand over yours;

“I’m sorry, I’m kinda sappy when it comes to relationships… and I gotta be honest, when I saw you at the bar, I recognised you from your Instagram and when you helped me… I was trying to play it cool…” he took a deep breath; “I hope I’m not scaring you off…”

Leaning forward you pressed a kiss to his cheek;

“No… it’s nice… its more than nice…”

Once the meal was over the pair of you stood in the foyer, unsure what to do before Chris pointed out the rest of his costume was in your room.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“I was meant to be crashing on a friends couch”

Grinning you pulled him close;

“Did you want a bed rather than a couch?”

“Fuck yes”

Minutes later you were crashing in the door to your room, Chris’s hands and lips trying to cover every inch of your body, and this time with the knowledge of how his costume worked you knew exactly how to get his pants open, tugging them to the floor as you pushed him into one of the chairs and knelt at his booted feet. With his dick in your mouth he was soon hard again, but that was when he took control, standing and moving you until you were knelt on the soft chair arms looking out of the high rise window over the convention center and city below, the lights of the city oblivious as he flipped your skirt up and pulled your panties down, and filled you with one smooth thrust;

“Fuck… this pussy is fuckin’ perfect, you feel like heaven…”

Wrapping his strong arms around you he pulled you flush with his hard chest, sucking at your neck as his dick rubbed so beautifully against your g-spot you were coming again, screaming out your release as Chris pulled out and lifted you, pulling you to your feet before you found yourself pressed against the wall and he filled you again.

Clinging to his wide shoulders you felt him filling you over and over, your pleasure climbing higher than you ever thought possible. Chris’s strong arms were holding you up, his large hands gripping your ass as he fucked you into the wall, your legs wrapped around his narrow waist;

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, cum for me, let me feel that pussy milking me as I fill you up… you feel so good, I’m never letting this pussy go…”

As you came so did he, your walls squeezing him so tight he thought he may pass out from the sheer pleasure. For the longest time he just held you there, your bodies joined until Chris’s dick softened enough to slip out of you. Letting your feet fall to the ground you kissed as you made your way to the bed, falling onto the mattress before wrapping the covers around your flushed bodies, falling asleep soon after.

The sound of a phone ringing pulled you from sleep, the warm body next to you grumbling at the sound before it rapidly jumped out of bed;

“Fuck, that’s my phone”

Through bleary eyes you watched Chris’s naked ass as he rummaged through the piles of clothing on the floor, finding his phone and answering it just in time;

“Yeah… uh-huh… for real?! Yeah absolutely! Send me the details, I’ll be there!”

You watched as he listened a little longer before ending the call, turning to you and he had the biggest smile on his face;

“I might have gotten a part!”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, they want me to do some screen tests with a possible co-star, see if there’s chemistry”

Jumping out of bed you ran and hugged him, kissing him deeply as he carried you back to the bed;

“I feel like celebrating… how about breakfast in bed?”

“Ok, I’ll call room serv… oh…”

Chris was pushing your legs apart and kissing up your inner thigh, and that’s when you realised he was talking about a different kind of breakfast in bed. As you lay back and enjoyed the magic he could perform with his tongue, you blissed out from pleasure.

Three Weeks Later

Chris finished the last scene, the director calling cut and he grinned as he looked at his castmates. None of them could quite believe how they were there, standing in a cold and rainy British Columbia small town, with writers and directors that had been trying to get their series picked up for years.

The rest of the cast of ‘Supernatural’ was a small ensemble, and having been given the role of the older brother; Dean Winchester, Chris felt at home with the role and had been given he contract straight after his screen test with his on screen brother Sam. Laughing with the actor that played Sam - a native New Yorker by the name of Sebastian - the two of them had immediately clicked and their friendship and on screen chemistry shone through the camera.

“Hey Evans, Stan!”

The sound of the producer’s voice caught Chris’s attention;

“Yeah?”

They need you two back at the studio, costume fitting”

“Sure thing”

The sound of the small doorbell that had been fitted on the counter drew your attention from the racks in the back room, calling out for your new arrival that you’d be out in a second. The job you’d applied for in Vancouver had pulled through, and it was your first week. A new show that needed a lot of men’s casual wear, yet things like jeans and jackets needed seams strengthened for fight scenes and pockets added for prop weapons. You were yet to meet the two main stars of the show, the casting having not been fully finalised until just days ago, and everything was hush-hush until it was going to be announced at one of the late summer conventions.

Dumping the armfuls of clothing onto the counter you turned and almost fainted;

“Chris?!”

For a second he looked in shock before he vaulted the counter, and took you into his arms;

“You’re here? You’re really here?”

“You’re the star?! You didn’t tell me!”

You kissed him deeply, before a quiet cough from behind Chris drew your attention, Chris turning;

“Seb, I want you to meet the girl I was telling you about”

The other guy raised an eyebrow;

“You’re THE girl? Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he held his hand out over the counter and you shook it, Chris still holding you in his arms; “I’m Sebastian but everyone calls me Seb”

Looking at the two of them you knew in that moment the show was going to be a hit, and you looked forward to making these two look even better on screen… if that was even possible.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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antiquechampagne · 4 years ago

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Antique Champagne - Ch44 - Child’s Play

The smell of sizzling meat coaxed a drowsy Payne to search out the Fizztop’s kitchen. She found Hancock standing in front of a sizzling frying pan bare chested, his white ruffled shirt slung over a nearby chair. She gently wrapped her arms around his waist.

“What’s cooking, Sunshine? It’s smelling good.”

“Who knew the power a scrambled eggs and Cram would have on you? You slept in quite a bit.”

“What time is it?”

“About 3.”

