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strrkie · 2 years ago

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HCs with Kyoto kids No curses collage AU

warning! grammar issues

All Kyoto kids call Utahime Mom, everyone pronounces the address with a different intonation (last one was Noritoshi, he said it suddenly and quietly, which did not escape Yori's sensitive hearing)

In addition to movie nights, they all gather together in Nishimiya's room to play poker or mafia 'well, Mom, don't start, we're not going to be long at all, and this time we're not even planning to have a drunk!'

Kasumi finds it difficult to wake up in the morning when there is a lot of sun, so she chose a room with a window on the shadow side. Noritoshi's room is across the door of an empty room from her. I like to think that their dorm rooms are located exactly where the boundary between the male and female wings. Todo chose a corner back room with a sunny side because of the large windows on two walls. In the middle of the corridor next door are the rooms of Arata and Kokichi, both on the shadow side. Momo and Mai rooms, located at the end of the corridor opposite each other in light and shadow contrast, were also chosen because of the spacious windows and the importance of sunlight for Momo's plants All kyoto kids and besto friendo Yuuji chipped in for a full-scale cardboard stand with Takada for Todo's birthday. At first, Todo was very upset when the exclusive product on the site ran out in an instant and he so absurdly missed the opportunity to place an order (Todo growled, walked gloomier than a cloud while others silently watched the suffering of his soul for several days until his b-day)

Miwa and Mai have friends tattoos (this sun behind the cloud on Miwa's forearm, Mai has a cloud with rain in the same place). Nishimiya doesn't like idea of having a tattoo on her body, so Mai draws emoji with rainbow on her forearm with colored gel pens for photos every time)

Todo knows how to weave braids. Once he braided Kasumi's long hair into fishnet braids (popular in 2014). What if he had a free head for hairdressing experiments in the person of Yuki Tsukumo, I think it's funny enough

Arata loves hedgehogs, he throws videos with them to Nobara, even more often than some memes understandable only to him (Kugisaki with a satisfied smile pokes his finger at the phone screen in front of Megumi's face and says look, it's you when Yuuji is not around! But here when Yuuji is in your field of vision! Yuuji : Did someone call me?

Noritoshi likes to look at street cats. Miwa finds it endearing since she once had the opportunity to see Noritoshi sitting alone on a terrace in the backyard of their student dormitory, stroking an incredibly gentle cat on his lap. he looked relaxed. Miwa smiled. She had never seen him so serene and had simply left without daring to interrupt this comfortable moment for him

Mai failed in her attempt to upset Todo with the fact that Тakada-chan is a lesbian and nothing amorous shines for him with her, but he already knew this, and he is not in love with Тakada-chan, he just likes to watch her play out her positive image, inspiring her fans to believe in ourselves, whatever they were doing. Todo and Mai are the type of friends who often quarrel over absurd things, and not because of something serious

Todo wanted to bring Arata out on Takada's show (let him just read his favorite manga in peace), but this does not happen often, unless his best friend Yuuji is super busy, Mai spends time with girls, Kokichi and Noritoshi are reclusive together again and will never take part in it Girls get out somewhere together, it's always shopping malls, pavilions with vintage things, walking in parks on rented bicycles, not missing the opportunity to look into cozy coffee shops to warm up/cool off for seasonal drinks and desserts, trips to the ocean to wet feets in the water

Momo and Mai think Kokichi has Snow White's vibe, he has the same slightly curly dark hair and animals are also magnetized to him without fear, if this could be called a superpower Kokichi and Kasumi listen to true crime podcasts in the evenings in the shared kitchen and discuss them while cooking something for dinner on neighboring pans or discuss new ideas for a photo session with fake katana while Kokichi dyes Kasumi's hair and after a while there are still blue spots embedded in his skin on his hands

Kokichi calls Kasumi a Goddess with katana who does not believe in herself, but he believes in her, her caring hands and her bold ideas (Noritoshi shares this faith with him)

Next to Noritoshi, Kasumi no longer feels tension and fear as it was before. He turned out to be comfortable person and pleasantly cool as a fresh pillow before going to bed, so Kasumi, always warm as a wool sweater, often falls asleep on him, she likes the contrast of their body temperatures (for the first time she apologized for how awkward it was for her to doze off on his shoulder and slide her head into his lap in a dream, but Noritoshi did not express dissatisfaction and did not try to wake her up, being not against taking a nap himself). And she also likes to see his relaxed face in glasses when she wakes up

Noritoshi and Kokichi spend a lot of time together: they study, go on long walks, watch movies (they like to meticulously comment on scenes while watching and discuss what exactly the movie was shitty or vice versa good) and gamefilms (Noritoshi liked part 1 Last of us and Death stranding), they talk about everything and also silence does not cause discomfort (they are glad that Kasumi not only with them spending her free time)

When Noritoshi talks to Kasumi and sees her gaze fixed on nowhere, he calls her to once again indicate his presence and not scare her, asks if everything is okay, and, regardless of the answer, shortens the distance between them, lightly touches the top of her head with his long calloused fingers and soothingly strokes her head (he is not particularly strong in encouraging phrases), just in case, then clarifying whether the pressure of the palm was too strong. For the first time, she froze in the pose of a toy soldier and looked at him in surprise, and then smiled her little smile and lightly squeezed his wide palm so that he could understand with what force he did it, accompanying it with a brief comment 'Thank you and, uh, sorry, uh..It was like that, Kamo-kun'. Momo and Mai, watching this, were taken aback. Really? Noritoshi willingly tactilely interacts with another person? He did accidentally hit his head, or did the alien take control of his body? they pretended not to notice anything, although he was sure that no one saw this little gesture

At the evening gatherings of the girls, Momo does not get tired of theatrically sighing "how sad it is when the chicks grow up and fly away from the nest," and after that she firmly says if something happens, she is always ready to kick the ass of both guys if they somehow offend her dear friend Miwa Noritoshi makes little confessions to Kokichi about how thinks him fascinating. To which he hears once again a request to stop embarrassing him. They are both good at studying. And when Noritoshi asks about his personal methods of prolonging productivity, Kokichi insists that he join the introduction of rest into his daily routine, and not stay up until night without breaks, then he will no longer have to complain about headaches and poor sleep in the morning. Therefore, Kokichi and Kasumi go to Noritoshi to distract him from excessive study. Usually they look like impudent cats with honest eyes, carefully sit down on both sides next to him. 'Someone's smart head really needs a rest' gently whisper in ear. 'Hey, you're already asleep' low whisper in other ear. There is a lot of fatigue in Noritoshi's eyes, and, as always, he will grumble a little, sigh, slamming notebooks with notes and already pulling these two closer to him Kokichi appreciates Kasumi's willingness to keep up a conversation on a topic she doesn't really understand, or to start a monologue about how her day went, or on some topic of interest to her when he himself has exhausted his social battery and wants to be silent, calmly resting his chin on her shoulder or on the top of her head. He listens and listens to what she says, and then, after recharging, discusses with her everything he has heard before, and vice versa. No one is offended if one is silent and the other says

Noritoshi shared with Kasumi and Kokichi his indignation over his father's family, his bold dream to check out of the family registry an problems with emotions (I just adore my hc where Nori was adopted by Chosoyuki, his last name hasn't changed, but Noritoshi doesn't care, it's important that he has already stopped all interaction with his father) In the morning, Noritoshi and Kasumi practice yoga. Kasumi once tried to stand on her head, Noritoshi held her legs, repeating that he was nearby, holding her and she would not fall. And also Kas does not know how to relax in savasana, she fidgets, turns, puffs, sighs, does not know where to put her hands comfortably, it seems a little more and steam will come out of her ears like from a kettle 'You're very lively for a corpse pose. Don't suffer' Noritoshi spreads his arms invitingly to the sides. He knows that in a strong embrace Kasumi will be able to completely relax

Kokichi is trying to quit smoking because he smoke too much due to stress and the frequent purchase of cigarettes hits his wallet, and Nori doesn't like tobacco-flavored kisses. Kas also smoke, but only in two cases: sometimes she can smoke for company or when she is so nervous Kasumi understands aurally english and can speak it fluently. Thanks to foreign visitors in Kusakabe's bar, where she works, the conversational skill are not lost. When she talks to Mai and Momo, they can switch from japanese to english in kombini, which attracts the attention of other people. Also Kas helps Noritoshi with practice speaking, and when she sees that he is tired (Nori can't always recognize own fatigue), she habitually moves closer and murmured various english songs in his ear. The quality time spent with her calms his restless head before the next TOEIC exam. Todo underestimated how physically strong Kokichi turned out to be with his tall and skinny body

Todo: Why did they leave and didn't call us? May: Because they have a date, you idiot! Momo: Mai, we're actually going to go too Arata* holds out her phone to others to see* Guys look: [Miwa posted a photo in stories for friends] 'Sakura is so impossibly beautiful! I took my recluses out for a walk'

Mai and Momo have cottagecore picnic dates and go to the farm to pick strawberries and some pumpkins

Miwa has a good sense of style, in fact she doesn't have many clothes, all the outfits that she assemble look original and fresh every time, as if she really has a big wardrobe, she willingly helps Kokichi and Noritoshi assemble outfits from their existing clothes (they all have similar tastes). Arata turns to her for advice when she doesn't want to bother her big sister for nothing

Nishimiya plays the cello and she and Noritoshi play joint improvisations of cello and piano when there is time and mood

Mai sings well, just likes to be harmful at every opportunity when she is asked to sing something Noritoshi sneezes softly like a kitten (I've only heard twice in my life that people could sneeze like that, hehe it's an awesome sound)

Arata got Todo into dating sim games on behalf of a fem character Todo: Toxic bastard and you pretended to be a decent guy too! Arata: Are you already going through episode X? Nishimiya and Mai *look questioningly at Todo and look at Arata* Todo*nods and turns to the character of the game*: How many such bastards around you! But nothing, he won't do anything to us! Arata*shrugs*: I didn't know that dating sim would affect him so much

Kokichi and Arata play video games and read manga. Kokichi also helps to solve problems with his infinitely clogged internal phone memory

Kokichi in this house is the main one for fixing problems with electricity and gadgets Mai and Kokichi spend money on arcade machines and collectible capsule toys, which they then carefully store 'I see how you want to get this Mechamaru, you're just incinerating with your eyes, though your eyes aren't lasers huh. Here, take it for yourself, I already have one'

Noritoshi and Mai share an interest in surfing for them it is always a competition and a fun pastime

Mai carefully preserves about the storage of gifts (she has this in common with Kokichi), although she always grumbles "who needs these trinkets, except for the growing layers of dust on the shelves?!" Between the pages of the book lives herbarium of small bouquets that Nishimiya gave her, in a beautifully decorated cardboard box with sweets from Kas, she keeps their joint pictures from photo booths in shopping malls, shells found on the shore during their journey to the ocean, and in a cloth bag a pendant with a silver revolver from her sister (she unwraps and she holds the pendant in her hand for a long time when she feels, how terribly she misses Maki. 'Fool' she mutters without malice, squeezing the jewelry in fist harder. Momo in such episodes considers it best to leave her alone so that Mai does not hide and openly experienced this moment of sadness)

Nishimiya is a fan of american vintage clothes and hippie style jewelry, I can clearly imagine how as a child she dreamed of opening her own cute jewelry store

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espressokiri · 3 years ago

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Heyy, I’m Muslim and I’m also a huge simp for Todoroki, Bakugo, Iida, and Kaminari. Soooo can I have them with a Muslim (possibly hijabi) s/o?

Todoroki Shoto, Bakugou Katsuki, Iida Tenya, and Kaminari Denki x Hijabi!reader

In which reader is a hijabi Muslim.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff (literally half these ideas came from late night talks with my bestie @that-weirdo-in-the-corner)

Note: My first headcanon <3 I hope you like it!

Todoroki Shoto

We’re all aware of this mans lack of physical affection and aloof nature, along with his social awkwardness. That’s a recipe for odd encounters and hilarious misunderstandings.

This man gained interest in you when he noticed you were elegant even while in training/battles, along with your sweet nature and fashionable modest wear.

He researched about your religion and had found out that only women who are married are allowed to go out alone with their partners.

Poor boy didn’t read/research enough.

He decides to get to know you from a distance, respecting your boundaries and it wasn’t that hard to avoid physical contact as he himself was not one to initiate it.

When you did get closer and formed an emotional bond, you’ll be met with the weirdest encounter;

“Shoto, what are you doing?” You blinked, not understanding what the half-and-half male was doing bent on one knee with a ring box outside your family home.

“I read that we can only go out on dates together if you’re married.”

You want to smack your head on the wall but you were flattered at the same time.

Had to tell him that you were allowed on dates if you were chaperoned by a family member or friends.

Had Fuyumi chaperone you two, she was very delighted but had kept watch from a distance.

Shoto has the best time learning about your religion, curiously asking questions and gains a deeper understanding of how things were in your perspective.

He keeps a respectful distance even during dates, making sure he wasn’t crossing boundaries.

Would scour the whole of Japan to find halal food.

Tells you that he called Endeavour shaytaan and you choke on the water you were sipping on, laughing out loud.

Fasts with you one day and is betrayed at how full he felt after one bite.

Hands you Endeavour’s exclusive credit card for Eid.

Todoroki is just very genuine and he tries his best to keep you comfortable around him, also carries hijab pins in his backpack just in case you need some.

Bakugou Katsuki

Oh God.

Listen, he’s very respectful in his own way but it took him time to work through it with his competitive nature.

Man has done his research thoroughly and he is ready to commit.

“I can cook us a vegetarian meal that won’t be boring to the tastebuds like the crap they sell out there.”

That’s his way of asking you out, making sure his parents would be home too because he knows two people of different genders should not be left alone.

Makes the best damn vegetarian dish. Vegetarian because he has yet to figure out what halal is.

Tries to learn some words, does excellent but his way of speaking is even more aggressive than an Emirati accent. He has your Arab friends shaking in their shoes.

It’s Ramadan? Prepare for three am calls that consist of him yelling at you to get up. Yes, he breaks his sleep pattern to wake you up to eat. Yes, he makes you video call him so he makes sure you eat well and hydrate. Yes, he ends up fasting with you so you don’t feel alone. Will he tell you that? No.

Sometimes he makes Iftar for you and brings it in a bento, giving it to you after school so you can have a good meal.

Watches you with wide eyes and mouth open in shock when he sees you eating when you’re supposed to be fasting;

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO EAT YET!”

“I- I’m on my period?”

“SO?”

“We’re not allowed to fast while we’re on our period.”

He stays quiet the rest of the day.

Admires different styles of hijab you do.

Eid? He’s the best dressed alongside you.

Bakugou would be a good partner, respectable, and tries his best to understand and make you feel comfortable in his own way.

Iida Tenya

This boy knows everything already.

Has done research the second he realized there was a Muslim classmate, and as a good fellow class president it was his duty to make sure everyone was comfortable.

Has extra scarves with a small tin full of pins for you kept under his desk in case of emergencies or if they get damaged in training (which wouldn’t happen as Hatsume had created one that would resist damage.) It was a nice thought.

He does slowly wants to get to know you more as your sweet nature made him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Keeps a respectful distance at all time.

“Asalam Alaikum, Y/n! It has come to my attention that Ramadan is nearing soon so I have made a list of dietary necessities you may need to intake in order to help your quirk during the holy month.”

