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sansaorgana · 4 months ago

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I’ve never understood why we shoot off fireworks in the USA for the 4th, I just feel like it could trigger some of our veterans and it makes me feel awful! Could you write something like this with Buck?

hello! 💖 in my country we only shoot them on new year's eve but since I own two cats, I hate them 😡 one of my cats is so terrified each time that he literally has spasms 😥 the older he gets, the more worried I am each new year's eve tbh 😐 anyway, thank you for your request! 🎆 I was actually thinking of something like this with Buck!

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

It was the first Independence Day after the war and you were excited that you would celebrate it with your husband for the first time in two years. Especially now, after the victory, it felt more special than ever.

You decided to throw a barbecue for your befriended neighbours and you had been preparing the house and the garden for the whole week – putting up decorations with Buck’s help and cleaning everything. In the last two days you had also been busy with cooking meals and preparing salads while Buck had been supplying your fridge with everything needed for the barbecue – all sorts of meat, vegetables and sodas.

The only thing you hadn’t bought were the fireworks. You wanted to save some money, especially after hearing that different neighbours down the street were preparing a real show anyway. Surprisingly, Buck had agreed to that pretty quickly although you had expected him to try to convince you to get your own fireworks. Not because he had ever been a big fan of them but he never liked it when you were using the “saving money” argument. Whenever you would use it in different situations – like deciding whether to buy a dress or not – he would say “if it makes you happy, we can afford that”. And he knew very well that this barbecue party was making you happy.

However, you didn’t ask about it because it didn’t seem to be significant enough and you completely forgot about it anyway, too busy with all the preparations.

The barbecue started in the afternoon and the weather was beautiful on that day – clear, blue skies above you, giving you a perfect view of the fireworks here and there in the distance. You were handing the bottles of beer and coke to the guests while Buck was in charge of the barbecue when one of the neighbours asked a question that made you freeze.

“Damn, it’s like back there again, is it not?” He chuckled at Buck.

His name was Frank and he had been to Europe as well but not as a pilot. He was obviously referring to the fireworks in the background as he tried to turn it into a joke but his wife Helen hissed at him.

You suddenly realised that the sound of fireworks was not the same to everyone and you looked at your husband, worried. He might have seemed to be pretty alright after the horrors he had endured but you knew him better than everyone else and you knew. You knew about his nightmares and panic attacks. They were rare but they still were happening, sometimes triggered by the things you had never thought of before as threatening. Like with the fireworks.

“I don’t pay attention to them,” Buck gave Frank a kind smile. “My brain just shuts the sound off at this point,” he explained and he seemed to be genuine in his answer, which made you sigh in relief.

You went back to handing out the sodas and glanced at the watch on your hand. It was half an hour until the fireworks show promised by the neighbours living down the street.

When everyone had a bottle of their chosen beverage already, you joined your husband’s side to help him with the meat and vegetables. Rubbing his arm softly and laughing at the jokes being told by the others, you felt happy and satisfied with your life. Finally, after such a long time, it was back to normal, you thought. Well, nearly.

Everyone was sitting by the table in your garden and talking when you realised you had forgotten to bring mustard and ketchup.

“I’ll get it,” Buck smiled at you and stood up.

“Grab me a can of coke from the fridge, too, darling,” you told him and he nodded before disappearing inside the house.

A short moment later, the fireworks show started. Your neighbours living down the street had to spend a real fortune on it because the fireworks were many and very, very loud. You gasped and watched in awe as others stood up and cheered.

You, Helen and Frank were the only ones left sitting by the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted that Frank’s face changed. He was no longer smiling and his skin lost some of its colour. Helen was squeezing his shaky hands and whispering something to him.

A very loud firework made you flinch while others screamed out of joy and Frank jumped on his seat. You stood up rapidly, realising that Buck hadn’t come back from the house yet.

“Helen, listen,” you leaned in to talk to her despite the noise. “You can go inside with Frank, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed out with gratitude in her eyes before urging him to stand up and follow her inside.

You, however, weren’t waiting for them because you were rushing to the house yourself. You froze at the sight of your husband sitting by the kitchen table and hiding his face in his shaky hands. In fact, his whole body trembled and there was a broken bottle of mustard in the middle of the floor. He had to drop it when the fireworks show started.

Your heart broke at the sight. Your Buck was the strongest and the bravest man you knew. You would always go to him when you needed comfort or help because he was so capable of making everything – everything – better. He was good at fixing things in the physical sense but he was also always comforting you with his kindness and calm nature. He would never panic about anything and you had always admired him for that.

In moments like this, you felt helpless because you couldn’t take his pain away. And if you could, you would. He had already suffered so much that from now on, you’d rather suffer for him. But you were also angry – angry at the war for taking place and breaking him so much.

“Darling…” You started slowly and crouched down in front of him, carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge your presence, though. “Darling…” You repeated and put your hands on his trembling thighs.

He flinched and you shushed him while tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re home,” you tried to soothe him. “You’re with me now, you’re safe,” you assured but it was not working.

You took a deep breath in and moved up now, to stand above him. You put your hands on Buck’s ears, trying to shield him away from the noise coming from the outside. And then, gently, you pulled his face closer to you and pressed it to your tummy. You leaned in to kiss the top of his head and whisper sweet nothings that were supposed to calm him down and after a while it seemed to be working. You could feel his muscles relaxing and eventually he stopped hiding his face in his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist instead, clinging to you like a little boy.

When the fireworks show stopped and it was quiet again, you moved your hands away from Buck’s ears and began to rub his back soothingly instead.

“It’s alright now, baby, you’re home with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” you promised in a whisper, sniffing back your own tears.

Buck looked up at you with teary eyes and you cupped his face to wipe his tears off of his cheeks with your thumbs. You let your fingers trace his scars and your lower lip trembled. Not that you minded those scars – not at all – but they were yet another reminder of what horrors he had been through. And he was just a man – as weak and scared as everyone else; only forced to be brave.

You understood now why he was scared of having a son with you one day. He was scared of another war coming sooner or later and he was scared of his own child going through what he had gone through.

You feared that, too. And you didn’t even fully know what had happened in Europe. Only the men who had been there knew. Women – especially those who had stayed back home – they would never understand.

“Are you back with me now, my love?” You asked, gently. Buck nodded after a while of hesitation.

“Sorry ‘bout the mustard,” he mumbled out and you chuckled as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” you assured him.

But you were grateful that Buck’s panic attacks were like that. Perhaps it was wrong to be grateful for such things but you had heard enough stories of triggered men who would do much worse things while having panic attacks.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“Don’t,” you interrupted him as you crouched down again and held his hands now to squeeze them tight. “Don’t, Gale, please, don’t ever apologise for that,” you pleaded and he looked down.

“I didn’t expect them to be so loud and so… Close. I… I suddenly wasn’t in our kitchen anymore but back in the air, up in the fort and the Germans were shooting at us and I was trying to focus on flying but deep down I was just… I was just praying to get back home to you and all I could see was your face when they tell you I’m dead and…” He started and you pursed your lips to stop your own tears from falling.

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s over now, yes? You’re back home with me, safe and sound,” you reminded him and leaned in to place a kiss upon one of his hands.

You heard footsteps behind you. It was Helen peeking inside shyly. You turned around to shake your head at her and she gave you an understanding look before walking out without a word.

“Let’s clean up now, yes?” You let go of Buck’s hands and fixed your hair before standing up clumsily.

You occupied yourself with cleaning the mess from the broken mustard bottle and Buck washed his face with cold water in the kitchen sink. You handed him some of the paper towels you were using so he could dry his face.

“You’ve missed the fireworks show because of me,” he pointed out.

“God damn those fireworks shows, Buck!” You exclaimed. “God damn them. I don’t want to see any ever again. I’m sorry that I didn't think that it would… That it would scare you like that,” you apologised.

“Well, it takes time to come to terms with the fact that your husband is a coward now,” Buck sighed and so did you, while throwing the used paper towels into the trash bin aggressively.

“My husband is not a coward and has never been. However, that self-pity attitude is new to me,” you told him and he turned his head around to look at you. “My husband is the bravest man I know,” you added. “He is my hero. And I don’t allow you to talk about him this way, you hear me? I have defended him from all the women in town telling me that men in the captive camps were no real heroes and I will defend him from you, too, when you’re so mean to him, Buck, I mean it.”

“Stop, or I’ll cry again,” he shook his head and sniffled.

There was a hint of a smile on his face and it made you grin as well before you approached him and wrapped your arms around him to hug him tight.

“I love my wife, too. The most in the whole wide world,” he assured you and hugged you back while pressing his lips to the top of your head but you could still understand his words. “I wasn’t brave, really, I wasn’t. I just did everything it took to come back to you.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #austin butler x reader #gale cleven x reader #*buck #lilysfiction

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yunieluna · 7 months ago

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These are the Days of our Lives

a Biggs x Jessie fanfic

Chapter 3: Corneo's land / Don't stop me now

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Biggs has been reading the letter Jessie sent over and over again. It hasn’t even been addressed to him, and was basically only containing basic information:

>> Ms. Folia,

This is my first payment. I hope it’ll suffice for the moment.

You know, that I had planned to stay here for only a few weeks, but I got an offer to extend my stay - the payment had been so good, that I accepted that offer. So I’ll be staying longer, in fact, until they change the play in 2 months.

I’ll be sending money again soon. If there’s anything else I can do in the meantime, don’t hesitate to ask.

I hope everybody is fine and holding up. I can’t wait to be back.

Many hugs,

Jessie <<

The concerning part was the envelope it came in. There is a the stamp of the Gold Saucer Post Office on it. Many hope to receive written greetings from friends and loved ones featuring this stamp. Stamp . Wonder why that’s the name of Shinra’s mascot? A thought that had crossed Biggs’ mind several times in the past. Especially when they used Stamp the dog as a sign to lead the way in some of their Avalanche operations. Maybe he would’ve been happy about the letter from that particular post office as well, if one detail hadn't been different. The letters underneath the logo of the stamp on the envelope didn’t read ‘Gold Saucer’ anymore, but ‘Corneoland’.

Some news travels slower than others… and they were controlled by Shinra anyway. So to hear that ‘Gold Saucer’ had officially been rebranded and would be called ‘Corneoland’ from now on, was never on the top list of prioritized subjects to report on. Since most people in the slums couldn’t afford to go there anyway, they didn’t even care. Biggs did though. He did some digging, and found out that it was actually not just a rebranding, but a whole change of who’s in charge. Apparently, Dio and Corneo agreed to fight over ownership rights to Gold Saucer in Musclehead Colosseum - the battle arena - and Dio suffered a roaring defeat. Some connections said that it wasn’t fair and square, and Dio had been injured before the battle. But whatever may be true, it doesn’t change the fact that Jessie is there, working for Don Corneo. If that creep is involved, there’s no way this could ever turn out well.

So there’s really only one thing to do. Go, and get her back to Leaf House as fast as possible. Sure, everybody Biggs knows always teases him with being too worried and overprotective, but the last time he had a bad gut feeling, he had dismissed it…and then the slums were buried underneath the one piece of pizza that had been the disc of Sector 7. He won’t be too late this time.

Ms. Folia is understanding and wishing him good luck. The kids are mainly bothered by the fact that he’s leaving again, but since he promised to bring some souvenirs, and Jessie, they gave him a pass. He grabs some money he had hid close to Leaf House, a spot he always uses since he’s been a kid growing up in the orphanage himself, and leaves.

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The lights are impressive. In fact, everything about this place is. They use Mako like starving men devouring a meal... Barrett would’ve come up with a much fiercer comparison , Biggs snickers to himself. Focus! I need to find Jessie.

The visitors’ information guide, which oddly looks like the weirdest Moogle one could ever imagine, advises him to go to Event Square - the theater. After reaching it and asking for her specifically, he gets dismissed. Jessie will be performing on stage soon, he can’t see her now.

Wait! He can, actually. So he buys a ticket and waits for the show to begin.

The seats are sold out. Every single guest is eager to see the play. Biggs recognized Jessie’s poster on his way to the theater. She looks like an angel. There wouldn’t be any other description that could ever fit any better. The white flowing dress she’s wearing, the lighting, the white wings, her sincere expression. Definitely not the Jessie I know , he remembers shaking his head slightly in amusement.

Suddenly, the lights go out, the curtain rises, music starts to play…let the show begin. A group of people perform a ballet dance while a narrator sums up the premise of the story they are about to tell…

And then there she is. Slowly descending from the ceiling, bathed in sparkling light. All eyes are on her.

Wow . Biggs knows that this word doesn't even come close to giving justice to what he's seeing. He secretly thanks the circumstances that brought him here. That he got the opportunity to see her like this, performing on stage, being somebody else completely.

She's beautiful, no debate about that. Even when she's sweaty and her face is covered in dirt after missions. But the way it is presented here, the astonishing atmosphere that highlights every aspect of her, amazes him beyond comprehension.

He never really cared about what ‘Loveless' is about. Something romantic , it's in the name, after all. But seeing the story play out for the first time, is invoking a sudden feeling of sadness in him. He can't really pinpoint why it does, though.

The ending is bittersweet. The hero parts from his lover Rosa, the part Jessie plays, promising to come back after he completed his journey. They embrace one last time, then the play is over.

A roaring applause around him is what follows. Biggs somehow still can't really process why the play has affected him so much. Is it, because he had seen Jessie for the first time again? Or because, even though they went through so much, in the end, the lovers still couldn't be together? He's not into romance per se, so why would something like this bother him at all?

He finally manages to get up from his seat and join the crowd in their standing ovations. The lights get turned on again. All actors return to the stage to thank the audience and bathe in the joyous clapping they earned from their stellar performances.

Jessie is beaming in the center of her acting colleagues and scans the crowd from time to time. She loves seeing all the happy, content and moved faces of the audience. It validates her art even more, and gives her the strength to keep going.

There's still so much joy in this world and we definitely need to fight to protect it. She concludes. After her third bow to the audience she looks up again… This can't be! But there's no doubt about it, it IS him. Within the many faces that had just been watching her performance, is Biggs’, who’s smiling right at her. She can't help but tear up a little with the realization. He woke up, he's recovered…and he's here.

As soon as all the actors had returned backstage for good, she ran back to the theater hall. She didn't even change out of her costume.

Please let him still be there. That was her only thought, more of a plea than anything else.

The doors had already been closed for cleaning and the hall was empty, except for a lonely figure still sitting in their seat, waiting.

“Biggs!” she exclaims.

He raises his head when he hears his name. It was the right choice to wait here , he thinks for a second, then gets up from his seat and moves to the aisle…just in time for Jessie to reach him.

He's caught off guard when she flings herself at him. Her arms slung around his neck, her head buried in his chest, an embrace so intimate that he failed to react right away. After a moment and without even realizing it, his hands automatically move around her body, both coming to a stop, resting on her back lightly at first…but when he closes his eyes to bathe in her presence, in this unknown closeness between them, he can't help, but tighten the grip on her body.

It's almost desperate. As if they both feared the other would vanish, if they let go even a little. Jessie doesn't know how much time passed, seconds? Minutes? Years? She finally moves her head to look at him though, is she making sure that he's not a Fata Morgana? Or did she only miss looking him in the eyes?

“I can't believe that you're really here.” She breaks the tightness of the embrace a little when she starts to directly speak to him.

“Wouldn't wanna have missed seeing you perform.” He warmly states.

She knows he means it. But she's also sure that it's not all that there's to it.

“Common, be honest. I know you well enough to know that this isn't the only reason you're here.”

Biggs snickers a little, smiling shyly. They still haven't let go of each other. Biggs’ hands had wandered to get a better look at her, comfortably resting on both sides of her waist. Jessie's fingers were intertwined behind his neck. Neither of them recognized this, though. There was only joy… written over both their faces, so they had no time to realize the gravity of this new kind of intimacy that started to blossom between them.

“And here I am thinkin’ ya would be glad to see me.” He answers teasingly.

A statement like this would usually result in a snarky comment from Jessie, and then they'd banter until one gave up - well, until Biggs gave up. This time, though, Jessie looks him straight in the eyes and sincerely says:

“You have NO idea how happy I am to see you, Biggs.”

His expression freezes a little in shock. Her being like this is rare, she usually hides behind jokes and teasing. He decides to pay her back with sincerity as well.

“Me, too, Jessie…Ms. Folia told me about you…that you were by my side most of the time while I was unconscious…Really, I don’t know what to say…besides, thank you.”

“No,” she shakes her head a little, “I wish I could’ve done more.”

He sees sadness overcoming her expression. Well done, Biggs, you completely ruined the mood. So he tries to change the subject. He lets go of her waist and starts to rummage through one of his pockets. Jessie removes her hands from the place they’d been behind his neck to give him better access to whatever he was looking for.

“Thought ya might want those back?” he says, presenting two items.

One is the glove she left on the desk in his room. The other Wedge’s red bandana. He had really brought them with him. A token for every member of their trio. That’s what they were, at least, before they met Tifa and Barrett.

“Hey, where’s your headband?” It took her until this moment to realize that he wasn’t wearing it. And his clothes had been different too.

“Ah yeah, well, they had cut it open when patching me up…it’s too short to wear now. Same goes for my old clothes.” He scratches the back of his head with his free hand.

Jessie feels a little embarrassed that she hadn’t thought of the obvious. If she had inspected his headband at least once, she would’ve known. Well, too late now. She absolutely doesn’t want any of the two items she gave to him, though. So she puts her hands on Biggs’ one that contained them and closes it gently.

“These are presents, keep them as memorabilia of better days.”

He knows that she’s thinking of Wedge specifically…Jessie and Biggs are still alive, after all. So are Cloud, Tifa and Barrett, although they have gone on a mission to save the planet. At least that’s what they heard from Marlene and Elmyra, Aerith’s mother who took Marlene in after Seventh Heaven, her home, got destroyed. Biggs was relieved that Marlene had been safe and sound. He loves all kids, but to be completely honest, Marlene holds a special place in his heart. Whenever they were tired from their missions, or just hungover from drinking too much, she managed to make them smile. Sometimes, he wondered how it would feel to have a daughter like her of his own. Sure, he already had plenty of kids he took care of, but he always feels more like a big brother or mentor to them than a father. The current world is not exactly a great place to raise a child, though, so he quickly dismisses this thought every single time. Maybe I’ll go with cats then…Just like Wedge .

“Let’s divide Wedge’s bandana between us. You should have something from him, too.” Biggs protests, presenting the red piece of cloth again.

Jessie looks at the bandana, considering, then takes it from Biggs. She enfolds it with her hands and steps in front of him - as close as they were a few moments before. They are looking at each other, studying their behavior. Jessie moves her hands behind his neck again…her gaze never leaves Biggs’... What’s with the weird tension? He finally admits that something about them feels completely different now compared to their interactions before the pillar incident…She’s fidgeting in the meantime.