Payne let go of him and made her way to a metal stool in the corner. She did a few quick calculations in her head. “We still have plenty of time. It’s not like we have to get everything done in Nuka-World in one day.”

“True.” Hancock shoveled breakfast onto a pair of waiting plates. “Bon apple tea.”

Payne chuckled as she accepted the dish. “It’s ‘bon appetite’!”

Hancock answered with a nonchalant shrug. “Meh. Eat up!”

They moved to the prewar dining room, sliding into a booth away from the windows.

After swallowing a huge bite, Hancock poked his fork at her. “So, what’s your plan?”

“My plan? Why do I have to pick?”

Hancock leaned back against the back of the booth. “Cause I’m taking a holiday from being in charge while we’re here. And man, it feels nice!”

Payne chuckled and started to ruminate on her options. “Why don’t we start out in Kiddie Kingdom? There probably isn’t too much to see in there. Then we can spend more time in other parks.”

“Sounds good, boss.”

Soon enough, they found themselves walking up to a garish archway framed by giant rusting lollipops, the sun just beginning to throw golden silhouettes across the park.

A man in a cartoonish elephant gas mask held up a hand, barring their path. “Hold on a sec. Gotta make sure the sprayers are off.” He curtly stomped off.

Hancock leaned causally against a barricade. He lit a cigarette to pass the time. Looking up he pointed to something rising above the tall wall that surrounded the park. “Do you think that works?”

Payne looked up, shading her eyes to stare at the giant red Ferris wheel. Before she could manage, a gruff voice answered for her.

“Unfortunately, no. Not enough power to get the old girl running anymore.” A glowing green ghoul greeted the pair. His less than pristine tuxedo stuck out among the neon clad raiders.

“That’s a shame.” Hancock shook his hand. “The name’s Hancock. That’s Payne.” Payne offered her hand in kind. “Nice hat.”

“Uh, thanks.” The ghoul seemed a bit taken back for a moment before shaking her hand back. He extended his other arm, guiding them inside. “The Overboss mentioned you might be by sometime. I’m Oswald the Outrageous. If you hadn’t guessed it, Kiddie Kingdom is my home and sanctuary. It’s a safe space for ghouls, feral or otherwise. Everyone here is family.” He faltered a bit. “Friends of ghouls are welcome as well, of course.”

Payne smiled behind the helmet’s visor and nodded.

As they continued their introductions, the group walked past a stooped feral. He quickly scuttled out of sight behind a garbage can. Oswald stopped, crouched and calmly addressed the ghoul.

“Hey, Jerry. It’s alright. They’re friends,” he coaxed.

The ghoul poked his head out and sniffed the air. The feral wore a curly red wig, their face crudely painted with bright colorful splotches. Suddenly the stains that covered Oswald’s clothes made more sense to her. Payne barely choked back a chuckle. Oswald looked back at her.

“Sorry. I’ve never seen a ghoul with makeup on before.”

With a slight frown, he turned back to the spooked feral, continuing to cajole him out. Larry inched forward, cautiously, eventually planting himself squarely behind Oswald, shielding himself from the new interlopers. Oswald stood, his hand resting on Larry’s shoulder.

“Larry was one of the entertainers here, hired by Bradberton to amuse the kids who came to the park. He was one hell of a juggling clown, always making the kids laugh. He would even catch stuff they threw at him, adding it to whatever he was juggling at the time.”

“That would have been something to see.” Payne said.

Something fast rumbled noisily past them. Payne reflexively stiffened, ready to defend Hancock if necessary.

“What’s that?” Hancock asked.

“That was just the Nuka-Racers… um, a fast rail car ride. They make a hell-of-a-racket. Watch out if you cross the track. They pack a bit of a wallop if they hit you.”

Hancock took a quick puff of his cigarette. “Can I ride’em?”

Oswald thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not.” He lead the them through the wrought iron fences that served as the ride’s queue, Larry tailing them at a distance. “Give me a moment to stop them.”

Hancock chose a bright red car and plopped down into the seat. He barely fit. He waved to Payne. “You gonna join me?”

Payne shook her head. “First, there is no way in hell I’m fitting in there with you. Second… no thanks. Those things were nearly a death trap before the war. God knows what 200 years of wear and tear has done to them… no offense.” She gave a slight bow to Oswald.

Hancock tried to win her over. “When are you going to have this chance again?” Payne shook her head.

“Well, now that that is settled, there are a few things you need to know. Once these things start going, they just keep going until I stop them. So, when you’re done, give us a signal. Also, keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle. They run close to some of the buildings.”

Hancock nodded and gripped the fake steering wheel. Payne wasn’t sure if he was actually listening.

“Seems simple enough.” He beamed. “Let’er rip!”

With the press of a button, Hancock shot off, whizzing around the park at breakneck speed. His hoots of joy echoed off the walls. Payne just watched and chuckled to herself. She had a feeling, after the big breakfast they had just had, she knew exactly how this was going to end.

Catching some movement out of the corner of her eye, she peeked down to see Larry creeping closer to her. Slowly, she unlatched her helmet. The sun had dropped low enough in the sky that she was in little danger of it’s rays now. She crouched, setting in on the paved path next to her. Under Oswald’s watchful gaze, she sat and let the painted ghoul sniff the air around her.

“I hear your name is Larry. Mine is Payne. Nice to meet you.” She wasn’t sure that it would work, but she put out her hand.

Larry ignored it, instead something on her wrist caught his attention. Grabbing her wrist, he turned it over. Immediately, Payne wrenched her arm away as the feral began to dig at the bottle cap embedded in her leather bracelet.

“Hey!” she protested, standing up and covering the glowing star with her other hand. “That’s not for you!” The sudden movement and shouting sent Larry skittering away like a kicked puppy.