“Iida, that’s so sweet of you! You didn’t have to! Also, how did you pronounce that so well?”

“As you class president and friend, I am honoured to do such! To answer your question, I had listened to someone say it on repeat before I practiced.”

This man has every word on repeat just to soak it in his brain.

Averts his eyes even if he sees your ankle, angry at himself for accidentally glancing.

Sir, I promise it’s not a sin to look at an ankle accidentally.

Sees your Hijab bunching up and start showing bits of your neck and shoulder? Grabs the end of the scarf and pulls it down to cover again, avoiding touching your skin.

Checks the ingredients list of the snacks you’re buying for gelatine or alcohol, making sure it’s halal/vegetarian/vegan friendly.

Upset you can’t find halal gummies? This man goes online and orders a bag of certified halal sweets for you to enjoy because you deserve simple joys like this.

Makes sure you pray on time, has the MuslimPro app on his phone to keep track.

He also scrolls through the app to learn more.

Iida is a perfect gentleman and he’s also making sure that you stay spiritually on track and don’t get distracted <3

Kaminari Denki

This man is a physically affectionate person.

He will make the mistake of bounding over to you and slinging an arm around your shoulder or pull you into a hug.

But he will learn and try to control the affectionate urges, limiting himself to hand holding if you allow it.

He thinks you look wonderful with the different coloured hijabs.

Tries making you wear a yellow and black one to match his hair.

Forgets that you can’t eat everything and anything, especially casual things like gummies.

Will apologize profusely when he realizes after you tell him it has gelatine.

Tries to stave off of gelatine infused products.

“Not even water???”

“Denki, I swear to God I’m going to smack you.”

Yes he’s that guy.

Tries fasting with you, just sleeps through the whole day till it was time to eat.

When he see’s you dozing off in class because of staying up all night either because of suhoor or special night prayers during the last ten days, he’ll zap you to keep you paying attention.

He is honestly your hype man when it comes to modest fashion, especially during Eid. This boy will dramatically kneel on the floor and look at you like you’re the light of his life.

Get’s excited when you hand him Eid money because you love him and he has cute child-like tendencies.

Tries greeting your family members, comes out as gibberish.

“Asalamasjdaskjdhashjs”

“Not quite there yet, Denki. A-plus for effort.”

He’s a fun guy who tries to better himself around you, making sure he’s aware of his actions and makes an effort to not mess up around you because he’s never felt so in love with a person as he has with you.

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silkenstarlight · 4 years ago

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wild cherry sweet

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to dress up for a mission. Bucky likes Reader’s look, maybe a little bit too much.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!reader

Warning/s: smut (18+ only, minors dni); dirty talk, oral (male receiving)

Word count: 1.9k

Find part two here

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Author’s note: i have really been wanting to buy some red lipstick recently so this may or may not have been inspired by that oops

Do not repost! Likes and reblogs are welcome and encouraged :))

“You are breathtaking.”

You turned away from the bathroom mirror, leaning against the counter and meeting Bucky’s gaze with your own. His eyes raked up and down your body, clad in a slinky, silken dress that shone bright beneath the fluorescence and clung to your every curve like liquid. You smirked at his gawking eyes and raised brows, carefully wiping the excess lipstick that bled from the corner of your mouth with your pointer finger. That motion drew his attention upward, his eyes settling on the plump set of your mouth, painted a sultry, deep shade of scarlet.

He huffed a breath and shook his head, trying to form the right words to compliment you, but they seemed to instantly evaporate from his tongue the moment he opened his mouth. Instead, he walked towards you, taking your hands in his and stroking his thumbs against your soft skin, laughing at himself as he gaped like a fish out of water in response to your beauty.

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You jutted your chin slightly at his suit, a neatly-pressed, all-black ensemble that only seemed to further enhance the icy blue shade of his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low and hoarse. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to your ear. “Lipstick’s a good look on you.”

You shuddered, pressing your body closer to his warmth and rocking your hips into his. When he started kissing that sweet spot at the juncture between your jaw and your ear, you couldn’t help but let a breathy moan escape your lips.

This had been your plan all along, of course. You didn’t wear a full face of makeup often, usually foregoing the glamorous, airbrushed look for the bare-skinned practicality of moisturizer and sunscreen. Your job as an agent required you to be on the ball, willing to give up the remainder of your day for the sake of a mission, oftentimes on just a moment’s notice. You couldn’t afford the time and effort of beautification with an occupation that required so much blood, sweat, and tears on the daily. But, tonight was different. Tonight, you and Bucky were preparing for a different kind of mission than either of you were used to.

The GRC was hosting an exclusive gala, invitations to which were only granted to the wealthiest elites in the country. Politicians and A-listers would surely be in attendance, secretly and silently admitting their support of the GRC’s eviction of post-Blip refugees. Such an event was bound to attract some hostility, whether through hush-hush internal transactions between its elite, yet seedy, attendees, or from some outside menace, like the lurking risk of a re-established force of flag smashers. You and Bucky both decided that it would be prudent to attend, just in case you were dealing with fraud or a full-blown terror threat. You both wanted to be ready, to be able to face whatever troubles may arise, from the inside. So, you had to look the part.

You had chosen the dress with the event’s black-tie dress code in mind, of course, but the lipstick was all for him. You had been picking up the bare necessities at the mall, a tube of concealer and a new type of mascara, when the red-gradient display of lipsticks caught your eye. Every shade, ranging from coral to plum, offered a different mask, a slight variant on the character you would be playing the night of the gala. Would you be the coquettish twenty-something, all bright, glossy, and new? Or, would you be the mysterious seductress, daubed in smokey shades of maroon?

After a few moments of careful deliberation, one shade in particular had caught your eye, and your lips twitched into a small grin. You plucked the tube from the shelf. Velvet ribbon red, its label read. A deep, sultry shade, reminiscent of the garnet, wine-soaked tones that were so popular in the ‘40’s. The natural shade to choose, of course, for Bucky Barnes’s companion.

Now, you felt his hands release yours, grasping the fabric at your hips with greedy hands. He continued kissing your neck in a blatant, hungry display of need, lips bowed in a slight, mocking smile when he heard the soft moans that his affection pulled from you. You gripped the edge of the counter tightly with one hand, desperate for purchase, and dragged your other hand up his abdomen, settling your fingers lightly on his chest.

He drew his teeth against your neck and sucked lightly, and you were sure that he was trying to leave a mark, a flagrant signifier to the attendees of the gala you were already late to that you belonged to him, and him only. When he pulled away, examining the petechiae he had branded on your skin, you brought both hands in front of you, tracing them down his front in a flirtatious caress and settling on the buckle of his belt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his, taking in his blown pupils as you adeptly released his buckle and unzipped his pants. In a sudden gesture of dominance, you pushed him back to the opposite wall, directing him by the hips. When his back hit the wall, he let out a soft, purring laugh, pleased by your control. He pecked you on the lips, a quick and chaste gesture that contrasted with the unexpectedly sensuous direction the evening was heading into, and you slowly lowered to your knees, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, pulling his pants down slightly to expose his underwear.

You braced your hands against his quads, running your fingertips up and down his legs in a slow, teasing motion that made his jaw clench. He balled his fists at his sides, not ready to usurp control from you just yet. You simpered, proud of the fact that you had this man coming undone in the palm of your hand, without having even touched his cock yet.

Soon, though, you brought your mouth close enough to his lower half that he could feel the heat of your breath through the thin fabric layer of his underwear. His eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, hips rocking towards your face, and he combed his fingers loosely through your hair, tugging lightly to grant you permission to keep going. It was sweet, the way he was simultaneously so respectful of your boundaries, but so eager to feel your mouth on him. Neither of you cared that it would ruin your makeup, that after this, you would be late for the gala. You both craved a distraction from the nerves that accompanied a mission like this.

You dragged your fingernails along the waistband of his underwear, leaving light scratching marks across his lower abdomen. He moaned softly, a sound that you hoped to sear in your memory forever. And then, you reached inside, pulling his already-erect cock from the tented, taught fabric. The tip glowed an angry red, already leaking pre-cum.

You looked up at him through your lashes and flattened your tongue against his base, dragging it all the way up to his tip. He gripped your hair tighter, the delicious pull of your hair taught in his fist driving you to swirl your tongue around his tip and take him slowly in your mouth.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered as you slowly began to bob your head up and down his length. “Gonna ruin that pretty makeup of yours.”

You pulled back to respond, lips separating from his cock with a satisfying, wet pop! “‘S’alright,” you slurred, palming him roughly with your hand, fingernails dragging against sensitive skin to offer the perfect balance between pleasure and pain. He bucked into your grasp, breath stilling in his throat, and you smiled, sucking the tip of his cock back into your mouth.

You worked him slowly into your mouth, until he hit the back of your throat and only a couple of inches remained outside of your mouth. He noticed this, eagerly watching your progress, and took control, holding your head against him, applying a gentle pressure until you slid down the rest of his length. When your lips pressed against his base, you gagged slightly, inhaling deeply through your nose. You maintained eye contact the whole time, even as your eyes pooled with tears from the strain of looking up.

“What a good fucking girl,” he groaned, rolling his hips against your mouth and smearing your lipstick on his skin in a vulgar imprint of wet, lusty red. You felt a wet, needy warmth accumulating in your core at his acknowledgement, but you kept your hands firmly rooted at his hips, so desperate to please him. “What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?” His voice was gruff but lilting and playful, as if he knew that this turned you on as much as it did him.

Finally, he released the pressure, pulling back to let you breathe. After a few seconds, though, you increased your pace, guiding one hand down to his balls and gently massaging them. He closed his eyes again, lost in the tantalizing sensations of your tongue, but he held back, refusing to let the slow and steady pistoning of his hips devolve into the frenzied motion he so desperately desired to adopt in order to finish. Your cheeks hollowed against him, sucking hard, granting him permission to let go.

He understood. Short, shallow movements quickly turned into deeper thrusts, punctuated by quiet moans that rose in pitch as he came closer and closer to coming undone.

“Gonna paint you with my come. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, could only stare up at him as his cock breached the entrance to your throat in faltering, uneven motions. That was the final straw. His grip on your hair tightened and he held your head down flush against him, cock pulsing, as his orgasm ripped through him. One final, unabashed and guttural groan escaped his lips as he succumbed to his ecstasy and painted the back of your throat with ropes of come. You mirrored his sound, moaning around him with an enticing vibration.

He held his length inside your mouth for a few seconds, still holding your head against him, not ready to let you retreat just yet. But as his cock grew sensitive, he pulled back with a quiet, overstimulated moan. Your mouth felt empty without him, lipstick smears and strings of spit painting your face in a satisfied, sexed-out portrait of lust. He beamed with pride, hooking his hands under your elbows and pulling you up to your feet before pressing his lips firmly against yours in a gesture of gratitude.

You broke the kiss, cradling his face in your hand. Laughter bubbled in your throat, and, seeing your light-hearted demeanor, he began to chuckle. You stood like that for a minute, laughing in each others’ arms, momentarily uncaring about upcoming missions or smeared makeup.

He took a deep, yet shaky, exhale, and smirked. “Well, we’d better get you cleaned up. Those mascara tracks are pretty telling, and we’re already late.”

You shrugged. “Worth it.”

He brought his hand up to your face, cradling your cheek and wiping the messy smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Part two

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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.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider becoming a Patron or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

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#Exophilia #Monster Boyfriend #Troll #WoW Troll #World of Warcraft Troll

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twistedsin · 4 years ago

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Hi, is it possible to request for a nsfw crewel x student! Reader? ;_; the reader is being a tease and tries to flirt with him during class. Then both of them end of doing it after school in his classroom?Thank you for your time! >.<

ABSOLUTELY!! I really like this request, I am sincerely sorry it took me so long to finish it. I’m glad I finally got to write pet-play professor.

For the context of this fic, we’re going to say Night Raven is a newly co-ed school. Male students still outnumber females, but it is no longer gender exclusive.

Disclaimer: Teacher x student. Don’t fuck your teachers for extra credit in real life, that is not how you succeed.

“Now, what is the element with the hottest melting point?” Crewel pointed his baton your way, as your fingers perked up.

“Tungin” You answered, a small smirk on your lips. The rest of the class started laughing, but your professor was smarter than that.

“Tungsten,” Crewel corrected as the class quieted down, “It is quite a robust element. Incredibly hard.” His eyes connected with yours. “Only in its purest form can you make it putty in your hands.” Crewel turned away and returned to his lecture...

“Now for today’s mini-lab, you and your partner need to list the 15 elements in order of weight. Once you have them all correct you may leave.”

You paired up with the person next to you and tried to cooperate with them. There was much more you looking over at Crewel than actually helping with the worksheet.

Eventually you 'accidentally' tossed your pen from your hand in the direction of his desk. It hit the floor and rolled to one of the legs, the placement couldn't have been more perfect. "Oops... I'll be right back." You told your partner, who didn't seem to care since you weren't helping anyway.

Concealing your bright smile with a mischievous, you walked over to the professor’s desk, his attention turning to you. "Did you have a question?" He rose a brow looking you over.

"Nope, just needed to get my pencil. It rolled over here." You explain as you drop to your knees in front of him, taking your time to turn onto all fours, your ass up and wiggling as you felt around for your pencil. Divus shifted in his chair, seeming to be looking back at the papers rather than the curve of your ass barely covered by the short uniform skirt. If he leaned back a little, he'd probably be able to see your panties, or if you were wearing any.

Unfortunately, he did not, and gave you a disinterested response, "If you can't find it. I'll loan you a new one. You should get back to your assignment." A small pout formed on your face before you grabbed your pencil and stood. "Wait," He called out when you were a few steps away. You eagerly turned, "Yes, sir?"

"In class, it's Professor, not sir." Divus held out a paper to you, your last test with the results in red at the top. A 69/100, not great. "Your grades seem to be slipping and this attitude of yours, I think you may need a reminder of who's in charge. See me after school."

"Yes, professor." You squeaked out trying not to smile too much. Sure you were in trouble but seeing him after school meant that the two of you would be alone together. And that part about teaching you who was in charge, it was way too easy to find a hidden meaning in that. Now it was even harder to focus on the work at hand. Even through the rest of your classes, all you could think about what Divus was going to teach you later.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Professor?" You called out, entering the classroom before waiting for a response, "You wanted to see me?”

"What is the point of knocking, if you're not going to wait for an answer?" Divus sighed from behind his desk. "You may come in. Be sure to lock the door. I hate when students just think they can barge in." He watched, making sure you did what you were told. Once you had locked the door you obediently went over and stood in front of his desk.

"I made it a goal to be sure none of my pups had red marks this semester." He removed his glasses and moved the stack of paperwork into a drawer. "You are at risk of me breaking this promise, and I won't have it." He stood, and walked around the desk to stand in front of you. "You need more discipline."

"You think scolding me is going to make work harder?" I mean it might, depending on the type of punishment. "Maybe I want red marks." You wanted them more on your body than your report card though.

He was unamused at your response. "I've trained plenty of other litters, my methods have yet to fail. I've dealt with your type too. So, what is this new issue of yours that has you so distracted in class?" He took a step closer, leaving him right in front of you, "Or should I guess."

“Well... It’s just hard for me to focus on chemical reactions when my body always has such a strong reaction to you. It’s easy for my mind to wander to more reactive activities.”