“Here…let me take a look.” She takes a few steps back from him. “Perfect.”

When he looked down in the direction of his chest, he finally understood what she had been doing.

“You’re not the head bandana type. But it suits you around the neck.” She winks, smiling.

“But…” He’s cut off immediately.

“No protests! You keep it." She insists. “And I get to look at it whenever I see you.” She is radiant, grinning from ear to ear, her eyes sparkling with content.

“It’s a deal.” He happily nods in agreement. Then, after a pause, he adds, “Speaking of which, what’s up with your agreement with Corneo?”

Finally, the cat’s out of the bag, she thinks. He’s worrying again.

“So that’s really why you came here all the way.” She can’t help but feel a little disappointed.

Noticing the change in her demeanor, Biggs tries to appear appeasing, “Look, I know that you’re tough, Jessie. And I’m very glad I saw you perform. You were…” he huffs at the loss of words, “out of everybody else's league.” Radiant, stellar, gorgeous, mesmerizing, beautiful… here he stops mentally adding words and continues his speech.

“Corneo is dangerous, though. You know that he’s powerful, and…on top of that, unpredictable. Come back home with me.” He’s pleading now.

Before Jessie gets to answer, though, they’re suddenly interrupted by two people she would rather not know. Kotch and Scotch, Don Corneo’s right hand men, waltz into the theater hall, right in her and Biggs’ direction.

“My my my, our starlet’s havin’ a nice little chit-chat with one of her fans?” Kotch teases amused.

“Look at how close they are. Bet it’s her boyfriend, nah?” Scotch chimes in.

“The Don ‘ll not be pleased about that, ya know.”

Shit. I need to do something, or we’ll both be in trouble. Jessie takes a small breath and starts her charade.

“No need to be jealous, you two and Corneo know I’m all his.” She then points at Biggs, “This guy right here? He’s just somebody from Midgar I used to know. He happened to recognize me and we just had a little talk about home. He’s about to go now anyway, right?” She looks Biggs in the eyes intently.

Biggs listened to Jessie’s rambling, and hated every single word she uttered. He got the hint at the end, but every fiber in his body fights to follow her lead. He trusts her completely, that’s not the issue. The issue is that he wants to kick the asses of these despicable people, and then move on to Corneo. It’s unfortunate that he couldn't bring his pistol, but firearms are forbidden around here. So he balls his hands into fists instead. At least that releases the tension a little.

Jessie grows impatient, though and addresses him again, “Alright. Was nice chatting with you. Safe travels home.”

Biggs can’t take it anymore. The urge to say something became too strong. The urge to grab her wrists and take her with him is even stronger, though. So he does exactly that...

“No! I’m not letting you stay here with these creeps, Jessie!”

Biggs, what are you doing? Why can’t you just play along? But it’s too late now. Kotch and Scotch had already accepted the challenge.

“Woah, woah, woah, not so fast.” Kotch steps in front of Biggs, “That white knight shit ya pullin’ ain’t impressin’ anybody. She’s the Don’s property, as per contract. So if ya don’t wanna end up as Abzu’s dinner, ya should be gone…and pronto.”

That’s as open as a threat can be. Abzu is Corneo’s pet monster, it’s huge and extremely dangerous.

Dammit! Biggs had just recovered. No way I'll drag him into this mess. This is Jessie’s last chance to keep Biggs safe. To protect him from any harm. It’s on her now and she won’t risk losing him again. Not until he knows…

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It was already late at night at Seventh Heaven, only a few lamps above the counter were granting some light to the remaining members of Avalanche. Barrett and Wedge had already retired for the evening, but Biggs and Jessie had volunteered to stay a while longer and help Tifa clean up the bar.

"So, it's just us three again then, huh?" Jessie nearly stumbles over this sentence. After starting the evening test drinking Tifa's new cocktail creations with Biggs, the few beers with the whole Avalanche group later, had really taken a toll on her sobriety.

"I should've really stayed true to my word and cut you off the drinks for good...you can't even form a proper sentence anymore," remarked Biggs.

"Ugh, you're always cutting the fun short, though, so you definitely did at least stay true to that.", Jessie said in a playfully teasing voice.

"Yeah, yeah...got it." He waves his right hand in front of his face in defeat. "Got an early morning tomorrow, so I'm out anyway. Good night, ya’ two!"

Tifa smiles and says, "Good night to you as well. And thanks for helping clean up."

A snicker and small head shake later, Biggs adds, "No worries. 's my hobby. Really helps to clear up your mind."

"Here we go again..."Jessie grins, rolling her eyes a little.

Turning around to leave and trying to ignore Jessie's comment, Biggs can't help but add, "Oh, and Tifa, no more drinks for her. I ain't gonna be around anymore to catch her from falling like earlier...yet alone carry her home."

"Only nice and cool people get to carry me anyway!" is the last he hears before he's out of the bar, chuckling to himself. He might have really gotten on Jessie's bad side with that remark, and he's wondering if it might come back biting him in the ass later. Jessie's a force to be reckoned with after all and she never fails to show that part of her personality to anyone who's dumb enough to underestimate her. But that's a problem for another day, he thinks.

"Psych! So annoying that he treats me like a child...", Jessie mumbles, still in rage mode.

"He only worries about you." Tifa smiles knowingly. "Yeah, way too much though...Anyway, please tell me you're not gonna listen to him, and we can at least enjoy one more drink together before going to bed? You know, us Avalanche girls must stick together." Jessie winks at Tifa while forming this request in a begging tone.

Sticking her tongue out, Tifa says, "Alright, but it's going to be virgin."

Tifa fixes two mocktails in an instant, and Jessie needs to admit that she has never seen a faster and better bartender than her in her entire life. Not even the professionals at the Gold Saucer are able to show this kind of expertise when it comes to drinks... and punches , Jessie internally adds and chuckles about her joke.

"To Avalanche girl power!" Jessie raises the glass of the bright orange drink she received. "Okay then!" and with that, the two women clung their glasses together gracefully, each taking a sip of their drink afterwards.

There's a small moment of silence between them, so Jessie decides to take another gulp of her tasty drink, when suddenly Tifa breaks the silence: "You like him, right? ... Biggs, I mean."

Still wondering if she really heard right, what Tifa just said, the fluid Jessie was just about to swallow, nearly got stuck in her throat. Three small coughs and wiping away a tear that escaped her left eye later, she managed to compose herself.

“Did…Did you just say that you think I’m into Biggs?” Jessie desperately needs to set this straight.

“Sorry for the sudden question…didn’t mean to catch you off guard. I just thought that it’s quite obvious, you know.” Tifa says sincerely.

"Obvious? What makes you think that?" Jessie is shocked that, in fact, this is truly what Tifa believes.

Now it’s Tifa’s turn to take another sip of her drink. She then moves to the other side of the counter to sit next to Jessie, cradling her glass in both hands. Tifa contemplates how to put what she observed into words, when suddenly that weird, knowing smile from earlier appears again.

“Well, you’re a really nice person, Jessie. To everyone, even strangers. Except for Wedge and Biggs, you really give them a hard time sometimes.” Tifa is chuckling for a second and then continues, “I know you have known them both for a long time, but there’s still a difference in how you treat each of them that I recognized…For example, earlier, when we were having pizza and beer and Wedge was kinda having a downer, you instantly built him up because he’s your friend, far and foremost…But you can’t take Biggs’ cheeky remarks for even a second without paying him back - that happened twice today, actually. And one of these instances was very touchy as well.” Jessie became unusually silent by this point. “So that’s why I think you like Biggs more than a mere friend. You’re so different around him, not in a bad way, more like you feel you can be your true self around him, not the perfect actress from the Gold Saucer stage that everyone else expects, just Jessie from Avalanche.”

Tifa had finished her explanation and was waiting for an answer. Or any reaction at all. Jessie, on the other hand, was just staring at her half-emptied glass.

“Wow, and here I was thinking nobody could look through my acting skills,” she suddenly states, still focusing on nothing but her glass.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to embarrass you. Let’s talk about something else.” had been Tifa’s response. But it was too late to deny the truth to Jessie. Screw alcohol for making your tongue loose. ‘In vinum veritas est’ - ‘the truth lies within wine’, the saying goes. Only in this case, it’s more like ‘in Cosmo Canyonum veritas est’.

“No, you’re right, Tifa.” A pause. “I think I’ve been liking him for a while now, actually.”

There’s silence stretching between them again, until Tifa gets up from her stool next to Jessie, gets behind the counter, and prepares another drink for them both. It’s definitely not virgin this time, though.

“Here.” Tifa moves back towards Jessie’s side and sets a second glass in front of her. “This one is perfect for this kind of talk.”

Jessie takes the new drink in her right hand, raises it in the air to salute Tifa, and devours half of it in one go. Tifa tilts her head, watching Jessie, and then moves on to say, “I mean, I get why you’re into him. He’s very kind, protective, funny, smart, and likes kids - seriously, who spends nearly all of his income on donating it to an orphanage?” They both snicker in amazement. “Aaaand, on top, he’s really handsome and well trained too.”

“So, you’re my rival then?” Jessie inquires blushingly, half joking, half completely sincere.

“Oh no, don’t worry. He’s all yours. There’s actually someone I like already.”

“Do I know them?”

“No, he’s someone from my past, my hometown.”

Jessie nods in agreement.

“So, are you going to confess to Biggs?”, is the second time this evening that Jessie nearly chokes on her drink. What’s with Tifa and her bad timing

“No! Never.” Jessie is shaking her head furiously.

“Why’s that?” Tifa asks curiously.

“Isn’t THAT obvious? You already said it yourself. We have known each other for so long, and he’s one of my best friends. I wouldn’t want to risk that. Besides, there’s Avalanche as well. We’ve come really far and are about to really make a difference. No way would I let something like that come in between our goals.”

“But isn’t one of our goals fighting for a better future?” Tifa looks at Jessie intently. “A future we all want to live in? A future that makes us happy? Don’t you think you wouldn't regret not telling him? …Cause, honestly, I did regret that I'd never told the person I liked what I felt. But now, it’s too late. I don’t even know where he is right now.”

Jessie sees the sadness in Tifa’s eyes. It has been a while since she’s been affected by a conversation that much, but it also makes her feel so much closer to her friend.

“Maybe, if our missions go well, I’ll consider telling him…” Jessie winks and then suddenly turns serious, raising her right index finger in front of Tifa’s face “But don’t you dare say a word to anyone!”

Tifa gets the playful hint, “Hehe! I won’t, promise!”

-------------

“Go home!" Jessie practically yells at Biggs. “It’s none of your business.” She yanks her hand out of his grip and continues, “I’ll be back after I fulfill my contract." Her voice gets softer again, “Promise, okay?”

He always secretly admired Jessie’s fierce side, even though ending up on her bad side from time to time was scary as hell. Not as scary as what he just witnessed, though. There’s no need to argue any further when she’s like this, that much he knows. So he sadly nods in defeat and turns to leave the hall.

"Alright. If that’s what you want…See ya around then."

As if she really wanted to stay rather than go with him…To be in his presence…To be with him - literally…He has no clue that this is what she wants the most. Biggs, I’m sorry, but I can’t violate the contract. It’s simply too dangerous, you said so yourself…Corneo is unpredictable. Knowing that she did the right thing, doesn’t keep her from feeling her heart torn into two, when she sees the entrance door of the theater hall closing after Biggs.

-------

He stayed at the Haunted Hotel for a night. Not in the hopes of trying again to persuade Jessie to come with him, it was simply too late to leave the previous evening. Since he couldn’t find any rest, he basically spent the whole night drinking at the bar on the first floor. The drinks had been fancy, ghost-themed cocktails that could never reach Tifa’s in quality. He would’ve given one hand for a ‘Cosmo Canyon’. And the other to be able to have drinks again with everyone at Seventh Heaven. People sometimes argue he’s drinking too much, but this, and cleaning, are the only things that keep his mind from overthinking everything.

Much to his own surprise, the alcohol wasn’t able to distract him from worrying this time. Worse, it actually made him wallow in self-pity. He had failed to get Jessie out of Corneo’s reach. You’re useless. You failed to save Wedge. And now you’re losing her, too.

The speakers above his head sprung to life, an announcement followed, the gondola back to the ground would leave soon. He made his way to the station.

The gondola was already in sight when he overheard bits of a conversation. He recognized the voices from the previous day. The most unpleasant encounter he ever had, and they were talking about Jessie at this very moment.

He follows them, but stays as far away as possible, so he wouldn’t raise any suspicion. He definitely needs to know what they are up to, and Jessie’s role in it…he can’t believe what they were talking about.

They suddenly look in his direction, but Biggs is already gone, sprinting to Event Square.

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Pic for this chapter:

Some shots from the games for visual reference:

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Notes:

Loved writing this chapter, especially the tension between them.

Gold Saucer never becomes Corneoland in the game, thanks to Cloud and friends. I think the bet was also just about naming rights and not ownership. I enjoyed raising the stakes, though.

Biggs is wearing the Rebirth outfit in this story, even though I like the other one better. I really wondered about the bandana he wears around his neck when playing Rebirth, so I came up with a little explanation. Would love if it really is Wedge's.

I mean look at the resemblance of the color and shape - it must be his, right?

#biggs ff7 #biggs #jessie rasberry #jessie ff7 #bessie #i miss the avalanche crew so much 😭#avalanche ff7 #ff7 au #ff7 rebirth #ff7 fanfic #biggs x jessie #jessie x biggs #jessie lives #biggs lives #ff7 tifa #tifa knows what's going on

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rianafying · 10 months ago

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hello diary i’m back idk what is happening or why i ever feel what i feel, but here goes nothing

i’ve been feeling very creative today, had a terrible morning woke up insanely dehydrated, could barely move, my arthritis and psoriasis had flared up as well, i had to cancel my gig but they’re fine, they had other people on board. i don’t really feel like i missed out because i literally couldn’t have gone and needed to stay home and rehydrate, plus it’s like 37 degrees outside, i’ll stay home thanks. anyway, so i got some much needed rest and i ate and drank loads of water and i feel replenished now and i feel hopeful and creative and i wish i could’ve just started something, a project or whatever. but i have no many chores standing firmly between me and what i actually want to do. will is a terribly difficult thing to conjure. i had a telehealth appointment to get diagnosed w adhd in melbourne so i can access the necessary treatment, but they’re telling me it’ll be at least $800 and at least 4 sessions to just get diagnosed. and that to me is a huge undertaking. i told them ill think about it but what is there to think of, i know fully well i cant afford it. i wish i had an ipad to draw on. ive been wanting to draw something for ages and i could draw on my physical sketch book but i just haven’t? i just cant? its the guilt from all the chores i haven’t done. there’s a proper inspection due in 4 days and i just know it’s going to cripple me with anxiety as the date comes closer. there’s so much stuff that i want to do. and yet i do nothing. i’m not doing even 1% of everything i want to do, because im stuck doing 100% of the things i hate but have to do. when im older, i hope i get permanent residency in australia or any other first world country, i wish i have a safe and permanent place to live, regardless of size or quality. i wish i have someone who can help me with the tasks i struggle with and i can help them with tasks they struggle with and if we both struggle at the same things, we’ll understand each other, we can struggle and learn together. hopefully this will not be a romantic partner because i don’t think my brain is hardwired to deal with matters of the heart in a stable way. i hope that by the time i feel safe, the children of gaza feel safe too. i hope we win. i thought of them when i got dehydrated and worried that ill get a uti, i thought about how much worse they have it. i think of them all the time but especially when im suffering and im reminded that they have it many folds worse. i try to derive hope, strength, and gratitude from that instead of helplessness, and powerlessness.

i haven’t been able to take out the trash and get rid of my dead plants and they’re starting to attract bugs and i really need to do that today, i’ve been saying that everyday, it’ll just take seconds. i also am very close to having $0 in my account because i had to buy some meds and i found some vitamins for half price and decided to buy a whole buttload of them #forhealthiguess also its SO HOT. and im trying to avoid turning on my air conditioner because my electricity bill last month was $140??? like why? it’s a crazy world out here. crazy expensive. for the millionth time, i really should get a real job soon. or try to. i doubt i’ll ever have enough to be independent. i fear i’ll always be at the mercy of my parents. i fear i’ll heal too slow to keep up with the damage.

all day i did nothing. that’s not true, i went grocery shopping and i made meatballs, and spaghetti and it turned out great. the one thing i always cook successfully is any kind of pasta, never fails. i feel 50% guilty for not doing anything important today. such as taking out the trash, cleaning my room, etc. it’s the one thing i hate doing: house chores. makes me wanna scream, cry and throw up. i made a mistake, last night i accidentally left my earphones on the couch at reception downstairs and hadn’t even realised until earlier today when i was leaving the building and saw it on the couch. i feel so relieved that i live in a place where nobody stole it all day. part of me feels like i don’t deserve to live so well. because for nearly a year, i have been living wonderfully, everything’s going so well, and all my demons are inside of my own head. this is new for me. there’s no actual threat, i think. still feels like there is. i’m less overwhelmed than usual, but still pretty overwhelmed. there’s always too many ideas and not enough ability to implement them. how do i feel chaos and clarity simultaneously. i just need a break from this mental torment. i think getting my apartment clean will definitely help with that. but it’s such a big task, even thinking about it makes me fall to my bed and start to rot. suddenly i find that my body won’t move. adhd sounds like it’s so quirky and funny until you’re surrounded with piles of garbage and flying insects and there is a mysterious sticky brown patch underneath the fridge that just will not move. until there’s no space to walk from one end of the room to the other without stepping on and crushing things underneath my feet. it feels as if my brain has acquired an endless supply of shame and guilt. i will probably not feel focused until my room is actually clean. clean enough to be inspected. clean enough to maybe even have visitors. i get anxious just thinking about the prospect.

#personal #journal entry

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mbrainspaz · 2 years ago

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the manager asked me how to find more workers like me. I had reminded her (again) that we need another worker in order to be fully staffed for the summer. She said she can only ‘afford’ to hire someone part time. I told her good luck, basically. Hope you like hiring desperate angry men who have zero reasons not to do crimes, ‘cause in most cases you get what you pay for. No way you’re finding another guy who has over a decade of industry knowledge, a degree, management experience, is clean, is fit enough, is fluent in boomer etiquette as well as bilingual, and happens to be so catastrophically down on their luck that they’d take this job. Especially part time. That wouldn’t even cover most people’s grocery bills, much less housing costs. She better hope she finds a really eccentric teenage horse girl with rich parents or we’re screwed. Actually that’s my other coworker except he’s a 30 year old man. Nah, this company is never gonna stoop to paying a worker what they’re actually worth. Like beeeeesh I’m worth almost double what you’re paying me in this biz alone and instead you started me on Seattle’s minimum wage and gave me a 2% raise while prices at the grocery store went up 30%. If the company didn’t offer me a house to live in along with the sh*t pay I wouldn’t even be here. I’d rather live in my car than funnel 80-90% of my paycheck directly into another landlord’s pocket. I’ll probably leave in the summer if she doesn’t hire another person, because I’m trying to build my art business back up on the side (so that I have a reason to live or whatever) and I can’t do that while this stupid company is forcing me to work overtime every week and then whining about how they can’t afford to pay me overtime. I can’t do anything with zero sick days. I can’t use my alleged vacation time. And they always want ME—the guy they’re paying as if I’m a damn disposable peasant—to fix this for them. I dunno, Sharon, did you ask your CEO if he’d consider selling one or two of his mansions so you could buy another laborer on the free market? It’s called ‘budgeting.’