Oswald moved to intervene. He quickly scanned her wrist, checking for damage. “Sorry about that.” He scowled. “He’s normally not like that.”

“It’s okay. He didn’t break it. I would have been hard pressed to replace it if he had.”

Oswald squinted. “Is that a bottle cap?”

“Yeah. One from out west. It has a lot of personal meaning to me.”

“Sorry,” He apologized again.

Hancock made his second round, still giddy with the rush of the ride.

“I have a question for you. Are all the ghouls here from Nuka-World?”

Oswald nodded. “Yes. Most of us took shelter here when the bombs fell. After, we had nowhere else to go. Here we had shelter, food, water… we really became like a big family and we protected one another.” He looked down at the ground. “Over time, though, we started to change. We didn’t know about the radioactive waste stored in the base of the castle that was slowly poisoning us. One by one I watched all my friends grow sick with the Affliction, then even more slowly lose their humanity. Now I watch over all of them that are left until we can find a cure.”

“We?” Payne’s heart sank.

“Rachel and I. We were the only ones to keep our minds intact.” Oswald offered a tired smiled. “Rachel left to find a cure. When she comes back, we’ll make everyone well again.”

“That’s… something, I guess. When do you think she’ll be back?”

Oswald’s smile faded. “I don’t know. She’s been gone for over a year now. I’m sure she’ll be back any time now.”

Payne looked up to see Hancock start his third trip around the track… only this time he wasn’t yipping with excitement.

“You better stop the ride.”

“What?” Oswald blinked and looked after Hancock. “He’s not waving at us.”

“I know that face. Stop it now.” Payne sprinted off down the track.

Oswald jumped to action, quickly bringing the cars to a clanking halt. Payne got to Hancock in enough time to help him out of the car to where his breakfast quickly exited his system all over the grass. Oswald trotted up next, luckily avoiding the pile of vomit.

“I knew that was going to happen.” Payne scolded.

Hancock plunked down in the grass. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Would you have listened if I did?”

“No.”

All Payne could do was shrug and shake her head.

“Maybe this will help to calm your stomach?” Oswald produced a Nuka-Cola.

Hancock accepted his offer. “Couldn’t hurt at this point.” He took a few wary sips.

As Hancock regained his composure, Payne turned to their guide. “What did you do here, before?”

“My name doesn’t give it away? Oswald the Outrageous! I was the headlining act for the park. Over the centuries, my magic act has only gotten better!”

“I suppose you would have more time to practice.”

“Practice has nothing to do with it! No doubt, my body has changed, but it has also given me magical powers to spare!”

Payne looked at Hancock, who was undoubtedly having similar thoughts.

“Really?” Hancock put a hand on his knee to help himself up. “This, I gotta see.”

Oswald’s eyes sparkled as he tipped his top hat. “Right this way, then! Step into the great King Cola’s Castle and see for yourself the wondrous acts of Oswald the Outrageous with your own eyes!” And with that, Oswald bent himself in a deep bow before his form disappeared in a great plume of smoke.

#antique champagne #fallout #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #hancock #oswald the outrageous #nuka world #ao3 #payne #fluff

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apriumjam · 5 years ago

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SatsuRes Tutorial

Here is a rundown of the basics of the new Satsuten Restaurant game.

Installing the game

To start the game, you need to download it, amazingly. You can search for the game with さつてんレストラン

iOS

You will need to make a Japanese iTunes account. Japan-Codes and other sites have tutorials you’ll need to follow.

Android

I don’t personally have an Android device so unfortunately I can’t be of much help. However, I hear a lot of Android users mention something called qooapp, so you may want to start there.

Starting the Game

The game starts off with you receiving a letter, after which you decide you may as well take a look at the restaurant. After this, you’re greeted with this screen.

This is where you decide what base interior your restaurant will have.There are three initial designs you can choose from. Pick the one you like. Protip: green button means “yes”.

Shortly afterward, you will meet this screen

This is where you will begin to create your personal character, also called avatar. Customisation options are pretty sparse at first -- just pick something you like and confirm when you’re happy with it.

After this, you will be thrown into the first part of the tutorial, the transcript of which you can read here (in progress...).

Cathy, also your first waiter, will tell you all about the basics of the game.

Basics

Let’s take a look at the interface.

Restaurant Tab

This is the first tab on the bottom, the restaurant tab. Here you can see your main UI. The upper left has your level, in my case 12. On the upper right...

HP: This is energy you use for serving guests. You have an absolute maximum cap of 10 HP at a time. This is very important -- try to only level up at 0 HP, because otherwise, you will lose all your extra HP. There is no overflow mechanic. The time displayed is how long it will take to replenish all your health. You recover 1 HP every 10 minutes.

Diamonds: This is gacha currency. You can, of course, buy diamonds with real money. If you’re planning on doing that, and are using iOS, you need to buy an iTunes gift card in yen.

Gold: Currency for buying various customisation options such as interior props, avatar options, and recipes. You can gain gold passively through actions such as cooking and serving guests.

Below these are three additional icons.

Quests: Gray will let you know that these are your trials. The first tab are your dailies. Rewards accepted here will go to your present box. The second is the scenario, or the story. Check here every so often to read or skip through new parts of the story. They unlock depending upon your level and also give you access to new waiters, like Ray. The last tab is achievements, which you will gain if you meet certain conditions, such as leveling up. The rewards here will also go to your gift box once accepted.

Gift box: Self-explanatory, your gift box. You probably already know how to use this if you’ve played other mobage before.The first tab is your items. The second tab is recipes. The final tab is your reward history.

News: Game news such as gacha announcements.

In this restaurant tab, you will also notice that you can sometimes see other characters with exclamation marks over their heads.