A smirk crossed his lips, as he leaned in, “Like my tongue inside you?”

You shivered from his warm breath on your ear. You felt your lower regions pulse, thoughts of your little fantasy popping up in your mind. You needed a moment to regain your composure. “Tongue just happened to work with the element, I’m not opposed to any other part of you being in me either~”

“Quite a bold little puppy you are.” Crewel took a step back looking you over. “Since that's the issue let's try and see if you can focus on one of those activities,” He pointed the baton at his desk, “Sit.” You eagerly obey, taking a seat on the side edge of his desk.

He took off his coat and placed it on the coat stand before moving back to his desk. “If you still can't focus, or misbehave then this stops." He started sifting through the bottom left drawer. “Hold this.” He shut the drawer and stood holding a wrapped condom to your lips. You softly took the corner of the package in your mouth. “Don’t drop it.”

The order was a bit harder to follow than you thought as he almost teasingly slowly removed his tie and undid a few buttons on his shirt. He ran a hand through his hair before undoing his pants and pulling out his dick. You would have licked your lips if you could.

“You look hungry pet.” You spread your legs as his gloved hand ran up your thigh. He stepped closer, slowly grinding his erection against your wet panties. You let out a needy whine shifting your hips as a way to encourage him. Your core tightened just from the grinding, it just made you want him more. “You’re so excited, aren’t you? I wonder, how often have you masturbated to the idea of me fucking you in this classroom?”

You gave him a lustful look as he finally took the condom from your mouth. “Enough to have some expectations” You gave a coy smile but he simply responded with a smirk.

“I doubt those will hold up to the real thing.” Once the condom was on his hands trailed up your thighs. Your breathing grew heavy with lust at his teasing touch. The way he took his time was driving you crazy.

You narrowed your eyes at him, wanting to scold him to hurry it up, but he simply stared back a small upward curve at the corner of his mouth. His threat of stopping if you misbehaved floating through your head. There was no way you were going to risk this ending not when you were so close. His fingers finally caught the edges of your panties and pulled them off, a strand of your juices dragging out.

Crewel licked his lips, finally grabbing your hips and tugging you against him. “Let’s see if you meet my expectations.” He rubbed against you a few times before slowly pushing in, leaving you time to adjust. He wasn’t sure how experienced you were and didn’t want to push you too much. While the feeling was tight, and a bit painful with how active your insides had been it wasn’t too bad to adjust to. “Ah~ Y-you’re finally inside, Professor Crewel!" You gasped between your shaky moans. A smile formed on your face from looking down at how he stretched you. There was still so much left to fill you with and you couldn't wait.

His hand gripped your chin to look back up at him. "Wrong. It's Master or Master Crewel now. Do you understand pet?"

"Yes Master Crewel." It was easy enough to remember the name as you referred to him as such in most of your fantasies anyway.

His hand slid up your cheek to push some of your hair away from your face, "Good girl. I won't hesitate to drill the idea into you if you forget."

Now that you had had time to adjust and names were sorted, it was time to set things in motion. His thrusts were smooth and slow at first. Even with such little stimulation, your walls were pulsing around him, squeezing as if trying to pull him deeper. It made him want to go wild, but he of course had control and would wait patiently until you let him do so.

Your head tilted back, calling out his name. "Good pet. Just like that. I can tell you're enjoying yourself." He smirks, "Is it all your imagined? Or did you want it rougher?" He'd be happy to oblige his student's needs since they waited so long. It would be easier for them to focus if he fulfilled the fantasy correctly.

"More." Your voice was merely a whisper at first, rising as you knew mewling wasn't a satisfying answer for him. "I want to take all of you. I want you to move faster. Please, Master! Fuck me! I can take it, I need your cock!" You begged, feeling needy. You had let your thoughts of him been wandering for too long to not indulge yourself. You wanted him to fuck you so that you never needed another fantasy of him, just memories of this moment.

"Such a needy pet." His hips stilled, "Lay down." His hand rested on your back to ease you into laying down across the length of his desk. He pushed your legs up and open. One of his hand resting on one of your knees, the other on the table so he could lean over you, "Let's test how much you can take."

With this new positioning, he had more leverage, and now that he wasn't holding himself back as much anymore it was almost a whole different experience from when he first ented you. His whole cock was sliding in and out of you.

His thrusts are almost wild, nothing like the slow pace he had kept before. If he hadn't laid you back beforehand you would have fallen back on your own. His entire cock being pushed inside you now, it filled you up so nicely. With these deeper thrusts, his shaft brushed against your sweet spot from time to time. Your body clenched tightly around him each time, never wanting him to pull out yet wanting him to thrust even faster and deeper. He carefully watched your expressions as the pleasure overcame you. The way your eyes became hazy and that small smile as you gasped and groaned. Some words slipping out occasionally, mostly master, yes, and more.

"Such a good pet. You're already surpassing my expectations." Divus cooed, "Is this everything you thought about?"

"Y-yes!" You cried out between gasps. "It feels so good. So much better than a fantasy."

"Good. Then there is no reason to keep daydreaming in class then."

"Yes. No... I-" You couldn't focus on his questions right now, or what the right answer was. You just wanted to cum and enjoy the feeling of him thrusting into you. "I'm going to cum. Master please~"

You suddenly felt a sharp sting on your thigh as his gloved hand slapped your skin. "Answer me first pet. Are you going to focus in class?" His thrusts slowed to your dismay.

"Yes! I'll focus in class! I'll raise my grade I promise!" You called out a bit panicked and desperate for him to continue.

Divus chuckled a bit, enjoying your desperation. "I'm expecting good results then." His hips regained their rapid pace from before, "Now you can cum, pet." Now given permission and his thorough pace returned it didn't take long for your body to reach its peak and your orgasm to course through you. The way your body clenched and spasmed around him had him cumming soon after you. He rode out the pleasure high before finally stopping his thrusts and pulling out of you.

A pout accompanied by a small whine formed at the loss of his cock so soon, but you couldn't stay upset. He just looked way too sexy running his hand through his hair, leaning over you catching his breath. Divus gave a small smile as his eyes caught yours. "Good girl. You performed well."

He helped you to sit up on his desk then discarded the condom and began fixing his pants. "If you do well on the next test, I'll reward you just like this." Once he was situated, he let you rest your head against his chest while he fixed up your uniform. "If not then I'll have to find other ways to get you to behave."

You knew it was meant as a warning but it just excited you. "Yes, Master Crewel. I'll do my best."

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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

Text

Headcanon - when another man catches your eye

This work, 当你沉迷小哥哥, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it!

[ VICTOR ]

LFG is full of talented individuals and a sizeable number of handsome men. But you, as an obedient wife with an unwavering love for Victor, will definitely not spare a glance at other men...?

“Goldman. In one minute, I want you to give me all the information you have on that man!”

When you arrived at LFG to give Victor a report, you were notified that he was currently in a meeting. As such, you’re currently standing outside the office, having a chat with Goldman. When the door finally opened, you never expected to see an incredibly handsome man!

Goldman looks at you from the side, objecting. “Just forget it. If I give you his information, I might lose my bonus for next year.”

You cross your arms in front of your chest, infuriated. “You’ve really disappointed me! Have you forgotten how I usually rescue you? Passionate members of the working-class should band together and defeat this capitalist fat lion!”

“Defeat who?”

Immersed in your dramatic world, you fail to realise that the voice sounds slightly off. “Victor, of course!”

Goldman’s face has gone pale.

“...”

Finally reacting, you hold onto his arm, behaving coquettishly. “Victor, when did you come out?” You hope he didn’t hear your brave and visionary words from earlier.

Victor has his arms crossed as he stands at the doorway. Expressionless, he shatters your hopes. “Ever since you wanted the information.”

“...”

You wonder if it’s too late to retreat.

“Submit a thousand word reflection tonight.” He leads your dazed self into the office.

Seeing the two of you enter, Goldman feels as though he’s been relieved from a burden.

“Goldman, your monthly bonus has been cut by half from idling around during working hours.”

Goldman: Ack.

[ GAVIN ]

To select guests for an upcoming program, you and the planning team in the company have been collecting information on up-and-rising celebrities, which have been printed onto booklets for your perusal.

While having a video call with Kiki, you flip through the pages, the topic gradually digressing to a discussion on who the most handsome person in the booklet is.

“I think he’s more handsome. I watched a drama he was featured in. The moment he removed his clothes, those muscles...”

The moment Gavin returns, he sees his girl sitting cross-legged on the floor, engaged in a discussion over the phone. Documents are messily sprawled on the coffee table. Upon a closer look, he realises that they are pages of information, each one with a picture of a man attached.

Hearing the door open, you turn your head. “Gavin, you’re back~”

He walks over, hugging you from behind. His chin rests on the top of your head, giving it a gentle nuzzle. “Mm. What are up to?”

You point at the materials on the table. “Selecting guests.”

At this inopportune time, a voice drifts from the phone. “Officer Gavin, I wish to report that Boss has been looking at the abdominal muscles of other men!”

“Kiki, you betrayed me!” You exclaim accusatorially, gritting your teeth. She knows fully well how prone to jealousy your Officer Gavin is.

As expected, Gavin knits his brows. Lifting the bottom of his shirt, he takes your hand and plants it onto his torso. His tone sounds as though he has been treated unfairly. “I have abs too. Touch mine, and don’t look at others.”

Kiki: Sorry for interrupting. Remember to hang up before doing other deeds :)

[ LUCIEN ]

This new drama is far too addictive. The men in it all suit your tastes. As such, you would sit before the television every Friday evening, unmoving.

He initially thought it was just a temporal spark of interest. That is, until you changed the background of your phone to those men. After sending him a link to a voting campaign, Professor Lucien finally realised the severity of this issue.

On Friday, you sit on the sofa as usual, turning the television on.

Seeing this, Lucien quietly washes the cherries from the fridge and places them in front of you. Occasionally, he would shift the chess pieces on the coffee table, or walk in front of the television cabinet to rifle through the CDs. He even waters the plants on top of the stereo.

Your eyes are sparkling as you watch the television, not noticing Lucien’s actions. It’s only when the number of times he blocks the screen increases that he catches your attention. “Lucien, what are you doing?”

He sets down the watering can in his hand, lowering his eyes. “My Little Butterfly is only focused on watching the television, so I have no choice but to engage in my own pastimes.” After saying this, he even injects a sigh.

You snort with laughter. “Is Professor Lucien jealous, and blaming me for not giving him attention?”

“Yes.” His response is quick and firm, as though you’ve truly caused him to suffer.

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, you outstretch your arms. “In that case, would this man like an exclusive hug?”

[ KIRO ]

People on-site can sense that Kiro is a little different from his usual self. Usually, Kiro would be amiable, grinning widely as he interacts with others. Although he still treats people the same way, his behaviour towards the second male lead has been peculiar.

“Kiro, is something up with you today? Did someone make you angry?” Mummy Savin is the first person to notice that Kiro is slightly off, patting his shoulder in concern.

“Savin, you have no idea how MC went overboard last night! She said the second male lead was very handsome, and questioned why the ending was so tragic. And that if she were the female lead, she definitely wouldn’t go for the main male lead, but would prefer the second lead!” Little Kiro makes a complaint about your actions to Savin.

“...” Not knowing what to say, Savin casts him a glance before whipping out his phone to give you a call. “Come over to the film site.Your Kiro is throwing a tantrum again.”

You hang up with a frown. Even though Savin didn’t mention the reason for it, you can guess what exactly is going on. Bringing along the pork floss rolls you just bought, and after ordering two cups of 50% sugar milk tea, you rush over to the film site.

“Kiro~” You greet him once you enter the venue. With a ‘hmph’, he twists his head to the side. Clearly, he doesn’t want to bother with you right now.

You smile in resignation, pretending to be filled with regret. “Since Kiro is ignoring me, I have no choice but to give these small cakes and milk tea to Savin. Sigh, what a shame.”

Hearing that there are snacks, Kiro immediately lunges over. “No way, no way. Miss Chips bought them for me, so they can’t be given to Savin!”

Stuffing himself with the cake, you give his puffy cheeks a poke. “You aren’t angry anymore?”

Kiro takes a sip of the milk tea, his response muffled. ��On account of the these snacks, I’ll make up with you for two hours. We’ll talk about the rest at home!”

[ SHAW ]

“What are you watching?” Shaw rushes into the kitchen once he reaches home. Taking out your matcha ice-cream from the fridge, he digs a big scoop, eating it in front of you.

You’ve already gotten used to how thick-skinned this person can be. Casting a glance at the mustard bottle in the bin, you kick the bin further away quietly, praying that he’d quickly reach the bottom of the tub.

“All of them resemble weak chickens. None of them know how to fight.” Shaw comments, biting the spoon.

???

Based on such logic, isn’t he saying that someone who resembles King Kong would immediately be good in fighting?

“Stinky Brother. Take a good look - the men are so handsome. And then look at yourself. Can you even compare with them?”

Shaw’s face darkens. He sets the ice-cream down, pressing the pause button of the remote control. He walks in front of the television, pointing at the large face on the screen, before pointing to himself. “Hey! Take a proper look. How is this pretty boy more handsome than I am? Need me to get you a pair of glasses to fix your vision?!”

You click your tongue. “They can dance. Can you?”

“I can.”

“They have abs!”

“I do too.”

“They can even act!”

“If I didn’t know how to act, how would I have won you over?”

“...” He’s truly unbeatable at this.

Shaw cages you between himself and the sofa, his palms sinking into the fabric. “Do you pick him or me?”

Instead of saying anything, you give him a kiss. After all, this is the best answer.

In the end, he didn’t eat the mustard.

–

More translated and original works: here

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the author

#mlqc #cheri shortcake

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coveredinbees · 4 years ago

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I started writing another kathony thing. And it's... well... it's smutty as all hell, I'm not going to lie. It's an AU, and includes references to sex work in the regency period, male impotence, and a few creative swear words that would make your mother cry.

So I'm going to post a little teaser for my new fic under the cut, to spare those of you who are not particularly interested in that sort of thing.

"Duels and Duality"

Anthony Bridgerton was not a man that was used to frequenting bawdy houses. But, after a duelling injury leaves him feeling a little insecure in the bedroom, he decides to try his hand - and other parts - at Covent Garden's most exclusive establishment. It all appears to be for nought when he finds none of the ladies can peak his interest. Until he sees one exotic beauty from across the room...

Kate Sharma is not a lady of the night. She is, in fact, a destitute war widow and nurse struggling to make an honest living after the end of the Napoleonic War. But one evening, as she's tending to a broken wrist of Covent Garden's leading courtesan, she finds herself being propositioned by a handsome stranger. She can't deny the attraction, and she might even have been tempted to go with him, if he hadn't started waving a wad of money in front her face. Instead, however, she offers to do something else - to fix his lame leg, and rehabilitate him back into polite society.

Could this be the start of a beautiful friendship?"