#housing crisis #worker’s rights #companies benefit from poverty #life of a texan peasant #survivng america #hiring tips #corporate american hellscape #full time jobs #horse industry #all landlords are bastards #broke art hobo #let ME write a wall street journal article you cowards

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turtleduck-inc · 1 year ago

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i understand what you mean but i have to add a bit of nuance to this.

there are absolutely dogs at shelters that need someone prepared to deal with their particular issues to be able to function in a home environment and you shouldn’t let yourself be guilt tripped into adopting them when you're not actually capable of helping them, but there are also dogs that are perfectly fine pet dogs that were given up for a variety of reasons such as the owner not being able to afford keeping a pet anymore, not being able to take them along when moving, allergies, or just not having the time or energy (this happens with working breeds a lot). also some of the issues a dog may have been given up over might be irrelevant to you, think something like a dog was given up because it couldn’t be left alone with the previous owner’s 4 cats, but you hate cats. a lot of the above mentioned working breeds will also end up with behavioural problems caused entirely by them being poorly exercised, so if you have the time to give them the exercise and enrichment they need, they’ll be perfectly fine, but that’s mostly besides the point.

even if you’re not prepared to take on a dog with pre-existing issues, i would absolutely say it’s worthwhile to check your local shelters for one of these dogs, because they actually have some benefits over puppies. for example, a puppy of the age you buy them at from a breeder will not be house trained and most likely cannot be properly house trained for a while, much like you can’t potty train a baby. an adoption fee is also most likely a lot cheaper than the price tag on a puppy, especially if you’re going for breed specific. you can get an idea of a shelter dog’s personality before you adopt it, you can’t with a puppy. similarly, most shelters let you bring in any pets you already have to see if they will get along with the dog you’re looking to adopt.

the bottom line is, if you’re going to be introducing a living creature you have to take care of into your life, you have to be prepared for it anyway. you already need to do some research beforehand, might as well check your local shelters for whether they have a pet that works for you, and if they don’t, no harm done.

the only other thing i’ll add here is if you end up getting a puppy, get it from a breeder you trust. don’t get puppies from pet stores, don’t get them from some guy you’ve never heard of on the internet. the biggest problem with people buying puppies isn’t that it takes homes away from shelter dogs, but puppy mills. puppy mills are places that mass produce puppies to sell. their main concern is quantity, they don’t care a whole lot about the dogs’ wellbeing, so you’ll often get these puppies with early childhood trauma, poorly socialised, and very possibly sick. don’t support those assholes, go to a real breeder. (or an acquaintance who had puppies happen upon them, those are fine too)

#rant over #for now #i'm a dog trainer this stuff is close to heart for me ok #actually happy to elaborate for once

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bradleymarshall · 5 months ago

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It’s like my only option in life is to be rich

I can’t afford a maid

Dishwasher atm is fine

I’ll buy heaps of pans and plates and just stack the dishwasher until it’s full to wash

Won’t touch a plate in my life

Unless I have to

Not every day though

Maid can do that eventually

Just a ridiculous existence

How can I even relate to anyone at all

My experiences are so fucking skewed and left of centre I can’t even explain to a counseller how I feel

You know

I can’t wash the dishes or use a shower

Oh wtf

Yeah I don’t eat anything from any restaurant

Like people ask me

How do you live

I don’t even know

The only way through is to be rich

Then I can afford 50,000 to casually hook up my whole house to bore water

And to cancel my students cause I don’t teach them

They attend my school of music

And I just fly anywhere the fuck I want just doing podcasts

And being openly gay

And making content

If I was rich

I could have a studio

Where I record music

Have green screens

Have a room for props

I wouldn’t have to have my bedroom full of equipment

I could actually make it a bedroom to film scenes in that I don’t have to rearrange every time I film

How the fuck is anyone supposed to relate to me as a genuine connection

Jordan or Adam

Short of casual sex

It’s a miracle anyone can be attracted to me given how fucked up everything is

If I was rich

I could install bore water across my whole house inside a faraday house cage

And then I could shower like everyone else

And wash my hands without fear

Like I need to be rich enough to hire a maid before my parents die

Like how the fuck

I can’t even washes dishes without my fingers falling off

How pathetic

I can put the dishes in the dishwasher

But the pan

I need to be able to wash the pan without touching the soap

It’s just ridiculous

Too hard basket

Just buy 7 pans haha

And hire a cleaner for an hour for 1 hour a week to fucking do everything

Idk everything is just a massive head fuck

Philippines

It’s all there

Permanent maid

Showers

Bore Water

Maybe when I’m rich I’ll just fly Adam to the Phillipines where he can’t escape my love island

But by then I’ll be rich enough to have it in my house in Melbourne

Even the fucking heater is a headfuck

Elaine likes it on

I want it off

But I don’t want to live alone

So what

Solution: have an illusion gas fireplace where the heat isn’t dry? Can there even be a humid heat

Just fucking have a jet engine humidifier going so the whole house feels like it’s on the equator

Move to Queensland

Lose all my contacts here

Crown Maria

They don’t even know im gay

Such a fucking headache

Idk how many millions id have to spend to make it all work eventually

I definitely think my fingers are so bad because of the heater and dish washing

It’s just drying them out so much

Idk what to do

Even a counseller would be like

Idk bro

Doctors and counsellers are all useless haha

It’s too specific

A problem

Bore water

Use boiling water to wash the pan

Only use soap at the end once already clean

Use a long sponge with a handle so there’s no contact

I’m like a fucking retard boy in the bubble

I may as well should sleep in glass oxygen like MJ

My life’s a literal punch line to a joke

Gay retard with everything falling apart from skin to life

And the only thing holding him together is his intj Bruce Wayne brain

If not, he’d most likely be dead

Like dazelle

How many years will it take

Fucking 5?

Until I push this shit up hill

I need to just spend every day behind a computer editing

I promise to never get a normal job

Even that masters of teaching position I’ll fuck off

But idk

Maybe I’ll want to teach down the track

Vcass sounds so fun to teach at idk

Not a luxury life though

How is it

Out of all the people that I’ve seen in my life

Only you, Jasmine,

Seem to stay

And that’s it out of everyone

Everyone

Is it really that hard to stay in contact with people

Xavier, Belle, Tim smith my vocal coach, Benjamin Martin, it’s like, people come and go like the wind. There’s barely any constants but yourself. Life is a horrible tragic experience if you just look around

That song glimpses is so true

It’s only the glimpses of happiness among the oceans of bullshit that make it worth it remotely

Otherwise he “would kill my self today”

Amen

To that

Is the only way people can stay close to me is if they had a romantic sexual attraction to me initially

I wonder

Is there anyone platonic who stayed with me

Xavier

I don’t trust

Is there anyone?

lol

I sound like I’m having a full scale mental break Down again but I’m just venting

“If I have peace, let it last beyond the day”

I want to write a song like that

It’s my favourite song

I come back to it every few months

Him post Malone and Reagan beam haha

I haven’t read a book in so long cause I fear I don’t have time to escape anymore

I’m like those are the things you can do in old age when no one no longer cares for your looks

You know all this is selfish in a way

Cause I talk to you

Cause I feel like my story is so complex the counseller won’t have time in an hour to understand wtf is going on so it’s a waste of time unless I just present one problem to him

But I don’t even know what problem to present first. At least you know everything.

I just feel shithouse for so long now. And now ever since a few weeks back I feel even more shithouse haha

At least I’ve found peace making content with Jasmine laughing there

I love those moments in transit between places where you’re forced to waste time

Like on a plane or on a train

It’s like those long trips

Even to my gigs

Are my breath of fresh air where there’s a few hours up my sleeve I can afford to waste time and I can relax.

It’s like when I’m at home, I’m just sprinting as fast as I can every second, and it’s like I’ve hit a wall and I’m so exhausted. And everything is burning up at the same time, like how can I feel so attracted to boys and also afraid at the same time. wtf is going on

Maybe its only half gay

Maybe the other half is spiritual and intellectual height, which makes you feel lonely among everyone else

Why I can only seem to keep you and jasmine

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ketso · 1 year ago

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Episode 57

I’ve dropped Risuna off at school and am now at the Maphumulo house. I’m Mrs Maphumulo’s assistant and the workload is a lot. I thought work at Keith’s office was hectic. Yoh, here?! It’s a lot! But the payment has helped me a lot.

I’ve been asking my mom to quit her job for some time now. She’s old. And this thing of hers cleaning at government hospitals for R4500 a month is not okay. There was a time when I couldn’t help her. But that changed. When Keith got his CEO job, I know he started paying my mom R8000 a month. He refused to send money to his mother though because according to Keith, his mother would starve then send money to his father. And Keith would rather die than support that man. But, Keith’s mother doesn’t work. And this is not okay. It’s just not. She lives on the money that Keith and his brothers give her. And Keith has the highest paying job.

So, I give her money from my salary.

Keith and I are responsible for her groceries. So I buy her groceries online every two weeks and have them delivered to her. Michael and his girlfriend are responsible for rates, taxes, the garden person and the domestic worker. Samuel and his wife are responsible for DSTV, TV license and clothing accounts.

According to Keith, what else does she need money for? That’s why she can afford to give money to the dad. Now that the dad moved back into the house, it’s worse. Keith even wants us to reduce the groceries. Honestly, he must just take one for the team at this point. He cannot NOT look after his mother because of his hatred for that man. Hai bo.

So I’ll generally send her R2500. When she needs money for stuff, she phones me. And I’m happy that she does. Her sons are not prepared to send her money because of the father. And the wives and girlfriends… well, they don’t like her enough to do what I do. And I don’t understand why. Maybe I just understand her better because I grew up just next door her house and she’s always seen a daughter in me.

Now with my significant increase in salary, I give her R5000 every month. Then I’ve added onto my mom’s allowance. So she gets R10 000 from Keith and I collectively. She finally confirmed that she doesn’t work anymore. I’m happy. She also tells me that she takes Keith’s mom out from time to time, which I appreciate. But ja, I don’t know how we are going to work around this situation.

“Moghel!!!!” Wandi comes into my office and says.

We are both super excited to see each other. We jump on each other, hugging and actually making a noise.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you”, she says.

“I’m so excited to see you!!! I feel like we all just don’t see each other unless it’s a funeral or a wedding or something. That’s so wrong guys. We can’t be missing Thebe’s back rooms because of such”, I say.

“I hear you. I definitely agree. We just all have a lot going on. But you are right, we need to make time and just catch up.”

“Yeah. How are you finding being a new mommy?”

“It’s beautiful. I’m very blessed. And I have the best support system seeing me through. Plus, Melo is not a fussy child. So she really favours me in that regard”, she says.

“Well, being a mommy is a stunning look on you. I’m loving it for you!”

“Thank you, gorgeous. And wena? How’s Risuna and Keith?”

“They are good, watsiba. Keith wants another baby even.”

She almost pops her eyes out.

I laugh.

“I kinda want one too. But I think I’ll come off the pill after the wedding. I’m giving Risuna a little more time to be an only child. But even he’s asking me why people around him have siblings and he doesn’t.” I say.

Wandi actually laughs.

I laugh too.

“I’m really happy for you and Keith, Bassie. You know we’ve always held pom-poms for the two of you, but seriously, I’m so happy you guys found each other and knew what to do with this opportunity.” She says.

“Thank you so much, friend. There was honestly a time where I would have never believed anyone who would have told me that Keith and I would be married one day and building a whole family together. When he married that lunatic of his, I genuinely believed that any chance of him and I being together was over. Hell, I was even thinking about giving Sipho a chance.”

“BASETSANA!”

We burst into laughter.

“That guy unofficially adopted my child when his father wanted nothing to do with him - or so I thought at the time. He bought the baby a stroller, a cot and all these other things that I couldn’t afford. Not even he could afford it… he worked extra shifts at the mine just so my baby and I could be okay. Why wouldn’t I give him a chance.”

“Chomi, vele you didn’t find that to be creepy? I mean who does that? And with no guarantee ukuthi that’s your woman vele vele vele? I mean, now, you are with Keith and you haven’t spoken to him in forever. Lapho akhona, how’s he taking the fact that you and Risuna are not in his life and are not his family as he thought would be the case when he was being extra? Phela he surely didn’t do that just nje… there must have been some expectation.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that, watsiba. I just always thought of him as this thoughtful person who really cared enough to pick me up when I was at my lowest.” I say and I’m actually being honest.

“Anyway… he got arrested. Uzwile?” She says.

“Hai wena! For what?”

“Aren’t you still in the WhatsApp group kaThebe for that place?”

“No. I changed phones and lost everything.”

“Yoh! Apparently, police came to fetch him at the rooms. The charges include murder, rape, robbery and assault.”

“WHAT?!” I’m so shocked.

“Ja. Maybe that money he made to buy all of things was not 100% legal.”

My spine honestly has a hectic chill.

“You dodged a bullet, babe. He’s not who we all thought he was. I just found him to be very creepy for being your unofficial husband nje. It was too weird to me.” She says.

“Ja neh. Keith did say that there was something off about him. I just thought that Keith was being jealous.” I say.

“He was being jealous. He could tell that Sipho was off but couldn’t tell that his wife was a dangerous nutcase and a half?”

We look at each other.

We burst into laughter.

“Anyway, let me love and leave you. Melo is with her mkhulu and I don’t want her exhausting him. I’m somewhere around this massive house if you need me or just want to take a quick break nyana.”

“Thanks babe. Enjoy.”

She leaves my office.

Ja neh!

I’m busy for the next few hours in my office. Fifi, my boss, is in and out of my office. She even had a site visit today with the queen. This is really a big project. I feel honoured to be part of it.

It is now 6pm. I decide to call it a day. Fifi is not back from the site visit. She texted me telling me that I can leave. We will catch up telephonically. Vele I miss my child and my husband. I have missed calls from my mother as well. I’ll call her back on my drive back home.

I walk past Wandi, Melo and Mr Maphumulo. Wandi has just made Mr Maphumulo food. So he’s eating. I say goodbye. They all say goodbye. Wandi even says that we will chat. I agree and give her space. She’s being a makoti. I understand.

I’m driving home now. Let me phone Keith first. He is actually away on business. He’s in South Africa, Cape Town.

“Hey my love”, he answers his phone.

“Hey baby. How are you doing?”

“I just miss you. A lot. You should take me with you on your trips.”

“I’d love that. Plus, I’m very horny right now. And only you can solve this problem.”

I actually laugh.

“How’s my boy?” He asks me.

“I’m headed home now, so it will be me and him when I get home. We can video call you after dinner.”

“I have a meeting just after 7pm. As soon as I’m done, I’ll phone you guys.”

“Okay baby. Sure. When are you coming back again?”

“Tomorrow my baby. I honestly cannot wait.”

“We miss you, love.”

“I miss you too, baby.”

“And I love you, baby.”

“I love you too, baby.”

My kid is running around the house, driving mzala crazy. What I don’t understand is why mzala is running after him. Upset as she is and yelling at him the way that she is, he’s completely entertained. He’s laughing so hard that he even stops running to catch his breath from laughing and running. My chaos part 2 has started.

“Risuna!” I’m the one who makes him stop this nonsense.

“Mzala! Hai your child!” Mzala is so tired. She’s even sweating. What were they doing?

“Why are you being naughty, Risuna?” I ask.

“I’m not. I’m playing. And mzala is very funny”, he says as he laughs.

“Are you saying your elder is funny?” Mzala.

“Mama, mzala wants me to go bath. I tell her that if she can catch me, I’ll bath. She told me she was an athlete at school so I want to see if she can beat me. When I run, she runs like this” then he imitates her… tongue out… he even splashes water on his face to imitate the sweating. I’m not even joking. It’s the exact sight I saw when I walked in here. I really want to burst into laughter. But mzala is so mad!

Then Risuna bursts into laughter.

“Mzala, you can knock off. I’ll take over from here”. I say.

“Mzala, you must discipline your child! This is no way to treat an elder!”

Okay, now she’s judging me.

“Hawu mzala, I’ll talk to him.”

“Talk to him?! This child needs a hiding! And a serious one! This is not a child! It’s a brat. And I told sesi! She said she’d talk to you.”

That explains the multiple missed calls.

“Mzala, I’ll talk to my son.”

“Wabona wena neh… you are raising a criminal! This one will be in prison before the age of 25. O tlare I didn’t tell you. He doesn’t listen! He doesn’t have respect! His teachers complain about him. I complain about him. All you do is talk to him?! You’ll regret this. You’ll see.”

“Mzala, I don’t appreciate your tone and your uncalled-for prophecy! Keith and I are raising our child as best as we see fit.”

“Keith? Ukai yena? He sees that you are an unfit mother who doesn’t know how to discipline her brat and he’s not here to watch the ship sink right before his eyes. He’s out there with a girlfriend to release his stress.”

“Keith is away on business, mzala.” I say.

“Weh! Watsiba I feel sorry for you. You all go to school to become more and more stupid. Your house is falling apart right before your eyes and you are blinded by what you choose will make you cope. That man doesn’t like you working. He wants you at home, disciplining your little brat and creating a decent human being out of him. He wants you making this child a sibling so that he learns some kind of responsibility, and not see everything to be about him. But wena o rotehile akiri? You want to work and hang out with your friends. You want to hire people to take care of and raise your unruly son. Keith is gone! Yena he will love you and marry you and hide manyala ahaye because he loves you. It’s just your actions that are driving him away. O hopole that you are his second marriage. He’s more seasoned at this than what you are. Even his ability to lie and hide things from you has improved. But nna… I know a well-taken-care-of man when I see one. Kgale ke phila.”

I just look at her.

I choose to not believe her.

I trust my husband.

I trust that my child is not a criminal in the making.

“Goodnight!” And just like that, mzala knocks off.

…

I needed these three days. And Phindi didn’t disappoint at all. She made sure that I’m all the way happy and that no part of my body remains untouched.

I like her. A lot. She explores me. She takes risks with her body alongside mine.

The best part about her is that she’s married too. So she has as much to lose as I do. So I know that she won’t be a lunatic. And this arrangement between us is as good as we want it to be and will last as long as we want it to last. Her husband lives in the UK. She’s here in the kingdom with her three children. She��s a CEO of her business that is also here in the kingdom. We met at a conference that I attended a while back. And honestly, I’ve been captivated ever since. Apparently, so has she.