These are actually other players, or other chefs. You can help other chefs by clicking on the exclamation mark over their head in the “restaurant” tab. You will then be taken to their kitchen, where you can tap on their dishes currently in progress.

This is beneficial for several reasons: it gives you experience and gold, and it increases the quality of the chef’s dish. However, know that this does not increase the quality of your dishes, nor can it be used to increase the quality of a dish that is already at maximum quality.

You will also sometimes see present boxes on the screen in the restaurant tab.

Tap them to receive a gift.

Kitchen Tab

Here, you can...well, queue certain recipes for being cooked. At first, you will only have one slot. As you level up, you will be able to add new slots for additional dishes. New slots will cost gold and take time to create. Long tapping on a hotplate will allow you to level up a plate. This increases the amount of servings that will be made in that slot.

Different recipes will take less or more time to make. It would appear that higher rarity items take longer than lower rarity items. You can choose to speed up the process with diamonds, but this is not recommended. You can also use miracle time tokens (covered under items).

Recipes have their own profiles. Clicking the green button at the bottom will cause the dish to be added to your queue.

The first column, along the left beside the food image, tells you its category (SatsuRes, in this case), rarity (one star), and “boost” (EP, or event points, for use in events).

Second column along the left. The first line tells you how long the recipe will take to make. In this case, 11 seconds. The second line tells you the recipe’s udemae, which is basically its level. The higher your recipe’s udemae, the more gold customers will pay to buy it. The third line tells how much the recipe sells for.

Last column, along the right. The first line tells you how many servings that recipe will give you. In my case, this recipe gives us 10 servings. The last line is experience, and depicts how many times you need to cook your recipe to level it up.

Both experience and udemae increase based on how often you cook the dish. Mastering a dish -- getting maximum experience -- allows you to buy new dishes.

For example, this drink requires you to master the food pictured, donuts, before you can unlock it.

You will know a recipe has been mastered if you see this crown on its icon.

Another important aspect of the kitchen is the red refrigerator at the back. Tapping on it will tell you its capacity.

The capacity is how many dishes you can hold in it at maximum. You can store dishes that you cook here if there is no more room on the floor. Clicking on the plus sign next to it will allow you to increase the stock of the fridge using refrigerator capacity tickets, gold, or diamonds.

Floor Tab

This is the floor, where you can serve various guests your food. Each round of serving will only use 1 energy, regardless if you have 1 dish or 3 dishes. Just like the kitchen, you can long tap on a plate to increase the amount served at a time as well as increase the gold and experience you gain from that particular slot.

When you try to serve a guest with 0 HP, you will see this screen:

You can replenish your HP with either special drinks or diamonds. If you want to do this, only do it when you know you won’t be leveling up soon.

Occasionally, certain events will occur on the floor screen. One is the roulette.

Swiping right on the screen, or clicking the green “skip” button, will give you a chance to get diamonds, energy, experience, or gold.

Another type of event that may happen is being visited by an influencer.

You will have a limited amount satisfy the influencer (in this case, 3 hours). This can be accomplished by serving the influencer dishes. Of course, this uses up energy. After the influencer has been satisfied, they will give you a gift.

Gacha Tab

The gacha. Not much to say here.

You use diamonds or tickets to get a pull, and then pray to RNGesus you get what you want. Right now we only have the Zack and Ray avatar costume set available.

Clothes/Decor

Clicking on this tab will give you a choice of editing your avatar or your interior design.

Somewhat self-explanatory.

Upon reaching level 20, visit your interior decor page to initiate floor expansion.

You will see this message, which tells you that the expansion has been initiated. Upon visiting your restaurant page, you will see countdown timer on the lower right. It will take about 24 hours for your floor to expand, after which other characters will visit your restaurant.

There’s a lot of stuff we can do over here. Let’s go over the large blue icons first, from left to right.

Shop: This is where you can, well, buy stuff, with diamonds or with gold. The large gold tab is premium items which need diamonds.The pink one is for avatar customisation, and uses gold. The final, blue tab, is for your restaurant decor, and uses gold.

Scenario: This is for reviewing chapters of the story you have unlocked.

Recipe Book: Here, you can see all the recipes you have purchased, as well as buy new ones. Learning new recipes gives you experience.

Influencers: Keep track of influencers you have seen or have yet to meet. This page also lists what requirements you need to meet to see certain influencers. For example, to encounter the blind nun, we need to have been helped by number 421 a total of 10 times.

Now for the green buttons, going left to right.

Friends: You can view your friends (first tab), see requests (second tab) whether incoming (first) or outgoing (second), and search for friends using their username. Mine is Jam.

Social: First tab: see who helped you recently. Second tab: see your friends’ activity. Third tab: see your activity.

Item Box: View a list of all the items currently in your possession, such as drinks.

Settings: There’s quite a lot here, so let’s make a separate header for this.

Help: Various tutorials for different parts of the game.

Settings

First option: Change your name, your phrase/description, and set your birthday.

Second option: Your notification settings. From top to bottom: new news on the board, friend request, notification you’ve been helped, individual dishes being completed, all dishes being completed, and energy completely replenished.

The second tab here lets you to choose a certain time to be sent notifications.

Third option: Your sound settings.

Fourth option: The amount of diamonds you have, as well as splitting them up into purchased diamonds or free diamonds.

Fifth option: A code for when you’re changing phones, for example. Put in a password here and you will get a one-time use code for it.

Sixth option: Check for game updates.

Seventh option: Change your active waiter.