Teaser under the cut:

For the second time that evening, it started to snow. This did not bode well for Anthony Bridgerton. As he had not been able to navigate his carriage through the narrow roads of Covent Garden, Anthony had to satisfy himself with limping along the iced-over cobbled streets until he found the place he was looking for. It was a less-than-ideal situation. There was something about the chill in the air that made the muscles around his old injury ache, and more than once he felt his right leg give way underneath him. If it hadn’t been for his walking stick, he would have keeled over entirely. Thankfully, it didn’t take too long for him to find the right place. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket with numbed fingers, checking the address there against the townhouse in front of him. Hind Close. Yes, this was definitely the place. Unfamiliar as he was with this part of town, it had taken him longer than usual to find where he was going, and it was only the cold bite of the January wind that meant he could make his slow journey without being accosted by anyone. This part of town was normally rife with pickpockets and drunkards, but unlike Anthony, any man, woman or child with a lick of sense was sitting indoors right now, huddling around a roaring fire. He sighed, dragging his lame leg up the steps of the townhouse. There were times in life when you didn’t realise you had done something stupid until it was too late. And then there were times when you were fully aware that you were in the middle of doing something stupid, but you carried on doing it any way. Even as he lifted the knocker on the nondescript townhouse, he realised that today fell into the latter category.

Knocking on the the door, he waited for a moment for someone to open it. Instead, the door remained firmly shut, and thick, cockney voice emanated from somewhere within.

“Wot’s the password?” The password? Damn. Benedict had told him this. Hang on. “Elysium.” He said. There was a moment of silence, and for one horrible moment Anthony thought they might turn him away. He desperately needed to rest his leg, and he wasn’t sure he could make it back through the winding streets of Covent Garden without assistance. But then there was a metallic thunk – the familiar sound of an iron deadbolt being pulled back, and then the door was opened. Anthony was met with a blast of warm air and the sweet scent of rose and lavender water wafting from inside. The man standing at the door was a wall of a man, with brutishly thick arms and a cauliflower ear. He wasn’t the sort of man Anthony had seen before, not even at Gentleman Jackson‘s boxing ring. This man, with his scarred face and non-too-inviting sneer, he was not like anyone Anthony had ever met before. Regardless, the man stepped aside and waited patiently while Anthony dragged himself through the door. Anthony didn’t wait to be invited. He collapsed onto a chair by the door, not even caring that he was leaving a trail of muddied snow behind him. As the doorman closed the front door behind him, he regarded Anthony with little interest. “Y’new then?” “Pardon?” “I said, are yer new 'ere, or what? I ain’t seen you round ‘ere before.”

No, Anthony supposed, he wouldn’t have. This was his first time at such an establishment.

“Yes. I suppose you could say I’m ‘new’.” The man grunted. “I’ll get Madame Charlotte then. She’ll sort yer out.” “Much obliged.” Quite against his will, Anthony felt his head fall back against the wall. He closed his eyes. God, his leg was throbbing. He already knew that this was a mistake, but there was quite literally no turning back now. At least, not until he’d had a chance to rest his leg and hopefully a dram or two for the pain. He opened his eyes lazily, watching as the great, hulking doorman disappeared behind a red curtain, presumably to find Madame Charlotte.

Anthony sighed. He was miles from home, and his footman had parked the carriage somewhere in the more respectable area of town. Even after he rested his leg, he would have a devil of a time walking back – especially if this snow kept up. But then, he supposed, wasn’t that the whole idea? In order for his plan to work, he had to go to a place where he wouldn’t be recognised. To be clear, despite Anthony’s rakish reputation he had never actually visited a bawdy house before. Or rather, perhaps he should say that he had never engaged the services of une femme galante before. All of Anthony’s previous dalliances – of which there had been many – had been with either divorced women or women of the stage. And yes, he’d kept a mistress or two in his time. And yes, he had spent more than his fair share of money on trinkets. But that was different. Those were gifts. There was something about the transactional nature of bawdy houses that didn’t really sit well with him. To Anthony, the whole point of pleasuring a woman was to, well… pleasure a woman. It had to be reciprocal, otherwise he didn’t see the fucking point.

Paying a woman to bed with you, well. It was a bit embarrassing really, wasn’t it?

And honestly, if Anthony had his way he certainly wouldn’t be sitting in a Bawdy House right now, if he had any other option. Anthony grimaced, rubbing his face with an ice-cold hand. So what was he doing here now?

Of course, he already knew the answer. He was here, because he was desperate.

You see, Anthony Bridgerton was not a man that was prone to misjudgement; but when he did misjudge something he did so spectacularly and with long-lasting effect. It was a misjudgement that led him to challenging Lord Carnarvon to a duel some three years previous after a particularly heavy night of drinking, and it was a misjudgement that led to him getting shot in the leg. If it wasn’t for his brother’s quick thinking, and for the skill of a particularly renowned surgeon, he most certainly would have died. Hell, he thought, sitting up in the chair and stretching his pained leg out in front of him, it was a damned miracle that he’d got to keep his leg at all. But as it was, there was a large, tennis-ball shaped indentation where his thigh muscle used to be, and it was visible even through the thick fabric of his britches. The dead tissue of his leg had been purposefully removed in a grotesquely painful procedure that the surgeon had called ‘debridement’. Anthony, feverishly out of his mind the entire time, remembered little of event except that it had involved applying maggots to the infected area. Maggots. Those damned maggots. He saw them in his dreams, even now.

So apart from being in near permanent pain all the time, Anthony was now grotesquely misshapen. His former lovers couldn’t even bear to look at him, let alone take him into their beds. And, Anthony thought, even if he could somehow persuade some poor, desperate woman into seduction, he was in near permanent agony. Although his wound had long since healed over, the muscles spasmed like the devil himself was twisting a knife in his leg, and the sorry fact of the matter was, (and in many ways, this was the worst part)…

The sorry fact of the matter was that the famous Viscount Bridgerton, (the society papers’ darling and the once the ton’s most sought-after bachelor), was now a disfigured monster that could go weeks at a time without even getting a fucking erection.

It was painful. No, it was more than painful – it was humiliating. He’d once been famous for his appetites, and sought-after for his skills as a lover. Now here he was in his late twenties, looking down at his stubbornly non-tumescent cock and wondering if the bullet wound hadn’t somehow nicked a muscle or a nerve or something that was integral to the most valuable part of his anatomy. For any man, not being able to get a cockstand would be bad enough, but for a man with a title – a Viscount no less, who regardless of his injury, was still somehow expected to marry, produce an heir and carry on the family name – why, it was the end of the world.

If his cock couldn’t work, well – he might as well sign the viscountcy over to Benedict right now.

Benedict had been none-too-pleased with that particular suggestion. Anthony knew his brother and had no interest in a title that had been earmarked for Anthony all his life, but he never appreciated how much of an aversion the man had to being the Viscount until he floated the idea past him one day. He’d never seen a man turn quite so pale. And so, without going into too much detail, Anthony had relayed to his brother the distressing news that his injury was preventing him from, ahem, partaking in his preferred activities, and somehow Benedict had managed to produce a copy of Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies with surprising alacrity.

So that was why he was here. Suddenly, he had seen the appeal of the transactional nature of bawdy houses. Perhaps if he could pay a woman enough, she would be willing to overlook his deformity. And it wasn’t like he was looking to fuck anyone – in fact, he didn’t rightly see how he could, the pain being the way it was - but he was sure that given the right woman, she could take him in hand, or maybe in her mouth, and try to breathe life back into his stubbornly flaccid cock. If he could get the damn thing working again, then at least that would be a step in the right direction.

So here he was. Hind Close. Which, according to Harris’ List of Covent Garden Ladies, housed the most exclusive and high-price cyprian beauties that money could buy. He had chosen this establishment firstly, because it was far from home and he didn’t want to be recognised by anyone, but also because the women here had a reputation for being choosey in their clientele. No man could walk up to these women and demand their services for a price; no, the woman had to agree. And allegedly, Hind Close’s books were so full and their clientele so numerous that the women here could afford to pick and choose their gentlemen.

As hideous as he was, he didn’t want to force himself on anyone – nor did he want a women to feel obligated to take his money and his body. He could make an offer here, and feel secure in the knowledge that the women would be able to say ‘no’ if his leg was too disgusting for them to bear.

Which, he thought sadly, they probably would.

#smutty smut smut #bridgerton fic #kathony fic

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croissantconnoisseurdinosaur · 3 years ago

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ANOTHER FUCKING ORPHANED FIC IDEA BASED ON BNHA CASTING

The show: Miss Saigon

The cast:

Kim: Jirou Kyoka

Chris: Bakugou Katsuki

The Engineer: Kaminari Denki

Ellen: Yaoyorozu Momo

John: Kirishima Eijirou

Thuy: Monona Neito

Gina: Ashido Mina

Tam: Kirishima Kenji

The Tea 💅 :

- Originally, Kirishima and Bakugou both auditioned for Chris - and they definitely had fun flirting with being competitive with each other over it. In the end it was really close; Kirishima was really almost chosen until it was just down to the two of them in callbacks. In the end, while Eiji’s versions was absolutely beautiful and flawless, it lacked some of the rawness that Katsuki’s audition had, and that’s really what it boiled down to. When they had them instead both do a quick scene between John and Chris, the chemistry was palpable and the director decided they worked best alongside one another, rather than offering Eijirou the role of understudy (which went to Izuku instead).

- This fic starts out where Les Mis left off: JirouMomo is the only established relationship thus far, but Kiribaku have gotten much closer and have been flirting with each other just slightly. If the Les Mis fic was a slow burn to mutual pining, this fic is the one where they end up together.

- Speaking of Les Mis, the difference between that production and this one is that it is not a university production. Yaomomo’s parents actually own a very successful local theater company with lots of donation money to spare, but even though the space and the budget are both huge it is still small-town-vibes ✨. Every year they do a one-night-only charity performance (with the budget of a long-running performance - which actually ends up raking in bigger donations for the theater as a result, smart business and whatnot) in which patrons and investors come to watch a special one of a kind show (free ticket, donations optional), and all proceeds from the other non-donor audience seats (plus a large Yao family donation) go to a charity of the Yaoyorozu’s choosing for a good cause which they announce during intermission (they can afford to lose the majority of the house for this one performance a year - especially since the rarity and exclusivity means that the front rows are always PACKED with rich donors who write big checks at intermission).

- Although Momo’s parents own the company, favoritism is never played. Usually. This time, however, was a little bit rigged in Katsuki’s favor, though her parents were never in on it. It was nearing time think about picking the show when Momo got the idea to suggest this one for the special donor performance after watching the blond rip his heart apart singing “Why God Why?” in one of their performance classes in June. She was utterly moved by his performance and went right to her parents with the idea (they set to work right away looking into buying the rights for a night). Though Momo kept the details of who she wanted cast in the male lead to herself in order to keep things fair, she knew in her heart that after auditions the role would rightly end up in the proper hands. - - > Bonus: If Eijirou’s face was absolutely beet red by the end of watching that class performance, no it wasn’t 💅.

- Bakugou spends A L O T of time at Kirishima’s dorm room, and eventually at the Kirishima household during the course of this show - practicing together, tutoring Kirishima, and working on scenes for their other classes and school-related performances that they’d promised Aizawa they would not fall behind on.

- The first time he goes over there is when he meets Kenji: the most adorable little four year old with black hair and the signature Kirishima eyes. He is so incredibly sweet and smart that Katsuki can’t help but fawn of the little dude right away. It’s when Kenji comes with Kirishima one day for rehearsal (since he forgot he was supposed to be babysitting that day) that he gets noticed and gushed over by the director (maybe Mt. Lady? Idk that might be fun). When a five minute break is called, his little feet come running up to the redhead. “Eiji?” he calls as his little voice bounces with his uneven steps. “Yeah bud?” Kirishima scoops him up with ease and listens to him as he tangles his little hands around one another and stammers “can’t we go home yet?” “Not yet, just a little bit longer. Can you go back to coloring until then?” “Yeah, I go back to coloring,” he promises as Eijirou puts him back down. “Draw something cool for Bakugou, yeah?” “Okay!” That made the little boy perk up with a little more excitement as he took off back to his crayons and paper. Yaomomo was already tearing up, hands in front of her face as she gushed to Kirishima about how he was the cutest little thing she’d ever seen. “What’s Baku favorite color?” The confident boy shouted across the room. “Green.” Bakugou called back gruffly, but with a small smile on his lips as he watched the boy sink back into his chair and search for a green crayon. It was right then that it was decided this little boy would play the non-speaking role of Tam. And if it did things to Bakugou’s feelings to look into the Kirishima boy’s eyes identical to his big brother’s and have to pretend to be his father when the stage lights hit... that was nobody’s fucking business.

- Originally Momo auditioned for Kim as well, but in much the same vein as Kirishima’s audition hers was beautiful, but Kyoka’s was heart wrenching (and like I said - the Yaoyorozu’s would never stand for nepotism, and they made sure the director knew not to give their daughter any special treatment). There’s some kind of trauma in Jirou’s life (I hinted at something vaguely in the Les Mis post, but I didn’t want to get too specific because this isn’t an actual fic, it’s just a prompt if somebody feels like running with it) and this role, like Fantine, hurts to play at times. No worries though, her girlfriend is right there waiting to comfort her in the sweetest and most adorable ways when life feels a little too heavy for her.

- It is once again not lost on Katsuki that the gay guy and the bi girl are cast as love interests to one another. Show biz can be funny that way.

- Kirishima - being very touchy-feely already - actually aids in making the Nightmare/Memory scene even more heartbreaking than it already is with the way he holds Bakugou while he’s screaming about having to leave Kim. The heartbreak on Kirishima’s face only aids in demonstrating the way Chris’ world is absolutely ripping apart - if his best friend John is that upset over empathy, imagine how Chris feels.

- Idk why, but I feel like a Bakugou panic attack is in order behind the scenes in this one - something to do with his mother perhaps? Something unrelated to the show, but something that brings Eijirou and him closer together - and maybe something that instigates a moment where Eijirou opens up about his own mental health struggles?

- The rest of the cast is filled with other classmates as well, but they are not as important, sorry bout it.

- The first time they block the brothel scene and Ashido’s Gina is instructed to get v e r y close to Kirishima’s John, and at first they do ok, and then something snaps and they both burst out screeching and laughing with entirely red faces before having to reset (but once the awkwardness got out of the way they were able to act the way they were supposed to without issues). Knowing someone since middle school, and casually befriending them in high school, only to end up at the same college and become close friends and castmates years later can make a recipe for very awkward scenes when sexual tension is involved (especially when both members of that pair are far, far from straight).

- Because this is a one-night-only show for charity, the bulk of the rehearsals are short in number but long in hours, starting in mid-October - with the tech week, run-through, and show date taking place over Christmas break. Bakugou, and Midoriya (but not Uraraka - who opted to give herself a break and spend the holiday back with her parents, but was absolutely in attendance in the audience) have to stay in their dorms over break since the university isn’t very close to their town. Deku, however, does go home to spend the actual holiday weekend with his mom since rehearsals aren’t scheduled at that time, but despite repeated offers from both Deku and Auntie Inko, Bakugou can’t be convinced to go home - citing his work load as the (fake) reason why. It’s when Kirishima finds out that Bakugou is planning to spend the holiday alone in his dorm room that he is dragged to the Kirishima household, where he actually has the time of his life. The very next weekend, Bakugou is surprised by his parents having driven a long way to surprise him - car full of presents - and whatever drama was going on between him and his mom is squashed and mended as Katsuki (and Eijirou, by invitation - plus Mitsuki brought a gift for him, Ochako, and Izuku) celebrates a second Christmas with the Bakugou’s in Katsuki’s dorm room. Very happy ending on that front, very happy ending in general.