“We need to get back to the running again, baby. Your wife is over feeding you and your body is aging faster than your actual age. Look at these love handles”, she says to me, running her hands around my waist… removing my towel that I had on since I did just take a shower.

“It’s work stress, baby. You know I barely have time to run or gym.” I say.

“We need to change that. Get a treadmill or something in your house. I don’t want you having a heart attack while we are deep within our shit in bed.”

We both laugh.

“Well, you look really nice.” I tell her. She is looking good. For a mother of three, she looks nothing older than 28. Her long weave is making her look expensive. She has a small body frame. She’s a runner. A committed one at that. She has a personal gym trainer. She has a physiotherapist that she goes to weekly. And she’s a “Saturday mornings are for the spa” kind of woman. I even know that her Saturday mornings are off limits.

“Are we in our love pod this weekend?” I ask her.

She shakes her head, lets go of my body, then gets back to getting dressed. Then she says, “the kids and I are going to see their dad in Manchester. I’ll be there for the next two weeks.”

I nod my head.

“So no contact?” Me.

She shakes her head and says, “None at all. You know he will catch on as soon as you even text me and he will make life difficult for us. Unengane encane, Keith. Uyakudinga. My husband will honestly end it for you. I don’t want your son to suffer because you and I chose to be reckless. I’m even going to leave this phone in SA and use my main line only while I’m away.”

“I understand. I’m going to miss you.” I say.

“I know. But you and I agreed that we wouldn’t be reckless with this. You still need to love and honour your wife. If your marriage changes, it gets better - not worse. If she starts feeling like she’s losing you, we are done, Keith. You and I - it’s just sex. There’s no reason why our kids and partners need to suffer at any point because of this.”

I nod my head.

We finish getting dressed. She’s packed her bag. She double-checks my bag to make sure that there is no evidence of her at all in my stuff. As she does this, I get dressed as well.

I feel her hands on my ass now.

I look at her.

She has her bag in hand… travel bag being pulled with one hand, her handbag is over the shoulder of her other hand.

“Keep well, lover.” She says as she kisses me.

“You too, beautiful.” I say.

She leaves.

…

I arrive at my house just after 4pm. I find a few cars here. So I park my car just outside of my gate.

I take my bag, some flowers and the gifts that I bought for my wife and kid: a new Chanel bag and Dior perfume for my wife, then a new electronic vehicle for my son. The number plates are “RISUNA GP”. It’s a black Range Rover Sport - just like his father’s car.

“Ladies”, I say as I step into my living room.

I see the whole gang is here… Tamia, Bassie, Morafe and Wandi. Their kids are also here, going crazy in Risuna’s playroom. Risuna’s playroom has nice stuff, that I will admit. Then it has a sliding door leading to the garden where he has his jungle gyms, trampolines and other outdoor activity stuff. I really wish he had a sibling to share all of this with.

“Hi Keith”, these ladies greet me.

“How are you doing?” Me.

Bassie walks up to me, smiling from ear to ear. I’m also very happy to see her.

We greet each other with a kiss. I give her flowers and her gift. She thanks me and brushes my dick.

What’s happening?!

“Let me help him get settled. I’ll be right back.” Bassie tells the ladies.

“Take your time.” Tamia slyly says. I just laugh. I wonder what they’ve been talking about.

We get into the bedroom and Bassie is all over me. I’m not sure what’s happening, but she’s never this keen for sex.

But I take advantage.

I undress her.

I put her on the bed.

As I’m about to put my penis in there, she says, “are you cheating on me?”

What the fuck?!

She can’t possibly know. I’ve been careful. Phindi has been extra careful on behalf of both of us.

I just get up.

I sit on the bed.

I try to wrap my head around this question.

“What are you asking me, Basetsana?” I actually even pretend to be offended by the question.

“Mzala says that you are cheating on me.” She says.

Mzala?!

Wow!

“What am I not doing right, Basetsana? What don’t I do for you and Risuna?” I say. I’m even getting angry.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been eating away at me all night. I couldn’t even eat or sleep.”

“Is that why your friends are all over our house? You are discussing our marriage with them and accusing me of shit I don’t even have time to do because I’m so busy working my ass off for you and our son.”

She’s quiet.

I’m quiet.

She then says, “Look Keith, I’m choosing to trust you. I’m choosing to believe that if there’s something wrong that I’m doing or there’s something that you are not happy with when it comes to me, you’ll talk to me and you’ll give us an opportunity to fix it… you won’t run to ejaculate inside another woman. I won’t even go looking for evidence of whether you are cheating on me or not. If you are doing something, it will come to light on its own. And if it does, Keith… I want you to know that I’ll take my son and leave you. I won’t even sit here and listen to your explanations. I won’t even try to fix it or forgive you. We will be done. You are a grown and consenting adult. You know what is acceptable and what isn’t. If you are cheating, I will not accept it as a mistake… and just know that God will deal with you accordingly.”

Then she leaves the room.

I don’t know why I feel so shitty.

I’m in my room now, unpacking my travel bag. I’m mostly putting my stuff in the laundry basket. Bassie is still with her friends and Risuna is still having the time of his life out there.

When I am done, I turn on the TV, lay on my bed and go online to purchase some gym equipment for myself. I think I also need to get into shape again. I’m not a buff guy with a six pack and firm glutes or whatever. The only thing I have going for me is that I’m tall and dark. Noria loved that about me. Bassie seems to love it about me. Oh… and I’m a gifted Tsonga man.

But being with Phindi and watching how she looks after herself… I suppose it won’t hurt to also fix myself up. We actually have a gym in this house that neither Bassie nor myself use. It’s just there. We don’t even have equipment in there.

I order two treadmills, two cycling machines, the rowing machines, a punching bag, boxing gloves for myself and Bassie in case she decides to join me, medicine balls, dumbbells and weights. I notice that there’s a special. Basically this special says because I’ve shopped for more than R10 000, I get someone who will deliver these and set them up for me for free. I just accept the special. Whatever, honestly.

Now, I take my nap. I’ll only see Bassie when the girls remember that they all have husbands to go back home to. I’ll see Risuna later on when he’s done being a host as well.

…

“Hai ngeke mah, kuyabanda la. How does dad live here?” My daughter, Kayla, says. She’s my eldest. And yes, Manchester is cold. Tholoana Kingdom just rains a lot, but compared to Manchester, it’s not that cold.

“You get used to it, Kayla.” My husband says. His name is Harry Wright. Yes, I married a white man and I have three caramelo babies. I’m just proud that they can speak Zulu - it must be because they live with me and are very familiar with my parents’ kraal in Eshowe. They picked up seSotho in Tholoana Kingdom. I’d say that they are very multilingual kids. I’m proud of them.

Kayla - whom I also named Nkanyezi - is my eldest. My second child is my second daughter, Charlotte - whom I also named Nomcobo. My last born is my son, Michael Bhuza Wright. The Zulu names all came from my dad, I swear. I would have gone for something less out of the Shaka Zulu movie.

“Dad, this place is cold. No one can get used to this. We’ve been coming here for two weeks every school holiday and every midterm break, but I’m still not used to this”. Kayla says.

I serve Harry his coffee.

He kisses me as he accepts it, rubbing my lower back.

“I was actually hoping that I’d convince you guys to actually move up here and live with me.” Harry says.

“There’s no way”, Charlotte says.

“That could never be me”, Kayla.

“Dad, why don’t you just move to the kingdom and just come live with us? You and mom are probably the only two married people I know that don’t live together. Don’t married people have needs?” I actually choke on my tea as Charlotte says this.

Harry finds it funny.

“I’ll come live with you, dad. I’m tired of being the only boy anyway”, Mikey says.

“Thanks my boy. But seriously guys… your mom has a business and in my view she can pretty much run it from anywhere. I have a job that I can’t just leave.” Harry says.

“But you can find a job anywhere. Why do you specifically want to work here?” Kayla.

“My family is here.” Harry.

“Mom’s family lives in a different country from us.” Charlotte.

“But it’s a drive away”, Harry.

“Moving to Manchester would make it a flight away.” Kayla.

Harry is quiet.

“Dad, this place is not nice to settle in. It’s always cold. It’s not nice being black here - and here, we are black, not mixed-race. We’d be miserable here”, Kayla.

“How do you know that? You guys haven’t even tried”, Harry.

“Dad -

I intervene and say, “How about we test all these theories before we make a decision? We move up here with dad for a year. We try this out for one year. If we love it, we will move up here permanently. But if we hate it… then babe, you need to come back to the kingdom with us.”

“What about school? And our friends? I actually have a life, you know.” Charlotte.

“You’ll go to a new school here and make new friends. Our schools are great too”, Harry.

“What about my boyfriend?!” Says Kayla, my fourteen year old.

“Lord, help me.” Harry says.

I actually burst into laughter.

“What about mom’s business?” Mikey asks us.

“I’ll have to run it from here then make occasional trips to the kingdom from time to time.” I say.

“Can we actually go with you? Like to actually check on our lives and make sure that we are still relevant? Because I for one know for a fact that I’m not staying here forever”, Charlotte… my twelve year old.

I look at Harry.

He’s not impressed hey.

“I need you guys to give this a chance. It’s important to me. Is that a lot to ask?” Harry.

The kids understand the seriousness of this.

“Dad, we understand that this is important to you. But we also need to be comfortable and you need to also understand what’s important to us too. You are asking us to just uproot our lives and move to a country that doesn’t even like the colour of our skin. Have you thought about what this means for us? We are allowed to have reservations and actually cling on something familiar that makes us happy”, Kayla.

“To be clear… I’m not asking. I’m telling you! And I’m your parent. In fact, I’m the head of this house and family. My word is final.” He’s suddenly scary now.

“What about how we feel?” Charlotte.

“You’ll have to get over it and do as we say”, Harry.

“What if we said no?” Kayla.

He looks at me as if blaming me for this. Did he not hear me suggest we try this out for a year at least?

He walks out of the kitchen as if saying “speak to your kids!”

“Mom, you cannot agree to this! You just cannot!” Kayla.

“And dad is being unfair. He’s being a dictator”, Charlotte.

“I can stay with dad by myself”, Mikey.

“There we go! Problem solved.” Charlotte.

“All my kids stay with me. Mikey goes where I go.” I say.

“It’s the four of us and one of him. If he moves, it’s less of a change than if four people move”, Charlotte.

“Have you guys considered his point of view in this?” I ask.

“We have. Then we realised that he doesn’t care for ours, so why should we care for his? It’s bad enough dealing with this cold for two weeks at a time. Now we must come here forever? Mom, do something”, Kayla.

“You are all moving here! And it’s final!” Harry says. I didn’t even realise that he was back in the kitchen.

The girls are not happy at all.

…

It’s evening. The day was pretty sour after the conversation earlier on.

I’m in bed. I just took a shower. Now I’ve just lotioned myself and am ensuring that I’m warm as I slip into bed. He’s in here, on the phone with his parents and telling them that the kids and I are moving here. The parents sound excited. I’m not excited about moving here. It’s not even about Keith. I don’t love Keith… he’s just black dick after I’ve been having wife dick for thirteen years of marriage. That’s why I encourage him to be a good husband. I don’t want him having ideas of us leaving our partners and families for each other. I love Harry. I just don’t like Manchester. I’m with my kids on this 100%.

Yes, I was living and studying in the UK when I met Harry, married him and had kids with him. I moved from here to the kingdom when I just couldn’t get my business off the ground and the best thing that I could be was Harry’s PA. I am Phindile Wright. I am the daughter of Khombisile and Mlungisi Zwide. I’ve never been destined for the bare minimum. My mother opened her first supermarket when I was four years old. My father started his own farm when I was two. I come from two business geniuses who created their own wealth and self-built their ‘royalty’ status in our community. When people talk about the Zwide family, it’s always with a dose of respect. When Harry came to pay lobola and we had our traditional wedding in Eshowe, people said “of course she married a white man. What black man would be good enough for her?”

Now for all of that to just be Harry’s PA? Who only got the job because I’m his wife? No thanks!

So I packed up my things and my three kids - at the time when I left, they were ages 3, 8 and 10 - and I went to start my empire. And it’s growing!

So moving here, I feel like I’m headed towards a set back. My business will not thrive here. It won’t. I tried. I failed. But you know what… my marriage is worth the shot.

“You okay?” He asks me as he gets into bed.

“Yeah.” I say with a feint smile.

“Thank you for supporting me out there with the three rebels.” I don’t appreciate him calling my kids rebels.

“It’s change. When have you ever known kids to adjust well to change?”

“But still… I wouldn’t have won out there without you. Thanks.” He says.

“So… how will you juggle yourself between us and your other family?” I ask him.

He looks at me.

“I mean… Julie is the one that even your family loves. Her and her kids are the preferred ones. I thought life was easier for you with us being away. Are you ready for the chaos that’s about to come with the kids knowing that you have two kids with your high school sweetheart and your family treats her like your wife and me like your dirty secret?” I say.

“Julie won’t come near my children… or my wife. You guys always come first.” He says.

“I’m sure she was fine with that when we were far away. But if we are here full time… look Harry, I just don’t want issues or drama. You can sleep with her all you want, but I want my dignity and my children’s sanity to be protected and respected at all times.”

He nods his head.

I doubt that this is going to work. But let’s see what happens.

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horatio-fig · 2 years ago

Text

I studied something called Toxic Beta Masculinity for my Dissertation. I covered toxic fan culture, gatekeeping and incels, inspired by my experiences in the Star Wars Community. I could talk for hours about so much stuff, but I want to talk about Syril Karn.

I basically studied men like him, so seeing it playing out on my screen every week has been truly wonderful. TV and film only ever show the extreme vilified side of things when actually, it’s much more subtle and nuanced and harder to spot in real life.

(I’m gonna use some very broad statements here but I can clarify anything if people want. I want to make it very clear I am not defending anyone’s behaviour, this is just purely my take from an academic point of view)

What we’re seeing is something called Toxic Beta or Toxic Geek Masculinity. Masculinity is not bad. When you break down the core values of what makes a ‘successful man’ a lot of them are positive.

They’re things like “be able to provide for your loved ones”, “be physically fit and healthy”, “Protect your loves ones”. This translates to simply, have a partner, have a good job so you have money, have money so you can buy a house, etc. People who can do these things are categorised as Alpha males, those who cannot are Beta.

(Again, using very broad terms here)

Due to modern life, ‘Beta males’ are becoming a lot more common. A lot of us can’t afford our own place so we have to move in with our parents. It’s a lot harder to find any sort of job, and finding a good paying one is almost impossible. We’re stuck in bad jobs, living with our parents, making barely enough money to survive.

Just because you are in that situation, does not mean you are toxic. But it's very easy to fall into that trap.

Toxic Beta masculinity happens when these men realise that they do not possess the traditional masculine tropes. But instead of accepting that, they choose to vilify and blame those who do have them, or decide it’s someone else's fault. However, they’re not going to try and attack alpha males, because they are higher up than them. So, they instead project hate towards people who they think are below them (women, POC, Queer people) This is why the Star Wars Community has such problems with bigotry and it’s where gatekeeping comes from. (I’ll probably do a more in-depth post about this one day) Sometimes it’s malicious, but a lot of the time it is subconscious and they won’t realise they’re even doing it.

But, we’re not talking about that, we’re talking about Syril.

Going back to the living with parents and no money thing. Millennials and younger generations will very likely never own property or make investments. After our living expenses, we are left with very little money and very little time to indulge in our hobbies. So, we have the choice to try and save up, or, what mostly happens is, we invest our money and time into something that brings us joy or we deem important.

However, when we do this, we’re essentially deciding that our passion for something outweighs everything else and naturally we get defensive and over protective over the things we love. This passion can manifest itself in different ways, from a need to become an expert in it, to a need to lash out and be aggressive.

Syril is this situation now. His life has started to crumble and worst of all he can pinpoint the exact moment when it happened. He can see all the people who are to blame, Cassian for killing his crew, His mother for pushing him too much, Meero for not letting him get any further in the investigation. The fact that all of these people are minorities is subtle, but very important.

(He has nothing but respect for the older white men of authority he runs into, whether it be his old boss, or his new one, and always does as he’s told. But when it comes to people who are ’lesser’ than him, he feels that entitlement to take what he wants. Yes, he respects Meero as an officer, but not enough to respect her boundaries.)

We see he has figurines in his room, much like a lot of us do. He has become obsessed with justice and fighting for what is right in his own warped way and he has started to become fixated and defensive about it. His beta masculinity is starting to become toxic.

He is not an Incel, he is not a racist bigot or a raging misogynist. Yet. He has the capacity to be all these things, but that doesn't mean it’s set in stone. There are all the pieces for a truly great redemption story, or a truly powerful descent into villainhood. We’ll just have to see how the writers choose to go.

I hope Star Wars Fans watch Andor and see themselves in Syril, and view his descent as a warning. I am not ‘defending incels’ or playing devil's advocate, but there are a lot of stages before someone gets to that point that I think people need to be more aware of so that you can spot it in yourself, or in someone else and act before it’s too late. You can stop radicalization, but it is very hard to undo it.

Anyway, it’s truly wonderful seeing the thing you studied and nearly went insane over being portrayed on TV and being portrayed in such a brilliant way. People are not binary, there is no black and white, no one is 100% good or bad. Anyone is open to radicalization. Andor has captured this better than any piece of media I have ever seen and I am so grateful for its existence.

#long post #i could have made it longer tbh I could talk about this all day #star wars andor #syril karn #It’s brilliantly done #Oh the temptation to do a PhD #Urgh that moment when you get to use your niche topic of study 🤤

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sunmoonandeddie · 3 years ago

Text

and he kissed me right here

pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader

word count: 6,100

summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.

warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap

a/n: This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!

Twenty-Two

I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.

“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”

Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.

“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”

“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.

Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.

Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.

Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”

I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”

“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”

Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.

It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.

I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.

What if he said no?

Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?

What did I care if he thought that?

“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.

“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”

I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.

Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

God, he was handsome.

“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.

“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”

“I do drive.”

“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”

“But I don’t have my car on me.”

I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”

He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”

“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”

I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.

Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.

“So how did you end up in NOLA?”

It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.

His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”

“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”

“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”

Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”

Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.

I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”

He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”

I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”

“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.

There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”

“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.

Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.

What if I was his girl?

But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.

I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.

And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.

“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”

“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.

Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.

Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”

It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.

“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”

My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.

Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”

Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.

“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”

“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”

He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”

“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”

The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.

I hated it.

“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.

Perhaps we were.

But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”

He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”

For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.

“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.

“Love?”

“Love.”

Love.

Could I even have love? Did I want it?

“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”

Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”

I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”

“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”

We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”

“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”

Twenty-Three

I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.

But God, did it hurt.

I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.

But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?

But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.

Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?

A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.

My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”

“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”

“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.

There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.

And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.

It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?

Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.

That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”

I love you, too.

I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.

My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.