Eighth option: You can change your trophy here.

~~~~

And there you have it, these are the basics of the game. I’ll be translating the chapters, recipe flavour text, items, and so on as I’m able to.

#satsuriku no tenshi #satsuten #satsures #angels of death #mine

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ambivalent-auguries · 4 years ago

Text

Update.

Below will be slightly ranty, slightly negative.

I will start with the actual updates, before giving more background to where my headspace is at.

As of now, the following muses have been removed from my blog: Davide, Reese, Adele, Desiree. They are not likely to return any time soon and all their threads will be dropped.

The following muses need slight tweaks: Akari, Dorian. That means they might be changing slightly in the future.

The following muses have been added: Elian, Mikhail, Jaume, Ryker. Needless to say, I have a lot of muse for them so they are your best bet right now for interaction.

The cap to five threads is still in place and it’s actually helping a lot. I will not do starter calls from now on - I have decided this a few months ago, but I’m putting it here to make it official. I will post a thread tracker shortly and notify you if a thread is dropped.

Now in terms of where my head is at. I no longer want to delete the blog, which is good. But I am still going through an incredibly rough patch with writing and the blog and this is my last attempt at making it work. New characters, dropping the threads I don’t see going anywhere, general clean up and tidying up things around the blog. I will be doing things in the background for the next week or so and queue replies. Apologies for the wait, I promise I am getting there.

In the meantime, I will continue to chill out about the blog and hopefully this works. As for my approach to threads from here on out, I’ve discovered I really can’t be fucked with first meets. This is one of the reasons I won’t be doing starter calls anymore - neither post them nor like them. I will amend my rules to reflect this and if you want a thread, it will have to be some kind of preest or involve plotting.

So yeah, I’m still on a break and still working through things. Thanks for your patience and understanding and to my sweet mutuals who keep telling me to chill out lol I appreciate you.

#ooc #long post #negative #i guess? lol #just gotta wait it out man

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prince-claremont-diaz · 5 years ago

Text

Whatever We Become

Summary: In Lucas’ final year of high school before he has to face the real world, he comes across the new identical twins, Eliott and Leo. Needless to say, Lucas falls head over heels for both of them.

Warning(s): alcohol and substance use

Word count: 2.1k

You're Eliott, right?

Almost a week into the school year, Lucas still hadn’t seen Leo’s alleged twin brother. Though he now knew his name was Eliott, Lucas knew absolutely nothing about this mysterious twin.

However, he was slowly building a friendship with Leo as the days passed. They sat together every math lesson still, chatting almost nonstop and generally ignoring their teacher’s lessons. Whenever they passed in the halls, Leo threw Lucas his signature grin and a nod of the head, along with the occasional ‘Hello.’ Each time this happened, Lucas was momentarily winded, barely able to choke back another greeting as he tried to stumble along the corridors.

On the second Friday since school started, Lucas was sitting alone at one of the lunch tables, waiting for the rest of the boys to arrive from the lunch queue. He was feebly picking at his lunch, trying to decipher what it actually was when he overheard his name being called from behind him. Dropping his fork onto the tray, Lucas turned in his seat, grinning as he saw Leo wandering over carrying a tray.

“Hey, Lucas. What’s up?” Leo asked as he got nearer, smiling warmly.

“Uh, just eating lunch I guess.”

“I can see that,” Leo replied with a smirk, looking over Lucas’s shoulder at the tray of food sat in front of him. “Listen, I’m throwing a party tonight. You up for coming? You can bring your friends.” So busy gawking up at his crush, Lucas hadn’t even noticed his friends’ arrival at the table. They all eyed Leo curiously, sitting down around Lucas.

Lucas stumbled for something cool to say in reply, finally landing on, “Y-yeah. Sure. Awesome.” He mentally slapped himself in the face. Real fucking eloquent, Lucas he thought. Lucas cleared his throat. “I’m down for that. That sounds cool.”

Leo grinned impossibly wider, grey-blue eyes shining. “Brilliant. I’ll send you the address and then I’ll see you-and your friends-at 9,” he explained, looking around at Basile, Yann and Arthur. And with that, Leo spun on his heel and headed over to join his friends on the other side of the cafeteria.

As soon as he was out of ear shot, the other three boys rounded on Lucas, slapping and jostling him excitedly.

“I didn’t know you were friends with one of the new guys! You’re one step closer to your first boyfriend!” Arthur exclaimed, punching Lucas in the shoulder and looking across the room over his shoulder.

Lucas groaned, kicking Arthur’s shin under the table. “He’s not gonna be my boyfriend, Arthur. And I don’t even like him,” Lucas shot back, scowling and stabbing his fork into his soggy salad.

“Which one was that again, anyway? Leo or Eliott,” Basile asked, picking up a forkful of shredded carrots.

“Leo,” said Lucas instantly, “I still haven’t seen his brother Eliott. He must not be very social or something.” Shrugging, Lucas took a bite of his salad.

Arthur leaned over the table. “I heard he’s the reason they came here in their last year. They had to transfer here after something Eliott did,” he explained, “Someone even said he got expelled.” Lucas raised his eyebrows in alarm, blinking back at his friend in bewilderment. “Just ask Emma. She’s the one who told me.”

“Expelled? Surely not,” commented Yann, looking over his shoulder at Leo and his friends.

Arthur shrugged exaggeratedly, sitting back in his chair and digging into his meal. Basile shook his head, swallowing some of his carrots. “I don’t think he was expelled. I have History with him and he seems pretty nice. I doubt he’s the type to go and get himself kicked out of school,” he stated, shaking his head. He shovelled in another mouthful of carrots and added, “There’s gotta be some other reason.”

“Maybe we’ll find out at the party tonight?” Lucas suggested after a few minutes of just eating in silence. Arthur nodded, reaching across for the water jug.