- Aizawa is so proud of his students on show day, and he - warning that he will only ever say this once - tells them as much when he meets them in the lobby outside the dressing rooms after the show.

. . .

Bonus: I don’t know how ShinKami would fit in here, but I’m always down for throwing those boys into the mix.

#bnha fanfic idea #orphaned fic idea #Musical AU #university au #Kirishima Eijirou #bakugou katsuki #oc #kiribaku #jiroumomo

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anobscurename · 4 years ago

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ocean eyes – chris evans

PART I

concept: this is a collection of happenings, the little moments with him, rather than a whole thought-out fic. the slowest of slow burns. this is the second part, the reunion. this is what happens when the night is over.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 2,618

warnings: none, except a little profanity

author’s note: part two is here! i hope you like it :)

The second time you met Chris, was while you were at work. You were a cocktail waitress at a relatively posh, incredibly elite, uptown bar. The kind that charges you way too much for a drink so little, and probably sells diamond infused vodka. This was the night spot of everyone who was anyone – gods that sipped golden champagne from fine, polished Baccarat flutes that were probably worth your house.

You had no problem with rich people. You just had a problem with the way some treated you – and that was to say, not very well.

“Hey.” A male voice startled you out of your near robotic drink making. They were a bit understaffed that night, so you had taken the liberty of helping out behind the bar while the tables in your section remained vacant. You were somewhat of an expert cocktail maker – you could even safely say you could do it blindfolded (an exceptionally wild bachelor’s party provided proof enough). So it wasn’t uncommon for your mind to drift elsewhere while you mixed a drink. You tilted your head slightly in the direction of your co-worker, letting him know you were listening, while still pretending to be way more immersed in your task than you really were. It was that anti-social kind of night, where you’d rather be curled up at home with Netflix and a mug of tea rather than be there (despite being fully aware of how many girls would kill to have entry to the most exclusive club in Los Angeles). But the pay was good – excellent, actually – and you did get some really nice patrons at times. And your co-workers? They weren’t half bad, either. “There’s a table that just sat down in your station.”

You swore under your breath, finished mixing the drink with a sped efficiency, and handed it off to the patron. “Your station” was the VIP section, and was rarely very busy so early in the evening. You knew club routine well enough by now: pre-drinks before the party were often done at home, in the limos, or in a relatively tame bar somewhere nearby. This was for the pleasantries, the catching up, the conversations that would inevitably be drowned out by the pounding music if done anywhere else. That usually occurred around this time. This club – and many like it – the kind that was where everyone who was anyone had to be seen at – was the second phase. The party phase. The phase where most of the time, drama, and scandal, took place. This was often from 10pm till 4am, depending on the stamina of the party goers. And then the wind down: after parties, often held at someone’s house. This was the natural order of the night world, and you respected people who respected that. You modelled your entire schedule around that.

That’s why you had assumed that your station would’ve been empty until much later – until after pre-drinks and conversations. Whoever just sat down in VIP – they were disturbing the natural fucking order, and you were not having it. Well, you were silently not having it; you still needed, like, money.

Your job didn’t come without it’s perks, though. A murder of stunning people were sat on the plush leather couches surrounding black marble topped tables behind the velvet chain that separated them from the masses. Some you recognised instantly from the big screen, and others from the tabloids. And one from a personal encounter… Your breath caught and you damn near choked.

There he was, reclined on the couch, so at ease with his arms spread over the back, grinning and laughing at something someone had said. He wasn’t looking at you. Yet. That changed abruptly, as soon as you (after having gathered your confidence) introduced yourself to them.

He faltered slightly in his laugh, but his grin remained – growing even wider, as slowly, he tilted his head to look over at you.

Immediately his eyes brightened. If there was any doubt in your mind as to whether or not it was really him, it dissipated with that single nod of recognition he gave you.

You cleared your throat as a small diversion to clear your head. “Are you ready to order?”

They rattled off their orders, almost all of them barely paying any attention to your silent exchange with Chris. Almost.

A (begrudgingly) stunning female on Chris left, who was pressed eagerly into his side, gave you a dirty once over and sneered out her order to you. Oh. She was one of those. The ones who looked down at literally anyone not a billionaire.

He noticed her disdain, and his grin fell. A small victory, he revoked his arm from around her – bemused by her display of deluded superiority. You had to physically hide your smirk as you got the last order – his – and slipped behind the bar with the orders engraved in your mind.

——————

The group departed after about two hours. Two hours of eyeing the table (mainly to check if their glasses were still full, or if they needed anything else – or at least that’s what you kept telling yourself), two hours of stolen glances – ones that you were always the first to pull away from, usually after the inevitable smirk that touched his lips when you looked for a bit longer than you should.

When they left, you cleaned the table. Who was he? He seemed to have friends in high places, but there was something else… You knew, when you first met him, that you knew his face. Ugh, that itch was back – the one in the brain where you know you know something but it’s evading your every grasp – and it was refusing to go away. Like an earworm of a melody, lyrics forgotten.

It plagued you for the remainder of your shift �� which wasn’t necessarily long, just an hour or so more – and even as you got ready to go home.

It was approaching peak hours now, and so you knew the front would be bustling with paps and desperate social climbers begging for entrance from the surly bouncers, who stood as monoliths in churning seas. Because with peak hours, came the rich and famous; socialites, actors, singers, designers, models. And with them, the gods of the nightlife, came the screaming hordes.

God, you were dramatic. You smirked to yourself, at the internal monologue you were maintaining, as you punched in the code to slip out the back. Anything to keep a scrap of sanity in these long nights. So wrapped up in your own thoughts, you didn’t notice him following you until he laid a scopic hand on your shoulder.

You whirled, shoving him against a wall, knee approaching dangerously close to his crotch before you mercifully faltered at the familiar face.

“Chris?!” You were breathless with exhilaration, adrenaline thick in your veins at having been caught off guard. You released him, stepping away to run your hand through your hair to brush it away from your face. “What are you doing, hiding in a back alley, trying to catch unsuspecting girls off guard?!”

He chuckled at your scolding tone, at the way you pressed a hand to your beating heart, over the top dramatism at play in your actions. “Trying to catch an unsuspecting girl off guard. Obviously.”

You realised then how strange it was for him to still be here; his party departed at least an hour and a half ago. “Did you wait out here for me?”

“Can you promise not to kick me in the balls if I said yes?”

You laughed as he cautiously eyed your legs at his sentiment. “So, what, you’re following me now?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I’m not the one who waited an hour for someone, out in a back alley, in the freezing cold.” To punctuate your point, a cold blast of wind ripped through the alleyway, worming its way under your coat to stroke at your skin with cold tendrils. You shivered, crossing your arms to preserve the warmth. “You’re not an axe murderer, are you?”

He patted down his pockets. “Ah, shit. Must’ve left my axe at home.” His tone was dead serious, but at your roll of the eyes, he grinned.

You buried your hands in your pocket to stave off the chill. Weirdly enough, after the initial shock, you were glad to have someone with you to walk with you to your car, parked three blocks away to make room for the patrons’ stretch limousines. You inclined your head in the direction of your vehicle, nodding for him to walk with you.

He smiled softly, following you out of the dim lighting of the alleyway, into the lights of the main road. The clamour outside of the club was a roar, the leering of the paps at the celebrities who entered becoming a jumble of white noise.

You noticed how, as soon as you both approached the light, he ducked his head and upturned the collar of his jacket, avoiding the peoples’ attentative eye. You both pushed by relatively unnoticed, and you only spoke again when the bellowing crowd was a distant memory.

“So, who are you?”

The question took him by surprise. The action of lighting the cigarette he had propped between his lips stuttered, and he gave you an apprehensive look. He struck the match he had poised in his hand, looking down to watch where the flame licked. “You know who I am.”

“You just sat where Justin Bieber sat. I served drinks to the Kardashians on that couch. Only the VIPs of VIPs sit there. So, are you famous or something?”

Shaking the match out, he took a drag – prolonging his answer as long as he possibly could. He deliberated you, wondering what your reaction would be. Would you treat him differently, now? “Or something.”

You eyed him up, skeptical, before breaking into a massive grin. “Cool,” you said non-chalantly. Or at least in your head. What you really said was: “I fucking knew I wasn’t losing my mind! I fucking knew it, Mr I-Just-Have-One-Of-Those-Faces. Oh my God, I’m not crazy, fuck yes!”

The look he gave you negated that entirely, because indeed, he was looking at you as if you were a mad woman, in spite of the amused twist of his lips. “Are you done?”

After a moment of appraising him, you nodded, calm again. “Yeah, I’m done.”

You were less excited that you were in the presence of celebrity royalty, more relieved that you weren’t insane for feeling he was so familiar. That was refreshing for Chris; usually after someone discovered his identity, they would treat him differently – sidling up to him, for a favour or money or status or cloning DNA. Or for workout tips, but he got that regularly. Barring the brief moment of unhinged happiness you displayed, you treated him as you did before. Like when he stole your cab.

“Andy Barber!” You had started walking again, him alongside you, in a pleasant silence. Your outburst caused both of you to pause again. “Ransom Drysdale? Steve Rogers…”

He arched a brow in question, taking a pensive drag from his cigarette. “Are you having a stroke?”

“That’s where I recognise you from.” Mumbling to yourself, you muttered “God, I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

He chuckled, flicking the ash off his cigarette, both of you continuing on in a comfortable silence.

“So, what did I do to deserve the chance at having you escort me to my car?”

He stomped out the cigarette, smoke curling from his lips as he tried to find the best way to word his question. “I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh, you can proposition my fist to your face,” you chuckled in disbelief. “Just because you’re all high and mighty and famous doesn’t mean that every girl you meet is going to throw themselves at your feet even if you did buy me pizza and you’re all smug and handsome and have impeccable dress sense like, seriously, what is that? Armani? What? Why are you laughing at me?”

He had started laughing sometime during your rant and the sound, contagious and warm, had caused you to falter. You fought a smile that was threatening to rise. You were trying to make a point, goddamnit, and you would be damned if he was going to ruin it with his smug, handsome face.

“A business proposition, {your name},” he managed to say among the peels of laughter. “But please, do go on my impeccable dress sense.”

You were mortified. You probably sounded proper arrogant, thinking that he wanted to get in your pants. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands for a moment to conceal the fast rising heated flush of embarrassment. Conceal, don’t feel. Don’t let him know. Thanks, Elsa.

“What, uh,” you cleared your throat, turning away to continue your stalling trek (and to avoid his gaze). “What business proposition?”

“Do you like dogs?”

You ignored how laugh-drunk his voice sounded – gravelly and lilted with amusement. It just served to feed your embarrassment further. “Love them. Why?”

Now it was his turn to clear his throat. “I recently, uh, split up with my girlfriend and I’m heading to Vancouver for a few months for a film. She was meant to help look after Dodger and the house while I was gone, but, given the recent change in plans, that would appear to no longer be an option.”

He avoided your gaze as you glanced over at him, but you could see the throb of the muscle in his jaw, indicating the grit of his teeth.

“And you have deemed me worthy?” You tried lightening the mood a little, and was satisfied by his small smile and accompanying chuckle.

“I know it’s too much to ask of a stranger–”

“Why don’t you get a friend to do it?”

“I would, if any were deemed worthy,” he teased. Warmth swelled in his eyes when he looked at you next, and paired with that smile and the words he spoke next, you knew you would do anything he asked. “And I am asking a friend.”

A beat passed. “Fine. I’ll live in your stupid mansion and look after your stupid dog. Okay, I didn’t mean that last bit, I’m sure Dodger is lovely, but I’ll have you know: I don’t come cheap.”

“What, living in my mansion isn’t good enough?”

“Fuck no! I still need to feed the dog, clean up after it, clean the house, have money on hand for damages in case I get too wild by myself… There’s a long, fucking list.”

“I’m sure we can make an arrangement,” he smirked.

You shivered slightly at the double entendres laced in his words; good thing it was cold, so you could easily excuse it.

“What makes you think I’ll say yes?” You tip your head in the direction of the club from which you were making your slow escape. “They pay well, a lot better than house sitting.”

“Are you happy there?”

You balked at his question. “The money is good–”

“I wasn’t asking about the money, I was asking if you were happy.” He arched a brow, something close to concern crossing his face.

“I–”

He cocked his head, waiting for an answer. You knew you couldn’t lie to him.

“No, not really. Some people are real assholes, especially when drunk.”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll come work for me.”

“Woah, hey now. I can’t just… Uproot my life and live with you. For starters, I have a lease and stuff. And I have a life, a job, a–”

“I have an adorable mixed boxer and a Jacuzzi.”

“When do I start?”

#chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans/you #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #chris evans/reader #chris evans fluff #dina writes #when the night is over #ocean eyes #part two

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 3 years ago

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“While miners and longshoremen in the West were initially strong supporters of the One Big Union [OBU], the largest group of frontier labourers to sign up were those commonly known as "timber beasts," the loggers. Initially the work of unionists Helena Gutteridge and Birt Showler, the BC Loggers Union, renamed the Lumber Workers Industrial Union (LWIU), quickly came to be dominated by Ernest Winch, an ardent supporter of the OBU. Writers for the LWIU newspaper, the Camp Worker, published reports of camp conditions, warning working men to stay away from sites where they were treated not as men but "dogs." Following in the footsteps of the Wobblies in matters of religion, OBU men also ridiculed the travelling preacher who "runs around like his lord and master in a female night shirt."

Largely the work of editor Bill Pritchard, the pages of the Camp Worker articulated a symbolic economy of masculinities which differentiated loyal union men from "those unspeakable pimps that, feeding upon the working class movement, at all times act and speak on behalf of their masters." The working man who scabbed was a "lap-dog" who cast "literary bouquets into the bosom of his loving master." Pritchard offered a hierarchy of social problems in which class exploitation was the ultimate symbol of capitalist power relations, while issues he associated with women -- prostitution and fashion-oriented consumerism -- were trivial, even whimsical, in comparison:

We can feel sympathy for the poor femal[e] driven by the effects of the capitalist system to a life of shame upon the streets, and sometimes a pitying and amusing interest might be displayed in her who, bound to fashion's ridiculous whims, would impede the natural movement of her pedo-extremities by binding her nether limbs around with the horrible skirt of hobble design. But there can be nothing but contumely and disgust for the man mighty in his so-called wisdom, who sells himself so completely to capital, as to put hobbles on his brains and prostitute his mentality.

In contrast to the servile manhood of scabs stood representations of radical male loggers, the "timber beasts," as bearers of Marxist masculinity. Loggers were told to join the LWIU in order to "Prove your manhood! Think for yourself. Act for yourself!" With its emphasis on the physicality of work and features such as a weekly death count in the forests, the propaganda of the Camp Worker appealed to a particular sense of working-class masculinity rooted in life as a frontier labourer. The subjectivity of craftsmen was quite different in many respects, infused with traditional elements of skill, job control, and respectability which clashed with the transient and often brutal aspects of unskilled work. Craftsmen rooted their sense of manhood in the connections they made among their control of the workplace, their position as family breadwinner, and their collective morality of self-discipline, including sexuality.