“You okay?”

In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.

He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”

And well, I was never one to turn down free food.

Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.

“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”

“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.

Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”

Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”

“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”

“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”

I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.

“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.

I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”

Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”

Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.

But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.

“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”

Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”

He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.

And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.

Twenty-Four

I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.

My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.

I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.

It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.”

I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.

The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.

“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.

I fucking hated martinis. Always had.

But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.

“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”

“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.

Twenty-Eight

“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.

Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.

It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.

But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.

Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.

“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.

The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.

He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”

My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”

The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.

“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”

I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”

“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”

“Yes.”

Thirty-Two

Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.

Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.

I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.

The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.

Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.

BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.

I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.

But it wasn’t ever enough.

My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.

He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.

“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.

The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.

I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.

“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.

My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.

My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.

He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.

“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”

All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.

“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”

The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.

“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”

Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.

And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.

Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.

My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.

“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.

“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”

All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.

Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”

My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”

He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”

“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”

Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.

Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.

I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes reader insert

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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How the Brothers Would Try to Corrupt MC w/ Their Sin

I have a headcanon that it's part of demonic nature to try and corrupt humans. Though I think it would be unlikely that the brothers would try to intentionally corrupt MC post-pact, it's still like second nature to them. That means they may try to unintentionally, uh… infect their soul with sin and drag them down into eternal damnation! They don't mean it, but be careful MCs of the world.

Lucifer

One of the hardest things to do can be to make others take pride in themselves… but Lucifer is always ready for a challenge.

The name of the game is praise. The human mind can be easy to manipulate so with enough praise even the most stubborn human will start to believe a drop of their own hype.

Building up pride is a steady thing... He'll usually pick a strength or talent of the MC to give high praise. Perhaps they sing beautifully or they're rather clever, don't worry. He'd let them know.

Light sprinkles of praise steadily increase their self-esteem, which may seem nice and almost healthy at first, but in truth he's laying a trap… He knows how effective his words can be and he's just waiting for them to go to the MC's head.

You think then he would be done right? Oh no. That's not the fun part. What's fun is to then offend that pride he's spent so long building.

He thinks it's cute, really. A small comment here or a little condensation there and they'll get so mad. It's just so amusing!

Of course, he can't take what he dishes, so they'll need to watch out. But don't worry he loves them, even if they're just a little too fun to play with…

Mammon

Since when does the Avatar of Greed give gifts?

Really, that should be the MC's first red flag. Mammon isn't known for generosity, so when he's spending what little money he can hold onto on them, it's time to raise some eyebrows.

It may seem nice, almost sweet, when he manages to track down a rare vintage of wine for them or take them out to a ritzy restaurant for the night but unfortunately it's all just part of the plan…

Nobody has tastes higher than Mammon. He can't afford them most of the time, which leads to compromises, but given all the Grim in the world he'd be living in the lap of luxury - which is exactly the kind of lifestyle he wants the MC to crave too.

Anyone, no matter how modest, can give into temptation. How easy would it be to taste the sweetest wine or enjoy the most wonderful trip then want to do it again? It may seem innocent at first, but piling on the finer things can soon have the MC craving for them when they pass.

Then all Mammon needs is to make little promises, "If I make it big this time, then we'll go to France!" or, "If I win this next hand then I'll buy ya another glass."

So how many times will the MC give Mammon a pass, then? Will they stop questioning how he comes up with his cash? Will they let him gamble just that "little bit" longer? Will they even join him...?

If they keep getting that taste of luxury, then maybe it's not so bad… right?

Leviathan

You think the easiest way to get the MC jealous would be to flirt with other people since that's how most people go about it but, uh…

This is Levi we're talking about. Casual flirting is pretty much out of the question.

So what is a demon to do to get their hapless human jealous? The answer is, be patient.

No one's perfect, humans especially! They'll slip up eventually…

Maybe someone from back home just got a new car or they're sending out marriage invites.

Maybe they have a friend who's better than them at school or sports or there's just someone who has something they want: Money, talent, looks, followers, friends, you name it. When they see it, he can feel that envy creeping in…

From there, all he has to do is feed it. Let the world poke at their little insecurities for him while he plays the supportive boyfriend!

"Did Mammon really get the promotion? I thought it would have been you! That's so unfair..."

"Satan beat your scores again? What is this, the third time? Doesn't that suck?"

Small little comments… but all with a goal to fill the MC with toxicity...

"Are Asmo videos still doing better than yours? I think I know how to drop his numbers... if you want."

And soon enough, anyone can be an enemy. Everyone has it better than them… so they push the world away in order to feel better. And they become so toxic, the world rejects them in turn...

Except, of course, for their loving boyfriend, Levi.

Satan

If you want to keep someone mad, it's best if you're not the actual one doing it.

I know, it sounds counterintuitive, but turning yourself into the enemy risks the target cutting you out. Satan knows this, so he'll never enrage the MC directly...

But indirectly? There's a start.

Everybody has little pet peevs. Tiny things that aren't important, but dig under the skin nonetheless.

Breadcrumbs in the butter, gum-smacking, toe-tapping, tones of voice, or just little annoying inconveniences that can sour one's day...

Satan is well-versed in these tiny annoyances, he'd dare say they're in his domain. And, perspective that he is, he'll know what frustrates the MC soon enough.

Then it's just a matter of execution.

Maybe he jacks with their toothpaste tube or "conveniently" forgets where they put their books... Or they keep mysteriously finding fingerprints on their game disks or seemingly can't keep their room organized to save their life!

It may just seem like the world hates them... but really it's just their demonic lover.

These tiny details and little mishaps will just build and build like cracks in their foundation until it all breaks and comes crashing down… and he'll be right there egging on every moment of it!

Asmodeus

You would think that Asmo would have the easiest time tempting the MC into his sin, but that's not so.

Sure, most traditional definitions of Lust begin and end at carnal desire, but what about those MCs who maybe aren't so drawn to the sins of the flesh? Fear not! Because the keyword for Asmo is desire.

Really, Asmo is happy if the MC's mind is full of nothing but him. He wants them to desire him, to love him obviously, but to the point of obsession. His heated kisses and sensual whispers are only means to that end, which can change whenever he needs.

The MC will have their life bombarded by their beautiful demon. It's not an unwelcome smothering, he's among the best boyfriends they could ever hope to have, which is exactly why he’s so effective!

He wants them to need him at every moment. Soon it will feel weird to go places alone without their demon… Certain things they could do themselves, like their hair or getting dressed, they'll want him to do instead.

Of course, if he's able then he'll certainly seduce them as well and at every chance he gets! From the House to RAD and even in the throne room - he's shameless!... But that's the fun, isn't it?

Beelzebub

Oh Beel… He's probably the most dangerous one of them all. Not because he's so demonic, but because he's so sweet!

When Beel makes food for the MC or orders them an extra side, he does so with love. He just wants them to be full! ...or so he thinks.

Beel's demonic instincts creep up on even him, he's just not one to really question what or why he does things sometimes. He'll know he has the urge to see the MC eat or just be indulgent… but he won’t know why.

You could actually say it works to his advantage. Whenever he offers the MC another turkey leg or a few more bites of cake, his tenderhearted insistence is often so sweet that they'll just go along with it and try to keep eating… even if they're already full.

Now, the human body can only take so much food at once, but over time it can adapt to changing habits.

Eventually, the MC will find their appetite expanding to catch up… They'll stop feeling full as easily as they used to and soon the bigger portions that Beel gives them will be all but a necessity!

Of course, the worst case scenario is that this doesn't happen at all and they do serious harm to their health by always pushing past their limits… but there's no guarantee Beel's solution won't just be more food anyway.

Belphegor

Belphie is the only brother who will knowingly (and gleefully) try to make the MC as sinful as he is!

It's all for selfish reasons. If the MC is slothful, then they'll want to go out less and (probably) spend time with him more. Win-win if you're Belphie.

Since he's well aware of what he's doing, he's pretty damn effective at it. No other brother will be as committed to meddling with the MC as he is.

He'll convince them to cancel plans or sabotage their alarms so they oversleep. He'll suddenly be unable to sleep without them while his naps seemingly get longer and longer… And if they have something to do, he'll be the voice in their ear saying it can wait!

Really, at any opportunity he can get Belphie will try to drag them down or slow their progress with the sweet, sweet promise of relaxation or a good time...

Sure, it may sound nice at the time - great even! - but it won't take long for their promises to break or deadlines to pile up… Sure, the MC could try to catch up but wouldn't that be too much work? Wouldn't they rather rest instead? Why even worry about it?

It's a seductive line of thought and Belphie sells it well, it'd take only the most motivated MC to resist his charms but like that'd stop him. If he wants the MC for himself, he'll happily put their life on hold to do so. Just go with it... yeah?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #i got really excited to use the word ritzy #don't get enough chances for that kind of thing

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mmvalentine · 2 years ago

Text

Lover Like Me pt 14 (epilogue) | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

The next year blurs by and I swear I couldn’t even tell you what we filled it with. We just hazed through, the way that you get to the end of summer vacation drunk on long days and the absence of school bells and wonder where the time went.

I can tell you that we moved house, not immediately but eventually, and not very far. Rhys wanted to stay close to the garage, after all. In fact, none of us live in the Velaris blocks anymore, and no, Rhys didn’t buy a house for each of them. His father was wealthy but not that wealthy. He did buy the auto shop though, and start paying an actual living wage once he fired the old manager, and wouldn’t you know it, the guys all started renting decent places once they could afford it.

Mor moved closer to the beach and met a girl at one of Helion’s extravagant parties. Azriel’s got a slick city apartment with a view, and Cassian’s shifted toward the mountains and living his best lumberjack life. They all commute but no one’s complaining.

I often think back on the time we all lived together with great fondness, but I know for the others, painful memories still live there, and we’ve never been back. I don’t mind at all, because I’m home wherever Rhys is.

And Rhys is here, in a house of our very own, and he’s magnificent.

Out from the shadows of his violent father’s past and his dead mother’s house, Rhys is a force to be reckoned with. Business is booming, we go on trips most weekends, and I’ve never heard him laugh so loud. And coming home to him every day is a luxury that simultaneously feels like I’ve been doing it forever, and like I’ll never get used to the thrill of it.

It’s not a giant house, but there’s the loveliest rose and lilac garden out the front, and French doors on the second floor to the balcony that Rhys built. We have a bedroom with a skylight, which he cleans every weekend because he loves to look at the stars. It has a study we converted into an art studio for me, with shelves all along the wall to hold all my supplies. There’s a spare bedroom that is always made up- it was important to both of us our friends could stay with us whenever they wanted or needed to. And it has a garage where Rhys keeps his bike and also a beautiful vintage Bentley that he’s restoring in his spare time.

Rhys runs the shop better than Amarantha ever did, and now that she’s gone the guys actually like going to work. I visit sometimes, bring by boxes of pizza when they work late not because they have to but because they’re enjoying each other’s company. Pepperoni for Azriel, cheese for mor, mushroom for Rhys, and four of whatever there’s four of for Cassian. They wipe black grease off their hands and laugh with their mouths full, and now movie nights happen less frequently but we put a projector in the garage and every month or so we watch on a wall-sized screen.

Sometimes it’s just Rhys who’s stayed back, slumped in the office over the books that were never his favourite part of the job. On those days I feed him Irish tea and chocolate biscuits, and when his blood sugars are revived, we make love on the desk, where I have a perfect view of a certain painting that hangs on the wall and remains my most abstract piece to date.

As for me, my rent situation may be taken care of, but I will never not have my own bank account again. I’ve earned myself a permanent spot in Tarquin’s gallery by maintaining the highest selling rate of any of his resident artists. It’s not quite enough that I’ve quit my job at the art store, but I’m getting closer. Hey, maybe one day I’ll outgrow Tarquin and open a gallery of my own.

I’m telling you, my life is perfect.

Not because we never fight- amongst the brilliant days there are sad ones, when Rhys is full of trauma and fury and grief, and just because most of the time I know how to bring him back doesn’t mean it always works, or that I always have the energy to do it, or that he always wants me to.

But because he chooses me every damn day, even when I have nightmares about blonde haired men and I kick him in my sleep, even when I have unreasonable expectations that he will read my mind and then get upset that he hasn’t correctly anticipated my needs, and even when he works late and I’ve stayed up painting and we’re both cranky and snappy and rude.

And because I choose him back, just as many times.

And that- I wouldn’t trade that for the world, not for a thousand days of serenity, not for a million dry-eyed nights.

Still, it’s not the fights and the slow, painful healing that I want to replay over and over.

It’s days like today.

When I wake slow in the early morning light with Rhys’s lips on my ankle.

The alarm is set for seven, which is when we wanted to get up and get on the road. Our bags are packed and Rhys’s motorcycle is clean and full of fuel, and there are hours of mountain trails waiting for us to lose ourselves in their alpine embrace.

Yet here is Rhys with a kiss that moves slowly up the side of my calf.

And he’s usually such a stickler for a schedule.

I moan softly without opening my eyes. It’s warm and soft in our bed, and I’ve never been one to rise easy from slumber. Rhys’s tongue hits the corner of my knee, his teeth nip at the inside of my thigh, while the rough of his hands trace the journey his lips have just made. I twitch a little when his mouth lands at the join of my leg and my hip, although my limbs are still so heavy. Then the heat of his breath hits my underwear as he kisses the fabric between my legs, and my back arches up to his touch as if lifted by this string of static that starts in my stomach and ends in the apex of my thighs.

“Good morning, lover,” Rhys whispers, and then his mouth is otherwise occupied.

He pushes my underwear to the side and then it’s the flat of his tongue from pussy to clit. I gasp at the first touch, and then my panties are slid off my legs and I’m kissed on the sharp parts of my hips and the soft parts of my inner thighs and over my bare pussy again. I’m only half-way awake but I’m drowning in something sweeter than sleep as he laps me up and eats me alive. The minutes slide by but Rhys has all the time in the world as he flicks his tongue against me over and over again, winding me slowly round and round his little finger like a spool of thread. It’s not difficult; I’m always his.

His hands slide flat from my hips to my belly to my breasts, and all the while his lips are loving me. His mouth moves slow and dirty and sure. I’m rocking myself onto his tongue, the pleasure is a fog around me, and when he gets my nipples between his fingers, I tip my head back and moan just like he likes.

I could have happily passed the day like this, but my waking dream is cut through my the too-bright ring of my phone alarm.

At first, we ignore it, but of course the stubborn thing rings on and on. I groan in protest when Rhys gets up, but then the silence is restored and Rhys comes back to me and is settling his body over mine. His fingers lace through my fingers, and my hands are swept up and pinned above my head. He’s heavy and hard and as he rolls his hips into me, I’m mollified.

“Sleep well, honey?” Rhys’s voice is husky and low, and I don’t know how he expects me to answer when he’s grinding into me as he speaks. My eyes roll back and my hips lift to meet his, and the dark chuckle that issues from above me is as smug as a Cheshire cat. He kisses me then, sweeping his tongue deep into my mouth to make sure that I can taste myself on him like when he fucks me but finishes in my throat. The memory evoked is so filthy I’m turned on even more, and I start moving up against him looking for friction between my legs.

Rhys obliges me, driving his hips forward and kissing me deeper. I’m fairly sure I could come just from dry-humping this man, but he’s not going to let that happen. I’m rubbing up against his erection and building into a little rhythm that’s getting me where I want to go, and then just when I get to that floating place Rhys shoves his waistband down and pushes inside me.

I’m stretched out faster than expected and Rhys is sliding into me and by the time the tightness eases I’m coming on his cock.

It’s that easy.

And if there’s one enduring thing about us, about our relationship, it’s that it’s easy. It’s so easy and even when it’s difficult and when it sucks it’s easy and that’s why I love him. Or maybe because I love him. I love him so fucking much and I wouldn’t believe that someone so good would love me back except that he tells me all the fucking time and my head has gotten so big with it I wonder how I get in the front door sometimes.

And so here I am, early in the morning with no thoughts in my head and I’m coming hard while Rhys is all the way inside me and then when I’m back in control of my body I fuck him back until he comes, too.

On Sunday night, we’ll get back from our trip and we’ll unpack.

We’ll carry our bags in on tired legs and when I sit down and start unlacing my boots Rhys will look distracted. He’ll start picking through our belongings and I’ll ask him what he’s looking for.

“I’m just looking for… I could have sworn…”

“What, Rhys?” I’ll ask.

“It’s just, it was right here, can you look in your bag?”

“Look for what?” I’ll ask again, even as I start rifling through my backpack, searching for something I don’t know the name of.

“It’s so small, it could have fallen out.”

“Fuck’s sake Rhys, what am I looking for?”

“It’s the black box, you know the one.”

I don’t know the one, and I’ll get annoyed as Rhys continues to be vague while he shoves his hands in the pockets of our discarded leather jackets.

“Would you just look?” Rhys will say, and I’ll start getting mad that he’s sounding frustrated with me when he’s not communicating properly, so when my fingers close around a foreign object I’ll shake it at him.

“Here, is this what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know, open it.”

I’ll roll my eyes and snap open the little velvet case, and my anger will instantly evaporate because inside will be the most perfect sapphire and diamond ring I’ve ever seen. I’ll be in shock, I’ll look up at Rhys but he’ll be down on one knee with his violet eyes so bright I can hardly stand it.

“Feyre,” he’ll say, and then he’ll swallow because he’s getting choked up. “Feyre from the moment I met you…”

“Yes,” I’ll breathe, and he’ll laugh.

“Feyre, I never thought-”

“Yes,” I’ll interrupt again.

“I didn’t think someone like me-”

“YES,” I’ll yell, and I’ll fall to the floor before him and try to kiss his stupidly gorgeous face, but he won’t let me until he can at least get the question out.

‘Feyrewillyoumarryme?!” he’ll shout, and then he’ll fall backward because I’ve flung myself at him and I’ve covering him with kisses and ‘yes’s.

And then the studio door will burst open and Mor, Cassian and Azriel will be exploding out from their hiding place and dog-piling on to us, and I’ll barely be able to breathe from laughing and crying and being crushed by these goobers, whom I love so very much.

But that will be on Sunday.

Today, we are naked in bed.

And I hope that this is the way he remembers me always, when we’re old and wrinkled and grey. I hope he remembers buckling a helmet under my chin before we get on his motorcycle, I hope he remembers my arms around his waist as we ride. I hope he remembers living in this house, now, with me, before dogs and kids and mess and whatever else he wants in our future. But most of all I hope that he remembers being this deep inside of me while we move, keeping pace with our matching heart beats, with nothing but time and thoughts of being loved, and being a lover.

***

The end, at long last.