“One thing’s for sure, Eliott will probably be at the party tonight.”

◇

A few hours later, Lucas was crammed into the corner of the living room, nursing his second bottle of beer and watching others dance and stumble around the room together. Someone had thrown a red sheet over all the lamps, washing the room in a bright red glow while a disco ball cast blinding white strobe lights across the walls and ceilings in erratic patterns. A generic dubstep song was blasting over some speakers, making the whole room shake like an earthquake. Beside him, Basile was leaning against the wall, holding his own drink and staring across the room at Daphné and Manon bouncing around the dance floor together and laughing. On the other side of the room, Yann was flirting with a first year girl with waist length blonde hair and an extremely short red skirt.

Lucas sighed, knocking back some more beer. If he was being honest, Lucas really wasn’t having a great time. He could feel a migraine starting to form from the noise and the flashing lights.

And even worse, Leo was currently on the dance floor, intertwining with a girl wearing booty shorts and a lace crop top, tongue half shoved down his throat as her hands wandered over his torso. Lucas’s stomach flipped at the sight, alcohol sloshing uncomfortably in his stomach. Watching as Leo whispered something to the girl and promptly pulled her out of the room, Lucas downed the rest of his beer in less than a second. He elbowed Bas in the side and shouted over the music, “I’m gonna get another round!”

Basile gave him a thumbs up, still oggling Daphné. Rolling his eyes, Lucas pushed himself off of the wall and began pushing his way through the crowd in search of the kitchen. He weaved his way through the crowd, muttering apologies until he finally reached where he was looking for. The kitchen was blissfully void of any people and Lucas smiled, tossing the bottle into the bin that was slowly accumulating bottles and searched around for another few bottles.

Behind him, the door to the kitchen creaked loudly as it opened. Lucas spun around to see who it was, almost falling over as he saw a semi familiar face. Standing in front of him, for the first time ever, was Eliott Demaury.

“Hey,” Eliott greeted, giving Lucas a tiny smile. Though he was technically identical to his brother, Eliott seemed completely distinct from his brother. He carried himself differently and he was good inch taller, dressed in all black. Not to mention his hair was a riot compared to the other boy’s. It was like looking at an alternate version of Leo.

Lucas nodded. “Hey,” he said, peering over at the taller boy, “You’re Eliott, right?”

The other boy didn’t reply for a moment, pushing past Lucas and opening up the fridge. He reached in and pulled out two beer bottles and finally said, “Already heard about me then?” Eliott replied, offering Lucas one of the bottles. “Those are the shitty, cheap ones,” he explained, gesturing to the beers set in an ice bucket in the corner, “These ones are actually good.” He turned away, bringing the bottle down sharply towards the counter and popping off the cap with ease.

“Oh yeah?” Lucas replied, eyes wide as he watched Eliott’s movements. Eliott smirked, raising an eyebrow and tipping a bit of his beer back.

Eliott placed his drink down on the counter beside him and reached one of his hands out towards Lucas. “Here, lemme get that for you,” he asked, glancing at the bottle in Lucas’s hand. Before Lucas could protest, Eliott pried the drink from his grasp, turned and popped the lid off on the counter edge yet again. Handing it back to Lucas he said, “That’s my most redeeming quality.” Lucas snorted, taking a tentative sip of the beer. Eliott was right, this /was/ actually good.

Eliott rummaged around in one of his pockets for a moment, earning a curious glance from the shorter boy. After a second, he pulled out a neon yellow lighter and a joint. “Care to join me?” he asked, gesturing his head towards the window and dancing the joint between his fingers. Lucas shrugged, following Eliott out of the kitchen.

They made their way through the sea of bodies and out through to the balcony which overlooked the street below. There were thankfully only a few other people out here, mingling amongst each other and paying no attention to the two boys that entered. Eliott plopped onto the stone floor, sticking his legs through the bars and letting them dangle over the ground 20 feet below. Lucas carefully sat down beside him, dangling his own feet over the edge. Eliott lit the end of his joint and tucked the lighter back in his pocket, bringing the joint up to his lips to take a drag. He shut his eyes as he sighed out, thin grey fog filtering out of his mouth as he silently offered Lucas his own hit.

Lucas took it gratefully, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating drug. It warmed him from inside out, filling his head with a faint buzz that reached his fingertips and toes like sparkling, embering fires. Lucas released his breath, letting the smoke flutter out between his lips, disappearing into the night sky. He handed Eliott back the joint.

After silently passing it back and forth for a few minutes, Lucas's body felt blissfully tingly, all of his nerve endings just that bit more awake. Eliott took another small drag, letting the smoke out with a circular formation and handing it back. “You're friends with my brother, aren't you?” Eliott said softly, rubbing his hands together as a cool breeze began to pick up and swirl around them.

Lucas nodded, giving the weed back and leaning back on the palms of his hands. “I guess. We sit together in math class, so I guess we're acquaintances,” he replied, swinging his feet back and forth and watching his shoelaces bounce on his feet. Lucas glanced sideways at the other boy, watching him take an extra drag.

“He talks about you sometimes.” Eliott said shortly, softly. He handed Lucas the cigarette again, turning to look at him with a few strands falling into his eyes.

Lucas raised his eyebrows and said around the cigarette, “Oh yeah?”

Eliott nodded, plucking the blunt from Lucas's mouth. “Yeah. He says you're pretty cool and that you're very funny,” he explained with a shrug.

Lucas snorted, shaking his head in disbelief. “He really talks about me?” he clarified, fiddling with a loose strand in his blue jeans.

Eliott released a breathy laugh, raising one eyebrow as he studied Lucas closely. “You sound doubtful. Don't trust me?” He tapped the cigarette with his forefinger, dropping bits of ash onto the ground below.