The practices of artisanal independence were founded on the economic dependence and familial subordination of women as well as the maintenance of craft exclusivity through the system of apprenticeship. As a result, for many, entry into the craft fraternity was seen as marking the transition from youth to manhood. OBU supporter Alex Shepherd spoke glowingly of his entry into craft work, recalling that "the machinists in this plant were a wonderful bunch. They helped me in everything I had to do, showed me how to set up my work, and watched over me like a father would." These paternal figures also introduced Shepherd to politics, teaching him phrases to sing to the rhythm of machines such as "You're being robbed -- you fool." This feeling was echoed by fellow machinist Bob Russell, who connected his becoming a socialist with the successful completion of an apprenticeship and entrance into the union.

While craftsmen-in-crisis and unskilled workers held varying conceptions of manliness rooted in their different life experiences, they shared the almost complete absence of women in terms of political power within their unions. As increasing numbers of women became involved in wartime production, many skilled occupations became the site of conflict over the sexual division of labour. Skilled men clung to their power, which lay in their accumulation of craft knowledge and their ability to represent their interests as the interests of the wider labour movement. Indeed, socialists such as Bob Russell took part in the gender struggle of craftsmen to prevent the entry of women into the metal trades during the war. As editor of the Machinists Bulletin, Russell informed his membership, "we can assure you if they try the introduction of women taking the place of men in the shops of Winnipeg, we will fight." While skilled men associated the feminization of craft work with deskilling and lower rates of pay, their resistance was also deeply gendered, relying on a particular sense of "masculinity as a focal point for individual identity and collective loyalty." Consequently, the transformation of skilled work through Taylorism and other managerial strategies struck at the heart of the craftsman's sense of self in multiple ways.

The One Big Union drew upon the radical heritage of craftsmen and reworked this history of resistance in light of "the industrial changes that have taken place," launching a critique of scientific management and other new forms of bourgeois discipline. OBU advocates believed that the connections made between control of the work process, respectability and skilled unionism could no longer be forged because of the transformation of the work process under monopoly capitalism:

In the days gone by, when the skilled craftsmen produced an article by himself largely by hand work, the craft union organization correctly reflected his interests on the job, but with the introduction of modern methods of production, the skilled worker has been reduced to a large extent to the position of a machine tender or specialist, who contributes but one or two operations in the production of the finished article.

This contradiction between the practices of skilled manhood and "modern methods of production" was to be resolved, they believed, through the creation of an inclusive, revolutionary union which would bring about the end of class exploitation. In this light, the OBU was represented as the institutional expression of male maturity: "Unionism was in the evolution of Society and grew from babyhood to youth and is now approaching manhood. Naturally, in the baby condition it did not realize the fundamental nature of the struggle; it fought blindly and wildly." 1919 was the period of the new socialist man; "the man who knows his Marx and is in possession of the technology of industry as well ... is the man of the immediate future," opined Tom Cassidy.

Another writer encouraged workers to reject the "moss-covered and age-old institution" of craft unionism by appealing to modernist feelings of unity and progress: "Let us cut those strings which lead us apart and strengthen those cords which bind us together. A new day arises. New conditions produce new needs. New needs demand new ideas, new forms of organization are hammered out. In union there is strength." Thus, while the masculinity of frontier labourers and craftsmen in crisis differed in various aspects, OBU organizers appealed to shared ways of being a working man and attempted to bridge the racial and sectional disparities through new forms of class organization. Consider Brenton Braily's poem, "The Workers," which was published in several OBU newspapers. While ostensibly about "the workers," men and women, it is clear that working men were the only subject of the poem:

I have broken my hands on your granite, I have broken my strength on your steel, I have sweated through years for your pleasure, I have worked like a slave for your weal.

Braily castigated the "masters and drivers of men" for the pathetic wages which rendered male workers dependent and servile, forced to "beg for more Labor again." However, Braily was concerned with more than just the abolition of the wage system, for he had been alienated from more than his labour:

I have given my strength and my manhood, I have given you my gladness and youth, You have used me and spent me and crushed me And throw me aside without faith.

While Braily saw the gendered experience of working men in terms of class and production rather than race, skill or status, he envisioned exploitation, and its end, in terms of male entitlement:

I have built you the World in its beauty, I have brought you the glory and spoil ... Yet I suffer it all in my patience, For somehow I dimly have known That somehow the Workers would conquer,

In a World that was made for His own. Poems such as Braily's were shining examples of how OBU men were caught up in a gendered critique of capitalism. To work was to alienate one's manhood; socialism meant its restoration.

In seeking to reconstitute working-class masculinities by ending class exploitation, OBU men distinguished themselves from wage-oriented conservative unionists. As with the rhetoric of the Western Labor Conference, this conflict was mapped out through different masculinities, with weakness, passivity and servility signifying reformist organizers. Bob Russell assailed the "Jimmy willings or the wishy washy guys" who refused to fight class exploitation. Similarly, a writer in the OBU Bulletin informed readers that the "labor leader obsessed by the virus of status is ... a plastic, spineless, spiritless object." Yet another depicted labour bureaucrats as "a weak-kneed, spineless crew," while Matt Glenday attacked them for being "a privileged exclusive group" that was "coaxed, petted and fondled by the employing class."

Perhaps the most detailed analysis of the miserable masculinity of conservative union leaders was found in Frank Woodward's series entitled "Evolution," which began its run in the Bulletin in early January 1920. A future editor of the paper, Woodward provided his readers with a serial outlining the classical Marxist conception of economic stages and its relationship to social problems. Woodward's initial foray was a lengthy discussion concerning how an archetypal "labor leader" was subtly seduced to "betray his comrades" by the ruling class. Woodward suggested that, to undermine the independence of labour leaders, bosses used gradual pressure so as to not pose "an open affront to their manhood." Eventually, union leaders acquiesced, becoming class traitors while losing whatever positive attributes of manhood they previously possessed:

Any return of manliness reacts unpleasantly upon him ... The women-folk of his own household even reproach him, telling him to be careful what he says, and not to jeopardize their future and his own ... At times, he has to confront angry workers. Even the women at his meetings call him traitor and tell him he has "sold out."

The "labor leader" had lost his manhood, and all that it implied --independence, political integrity, and mastery over his world. Indeed, his patriarchal power was "even" challenged by "the women-folk of his own household" and "even the women at his meetings," implying that working women were typically less likely to protest against class treachery than men. In Woodward's mind, the One Big Union would enable working men to be men, to work, to provide for their families, and to control their future, a sharp contrast to the weakness of conservative unionists. In its simplest expression, radical manhood was centred around the belief that the workers "produce[d] all wealth" and possessed the knowledge to govern society without the "parasites" -- bosses, politicians, and union bureaucrats. Even opponents of the OBU such as David Rees remained "convinced that the overwhelming majority of the workers who do a little studying believe in the slogan --Production for use, not for profit." This idea was strengthened by a number of strikes which displayed the power of the rank and file. As Bob Russell later observed, if workers, through their collective strength, "showed they had the power to stop the wheels of industry [they] also showed they had the power to start the wheels of industry -- they couldn't start without them, you understand -- then you had shown economic sense."

Workers had no need for the bourgeoisie, the "other fellow," because they could "manage without managers." Nor did they need politicians, even those who were once workers, since they "are no longer working men. It is years since they had on overalls, or since they toiled at the bench, in the shop or in the mine." Drawing upon their collective power, working men could also overcome the limitations of international unionism, which was "a menace to every organization which has any wish to struggle for manhood and freedom of action in resisting the aggressions of big capital."

- Todd McCallum, " `Not a Sex Question'? The One Big Union and the Politics of Radical Manhood," Labour/Le Travail, 42 (Fall 1998), 34-37.

#one big union #trade unionists #syndicalism #industrial workers of the world #working class #masculinities #masculinity #lumber worker #bush camp #lumber camp #lumberjacks #capitalism #capitalism in canada #canadian history #working class politics #working class struggle #academic quote #academic research

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ladyeliot · 4 years ago

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The nearness of you. Chapter Two [B.B]

When she met him masterlist

All of me. Chapter One

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader [Michelle]

Summary: While you try to live a new life in West Berlin, forgetting your past, the Winter Soldier can't forget you as he carries out his missions.

Warnings: Murder. Mentions of violence.

Word count: 3075

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

West Berlin, June 1954

The last few weeks had been the ideal of aspiration that any girl would wish to live in her youth. That was the phrase you symptomatically repeated to yourself every morning when you woke up and looked at yourself in the mirror. However, Berlin was not a paradise to start fulfilling your dreams, let alone to start a life as a couple. The fact that you had been hanging around the most select and exquisite clubs in the area did not take away the fact that it was an occupied city after a world war that had lasted 6 years and 1 day, and that it had to be shared with the opposite side. The images of the chinks in the conflict that appeared before your eyes every morning made an impression on you. You had barely been living in Germany for a month and you felt that your work was minimal compared to that of other women.

You looked calmly at your hands, especially that finger that you had thought would contain a ring a couple of weeks ago, when you had celebrated your birthday together. However, that moment never came and you began to question whether you were really playing the right role in your life. There was no lack of champagne, no lack of jewellery, no lack of kisses, no lack of nights of passion, so you told yourself that there was nothing to worry about. Moreover, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, things were moving forward without you present, for every week your dear friend Nancy would update you on your mother and Charles, to whom she had definitely become engaged. At such a discovery your emotions clashed in a battle of happiness and anger, happiness for the fact that two of the most important people in your life had found love, and anger for several reasons, the first being that you had not been present with them and the second that you had not been able to share the same news yourself. On the other hand, you had barely been able to maintain contact with your mother. You had assumed that the pain your departure had caused her was terrible for her, and it was acceptable that she did not want to answer your calls. The situation made you feel sick inside, imagining having lost her husband in Europe because of the war, and now having lost her daughter because of your departure to Germany, it was logical how bitter her mother must have been.

"... one of the most charming and talented voices to settle in this city", Richard's voice sounded in the distance.

You lifted your gaze which had become lost in your own thoughts and with a falsely unfounded joy you took a puff on your cigarette and smiled at each of your partner's friends sitting around you. Like every night, it was your turn to be present at Richard's long, boring meetings. Occasionally you could count on some female company, probably a companion of one of the generals, who at most talked banalities with you, but that night there was only male company.

"Darling, I think I'll retire to my room," you whispered in his ear, hoping to get rid of the atmosphere as soon as possible.

"Would you like me to join you?" he asked, instantly stubbing out his cigarette.

"Oh, don't bother," you got up from your seat and grabbed the sling. "I just want to take a hot bath and get into bed to rest," you placed your lips on his. "Enjoy your night."

"Okay, sweetheart," he kissed you again.

The racket that broke out as your figure walked away from the table reached your ears.

It was inevitable that your thoughts of guilt would arise in situations like these, when loneliness found you and you were in a world of your own. You had faced complicated experiences throughout your life, which were only forgotten when you got on stage and managed to express all your feelings in those lyrics. The music comforted you, it showed who you really were.

As you got into the lift you closed your eyes, waiting for that moment when your feet would rest bare on the carpet of the room, your dress would show your nakedness and your body would get into the hot water of the bathtub. But the only thing you felt when you dropped into the warmth of the bathtub were those blue eyes staring at you from afar, sitting on the bar of the 'Central Club'.

For as long as you can remember, every time you prostrated yourself before a stage and a large crowd, you were curious to discover what the many gazes before you were hiding. What were they hiding? What were their lives like? Each one of them was different, each one of them expressed a series of feelings and hid others. However, that one left a trace in you. It was not at all difficult to find him night after night in the crowd, he always occupied the same seat, he always disappeared after the first song, but there he was night after night, watching you, captivating you from the left flank of the hall. He wore the uniform of a private in the American army, you had made up your own story about him, maybe he was a soldier, he had just been sent to Germany from Kansas, his father had fought in the Battle of the Atlantic and you wanted to honour him. Whatever his story was, you wanted to discover it and you knew that nothing could stop you.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Berlin.

For the past couple of weeks his mission had been to maintain contact with the west side of Berlin, while remaining unnoticed by the soldiers and officers, both American and British, who had been sitting in the western part of the German city. His procedure had changed, however, and a departure from the other days was about to take place. His knowledge of the area was almost self-evident, he knew their most frequented locations, as well as the connections of the officers and superiors of both nations. He knew their activities and which of them had the most to lose and deserved the most, so it could be said that the orders given to the soldier had been carried out with high expectations and HYDRA knew it.

The young private was walking through the streets of the village, the sun was beating down, but there was still life in the village. A group of children no more than eight years old were hiding in the barricade of wooden crates he had formed, the soldier passed them and at that very moment they rose to shoot him with an imaginary weapon they held in their hands. Their feet stopped and a stern glance was automatically directed at them, who soon fled in terror at the gesture. Those impassive blue eyes turned back to the front to continue on their way to the Concordia Hotel club, mostly known for its variety shows offered to a purely male audience.

Like every Wednesday night, the main lounge was open to British and American soldiers, where alcohol was drunk and poker games were played until the early hours of the morning. It was casual to find men from the upper echelons mixed in the crowd, for they were the main procurers of the fortunes at stake on those nights. The soldier entered with little trouble, marking his territory by looking around, hoping to find someone who would capture his full attention, but he never arrived. He knew she was staying there, he had seen her come and go on more than one occasion with the expensively dressed civilian.

In the centre of the stage a girl in full figure-hugging clothes was trying to attract the attention of the men in the room, but he was hardly interested in her. He approached the bar and ordered a brandy, waiting for the right moment to carry out his mission. The stuffy atmosphere, especially the smoke from the cigarettes and cigars, made him sick, he could hardly focus his attention on the figures seated around the tables, and the noise didn't make it any easier either. A British sergeant he had met a couple of nights ago raised his hand to salute him from across the room, but he gave him a slight nod and remained seated there.

As the minutes, and later the hours, passed, he came to the conclusion how alcohol can really affect a person's physical and mental capacity. He discovered it not with himself, but with those people he had not ceased to contemplate. To her right, almost to the exclusion of the crowd, was a round table of British officers and only one gentleman, not in uniform, was her partner.

"Gentlemen, you know I cannot give you the answer you seek," laments came from the mouths of the three British officers. "What kind of a man would I be if I revealed one of my beautiful partner's many qualities?

"Come on Miller, who are you kidding?" asked a dark-haired officer as he took a puff on his cigar. "That I've known you for years."

The four of them burst into laughter at the same time, still keeping their cards hidden. In the centre of the table stood a large amount of bets they had been placing throughout the night, and the soldier did not know where they had come from.

"You really have brought with you the woman with the most beautiful lips in all of New York," asked one of the participants. "What are your plans for her? Will she last longer than the last one? What was her name? Astrid?"

"No, that was Rebecca, the one with the lush breasts," the third in discord added to the conversation. "Now that was a woman, her gifts did not go unnoticed."

Again they laughed at the same time. At that moment the soldier, still seated in front of the mud, took a sip of his second drink of the night.

"To tell you the truth, I think my fortune has come with her," said the out-of-uniform civilian as he took a letter, "and I mean in many respects. It's inevitable not to recognise the charm in her voice, I think she has a lot of talent and I think she has possibilities."

"Of her talents there is no doubt," the jocular tone was apparent among his companions providing amusement to the matter again. "Were you the first to discover them, Richard?"