My loves. Thank you for being with me in this story, it is the longest one I've written by far (like more than triple the length of The Bargain) and it has been such a joy to hang out with you guys along the way. I really appreciate everyone who read and shared and reblogged!! I will miss you, please dont be strangers ❤️❤️❤️

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @achernarlight @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @hopefulacademia @story-scribbler @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @whoever-you-choose-to-love @endlessdaydream @elentiya-whitethorn @rarephloxes @timesconvert @mis-lil-red @alerialumina @lokisllama

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar

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yanderecandystore · 3 years ago

Note

Could you please do a fanfic for a male version of Yandere! Lady Dimitrescu (from Resident Evil Village game) with the reader.

I really like the Resident Evil franchise but I'm too lazy to know what the hell is happening in the older games XD I'm so sorry about that-

I loved watching playthroughs of Resident Evil Village (can't buy the game ;-;), but I felt like it was a bit empty, idk- I felt like the lords weren't really explored enough.

Also the Duke is the best husbando in the whole game- Fight me! >:3

TW/Tags: GN = Gender Neutral, I normally forget to properly name it when it's gender neutral, most of the time I just say "reader" // maybe ooc // lazy genderbent, I'm terrible with names // size difference // servant reader // mentions of gore/cuts/bruises/blood and deaths (and torture- I'm so sorry-) // reader gets hurt // mentions of vomiting

It's Dinner Already [Yandere!M!Dimitrescu x GN!Reader - Short Fanfiction]

It's dinner time already, unfortunately for you, of course.

It feels almost like a routine at this point- Which in a way, it is! You always take care of your tasks during the day, while dreading the inevitable time for dinner to arrive again.

Everyday, at this exact same hour, you and the other servants would prepare a meal for Lord Dimitrescu and his lovely… Sons…

As someone who has started "working" for their family only a month ago, you can positively say: Starving in the cold woods next to your village would have probably been a more merciful death than the ones you have witnessed at this place. You weren't as accustomed to such brutal executions at your village, actually you hardly even witnessed so much death, at least not so up close.

When you came here, you didn't expect to be instantly comforted and treated with respect- You were a commoner looking for an possibility to thrive in a noble's house, you were basically an easy target for any entitled selfish lord to easily belittle you and make you work for them until your hands would turn to dust. Yet nothing could have prepared you for such an odd situation.

Vampires. Monsters. Fiends if you were bold enough to insult them. You weren't exactly welcomed as much as you were snatched in and now forever trapped inside this castle. You can still hear their laughter… Their insane expressions of pure glee, the way they have bursted into maliciously laughing at your pain as you screamed for help trying to open up their door again and be free from that nightmare.

The chase didn't last even a second, they stabbed your legs with their scythes and brought you deeper inside this hellhole, as you cried your eyeballs out. The sons had brought you back inside so their father could take a look at the "intruder".

An absolute titan amongst the mortals. His height was only a sick reminder of how much power he had over the castle, over his sons, and now- Over you.

He may not have been as massive as he was threatening as you remind him to be, but at the time you were just in awe of his height considering you have never seen someone as tall and as mighty.

Then again- You have never seen vampires as well. Were they the same vampires as the books you've read as a kid? You weren't so sure of it…

You were hoping that if you begged for life and for forgiveness for having disturbed their peace, that they could spare you and let you go back to your village. Sadly enough, you commented on how you were only trying to look for a job as a servant.

You probably shouldn't have given them ideas, but it's too late to think about your mistakes now, however.

The sons begged to see your blood spilled, yet Lord Dimitrescu was merciful enough to grant you your "wish", as he said.

It has been a month ever since you were trapped inside and forced to work as a miserable little servant, and even if you didn't suffer the worst forms of punishments that they had in-store for you, you couldn't help but fantasize about just running away and never turning back.

You're so tired of this castle, of the smell of carnage, of the undeserved and over the top punishments, and especially of the people who would subjugate you to such things.

But at last, it's dinner time already, and you can't keep them waiting.

You feel your hands shaking as you walk out of the kitchen and into the dining room where the masters of the castle were so graciously waiting for you. You know what they're waiting for- But you can't let them distract you, for those that commit accidents are faced with fates worse than death.

Although you would rather do this process quickly, you can't afford mistakes to happen, so you take your time to set not only their meal in front of each one but to also pour "wine" into their glasses. You do all of this without looking directly into their eyes, only bowing down to each one and saying "excuse me"s in what they would call a "decent tone", as the smell of their disgusting beverage starts to irritate your nostrils. If you didn't know the main ingredient to Sanguis Virgins is, you probably wouldn't have this immense disgust over it, but right now just the thought of it makes you want to gag.

Only villains could so easily drink blood, and still make a living out of it.

Your internal thoughts of pure hatred against this whole situation almost completely blinded you to the fact that they were eerily, very quiet.

….

On most nights they would be talking with each other while occasionally making comments about you or your presence. Obviously they were all pretty nasty comments that they somehow expected you to back it up in some way or another, it's when they try to insert you into their conversation that makes you hate this occasion so badly, but it normally ends as quickly as it begins.

But as you are pouring wine to Lord's Dimitrescu, you notice that they haven't said a single thing while you were there. You stop what you're doing as you realize that they were silently observing you this whole time, and as you look into their expressions you come to think that maybe you have messed up-

Somehow, in some way or form, you may have messed up- And the fact this mistake could cost your head only agitates your already very worried mind.

….

A small moment of silence continues before the middle son, Cassandro, starts to chuckle in an almost innocent way- As if he was a kid who just said a bad word for the first time- And as he bursts into sudden laughter, Daniel leans towards Bello and loudly whispers:

"- I told you, they do this every time." To which Bello only replied with:

"- It's almost like hypnosis in a way."

The three sons were mesmerized by your ability to trap yourself in your own mind. They're probably aware that you do this as a defensive mechanism but they still find it comical in a weird way. You feel yourself get more tense as you look up at Lord Dimitrescu and see him staring back at you, with an unreadable expression across his face.

Before you could come up with an excuse to whatever you may have caused to disturb their dinner, the Lord himself spoke.

"- How inappropriate. As my sons, you three should know better than to laugh at our servant's airheaded mind-"

And as he said that, their smiles begin to disappear and be replaced with frowns and a bit of shame as they become stiff at their father's words.

"- And how inappropriate of you, too. To be so distracted in the presence of your masters, that's quite rude don't you think?"

But as he continued their bodies begin to relax once again as they realize he wasn't focusing on them- He was focusing on you.

Words have completely disappeared from your vocabulary as you start to think that maybe you won't be able to see another day after their meal is over. You try to mumble some possible responses before getting interrupted by him once again.

"- It's very rude, so very rude in fact that I think we deserve some answers. What were you so distracted about? What were you thinking that could have possibly taken over your small little head?"

Right now, he was sounding a bit condescending, thankfully not as angry as he would have been with the other servants right about now. Every little mistake was used as excuses for punishments- And if you were walking on thin ice before, right now you are one-step closer to breaking this entire lake and getting yourself killed by the freezing temperatures of the water below you.

Thanks to your luck (or maybe lack thereof, depending on how you see this) Daniel came to "your rescue" by coming up with an excuse for you.

"- Maybe they were hungry." He said without any indications of it being a joke or a lie- As the youngest yet craziest of the bunch, he always had that weird "naive yet dangerous" energy coming from him. He was naive enough to make that statement when it's very clear that you actually despise being near them, but he still was a son of Dimitrescu.

You know better than to underestimate any of these people.

The Lord didn't seem completely convinced as he side eyed Daniel who was blissfully eating his meal without acknowledging his dad's glance or his brother's looks of disapproval.

Without a warning you were pulled closer by your wrist and forced into sitting next to the Lord, who made a sign for another servant to bring you your food. This… Doesn't feel right at all, you're waiting for the worst to come yet you don't feel like you can ever prepare yourself enough for what they have in store.

"- M-My Lord- This isn't needed, I'm fine. I'll just continue my duties, if you can excuse me-" You plead, while trying to get up from your chair.

"- Oh but what host would I be if I didn't take better care of my guests? Poor thing, you must be starving if you can barely serve us wine-" And as his tone gets progressively more sarcastic and a bit louder, you can hear his sons snickering from the other side of the table, but you can't see them since you can't take your eyes away from him.

You're worried that if you look away for just one second, that you may not be able to see ever again.

"- It's so sad when one of our guests feels hungry- What's worse is when we are also very, very hungry."

"- Thirsty, even!"

"- Oh, I can feel my throat drying just at the thought of such misery!- Our dinner seems to be ruined."

You hear their whispers, you hear how they are clearly joking about this- How overly dramatic they're being over something so miniscule as you just- Ignoring them.

Let me remind you this is all because you refuse to look them in the eyes, that you refuse to give them any satisfaction for the heinous things they have done! You've seen so many people get hurt inside this castle only for their sick and twisted thirst and entertainment.

"- Indeed, my boys. My appetite is ruined, though dinner is not over yet-" Lord Dimitrescu spoke as he looked at his sons clearly enjoying your inevitable pain, but before he could continue he turns himself to you again, putting a hand on your arm and saying:

"- Wouldn't you agree?" Loud enough so that his sons could hear it, but soft enough to send the tiniest shivers down your spine.

"- …!"

"- No, no- Please, not again!-" He wouldn't dare do this, would he??

But before you could react he had already done it, you barely noticed how fast he had grabbed that knife to slice your wrist- His hand firmly gripping your arm as he made a deep enough cut so that your blood could be easier to access.

It somehow hurts just as badly as the first time his sons have stabbed your ankles and dragged you across the floor- At least you're not bumping into things like before, and even if it's a deep cut it's not as big as it could be if he used his claws to actually do this.

Oh, oh those claws- You almost thought he would use them on you… Those were something else. You can't remember exactly what happened, and why it happened, but you remember seeing him use those on another servant who may have crossed the line at some point.

Well "crossed the line"- More like "casually inconvenienced him". Lord Alcino may act like an incredibly high noble but he acts so childishly and in such an egotistical manner that you are surprised he can even have a castle like this in the first place! You don't remember what the servant has done to be so cruelly dismantled, but you don't doubt that it was for a stupid reason!

You miss that servant actually- Probably the only person who you actually talked with, and the first one to actually taught you how to do your job… You two could have been friends if he didn't intervene.

You briefly remember those moments before getting to experience the most weird sensation of all- Having your bloody cut be licked and sucked on. It hurts and it stings in a way that not only makes you want to cry but to also gag at the thought of you feeding this monster.

You refuse to look at him even in this scenario, you refuse to see him feeding off your blood… Sometimes you wish you were just as poisonous as some species of frogs, poisonous enough to make his mouth burn so he can experience a fraction of the pain he causes to others.

You tried fleeting away, you tried getting up and moving away but his grip on your arm only helped you in getting closer to him- You have your eyes closed as your only option is to cry and muffle your agony.

But as always, he is not satisfied with you just ignoring him. This was supposed to be a lesson, yet you're clearly avoiding your teacher as best as you can- But not today, little flower, you're not getting out of this so easily.

This is the first time he ever got to really taste your blood, as normally you would be behind the other servants while trying to learn how to please him, the only moments where he gets to see you is when it's dinner time, but oh- You're just so cruel!

Escaping inside your own little head while he has to content himself with just your image. Your presence is very much appreciated around this hour, little one-

He has noticed this before, of course, but it was only when he noticed his son's curiosity over the way you behave around them that made him organize this little trap. He didn't have everything planned actually, his plan only involved getting to this moment no matter what- And oh boy, has luck been on his side!

Your blood tastes better than expected of a commoner, your delicate and fearful whines of pain are just as delightful but what really gets him is this tough persona you try to convince everyone you have- You despise him, and it's clear to see why- But he knows his charms will probably work on you one way or the other.

He gripped your face trying to make sure you'll get to him in the eyes as he has a taste of you. Absolutely delicious, especially after you so gracefully "ruined" their dinner.

His sons were just watching as they continued to drink from their crimson glasses. They were just enjoying the show, as everything seems to easily amuse them- Their father was just showcasing how they were so much better than the common folk, and they have no other option but to take notes and to remember what they have to do if they ever feel ignored by the servants in the castle: Show who are the true masters of this place.

None of them were really interested in drinking from you, considering how all three seemed to recognize how their father has taken a liking towards you. No one would dare mess with their father's prey.

If you had enough strength in you, you would start vomiting as soon as this has started, but the more he takes from you the more you feel like you can barely stay conscious.

He wasn't supposed to take so much, at least not so soon- He wanted to just take a sip but he can't deny the fact he would rather drown himself in your blood than to let go.

He sighs, as he notices that you're slowly getting less and less aggressive, getting more and more tired as he drains you from this cut.

You're not unconscious yet, just barely stable enough to understand what's going on.

"- Sigh… Now that was a decent enough meal." He can't praise you for being tasty, can't have you being cocky around him.

"- Here, since I'm done here I'll take you to the servant's living quarters- And because I'm so kind I'll make sure that wound is safely secured and cleaned, so here- Come along now."

And as he stood up he offered you his hand so you could get up yourself, but you don't have enough energy to walk yourself to your room, thankfully you're already ready to go to bed and wish to never wake up again.

And as the nightmare never ends, he decides that if you are going to be difficult then you leave him no choice but to carry you there. How much has he taken from you?? Jesus, he should learn some self-control before doing this again- The absolute brute that he is.

Your vision may be a little screwed over because of the lack of red cells running through your body at the moment- But you have a weird feeling that you two aren't heading towards the servant's living quarters, as you feel like you two are quite literally going in the opposite direction.

Oh but it's fine- Right?

It'll be fine. Surely. After all, he already took what he wanted from you, and he doesn't seem to need more so- You probably won't have to worry about anything right now, dinner time is already over, you can finally relax now….

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

So I'm sick again- Sorry y'all, I just have a horrible immune system and I really don't understand what is wrong with me-

I'm sorry if you didn't like this boo :(

#sheep's stuff #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere vampire x reader #yandere lady dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu #yandere lord dimitrescu x reader #gn!reader #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere short fanfiction #special delivery request #special delivery short fanfiction #m!lady dimitrescu #male lady dimitrescu

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casuallyimagining · 4 years ago

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Fix You (2)

hybrid!Min Yoongi x female!reader

Summary: When you take in a stray cat, you have no idea he’s secretly a hybrid trying to escape his past. Can you help him heal? Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, slow burn, fluff Word Count: 2,987 Rating: M Warnings (may not appear in every part): minor character is a dick to animals, mentions of a gun, main character injury (non-serious), discussion of physical abuse, emotional abuse, discussion of sexual abuse, discussion of self-harm

Notes: Banner by @birbdae; thanks to @voiceswithoutlips, @taetaesbaebaepsae, and @hoebii for editing this for me.

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When you woke up, the cat was nowhere to be found, and your pillow was missing. It was just your luck that the random cat you had saved would end up being a kleptomaniac. You sighed and began to get ready for your day. It wasn’t like you could do anything about it. The cat was probably scared and confused, and you couldn’t blame him for wanting to be comfortable.

As you passed your TV stand, you bent down to peer underneath it. Copper eyes stared back at you. You greeted the cat and his tail swished back and forth against the floor, annoyed. So he wasn’t into mornings, then.

Heading into the kitchen, you quickly made yourself a cup of coffee. If the cat wasn’t a morning person, then you would probably get along. You were an early riser, but that was mostly due to insomnia, not because you actually enjoyed being awake.

You brought him the rest of the chicken you had cut up the night before, prepared with his morning dose of the antibiotics. Laying down on the floor, you pushed the plate under the TV stand for him.

He sniffed at the chicken, eyes not leaving your face as he started to eat. His canines were long and pointy, you noticed, and if you paid attention when his mouth was closed, you could barely see the tip of the right one poking out from his lips.

“I’m going to go shopping today to get you some stuff.” The cat didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t. He was a cat. “I know you’re feeling better, but please try not to jump on stuff. You’ll hurt yourself more, and I really can’t afford another weekend trip to the vet.” His copper eyes seemed to soften at that for a moment before hardening back into a glare.

You weren’t sure what you did to make the cat constantly glare at you. Maybe he had a resting grouch face. Maybe he was just uncomfortable in his new surroundings. You hoped that, if nothing else, he would eventually warm up to you. All the pets you’d had in the past had opened up to you right away, although you supposed that was because they were babies when your family had adopted them. You’d never adopted an adult cat before.

“Eat up,” you told him before pushing yourself off the floor. “I’ll be back soon.”

The pet store was larger than you remembered it being. When you were a kid shopping with your mother for your pets, there were only a few departments in the store. There was, of course, sections for cats and dogs, as well as areas for fish, birds, reptiles, and small mammals. Now though, in addition to the old departments, there were additional sections for hybrids of all kinds--there was even a department dedicated to large and exotic hybrids like lions, panthers, giraffes, and elephants.

Hybrids weren’t a new species by any means, but it had only been in the past decade or so that people had fully started to embrace them in society. Before, shops that catered to hybrids were usually small and boutique--hybrids used to only be seen as pets or servants, and ones that lived without ownership were few and far between. But after fighting for and receiving the rights they deserved, hybrids had become more prevalent in society. There was even a hybrid serving in the president’s cabinet, and quite a few serving in other high-ranking government positions.

You wandered through the cat section of the pet store, unsure of what to buy. You had a couple toys in your cart--catnip mice and little springs and balls that had bells in them. You knew the cat was somehow going to act offended by them, but you reminded yourself that he’s a cat, and indoor cats needed something to stimulate their minds.

You also had put some cat shampoo in your cart. The cat was dirty, and you weren’t sure how much blood was going to be caked into his fur under the bandage, so you figured a bath was somewhere in his immediate future.

Sighing, you grabbed a bag of air-dried food. He would probably hate that, too, but you couldn’t keep feeding him raw chicken. For one thing, you couldn’t stand the feel of it, and the less you had to touch the raw meat, the better. But also, chicken was expensive, and while your job paid decently, you weren’t sure how well it could support an all-raw diet for the cat. This air-dried food was turkey and salmon, and would be the next closest thing to raw.

Eventually, you would probably end up getting the cat a cat tree, but you didn’t think it was a good idea right now. With his shoulder injury, he really shouldn’t be climbing or jumping, and a cat tree would only invite that more. So you left the aisle, even though they had a tree that had a little house you knew he would love to hide in.

Before checking out, you stopped by the little kiosk that sold ID tags and collars. You knew he would hate wearing a collar, but if he ever escaped, you wanted to know someone could return him to you. You would ask the vet about microchipping later, but for now, a collar would have to do. Looking at the options, you couldn’t help but laugh. Most of the plain collars were pink or had things like little butterflies on them. A few had bells, which you knew he would find absolutely repulsive, and a couple others had bowties. You considered a dark blue plaid one with a bowtie, but decided against it. As cute as he would look, you knew the cat would probably bite you if you went anywhere near him with it.

You settled on a collar covered in piano keys. It was the plainest one they had in stock that wasn’t bright pink. You grabbed a small, circular tag, too. He would hate it, but at least maybe if you picked the least offensive options, the cat would tolerate wearing a collar.