“I met you an hour ago!” Lucas balked, looking incredulously at the absurd boy sitting next to him with a teasing grin and eyes scrunching up devilishly. “So excuse me for being wary of you, Mr. Demaury.”

Eliott rolled his eyes, taking another puff of his cigarette. “Well he does talk about you. Talks about you being like a sitcom about crime fighters or something,” Eliott recounted, handing Lucas the joint, “And he was right. Your hair is a right mess.” He grinned wider again, reaching up to ruffle Lucas's hair.

Lucas yelped, pulling away from his grasp and almost dropping the blunt off the balcony. Eliott grabbed the cigarette from Lucas’ loose grip and put the end down on the ground, putting it out in seconds and getting carefully onto his feet. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Lucas.”

Before Lucas was able to reply, Eliott spun on his toes and disappeared into the house, leaving Lucas alone with his feet dangling over oblivion.

Lucas groaned, lying back on the floorboards and staring up at the night sky. The few lights not affected by the city’s light pollution winked and weaved over each other in his blurry vision. Lucas looked back up at the house again and sighed, shutting his eyes.

He was screwed.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #eliott demaury #lucas lallemant #my fic

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babybluepeaches · 6 years ago

Text

Permission pt. 2 {a killmonger fic}

pt. 1 / pt. 3

AN: Since your first wild adrenaline-filled meeting, you and Erik have been inseparable during your nightly dope deals. But tonight, you might discover a secret side of himself he’s been hiding when your life is threatened in a deal gone awry. Stay tuned for the sex in part 3 ❤︎

....

1:27am

1 new message

Sender: Y/N

Message: “Bout to be outside.”

Erik picks up his phone and shoots back a text. Getting out of bed, as per his new nightly routine, he changes out of his pajamas into his outside clothes. After a bit of deliberation he settles on a black T-shirt and camo pants.

He had been seeing Y/N for a month now, just going with her on her nightly drop offs. He wasn’t one to keep up attached relationships, but there was something about Y/N that made him almost forget about everything. Besides the sex and free “gas”, he liked that she didn’t ask him any heavy questions, being a dealer she wasn’t too into trading personal information. When they hooked up they just drove, talked, and smoked. It seemed effortless.

Erik had to admit to himself, he liked her energy. She was cool, confident, and she didn’t have any expectations of him. This worked perfectly for Erik, who wanted nothing more but to escape the tidal wave of feelings he had been keeping at bay about his so-called family and his legacy.

Grabbing his essentials, he heads out his apartment and walks towards a black car.

….

1:36am

1 new message

Sender: Erik

Message: “Bet”

You glance at your phone before putting your car into park in front of Erik’s place.

You didn’t want to admit how much Erik Stevens had influenced you over the past couple of weeks, but it was unmistakable. The long car rides, the impromptu hook ups, you had even slept over his place a couple of times. Not to mention he influenced you into getting that single gold cap grill you always wanted. It shined in your mouth’s top row of teeth, a little dollar sign flashing when you smiled.

Hell, it helped to have his intimidating body in your passenger seat too. Your thirsty customers used to ask to sit in the back of your car. “Just to sample what you got,” they would say. Now when they lean in to check you out, they see Erik too. You’ve lost count of the times you’ve had to stop yourself from laughing at their disappointment. Sometimes Erik grabs your thigh when you’re bagging for them, or talks to you casually. With all the creepy niggas at bay, you actually started to enjoy the night. So it’s safe to say Erik became your part-time partner in crime.

….

While you were adding songs to your tidal queue, Erik opens your door and climbs in the car.

“‘Sup E,” you say, now shifting your attention to program your first address into the GPS. Before you had even glanced over, Erik’s smell and presence wafts into the car. He always smelled like sandalwood and honey. It was a small comfort, not that you would admit it.

“Wassup sis,” he said with a smile, making fun of what your underlings call you.

“You are not allowed to call me that,” you say, returning his grin and pulling off the lot.

“Damn, okay Y/N,” he says, followed by, “Where we going?”

“Melrose, Highland, some random ass place out East.”

“Dope,” Erik says, picking up your phone to add his preferred songs to your tidal queue.

You’re cruising, rapping along to X by 21 Savage. You loved to drive and Erik didn’t mind when you zoned out. Your vibe was interrupted when Erik abruptly says, “Oh my god pull in here.”

“Pull in where?” you yell over the music.

“Girl.The In-N-Out. What you think?”

You laugh and hang a left to the In-N-Out drive thru. This boy was something else.

When you drive up to order, Erik climbs in the back seat and you pull up so he can reach the mic. Erik’s upper body hangs out the window and he strokes his beard.

Licking his lips he says, “Yeah hey Cindy. Imma get a double double with 4 slices of cheese. A chocolate shake, a root beer, and a coke. Thanks.”

You hear Cindy make a remark about his 3 drinks and Erik laughs in response.

“Nah the root beer’s for my girl,” he says smiling. As he thanks Cindy and gets back in the passenger seat, you try to wipe the smile off your own face.

When Erik dips his body back in the car, you drive around to pick up the food. You pull up, Erik pays, and the In-N-Out worker hands you a small bag with 3 drinks.

Sticking your straw in your mouth you pull out of the parking lot. After a moment you propose casually, “So I’m your girl now?“

“You tryna be my girl now?” Erik returns, mimicking your casual tone.

“Only if it comes with refills,” you say, shaking your drink. Erik laughs and writes you off.

You drive around the city making your runs while Erik destroys his In-N-Out. Striking off name after name on your list, you land on the last one. Small amount of tree, they request to meet up on the East side. An easy quick one to end the night.

….

You pull up to the street you’re supposed to meet the mystery client and park, semi incognito of course. This place was no where you’ve been before.

In fact, no one was around. No old woman hobbling home from church, no old men sitting on any porches. You lean onto your stirring wheel and hold it to your chest while you peer out the windshield.