"What do you think, Alfred?" the man pulled his cigarette away from his lips and arched an eyebrow, creating suspense among his friends. "A young girl, a New Yorker, an only child, from a good family, who had just been accepted to NYU and hadn't left the city. I think that's more than obvious.

The dark-haired officer delivered a blow to the back of Richard, who seemed to feel as if he had just deposited a decoration on his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, the soldier was watching the scene to his right, impassively concentrating on his newly refilled brandy snifter. His jaw stiffened at the words that came in a steady stream through his ears.

"Miller, don't tell us about his life, you know what we're interested in," reacted one of the members. "I didn't remember you being so haughty, perhaps the trip to America has taken its toll.

"Dear Arthur, just tell me what you wish to hear and I will fulfil your requests," the gentleman jokingly replied as he stubbed out his cigarette. "You know I would never let you down," he said.

"Don't say that twice." Alfred laughed, taking a card from the deck.

"Alright," he nodded lighting a new cigarette which he took out of the box. "Let's start with her lips, since you mentioned them. If what you really want to know is the way her virgin lips run over every part of me, I must tell you that you would never think that those red lips had ever rested on anyone."

The soldier clenched his metal fist, which was kept hidden under a glove, as he surprised himself by remembering the image of those lips within earshot of the microphone a couple of weeks ago. The conversation became increasingly coarse until it reached a point where he was explaining in detail the gestures and sounds the young woman made at her moment of pleasure. The soldier clenched his jaw tighter in anger at those words, at that very moment a cracking sound was heard in front of him and a burning sensation began to emerge in the palm of his hand. It took him a few moments to realise that the force exerted by his fingers had caused the glass of the cup to fracture and cut his skin. He hardly said anything about the situation, nor did the waiter notice, as the number of people in the room kept him somewhat busy. He removed the glass embedded in his own flesh and took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around his hand.

Not more than ten minutes passed when two of the latent officers in the poker game rose to their defeat, so after saying goodbye they continued on their way to the exit door. The soldier hid from them with his back to them and with a sea of doubts in his mind, for he desired more the prey that lay before his eyes still seated at that round table, the one called Richard. Nevertheless, he decided not to reject this good opportunity offered by destiny, so he walked briskly after them, hiding both hands in his trouser pockets. Outside there was a placid relief after two hours in the dreary hall, the officers stood on the pavement in front of the roadway waiting, presumably, for a car to come for them. The soldier mimicked the gesture, but always keeping a few feet away.

"If I told you the number of times it had crossed my mind to smash his face in, you couldn't count them on your own hands," the brown-haired British officer nodded as he listened.

"Don't worry Arthur, I don't think you'll be the first or even the last one to think that."

Yellow headlights approached from the far side of the road, it was barely midnight, yet it was not a very busy area. The car stopped in front of the door, and both gentlemen after finishing their cigarettes opened the doors and stepped inside. The soldier waited for both of them to take their seats and the car to start so he could carry out his mission, which was all tied up with threads, however the dark-haired man, before closing his own door, became aware of his presence.

"Hey, soldier!" he called out from his seat. "Do you want us to take you somewhere?"

The young man blinked slowly, taking in the information and processing it for his own benefit.

"Thank you very much colonel," he approached the car.

"Come on, get in the front and we'll drop you off wherever you say," the officer reported again, closing the back door.

The soldier thanked them again for the offer and informed them that he was going to a suburb of West Berlin. In those moments he was fascinated by the facilities that lay before him that night, after that moment when he thought he had lost his own control inside the premises. His mind worked quickly, making connections between the events that were generated and his orders offered by his superiors. He formulated a map of the route he was to follow according to the direction given, and waited five minutes until they reached one of the less crowded streets of the place. The officers were engaged in an unrelated conversation until they asked him about his fortune that night.

"I hope it gets better," said the soldier with hardly a hint of interest in his words.

"I take your words soldier, I have lost a great deal of money tonight," the dark-haired officer replied. "Though I suppose it would be better with a young lady by my side. Do you have one waiting for you?"

"Not my priority sir," he argued.

Both occupants laughed at this response, and began to talk to each other again, leaving him aside, which he was grateful for, as he had to keep all his senses focused on the road. He watched the driver out of the corner of his eye, inspecting his every move, and then noted that there were only a few yards to go before they reached their destination.

Darkness fell over them, for they had left the city centre behind them, and there was barely a glimmer of light on the street. Before them lay a new paradigm that the soldier had forged in his head to carry out his mission. The road became narrower, with a series of curves that brought their journey to an end. Cold sweat broke out on every part of his body, as the thunderous laughter inside the car rumbled in his head. He looked to his left at the driver who barely seemed to realise what was about to happen, his full attention was drawn to his hands, which were gripping the steering wheel tightly, and then he looked down at his own, one of them wrapped in a bloody handkerchief and the other of them under a black glove. He hid his wounded hand in his pocket, for he did not wish to leave any marks on the spot, while with the other in a flash he brought it to the driver's neck, causing him to run out of air on the spot. He quickly hit his right leg, which gave him an increase in speed, and then swerved, sending the car crashing into the face of a ruined building.

The sensation he felt in that millisecond was unheard of, but it was the first of many that he would come to feel and that decades later would barely let him sleep.

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trainsinanime · 5 years ago

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I see a lot of posts in the Miraculous Ladybug fandom complaining that we never get to see Adrien (as Chat Noir) be as awesome as Marinette (as Ladybug). Even in situations that seem designed to do so, like the power swap episode, it’s still very much clear that Marinette remains in the lead and more powerful. This, many posts argue, is unfair and they hate it.

The thing is: I actually really love it. I do so because I’ve seen way too many animated TV shows that have a male/female duo that is set up as somewhat balanced, but then end up downplaying her competence in order to tell the boys’s story. Consider Sword Art Online, Fairy Tail, Bleach, or the one that personally frustrated me the most, Twin Star Exorcist. Man, I hate that show (Yes, these examples are all anime, because most of the western TV shows I watched as a child didn’t even try to have equal female representation. Anyone remember the Smurfs?).

Miraculous Ladybug is the inversion of that. Here we have a case with a male/female duo where the girl is the leader, and she’s just plain better. She has more powers (depending on how you count night vision and purring), but even if the powers are reversed or gone, she’s the one who leads the team and does all the planning. As one otherwise forgettable tie-in comic put it, her superpower is nothing to do with the magic, it’s her brain.

And the show is not shy about that at all. You don’t need to analyse their weapons, armour and skills to find out who would win in a fight. It has happened repeatedly, and the winner is Ladybug, always. In fact, she’s so clearly the winner that they had to ratchet up the difficulty for her. Can she defeat an evil Chat Noir… and also make out with him? Yes, as seen in Dark Cupid. Can she defeat an evil Chat Noir if he has been enhanced with the power of ultimate destruction? Yes, as seen in Chat Blanc. Can she defeat an evil Chat Noir and also like five other guys at the same time? Yes, totally, all she needs is a power strip that she uses as a second yo-yo, as seen in Puppeteer, in a case where her ultimate plan is just “do the same thing as always but twice as good”, and she pulls it off without a hitch. Ladybug is the better one. The show never tries to claim anything else. And that is, to me, really refreshing. If you have never almost torn your heart out in frustration because a show you watched forgot about the female half of its ostensibly equal leading duo in key moments, then well, congratulations, I guess, and don't watch Twin Star Exorcist.

That does not mean Chat Noir is useless. He’s a useful fighter in his own right, and clearly often the difference between winning and loosing a fight. He may not be her equal, but he is 100% indispensable.

For what it’s worth, he knows that and is perfectly alright with it. An interesting part of the show is the way its two leads are set up. It is generally not “He has quality A and she has it as well”, nor “He has quality A and she has the opposite” (aka a plug/socket situation). The defining characteristics of Adrien and Marinette are largely orthogonal and don’t have much to do with each other, but end up complementing each other very well anyway. In this case, that means that for Marinette, being Ladybug is a power fantasy where she, the shy, clumsy wallflower, can be bold and competent. Meanwhile, for Adrien, who is essentially in year fourteen of an eighteen-year prison sentence and trying to get out on good behaviour, Chat Noir is a wish fulfilment fantasy where he can be as free and silly as he likes. The result is that Ladybug goes for power and awesomeness, while Chat Noir is the silliest little kitty in the whole Île-de-France.

(These are not mutually exclusive, of course. Adrien is a capable fighter and, as seen in Oblivio, capable of planning as well. Meanwhile Marinette does a lot more joking and flirting as Ladybug than the fandom generally seems to want to acknowledge.)

This also means that the inversion goes one step further: Adrien’s role is, to a certain extent, to be the heart of the team. He keeps cheering up Ladybug when she’s down and unsure of herself (Origins, season finales). He inspires her to keep fighting on. Also, he’s the one who is better at dealing with small children. Again, this is not exclusive, Marinette is full of empathy herself, but there’s more emotional support from him for her than the other way around overall, because that is his role. He also often fulfils that role for Marinette, whether in or out of mask: He reassures her in Kung Food, builds up her confidence at the Heroes’ Day picnic, tries to cheer her up in Glaciator and so on.

There’s also the whole thing where he seems to be a meta-commentary on Batman, but that’s probably another post.

Another fun fact about the show is that both people’s greatest strengths are also their weaknesses. Marinette has a passion for justice, a strong desire to set things right that she thinks are wrong, and, like many people in the class, exactly no chill at all. Those qualities make her a great Ladybug, both actual and every-day. The very same qualities have also led to several akumatizations, because she forged straight ahead with a half-baked plan and hurt the people she was trying to help. Meanwhile, Adrien generally lets his heart do the thinking. That makes him great emotional support for Marinette. But it has also put strains on their relationship and caused him to make stupid decisions, most notably in the episode Ladybug.

(Not in Chameleon, though, his advice to her there was correct, no matter what so many people in the fandom think. Yes, I can back that up, I just don’t know whether I want to.)

This whole thing where the characters don’t have a list of “good traits” and “bad traits”, but rather just general traits that sometimes work out well and sometimes not so much (plus, for everyone, a general lack of chill), is one of the things that make the show interesting. It’s one of the ways in which it has way better characters than you’d expect in this otherwise honestly kind of mediocre show.

Obviously, the people who dislike (parts of) the show aren’t wrong, that’s just a matter of opinion. But I think that if you just wait for the moment when the show finally shows Adrien to be Marinette B, then you miss a lot of what makes the show so damn interesting.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Marinette dupain-cheng #long post #mlb meta

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divinaes-bookofsecrets · 4 years ago

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Hello! May I please request a spirit guide reading, if you are accepting those at this time? My initials are NS, Sagittarius. Thank you in advance, and I hope you have a lovely day/evening.

HELLO , DEAR SAGITTARIUS ♐ 😘You travel with a great many Spiritual Guardians ; The one that's most important 😊 and most prominent is an enchanting witch goddess.

Her name is Wendolina‐Lynn aka Linà-Lynn but ýou may just call her WENDOLINA

Her sex: female

Her age: 44

Her lucky numbers: 4, 7, 19, 22, 300

Element: FIRE ELEMENT

Zodiac☆Symbol: ♈ Aries, ♌ Leo

(Her horoscope sign mixes with yours impeccably!!! She is your exact perfect match for friendship, even for a relationship in love 😍 but I do not, as a Shamanic Healer, suggest that you pursue any thing romantic with this highly mystical being )

PLANET THAT RULES HER: MARS , and THE SUN

Her Greatest Strength: Dynamic Energy, Motivation, Drive and Willpower, Passionate, Achiever, Enthusiasm

Her Weakness: Desire, Sex Drive,Temperamental

Magick Powers; Cleansing and Purification, Hexes and Banshment and Protection and Prosperity

Moon Phase: Full Moon, 🌙 🌔 🌖 🌛 Eclipse 🌑 Moon

SEASON; YULE

Her Energy is Tied To ACTION !

Time of Day: Noon

Direction: South

Tarot: Wands

Although Goddess Wendolina is eternally a Fire Sign 🔥 😍 She flows like 💧 Water She was born from her ancestors 🌟 in the 🌟 stars !! & She is currently 44 as of this year; She ages one year each and every decade! Lady Wendolina the ♈ Aries woman has been, by the Creator and Universe, molded for you. Ĺady Lina-Lynn iis not ýour typical witch, she's more of a witchesss! And her beauty knows no end. Your Witchess is dark looking if you choose to see her that way, but if you choose to see her fertile enlightening light 😉 ✨ you'll soon see how you are connected 😏 to this mystic enchanting goddess .

Here is she. 🍒🍀🌼🍇🐛🌷🦋🕸🕷🕸🌺🍂🍃

Lady Wendolina-Lynn , is an Aries Goddess of mystical ethereal feminist ♥ ✨ power. She believes in equality--- She thinks that men and women should be sharing more and have equal rights ✅ but of course this sounds a lot like Lilith story does it not🙄 well, there's a reason for that too. Lady Wendolina is actually one of Lilith daughters ! This explains how her down fall is her sex drive. Well, she's deffinitely an amazing Aries specimen isn't she?

Lilith gave her daughter Wendolina the Witchess all the glory, beauty, and powers to behold. She is, like Lilith, demonized 😈 by the men of Earth 🌎 ♥ and the Church.

Wendolina uses her witchy ways to look dark but subtle enough to still practice white magick with her powers. She is the most powerful ✨😈 demon spawn and we should all be proud she uses her powers for only good not evil ever 👏 she's such a sweet darling demonness spawn !!

She has two major looks that are her main makeup choices she (like above) dresses and does Lilith inspired makeup ---Then Wendolina-Lynn does space effect warpaint; representing the stars and the moon where she came from 🌟 🌙

Next ill explain the story of her Mother, Lilith, story as it ties into also the independent woman that your Spirit Guide is plus the independence she represents!

Lilith is an extremely controversial figure within Jewish folklore. Lilith's name is not included in the creation story of the Torah but she appears in several midrashic texts. Her symbolism, history and literature are debated among Jewish scholars, feminists and other intellectuals. There are multiple origin stories for Lilith but the most popular history told views Lilith as the first wife of Adam. According to the "first Eve" story Lilith was created by God from dust and placed to live in the garden with Adam until problems arose between Adam and Lilith when Adam tried to exercise dominance over Lilith. One story tells that Lilith refused to lay beneath Adam during sex. She believed they were created equal, both from the dust of the earth, thus she should not have to lay beneath him. After Adam disagreed, Lilith fled the Garden of Eden to gain her independence. Adam told God that Lilith had left and God sent three angels, Senoi, Sansenoi, and Sammangelof, to retrieve her. The three angels found Lilith in a cave bearing children but Lilith refused to come back to the garden. The angels told her they would kill 100 of her children every day for her disobedience. In revenge, she is said to rob children of life and is responsible for the deaths of still-born infants and crib deaths (SIDS). Male children are at risk of Lilith's wrath for 8 days after birth (until circumcision) and girls are at risk for 20 days. Although Lilith stole children's lives in the night, she agreed not to kill the children who had amulets of either of the three angels.

After the angels' departure, Lilith tried to return to the garden but upon her arrival she discovered that Adam already had another mate, Eve. Out of revenge, Lilith had sex with Adam while he was sleeping and "stole his seed." With his seed she bears 'lilium,' earth-bound demons to replace her children killed by the angels. Lilith is also said to be responsible for males' erotic dreams and night emissions. Another theory says that Lilith is impregnated, thus creating more demons by masturbation and erotic dreams.