On the way home, you stopped and grabbed a coffee from the chain cafe down the street from your apartment. You were still a little tired, and when you got home, you were glad for the extra caffeine.

“I’m home, kitty!” you called into the seemingly empty apartment. You hadn’t really been expecting the cat to be anywhere out in the open, but a small part of you had hoped.

Walking into the kitchen, you deposited the couple bags from the pet store on the table. You couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Nothing was broken or in the wrong place that you could see from first glance, but the niggling feeling in the back of your mind wouldn’t go away. Something had been moved in your kitchen. Your mug from your coffee this morning was washed and sat in your drying rack, along with another cup that you had thought you put away and the dish from last night that you had used to feed the cat. You didn’t remember washing the dishes this morning, but you were still a little tired, so maybe you had and just forgot.

You didn’t see anything else out of the ordinary, so you let it go, choosing instead to go find your cat. As expected, you found him under the TV stand. He was panting as if he had just run under there from somewhere else in the house.

“You know you’re allowed to be in other rooms, right?” you asked him softly, pulling the empty plate out so you could take it to the kitchen. “You don’t have to run under here every time I come home.” Copper eyes met yours for a second, and you could see panic in them. Then you saw it. The bandage around his shoulder was gone.

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Dr. Jung’s assistant had wrapped it securely. He must have really been running around the house to not only loosen it, but to dislodge the bandage entirely.

“What were you doing while I was gone, dude?” you questioned. The cat looked terrified. His eyes were large as saucers, his ears flat against his head. His mouth was open in a silent hiss, his long canine teeth on full display. “Are you hurt?” That seemed to catch him off guard. “Are you still bleeding? Can I see?” You reached into your back pocket and pulled out your phone. “You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to,” you said softly, waving your phone in the dark. “But can you at least turn so I can see?”

It took you a second to realize that, again, you were talking to a cat. He wasn’t going to listen to you, despite how human his reactions to you seemed to be. In the second that it took you to remind yourself that your cat is, in fact, a cat, his demeanor changed. His ears were still pressed back against his head, but he seemed less agitated, more resigned. He crawled toward you slowly, the limp almost entirely gone.

When he was out from under the TV stand, he stood fully. You pushed yourself up so you could sit and examine him. As you reached for him, he backed away slightly. His copper eyes met yours for the briefest of seconds before they flicked away, focusing on the floor. He stood still and allowed you to scoop him up into your lap.

“It’s okay,” you soothed, scratching his head gently. “Let me just look at your shoulder.”

You ran your hand over the joint and he froze. For a second, you thought maybe he was going to bolt back under the TV stand. But he sat there stiffly, allowing you to feel for the bite marks and anything that might still be bleeding.

You found nothing. Not even a scab. The only signs of the dog attack yesterday were a ring of indents--scars, you presumed--that ran from his shoulder blades down to his chest and onto his leg. There was no way he had healed that fast.

But you didn’t say that. Instead, you smiled at him. “If you don’t want to wear the bandage any more, you don’t have to,” you said soothingly, scratching at the base of his ear. His copper eyes met yours, and you pulled away at the apprehension in them.

He stepped out of your lap as soon as your hand was away from him. You nodded once, smiling at him. “I’m going to go do some work, kitty. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

You were a researcher. Always had been. When you were looking for apartments in the city, you had created spreadsheets and pro/con lists and had spent weeks researching neighborhoods. And when you decided on the right neighborhood, you had debated floor plans, after weeks of second-guessing finally settling on the single floor, three bedroom, two bathroom with the decent sized kitchen and living room.

You hadn’t done any research before taking in the cat. You loved cats, had had several growing up. You knew enough about them to not need to do any research before committing to taking home the stray living near your parents’ house.

Maybe you should have.

Although you weren’t exactly sure how researching could have possibly prevented anything. You pushed it out of your mind, though, choosing instead to focus on your next work project.

Except you couldn’t focus. Your client was a hybrid-owned cafe just outside the city, and you were trying to design their menus. Normally, it wouldn’t take you long at all. They were great clients, and they had given you all the information you needed, but your mind kept drifting to the cat in your living room. You assumed he had crawled back under the TV stand. He seemed to be comfortable enough under there, although clearly he felt comfortable leaving the shadows when you weren’t home.

And then there was the problem of his name. You had no idea what to call him, but you were sure he had a name. Though how you’d figure it out, you had no idea.

You had wanted to watch this movie for months. It had appeared on streaming services around Christmastime, but it was now April, and you still hadn’t had the chance to watch it. You curled up on your sectional in the living room to watch it, a bowl of popcorn sitting beside you. You had turned the lights off in the living room, so the only major source of light was what was coming from the TV, and it was a fairly dark movie.

Though you were invested in the plot, you still scrolled through your phone, your attention divided between social media and what was happening on the television.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a shadow moving under your TV stand. Your cat’s head poked out a second later, copper eyes watching you scroll through your social media. In another second, the rest of his body emerged from the shadows. You forced yourself to watch the movie. You didn’t want to freak him out by watching him. When you glanced back at where he had emerged, he was gone.

The movie was about halfway over when you noticed him again, slinking back into the living room from the hallway. Where he had gone, you had no idea. But he sat for a moment, staring at you from beside the wall. You had grabbed a blanket in the time that he had been gone. Your apartment tended to get chilly at night sometimes--it was old, and the insulation wasn’t the best--and you were a little cold.

Before you knew what was happening, he was up on the couch and in your lap, laying in the valley between your outstretched legs. He paused for a moment, copper eyes meeting yours as if gauging your reaction. In the dim light from the TV, you could see that hint of panic again, as if he was terrified you would shout or push him away. You smiled at him gently, resituating so more of your lap was available and going back to scrolling through your phone.

The cat was apparently satisfied with your reaction, because he readjusted himself, as well, curling up so he was taking up more real estate on your lap. You didn’t mind. His little body put off quite a lot of heat, and from what you could feel of him through the blanket, he was cold, too. Eventually, he settled in, his head rested against your leg beside your free hand, his tail flopped into the crook of your elbow, the tip flicking lightly back and forth.

After a moment, you felt him shift again, and you almost jumped when you felt his head press into your hand. It took you a second, and a few more tentative bumps from him, but you eventually opened your hand and allowed him to press his forehead into your palm. You rubbed your thumb gently over the soft fur of his cheek. He leaned into your touch and you could feel him relaxing. You heard the rumbles of a purr start to stutter in his chest. It wasn’t constant like other cats’--it sounded vaguely like popcorn, crackling and popping at random.

You sighed, resting one hand on his back and continuing to stroke his cheek. He stiffened for a moment and raised his head, wide eyes staring into your face, before he slowly started to relax again.

“I can’t keep calling you kitty,” you said softly when he was comfortable. He didn’t raise his head, but his ear swiveled in your direction to show he was paying attention. “And I’m terrible at names, so you’re going to have to figure out a way to tell me what yours is. Unless you want me to call you something ridiculous like Smudge or Shadow.” The cat grunted. Apparently he didn’t like those names, either. “I didn’t think so.”

Your attention returned to the movie, but you kept petting him. His stuttering purr resumed. He directed your hand by nudging it, up his head and down to his shoulder. He adjusted how he was laying so you could rub where the scars of yesterday’s bite marks were. You massaged the area gently, his purring increasing in volume.

His fur was soft and considerably less dirty than it had been that morning. If you concentrated, he smelled like your shampoo.

“I have to take some stuff back to the pet store tomorrow,” you said finally. “So you’ll have some time alone to do whatever.”

He froze, and despite the movie playing, it was quiet without his purring. His eyes were wide, and he hissed, but aside from his ears flattening, he didn’t move. He was scared--no, he was terrified.

It broke your heart.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” You kept your voice soft and even. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

You sighed. You still felt a little weird talking so seriously with a cat, but his reactions confirmed what your research had told you. You had questions, and you were a little concerned about the logistics of everything, but you had started to come to terms with it.

Him smelling like your shampoo. The dishes being done. The stolen pillow and blanket. The things that were moved ever so slightly. The oddly appropriate reactions to what you were saying. How fast he had healed. Maybe you’d always known. Maybe that’s why you still talked to him like he was a person.

He was a person, more or less.

Your cat was a hybrid.

As always, your feedback is appreciated. Feel free to pop into my ask box with questions or thoughts about the series. I’d love to hear from you!

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Taglist: @min-yus, @melindagrace31, @shrimpmsg, @ghostkat23, @demcreeps, @ggsmashgg, @findingourtreasure, @20emma0, @springbean, @black-rose-29, @cuteipat, @agustneeds, @deeepvibes, @yzkyzkuniverse, @softbbyg0rl

#yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi #hybrid yoongi #hybrid yoongi x reader #bts hybrid au #hybrid au #thebtswritersclub #yoongi hybrid au #hybrid bts #hybridyoongi #yoongi hybrid #yoongihybrid #yoongi angst #bts angst #min yoongi angst

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years ago

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Bashir (Troll) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Female Human/Male Troll (World of Warcraft Design) Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Troll, Fake Dating, Hired Boyfriend, Fake Boyfriend Content Warnings: Stalker Ex-Boyfriend, Stalking, Mention of Guns, Brief Violence Series: OkCryptid Words: 6365

A commission for @floral-and-fine! A woman getting out of a bad relationship has moved across her home state to get away from her controlling ex-boyfriend, only for him to show up at her job. Scared, she goes on OkCryptid to recruit a "boyfriend" in hopes of frightening him off. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

>Hi. I know we don’t know each other and this is pretty sudden, but I have a proposition for you, and it isn’t what you think.

Vague, yes, but it would catch his attention quickly enough, you thought. You were desperate and didn’t know what else to do.

>Oh, He messaged not long after. >What would that be?

>I want to pay you to go out with me for a while.

>I’m not a prostitute. Lol

>That’s not what I mean, You replied, rolling your eyes. >I know this sounds weird, and if I had more money I’d probably just hire a bodyguard, but I don’t.

>Why would you need a bodyguard?

You sighed. >I have a stalker ex-boyfriend. I dated him for about five months, but he was really possessive and crazy so I broke it off, and now he won’t leave me alone. I moved here last month from across the state and he followed me. He showed up at my work today.

>Ah, I see. So you want me to rip his arms off?

>No, I just want him to see me with someone who is big enough to rip his arms off. Maybe it’ll scare him away. You’re the biggest guy I could find on here. Well, I did find a cyclops that was pretty big, but she wasn’t interested.

>Have you gone to the police about this?

>Yeah, but they said unless I get proof he has intent to do harm, there’s nothing I can do. I can’t even get a restraining order unless he hurts me or causes property damage. It’s like he has to beat me up before they’ll do anything, and I’d rather not let it get that far.

>Gotcha. Why don’t we don’t meet for coffee tomorrow and talk it over?

>That sounds great. I’m free at lunch.

>Me too. I’ll meet you at Leo’s Diner, you know that one?

>No, but I can Google it. See you tomorrow at 11.

Bashir arrived right on time at eleven the next morning. He was a large troll, dark blue in color, with large, off-white tusks jutting out from the sides of his mouth and his long red hair braided in several placed and pulled back at the nape of his neck. He was muscular, thick in the waist, and around nine feet tall. He wore a suit, which was finely tailored to his body. You raised your eyebrows: his profile was sparse, so you didn’t know what kind of job he did; you’d only chosen him because of his picture. But dressed like that, you were surprised he even agreed to take this “job.”

“Hi, you’re the one I’m supposed to meet today, right?” He said, extending his hand.

“Yes,” You replied, standing and shaking his hand. Your hand was dwarfed in his. “Thanks for agreeing.”

“It’s no trouble,” He said, gesturing for you to sit back down as he took a seat opposite you. “So tell me about this boyfriend of yours.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” You said. “His name is Jake. I met him at work; we worked in the same department. He seemed nice, so when he asked me out, I didn’t think anything of saying yes. The first two months was fine, and were got along really well. As soon as we decided to be exclusive, he got really clingy really quickly. Every time I’d try to pull away, he’d clutch at me tighter. He started pressuring me to put distance between me and my friends, he wanted to know where I was all the time, he was constantly texting and calling and got mad when I didn’t respond right away. I got sick of it and broke up with him.”

“When did the stalking start?”

“Almost immediately. It didn’t help that we still worked in the same department, so I had to see him every day. He’d show up at my house after work and on the weekend. He’d either be super angry and demand that I let him in, or he’d be there with flowers and candy and cry and tell me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him, that he was sorry and he’d do better. He kicked my door in a couple of times and I had to call the police. I finally managed to get a restraining order against him, but it didn’t really help. He couldn’t come within five hundred feet, so he would stand on the curb exactly five hundred feet from my house and just watch the house. I was scared for my life. So I quit my job and moved across the state with just my savings. I found a job and I started last week. And yesterday, they said I had a new client, and it was him.”

“What did you do?”

“I freaked out and called security, telling them I had a restraining order against him. He mistakenly thinks the restraining order is void because I moved, but I called and that’s not the case at all.” You sighed in aggravation. “I really hope this asshole doesn’t get me fired.”

“Hmm,” He said. “So what’s your offer?”

“Hmm?” You asked.

“You said you’d pay. What’s your offer?”

“Oh,” You said, surprised. “Uh, fifty bucks per date, plus the date expenses. I can’t really afford more than that.”

“That sounds fair. Okay,” He said. “I’ll do it. You just tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Really?” You replied. “You’ll take the job?”

“Sure,” He said. “I’ve got some free time, and the extra money will be nice. I could buy a new suit in a month.” He grinned and plucked at his own, no doubt worth several months of dates.

“That’s great, thank you,” You said, sighing in relief. “So, Friday night? Around six o’clock? Would that work?”

“Absolutely,” He said, pulling out his phone. “Give me your phone number. I’ll add it to my contacts. That way, if you see him, you can call or text and I can head over and do the arm ripping thing.”

You laughed and took out your phone.

After exchanging information, the two of you had lunch and discussed the finer points of the job. PDAs were acceptable, but you’d prefer if he didn’t kiss you. He had a nine-to-five job, just like you, but his position was flexible and let him leave the office for errands, as long as he didn’t abuse the privilege. You left the lunch feeling a little safer.

Friday night, you met him at a nice Greek restaurant, and he wore another nice bespoke suit. He offered to pick you up at your home, but you didn’t really want him to know where you lived. You were still pretty paranoid about Jake finding out.

“I’m surprised you chose this place, considering you’re footing the bill and everything,” Bashir said, looking around. “It’s pretty fancy.”

“It has to look believable,” You reasoned. “And I do like Greek food. If you like, you can pick the place next time.”

He chuckled. “Have you ever had Mediterranean troll food?”

“No, I haven’t,” You said, interested. “What’s it like?”

“It’s very similar, except there’s no bread of any kind.”

“So what do you eat the hummus on?”

“You drink it like sauce.”

“You’re not supposed to drink sauce!” You protested.

He snickered.

“I feel like you’re making this up.”

“Maybe, but you’ve never met any Mediterranean trolls, so you don’t know.”

“Are you a Mediterranean troll?”

“I am, actually,” He said. “My parents came over from Morocco when I was a tot. I don’t remember much about Morocco, but I’ve always dreamed of going on a trip there, I’ve just never had the chance.” He gave a cursory look over the menu. “Maybe that’s what I’ll use this money for.”

“Sounds nice to me,” You said. “If we both get something good out of this, then that’s a plus.”

“What do you get out of this, other than getting rid of a bothersome ex?”

“Security and peace of mind,” You said, picking up your own menu. “That’s worth the price.”

He looked at you seriously. “This guy really shook you up, didn’t he?”

You set the menu back down and sighed. “He’s never hit me or threatened me verbally. The most he’s ever done is break my door, but…” You looked out of the window. “I feel like… it wouldn’t be hard, you know? It wouldn’t be that much of a leap from breaking my door in to doing something worse. If he gets mad enough, if he gets obsessed enough, who knows what he could do. All I know is that I don’t want to find out.”

“I understand,” He said. “I’ve never had to deal with something like that, because… well, look at me…” He gestured at his massive body. “But I do know people who have, and it sounds terrifying. I’m glad I can help, even if I am getting paid to do it.”

You smiled. “Well, it helps that you’re good company.”

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know,” He teased. “That’s not part of the deal.”

“I will throat-punch you,” You said with a grin, and he laughed.

The next date was the following Saturday, and he chose to go to a concert. He wore a black v-neck shirt and a pair of black slacks, which was as dressed down as you’d seen him, but still very business-casual. It was a showcase of up-and-coming local bands, and they were all pretty good. You didn’t know that he liked Djent and progressive metal, too, but you were happy to have a common interest.

In truth, Bashir was pleasant to be around, and you were relieved that this entire thing wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. It definitely helped make this “dating” business look real from an outsider perspective. He held up his end of the bargain really well over the next dozen dates, holding your hand and putting an arm around you as if it was perfectly normal to do so. Thankfully, it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable when he did it, as he was very warm and the height difference meant he couldn’t be too cuddly naturally. You hoped that if Jake was watching, he believed you’d moved on and had no thoughts for him.

Unfortunately, if he was watching, he didn’t take the hint.

One night, as you were turning off lights and getting ready for bed, you looked out of your bedroom window and there he was, standing on the curb across the street, Jake stood in the shadow of a tree, vaping, and looking toward your house.

Panicked, you didn’t your best to stay calm while you were at the window, not wanting him to know you had seen him, but as soon as you walked away, you turned off the bedroom lights, snatched up your phone, dashed downstairs, and frantically checked the windows and doors, making sure they were all locked.

You meant to call the police, but instead, you dialed Bashir’s number. He answered immediately.

“What’s up?” He asked, sounding caught off guard. You weren’t surprised, you never called or texted him unless it was about the next “date.”

“Jake’s outside,” You whispered. “He’s across the street, I’m looking at him right now from my living room window.”

“Are you sure it’s him?”

“I’d recognize that stupid snakeskin vape box anywhere,” You said.

“Okay,” He said. “I’m heading over. Stay on the phone with me until I get there. Do you have a landline?”

“Yeah,” You replied.

“Get it and call the police. Don’t tell them he’s stalking you because, well frankly, they won’t care. Say you’re a concerned member of the neighborhood and there’s a suspicious man hanging around outside and you’re worried about a break in.”

It wouldn’t have been a lie. “Okay,” You said, picking up your cordless phone.

After calling the police, you waited with your heart in your throat, listening to Bashir get into his car and drive. He’d heard you tell the operator your address. He arrived before the police did, his vehicle a nondescript SUV, and he got out wearing sweat pants and a tank top and pulled a duffel bag from his passenger seat. He didn’t acknowledge Jake at all, simply walked up to your door and knocked. You went to open the door for him.

“Hug me and kiss my cheek,” He said in a low undertone. Gulping, you did as he said with him turning so that your display of affection was clearly visible to anyone watching from the street. You let him in and closed the door behind him, locking it.

“What now?”

“Let’s turn on the lights and make some coffee while we wait for the police,” He said.