“This… Is hella sus,” you say to Erik, who’s been absorbed in a text message.

“Huh?” Erik turns off his phone screen, “You ain’t been here?”

“Nah,” after another second of scoping the neighborhood, you start digging in your backseat.

When you sit up you toss Erik one of your emergency guns.

“Stay alert,” you say, reaching for your own gun. Before you can touch it, Erik’s head snaps up and peers out your window. He squints.

“Yo is that… Lil Pump?”

Your windows are tinted but you cant mistake that gangly white frame coming towards your car.

The figure approaching your car wore a black hoodie, black baggie pants and a black shirt. All of which would be very discreet, if he wasnt also sporting greasy multicolored dreadlocks and a lollipop face tatt.

“Fuck, it’s Rare,” you groan. What was his raggedy ass doing here?

Rare showed up on the scene a few months ago as a new dealer a couple hoods over. You had always laughed at him, you couldn’t help but find his white boy thug front amusing. Once, he actually approached you and tried to get you to work some “big deals” with him. You blew his offer off with a laugh, and ever since he’s always had something cocky to say to you.

“Who?” Erik says.

“He’s a dealer. Not too fond of me,” you roll your eyes at the thought.

Rare approaches the car with a smile, signaling for you to roll your window down. You shake your head no, but he pulls up his hoodie to reveal an AR-15 rifle strapped to his torso, something strong enough to blast through the windows if you wouldn’t comply.

“Talk about overcompensation,” you mutter as you roll down the window.

“What is this? A deal?” you spit at him.

He smiles and when he gets close enough he pulls a second gun and pressing it to your temple. He coos, “Mmm, how about a set up?” smiling to reveal a whole mouth full of rainbow grillz.

You feel Erik’s body stiffen and his energy set on fire, you shoot him a quick look you hope communicates ’don’t do anything stupid.’

“I see you brought some muscle,” he says eyeing Erik, “So did I.”

Rare gestures to his cronies, which have now fanned out around the car. They’re all armed, all have ski masks covering their faces.

“Let’s go inside and make some arrangements shall we?” Rare says, as he reaches inside your car to open your door. He pulls you out and zip ties your arms around your back. Erik is getting the same treatment by the masked goons.

For a minute you’re both facing each other, and you cant help but notice Erik’s demeanor has changed completely. While he lets himself be restrained he’s as attentive as a soldier, nothing but his scowl and his lazor focus on you denotes any emotion. You see a inferno in his eyes though, even with his calm expression Erik seems dangerous.

Before you can give Erik any nonverbal reassurance, Rare is pulling you up the steps of the house by your locked arms. When filed inside one of Rare’s men pipes up.

“Uh, what should we do with him?” referring to Erik, who seems even more pissed at the sight of you being manhandled.

“Sit him down, see if he knows anything useful,” you and Rare watch Erik be tied to a chair, “if he causes any trouble, kill him,” Rare smirks and pulls you toward one of the back rooms.

Kill?

You look at Erik one last time before the door shuts. Safe to say, your world starts shaking internally.

Shit I shouldnt have dragged him into this. He has my gun though he has my gun it’s fine we’re gonna get out of this, we’re-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Rare slamming you down in your own chair.

“Oh J,” he says, shooting you your fake name while he sits across from you. “You know why they call me Rare, right?” he grins, showing off his grimey technicolored smile.

“Nah, actually I don’t,” you say. Omitting the ‘I heard that’s what they call your dick game, medium rare’ you’d love to drop on him.

“Its because ain’t nobody can do it like me,” he says, placing his elbows on his legs to lean close to you.

“So why did you lure me here?” you tilt your head and squint at him, “If you’re so rare you wouldn’t need me.”

“I don’t need you, sweetheart. I need to know where you keep your money,” he smiles and lifts your chin with his gun.

“Seriously?” you laugh, “You out already?”

“I want to make a few investments, and I got to thinking that Imma need more.”

Before you could respond, three rapid gunshots are heard from the front of the house.

“Shit.” Erik.

All rationality goes out the window, you needed to know Erik was okay. Now.

Pushing yourself away from Rare with your feet, you headbutt his gun to the ground and run out of the room with your hands still zipped behind you.

“Eri-” you begin, but stop in your tracks to see what was unfolding in front of you.

Erik hand gotten his hands free and was round house kicking a gun out of one of the guards hands. He grabs the man and uses him as a human shield to block gunshots coming from another direction.

You notice Erik appeared roughed up, his shirt had ripped at the front. His eyes were wild and his movements were unbelievably quick. You watch in awe as he threw the man he was using as the shield at the one shooting at him. While they stumbled Erik knocks their feet from under them and they tumble to the ground.

When Erik turns to face you, you feel Rare roughly yank you back by your restraints and press his gun to your head.

“It’s up to you,” he says to Erik, “Tell me all about her little operation and maybe,” he pauses with a grin, “I won’t blow her brains out.”

You could practically hear your heartbeat blasting in your eardrums.

Ba-dump

Erik’s eyes fly between you and Rare.

Ba-dump

In one swift motion, Erik grabs Rare’s hand holding the gun and pulls it away from your head, getting behind him. You move out of Rare’s arms, right in time for him to shoot wildly in Erik’s grip.

Erik releases him and raises his leg to kick him hard in the back. Rare flies into some dusty coffee tables and you’re sure he’s going to have some broken bones to attend to.

Bodies of the masked members of Rare’s crew littered the floor, and Erik was standing over them huffing. Nostrils flared and torn shirt, he was looking more wild than you’ve ever seen him.

Erik turns away from the bodies and immediately goes behind you to begin untying your arms.

Before you can thank him, you both hear police sirens in the distance and his actions freeze momentarily. Someone must have heard the gun shots and called 911.

#black panther #black panther fic #Erik killmonger #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger fic #permission

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