“Okay,” You said, your voice shaking. You went to go into the kitchen but he stopped you by taking your hand.

“Hey,” He said gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here, and the police are coming. You’re safe.”

Tears came to your eyes and you nodded, wiping them. He released you and you went to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on.

The police arrived. You and Bashir watched covertly from the breakfast nook. Eventually, Jake walked to a car and got in it, driving away. The police followed him.

“They let him go?” You asked, worried.

“Well, they may not have know he has a restraining order, and even if they did, he looked plenty far away enough to not have violated it. He wasn’t breaking any laws other than loitering, so they couldn’t arrest him. At least they made sure he left.”

You held your head in your hands. “God, I don’t want to have to do all this over again.”

“It’s okay,” He said. “I’ll stay the night to make sure he doesn’t come back tonight.”

“What about tomorrow? Or the next day? You can’t be here all the time,” You said, your voice shaking.

He sighed heavily. “Do you know how to use a gun?”

You scoffed in disgust. “I don’t want a fucking gun.”

“Okay,” He said. “Then, I’ll put up a security system. I brought one with me; it’s in my bag. I’ll set it up tonight while he’s not here.”

“It’s late,” You said weakly.

“Do you want to sleep or do you want peace of mind?” He asked you levelly.

You scrubbed your face, took a deep breath, drained your coffee cup, and stood up. “Okay. Let’s do it, then.”

It took a few hours, but he managed to get several security cameras fixed to the building, focused on entryways and the front and back yards. You helped him by holding the equipment and tools for him as he worked, handing up what he needed as he needed it. By the time the two of you were done, it was three a.m. and you both had to be at work in mere hours.

The two of you fell into an exhausted sleep on your bed. You didn’t even have the energy to be affronted by the fact that you were sharing a bed with him. The next morning, before he left to go home and get ready for work, he downloaded the security camera app onto your phone and showed you how to use it.

You went to work, checking your phone surreptitiously to see if Jake was outside of your house. So far, he hadn’t reappeared.

>Today’s Friday, You texted him. >I know you’re probably tired after last night, but do you want to have a date today?

>What about a home date at my house? He replied. >I’ll cook dinner and everything. I don’t want you to be at your house at the moment.

>I can’t argue with that, You said in return. >Sounds good to me. What are you cooking?

>I was thinking a kefta meatball tagine with couscous on the side, and a snake pastry for dessert.

>That sounds amazing. Thanks for putting me up. I know this all is a huge inconvenience, and I really appreciate it.

>It’s no problem,” He said. >It’s what I’m getting paid for, right?

You sighed. Well, this wasn’t exactly what he was getting paid for. How much would an overnight stay cost you?

He sent you a message with his address and you went home after work to shower and pack a small overnight bag. You snickered, pulling out your pretty underwear and a sexy negligee, wondering if you should pack this, too, before putting it away and just throwing some pajamas in your bag.

Checking the cameras before stepping outside, you left the house and hurried to your car, heading to Bashir’s house. His place was a two-story, bungalow style house with a dark brown cliffstone brick pattern and a detached garage. It was charming, and a lot cuter than your tiny yellow ranch-style house. The yard was well kept and three were full flowerbeds next to the wide porch. You wouldn’t have imagined he lived in a place like this.

You knocked on the door and he answered it quickly, wearing a comfortable t-shirt and pair of tight jeans. You tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His clothes left very little to the imagination. His hair was also down and cascaded down his back and shoulders.

“Come in, come in,” He said, taking your bag for you.

“Thanks,” You said. “Your house is really pretty.”

“Oh, thanks!” He said. “It was actually condemned when I bought it. I basically had to rebuild it from the ground up. I’m not quite finished with it yet, but I’m happy with the progress.”

“You should be, it’s amazing,” You said. “I’d never have guessed it was a fixer-upper.”

He grinned at you, showing off his sharp teeth. “Come on, dinner will be ready soon.”

“It smells great,” You said, inhaling the savory smell of lamb and vegetables.

“All my mom’s recipes,” He replied, heading into the kitchen. “She owns a restaurant three towns over.”

“I’ll have to go and visit it sometime,” You said.

“Maybe I’ll take you myself one day,” He said, smiling as he stirred the couscous. Your heart fluttered a little.

How long were you going to have to keep this up? “Dating” Bashir was fun, but it wasn’t going to last forever. Either Jake would give up or get arrested, so either way, it would be over. Maybe you could stay friends. He was nice enough, and you enjoyed hanging out with him. But still… why was he talking about things that might happen in the future if there was no future for the two of you?

Dinner was delicious, and so was dessert, and afterward the two of you went to the living room to watch a movie. He even put his arm around you, since the window was uncovered and anyone could look in, he said, and you felt comfortable enough to relax into his side. It almost did feel like a real home date.

After the movie, though, you both decided to sleep, since you were still tired from the night before. You decided that you were both adults and could share a bed without it being awkward, and besides, his bed was huge and could fit five of you easily. You both fell asleep almost immediately.

Sometime during the night, you got a ping from the motion detector on your phone, but when you checked the security system, it was just a raccoon in your trashcan. You sighed and put your phone down, rolling over.

Bashir was on his back, asleep, with his face turned toward you. He was breathing deeply and relaxed with one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach.

You couldn’t help but stare. He really was an attractive guy, and if circumstances had been different, you might have dated him for real. But… until Jake left you alone, you didn’t want to drag anyone else into it. Bashir didn’t have any emotional connection to you, so Jake couldn’t affect whatever “relationship” you had.

But maybe things could be different after? You weren’t sure. He hadn’t expressed any interest in you other than what he had to to make the job believable. He hadn’t been flirty or more affectionate than he needed to be. You couldn’t afford to develop feelings for Bashir, not right now.

Even still, you brushed your fingers gently against the skin of his arm, feeling the hairs that covered it, and followed the curve up to his hand, allowing yours to rest on top of his for a moment or two before retracting it and trying to fall asleep again, sighing heavily.

The next morning, Bashir recommended that the two of you spend the day together, to keep up the weekend stay appearance.

“How much is this ‘weekend getaway’ going to cost me?” You asked dubiously.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, today’s a freebie, since I suggested it. You still have to pay for last night, though. The normal fifty bucks is fine.”

“Mm-hmm,” You hummed flatly, fishing the money out of your wallet and handing it to him. “Well, what do you want to do?”

“Ah, it’s a freebie day, right? You get to choose this time.”

You smiled. “Well, let’s start with breakfast. I’ll cook it. I can cook breakfast blindfolded.”

“If you like,” He said, sitting at the bar in the kitchen and watching you putter around, looking for cooking tools.

After breakfast, you decided you wanted to go to the local botanical garden, which you hadn’t been to in some time.

“Your flowerbeds outside reminded me of this place,” You told him, walking slowly through the rows of Japanese maples. There was a beautiful and an extremely rare Chinese Red Maple behind a gate at the end of the row, the centerpiece of the garden. “Did you plant them yourself?”

“Yep,” He said with a smile. “I helped my dad do a lot of gardening when he was still alive. He had a landscaping business, but he was really passionate about it. I actually inherited the business. Gardening helps me keep his memory alive.”

“That’s really sweet,” You said, smiling softly. “Is that what you do for a living, the landscaping job? I’ve never actually asked what you do for work.”

“No, actually. I mean, I own the company, but I don’t work for it. My actual job is something else entirely.”

“What is it?”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t think you’d believe me.” Before you could ask, he took you by the hand and said, “Let’s take a break and get a coffee. I have to use the bathroom.”

“Okay,” You said, letting the subject drop. For now.

You got to the food court outside of the botanical gardens and sat down at the outdoor cafe.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” He said, putting some money down on the table. “Can you order me a large black coffee?”

“Yeah, sure,” You said. He smiled and headed off. You got up and put in your order, then sat back down at the table and opened the security app, looking through the cameras and checked to see if anything was out of place.

The chair opposite to you was pulled out and he sat back down while you were still looking at your phone.

“The coffee should be out soon,” You said.

“I didn’t order coffee,” A voice said. It wasn’t Bashir.

You jerked your head up and saw Jake sitting across from you. You stood up so fast that you knocked the chair over.

“Get away from me, Jake,” You said.

“Look, just talk to me,” He said, standing up and advancing on you. “Why won’t you just talk to me?”

“Get away from me!” You shouted. “Bashir!”

“Are you calling for that monster?” He sneered. “You could do so much better than him. Besides, you’re not even really dating him, you’re just paying him to keep you company, you slut. You think I wouldn’t figure that out?”

“Fuck you!” You back up. “Bashir!”

Jake was snatched back and slammed down onto the cafe table. Bashir had him pinned down with a single hand. It wasn’t hard to do: Bashir was almost twice the size of Jake in height and weight.

“Let me go!” Jake said, struggling against Bashir’s iron grip. “I’ll have you arrested! My brother’s a cop!”

“Ah, that explains how you got her address so quick,” Bashir said. “I don’t really care if your brother’s a cop. Actually, I think I do, I think an internal affairs investigation is warranted. Regardless, you’ve just violated a restraining order.”

“What does it matter to you?”

Bashir snorted. “I’m FBI, dickless.”

You gaped at him.

“Bullshit!” Jake said. “I’ll fucking sue you! I’ll ruin your fucking life!”

“Whatever you want, you’re still under arrest,” Bashir said, pulling out a set of handcuffs from an inside pocket of his jacket.

“You’re kidding,” You said slowly, staring at Bashir.

“I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me,” He said, grinning at you sheepishly. He jerked his head at his jacket. “My ID is in my pocket.”

You reached in and fished it out, opening the leather fold to reveal a… rather official looking ID and badge.

You laughed in disbelief. “You’re right, I wouldn’t have.”

The police arrived to detain Jake and took him to the station. Bashir drove you to the station, as well, so that you could make a statement.

Later, Bashir drove you back to your house.

“I’ll bring your bag over later,” He said. “He’ll probably get ninety days in jail for violating the restraining order, and hopefully you won’t have to deal with him anymore. Although, if you hear from him again once he gets out, let me know, and I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” You said. “Really, thank you for everything.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Here,” He said, handing it to you. Inside was all the money you had given him for the dates, plus some. There had to have been almost two thousand dollars in there.

“But this is…”

He laughed. “I’m a federal official, you know. I can’t take bribes. I’d get fired.”

“This wasn’t…” You started, but stopped yourself. This could absolutely be seen as a bribe. “What do I do with all this?”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. Go on a trip. Buy something nice. It’s your money, after all.”

You sighed a little sadly. “I guess this is it, then.”

He sighed, too. “Yeah, I guess so.” He leaned forward, bent down, and kissed you on the cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

Jake did end up getting three months in jail, which made you feel a lot better. You were worried that he would come after you, but the three months passed and when he was released, he moved clear across the country and you never heard from him again.

Finally free of him, you thought you might try actually dating again, but you could only think of Bashir. You and he had only spoken a few times, mostly him checking on you, but you hadn’t seen each other since Jake’s arrest. You missed him, but you couldn’t tell him that. He didn’t have any feelings for you, anyway. If he did, wouldn’t he have asked you out after Jake was out of the picture?

Even still, you wanted to see him again. So once Jake was gone, you texted Bashir.

>I have something for you, You told him.

>Oh? What’s that?

>I want to give it to you in person. Would it be okay to come over this weekend?

>I’m free now. Why don’t you stop by?

>Okay. I’ll be there soon.

Before leaving, you hesitated and decided to throw on your best, sexiest underwear. Just in case.

You arrived at his house to find him out in the front yard. He was digging a hole in the yard with a sapling sitting in a bucket, ready for planting. There were also stones and gravel he was going to use for a decorative barrier. He stood up and waved as you drove up into the driveway.

“Hey!” He said, pulling you into a hug. Well, as well as he could, being so tall. “It’s good to see you!”

“You too!” You said. “What kind of tree is that?”

“A Chinese Maple,” He said. “I got inspired when we went to the botanical gardens that time. It cost a pretty penny and I had to wait for the cutting to grow, but it’s finally ready to plant.”

“That’s so cool,” You said. “Can I help?”

“Really?” He said, grinning. “Yeah, sure! There’s a pair of gloves over there on the porch. They might be a little big, but it’s better than blisters.”

You ran to retrieve them, and picked up a trowel. “Why did you decide on the maple?”

“Cause it reminds me of you,” He said, digging. “When I look out my window every day and see it, I’ll think of you.”

Your heart beat faster, but you couldn’t look at him.

It only took about an hour to dig out the hole, plant the sapling, fill the hole with soil, lay the stones, and spread the gravel. Thankfully it was a cool day and you didn’t sweat too much. The two of you caught up on what had happened in the three months since you’d seen each other. You wanted to ask if he had started dating, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“It looks great,” He said, standing back and grinning. “Thanks for your help! We got it done in record time. Let’s get cleaned up and have a drink.”

“Okay,” You said. “Let me grab my purse from the car.”

“Oh, right, you had something to give me, right?”

“Yep,” You told him, grabbing your bag.

He laughed. “Sorry I side-tracked you.”

“It’s fine, I had a good time,” You said. He opened the door for you and let you go into the house before him.

You went to the bathroom to freshen up and when you looked down, you realized your toothbrush was in the holder, the one you had forgotten when you’d stayed over. You had bought a new one and figured he’d just throw it away when he found it. Why had he kept it? Why was it in the holder with his?

You went back out into the kitchen and found him shirtless, water beading down the muscles of his back, and you stopped in the doorway, staring.

“Oh, sorry,” He said, laughing and throwing on a clean shirt. “Needed a quick wash. I felt a little grimy after the yardwork.”

“It’s okay,” You said, your heart still hammering in your chest.

“Iced tea?”

“Yeah, sure,” You replied, sitting at the bar. He poured you a drink and sat at the bar opposite you.

“So, what was the thing you had for me.”

You swallowed your tea a bit too hard and reached into your purse, handing him an envelope.

“This isn’t the money, is it?” He asked, smiling.

“No, it’s not money,” You said. “Open it.”

He grinned playfully at you, but it slipped from his face when he looked inside the envelope, pulling out two plane tickets.

“Morocco?” He asked, looking up at you in surprise.

You nodded. “Those are good for a year, so make sure you get some vacation time soon,” You said, anxious.

He stared at them. “There are two.”

“Yes,” You replied. “In case you wanted to take your mom. Or maybe a girlfriend or boyfriend or something.”

You kept your face as neutral as possible, but he was staring at you.

“The extra ticket is for you, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

You looked down and away. “If you don’t want me to go, that’s okay. You can take whoever you like. I just wanted you to have the trip you always dreamed of.”

He got up out of his chair, came around, and got down on his knees, so that he was face to face with you. He leaned forward and kissed you. It was firm and testing, and you responded, throwing your arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around you as well.

“I missed you,” He murmured against your lips.

“Why didn’t you ask me out?” You asked him, pulling back to look at his face.

“I thought you weren’t interested in a real relationship,” He said, pulling you against him. “If I had any inclination you did, I would have asked you out on the spot.”

“I thought the same thing,” You said. “I never expected you’d actually like me.”

“I do,” He said, kissing you again and standing up. “I like you very, very much.”

He walked you into his room and lay you down on his bed, stripping your clothes off your body.

“Pretty,” He said with a grin as he came across your lacy black underwear. “Did you wear this for me?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Well, it would be a shame to take it off so soon, then, wouldn’t it?” He said, palming your breasts over the fabric of your bra. He touched your slit over your underwear, and you gasped. You lifted your leg and rubbed him through his pants, and he grunted. You felt him harden under your touch. He was… uh… large.

You pulled off his shirt and ran your nails down his chest. He moved his hand away and pressed himself against you, still clothed, grinding himself into your clit, and you moaned. You reached for his belt and unbuckled it, unbuttoning it, and pushed his pants down with your toes. Because of his long tusks, he couldn’t bend down to kiss you in this position, so he picked you up as if you were a doll, kissing your body. You were always a little self conscious about your weight, being a big girl, but he seemed not to notice.

He lifted you all the way up to his face, kneeling down so that you weren’t so high up, and licked the cloth covering your slit, putting your legs over his shoulders and his tusks under your body. Using just his tongue, he moved your underwear out of the way and teased your clit. His tongue was long and thick. You whimpered and rocked your hips against his tongue. He pushed it in side of you and thrust it back and forth, and you writhed in his grip.

Carefully, he pulled you down and eased you into his lap, pressing himself against your entrance. You pressed your hands against his stomach and watched him disappear slowly inside you. He couldn’t go all the way in, but once he reached the back and knew where the limit was, he pulled back out slowly and thrust in again slowly, easing you into it. He must have had a similar size problem in the past and had learned how to overcome it in these situations. You were glad for it.

He lay you on the edge of the bed and pressed your knees back, thrusting a little faster, and you reached down and touched yourself, rubbing quickly as he sped up. He pulled the cups of your bra down so that he could grasp your breasts, squeezing gently, and grunted. You held his hand there with your own, pulling up your head and sucking on his pointer finger, looking up at him through your lashes. His breathing was erratic and he watched you hungrily, his sharp teeth biting into his lower lip and pricking the skin.

“I’m so close,” You moaned. “I’m going to cum.”

He nodded as if in agreement, squeezing his eyes shut. He grimaced as if in pain, but then shouted, roaring, and released inside of you. It was a torrent, spraying out of you. Another few hip thrusts and circles around your clit, you came too, your head thrown back against the bed, crying out.

He pulled out and turned his head, resting it against your stomach as his arms gripped your sides, breathing hard. After a moment, you both sat up, and you realized that his legs were covered with his own release.

“Wanna get cleaned up?” You asked him.

“Yeah,” He said dreamily, standing up and leading you into the bathroom. You took a shower together, helping him clean himself. He did the same for you, kneeling down and washing your body. The way he knelt in front of you combine with the way he looked at you, it almost felt like he was worshiping you. Honestly, you didn’t mind that at all.

Your underwear would have to be washed, but he said you could borrow one of his shirts, if you wanted to. Honestly, you were happy to lounge in his bed naked. He seemed happy with that, too.

“When would you like to go?” You asked him, laying on his chest and playing with his chest hair. “To Morocco, I mean?”

“Soon,” He said, entwining his fingers in your hair. “I’ll put in for vacation time as soon as I get back to the office. I don’t really take vacations, so I’m sure my colleagues will be surprised.”

You smiled and kissed his skin. “I’ll have to put in for time off, too,” You said. “Although, I only just started working there six months ago, so they may not approve it.”

“Let me know when they do and I’ll schedule for the same time,” He said.

“Sounds good to me,” He said, sitting up and crossing his legs, looking down at you. You posed a little for him and he grinned, running his hands up and down the soft skin of your torso and belly. “You know what I’d like to do right now, though?”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“I want to take you on a date,” He said, smiling softly. “A real one. I'll pay and everything. And I want to be able to kiss you.”

You smiled back at him. “Deal.”

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