🐉🌸ĹILITH AND WENDOLINA HAVE AN APPETITE FOR EARTH MEN🌸🐲

The open-ended nature of the Lilith symbol has allowed different groups to use her as a destructive female symbol or a symbol of female power. Many feminists see Lilith as not only the first woman but the first independent woman created. In the creation story she refuses to allow Adam to dominate her and flees the garden despite the consequences. In order to retain her freedom she must give up her children and in retaliation she steals the seed of Adam. In one account of this story, Lilith is said to "mount Adam" (click here for this version). This version of the story implies that Lilith sexually violated Adam; however, other stories portray Lilith as a demoness who kills children and takes advantage of men while they are sleeping. Jewish halakhic law forbids the spilling of a man's seed and Lilith takes advantage of this, during masturbation and erotic dreams, and uses it to replenish her own offspring.

Although Lilith is controversial some feminists have used her as a symbol of empowerment. For example, one Jewish feminist magazine is called Lilith labels itself as an "Independent Jewish Woman's Magazine." The publishers use Lilith as a title because they believe she is a symbol of independence. However, those who still think of her as a demoness could turn it around and once again label feminists as male bashers or men-haters. They see Lilith as wicked and vengeful towards men and children. With any symbol or icon used by feminists, especially within a religious context, there will be controversy and opposition. Whether or not the story of Lilith is accurate is not the main issue. The "first Eve" version of the story gives Lilith a role that many women can identify within Judaism and other religious traditions. She is an independent woman who challenges the oppressive system in which she is placed. Stealing the lives of children represents a certain madness that accompanies her solitude and exclusion. Despite Lilith's downfalls, she still remains a symbol of power simply by her survival and mysteriousness. She is open for interpretation and therefore allows women to reinterpret her symbolism and power within the tradition.

Picture Lilith's daughter the demoness 😈 spawn sort of like Mortisha Adams from the Adam's Family tv. Show. She's sweet, sultry, she could seduce you, and she's pale but deffinitely dark in a cheerful fun way !

Wendolina's mystical senses have brought her to you at this time to bring you a very important message ;

Here's your messages

Sagittarius predictions for May 17 - May 23

You may be lamenting that there don't seem to be any exciting new opportunities coming your way. You may feel bored and stuck in a rut, wishing that some unique proposition would be yours for the taking. Maybe there is something out there for you, but if you are stuck in a mindset where you are expecting something very specific, Sagittarius, you might not recognize a good thing that is different, even if you metaphorically trip over it. Be open to any chance that comes to you this week, even if it doesn't meet with your preordained idea of what can bring you the success you want. A positive change of circumstances is in the stars for you now, and this week, you may get a good glimpse of it. This could have to do with your home, your work, or your money - and may range from a change of residence to an increase in income or even an unexpected windfall. But this may not reach fruition this week - however, the tempting idea of it may come to you with the promise of fulfillment soon. This is a good time to seal deals, negotiate contracts, or ask for investors if you are in such a position. You should be brimming with energy and initiative right now.

-- Wendolina-Lynn aka Lina-Lynn

So watch out for your financial situation is about to change dramatically or you'll be moving residents please take this as a good thing that you've been waiting for this might just be the changes you need.

IF YOUR LOOKING FOR A GOOD SHAMAN , LOOK NO FURTHER: I AM HERE!!

All Spells..... $18 depending on what you wishing for or desiring as result

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nyisles · 5 years ago

Text

Magic in the Hamptons

Part Five

part one | part two | part three | part four

Player: Mathew Barzal

Words: 3k

Warnings: language

Notes: long long long long overdue, but i’m too critical of my writing which makes it so hard to write something i feel is good enough for y’all.. But please leave feedback. It makes writing all this feel worth it! also it’s hard to write angst???

As soon as your foot was set through the door of your apartment you peeled off the islanders t-shirt. It just made you feel dirty and used. You really wanted to be ok with this and not be upset, maybe you were overthinking your relationship/ friendship/ whatever-ship this was with Mat? Though replaying past events in your mind, you didn’t understand how he could’ve possibly thought inviting his ex-girlfriend to the game was a good idea and it did really seem like the two of you were going to be exclusive, it seemed like he was spending all his free time with you. You both were in contact every single day, how could he have possibly had time to do this to you? It honestly didn’t matter anymore. Changing into sweats, you washed your face trying to get rid of the redness from all the tears you’d let out on the ride home. You just needed to cool down and process things. Flicking on netflix, you settled on watching some John Mulaney special, you were on the market for a pick me up that actually made you laugh out loud.

Maybe ten minutes into the special you heard your apartment door buzz, you weren’t expecting any company and it was already past midnight and you didn’t order any take out. Going up to your buzzer, you pressed the ‘talk’ button. “Hello?” you questioned, pressing the listen button to hear the mystery guest had to say. “I just want to talk.” Your heart dropped into your stomach hearing the male voice. “So talk.” You said to Mat. There weren’t any voices he could’ve been confused with. You just wanted to know why he was here and not with Whitney, or more importantly at his own apartment. “Face to face, (Y/N).”

Letting out a sigh, you had no idea why, but you pressed the unlock button letting him into your building. Realizing you had a minute or two to yourself before he was able to climb up the stairs in your walk-up, you headed into the kitchen taking out a wine glass and filling it up to the brim. Taking a huge gulp before the knock on the door interrupted you. Behind the door was Mat looking awfully disheveled. His gameday suit was now missing the blazer, and what was formerly a crisp white button down was now a wrinkly wine stained mess. At least you both were on the same page about having a tall glass of wine before you spoke. “So can I come in or are you going to make me stand here?” He said plainly. No smile, no anger in his voice either, his eyes did look tired, but to be fair the boy had just played a professional hockey game. He seemed completely indifferent to the situation. No words exited your mouth, you just stepped to the side opening the door a bit wider so he could make his way into your apartment. Normally he makes himself comfortable on the couch in your living room but he just paced around a little unsure of where to go. Looking at your kitchen counter he let out an uncomfortable laugh seeing the wine, “Looks like we both had the same idea...” he trailed off scratching the back of his neck.

“Cut the bullshit.” was the first thing that came out of your mouth. It was so honest that it almost took you by surprise. If Mat being here brought anything good into your life, at least it was a little bit of a backbone. “What are you doing here? You don’t understand what ‘leave me alone’ means?” You said moving into the kitchen, leaving him to follow behind you.

Looking back you saw his jaw clench, “If I recall your text it was ‘don’t contact me’ which can be interpreted a little differently.” Mat said starting to get a bit angrier in his tone, probably because of the way you were acting, but he deserved it. He really made you look stupid in front of a large group of people you were still getting to know, most of your interactions were while you were intoxicated. Mat had to realize you were in a vulnerable state, he had brought you into his world, and then he did that. “And by the way, have you ever thought about how you embarrassed me?” You were mid-sip of your wine when you choked a little bit, not believing one word of what he was saying. You embarrassing him? All it took was that one little sentence to completely get you in your head. You understood you didn’t quite fit the bill of what a WAG looked like or acted like or how they always came through to games in head to toe designer. Or maybe you embarrassed him in the way you were acting - as if the two of you were a couple? You were unsure, but it quickly made your eyes burn, feeling another round of tears just ready to go. “If you felt that way you should’ve just let me stay home.”

“If I had known that you would just walk out on me, I probably would’ve.” it’s when he said that the tears started to roll down your face. His face didn’t even show any sort of remorse when he recognized what he said struck a nerve. This wasn’t the Mat you knew. That Mat you’d grown to like so much was much softer, he’d make you laugh at any opportunity and contrary to what he’d let his friends know, he was sensitive. You’d seen him tear up during the episode of the office when Jim and Pam got married. “So you’ve come over here to make me feel worse?” You said quietly not feeling as strong as you had in the beginning of the conversation. “You can leave now, you win. You’ve made me cry… a second time in 24 hours, okay?”

“I just want to have one honest conversation with you.” Mat said, grabbing the wine glass of your hand and putting it down on the counter looking directly into your eyes. It was the first time his hazel eyes had pierced your soul in a way that made you uncomfortable. This was the first time his gaze made you feel like you weren’t in your own home, but some strange alternate universe. “I’m fucking mad, you know why? I invited this girl, who I thought was cool to come hang out with my friends and I on an important night for me to then make me look like a fucking criminal after.”

You let out this startled laugh, “Which girl are you referring to? Me or your ex? Because I don’t remember thinking that I was going to be part of some bachelor episode fighting for your attention. Stupidly enough, I thought things between us were going to turn into something.”

“Yeah, well you sure as hell fooled me too.” Mat spat out.

“You realize how fucked up in the head you are for inviting two girls to the game, don’t you?” you said, raising your voice, wiping away some of the tears, now letting your sadness turn into anger. You were flopping back and forth between emotions and it was exhausting. “Am I some sort of joke to you? Just a friend who you kiss when your girlfriend is out of town.”

“Fuck this, I’m going home. Keep feeling bad for yourself, (Y/N). It’s pathetic.” was all that Mat could say as he looked around at everything in your kitchen except for you. “You won’t even let me talk” He said while you let out another laugh, this time exaggerated and loud and full of disdain, you picked up your wine glass taking another large sip, finishing off whatever was left in the glass. “You should be with the girl you flew in from out of town, Matty. She was so thrilled you left her ticket that I’m surprised she let you get away.” you said, doing your best to imitate her voice when you said his name, it still rang so clearly in your head. You could only imagine Whitney being in the passenger seat of his car right now, waiting for this conversation to be over so the two of them could go out on some fancy date at a fancy restaurant where he’d take someone who wasn’t so embarrassing. Maybe that’s why most of your dates had just been at each other's apartments.

“If you really think that I did that to you then you’re right. I have no purpose in coming here. You don’t know me at all.” Mat said, he made his way back to the front door of your apartment seeing his clothes in a messy pile. You could see him roll his eyes giving them a kick further in the corner, “You should wash them before finding a way to give them back to me.” and with that he left, slamming the door behind him.

- - -

You hadn’t spoken to Mat for a week, and in hockey season that might as well have counted for a whole month between the home games, away games and travel time. To be fair you hadn’t planned on speaking to him anytime soon, you did though have your friends keep tabs on Whitney, who they reported was on a flight home the morning after the game. What you did know was that the Isles had been on a bit of a losing streak, and it didn’t even bring you the joy you thought it might knowing Mat would be pissed off. You did get a sweet text from Grace inviting you out to lunch though you politely declined saying you were feeling a bit overwhelmed from a busy work week. What you didn’t expect was another buzz at your apartment door. “It’s Meg…” “And Grace.” “And Syd.” You heard the three separate voices, which honestly made you a little bit uncomfortable. You could pretend you weren’t home, or you could tell them you were feeling sick, but both options just felt wrong to a group of girls who’d done nothing but try to make you feel welcome into their group. It was practically an obligation not to leave three pregnant women standing in the chilly october air, so you buzzed them in.

“We come with gifts” Megan said when you popped your door open seeing them with brown take away bags from your favorite sushi place. It was all so odd to you knowing that these girls had taken you in a little too prematurely, because surely you were finished with Mat. He had made that very clear the night he left your apartment. He didn’t want much to do with you, and there wasn’t much you wanted to do with him. He’d played you since you’d first met him at Sydney’s wedding. The first strike was him not texting you for weeks, the second being the time Tito interrupted your date to talk about Whitney, the third being the home opener. You had no more chances left to give. Weren’t the early stages of talking to someone supposed to be fun and easy? You’d had the same amount of fun times and dates as fights which was ridiculous. You weren’t made to be some athlete’s girlfriend and Mat had kindly reminded you that during your fight when he called you embarrassing. When you recounted the events to your friends you left that part out, you didn’t want to even bring it up, it just hurt too much. There were a lot of slight digs that you didn’t want to bring up because they hit differently.

“If i’d known you girls were going to force lunch upon me I would’ve met you at the restaurant instead of making you all walk up four flights of steps.” speaking softly you invited them in to put the bags down on the coffee table in the living room figuring you all could eat there. “Well we have a lot of catching up to do, so this works.” Sydney said bringing in more bags of food, placing them on the table, as Grace held up a bouquet of flowers. “From Mat” she said softly. You gulped, taking them from her, putting them on a side table plucking out the note. “I guess we all have a lot of catching up to do.” you muttered opening up the card beginning to read it aloud. “These don’t even cover half of how sorry I am. I’m -” you stopped reading aloud and silently instead.

‘These don’t even cover half of how sorry I am. I wasn’t honest with you and I'm miserable thinking of everything I said. I wish I could re-do that conversation at your apartment. Sounds stupid, but it’s even stupider making some florist write out this card. Please call me. - MB.’

“He’s right, he really is miserable.” Meg said, as you looked up at her, Grace shot her a glare. “Megan… we didn’t read the card.” You couldn’t help but to smile, it felt better having them here as opposed to your other girlfriends. Your girlfriends didn’t quite get it, and they didn’t know Mat. They didn’t understand how in such a short time you had become so connected to Mat and how that was ripped away from you in minutes and a fight that was so meaningless and led to no real resolution.

“Well the flowers are lovely, but I don’t think I want to call anyone.”

“Just think about it. We can all agree Mat wasn’t himself, it’s fucked.” Grace said, “Now let’s just eat, I’m tired from all those steps. I gotta refuel.” The girls managed to spend the rest of the lunch not pestering you so much, just discussing upcoming halloween plans, babies, and how to get you to go to lunch with them more often. It was refreshing and honestly quite nice.

- - -

It's been another week, and another month in hockey time. Ever since the girls had come to your apartment with their ulterior motives of getting you to talk to Mat, he had stepped his game up. The poor boy had tried to call your cell phone at least five times within the past two days. He managed to sprinkle in some creative ‘miss you’ texts without being so blatantly obvious. Didn’t matter though, as fate would have it you’d find him in a place you least expected it. Right in the middle of a grocery store, with Tito. The two of them laughing in the baking aisle as you watched Tito try to decide between two different boxes of cake mix. You wanted to turn around and run. Leave the cart full of groceries but you’d accidentally bumped into someone else’s cart trying to make the u-turn out of the aisle. “Shit” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact even though you felt their gaze burning into the side of your face. Hearing footsteps behind you and his voice calling out your name you politely turned around. You needed more self restraint. You watched him pick up his pace stepping in front of your cart, gripping onto it so you couldn’t roll it away. “I’ve been calling you. Texting too...”

“I don’t really have much to say.” speaking softly staring down at his beat up stan smiths that used to sit at your front entrance because he insisted that his mom raised him properly and he wouldn’t track his mud around your apartment. Slowly raising your gaze you noticed how different he looked since the last time you’d spoken. He just looked exhausted, the dark circles around his eyes a little bit more prominent. You’d recognized that the team was moving into a more game heavy part of their schedule so you tried to excuse it as that, and not the fact he was sending you late night texts trying to fix something that seemed too broken to repair. “I just… don’t have anything to say to someone that thinks so poorly of me.”

“(Y/N)” he said, taking in a deep breath, you couldn’t tell where he was going with this, and you knew he didn’t even know where he was going to go with this. He’d already groveled through the card and voicemails. “You know that’s not true at all. I have no problem making a scene in this store if it gets you to let me talk to you for just ten minutes to explain.”

“You might embarrass me in the way I embarrassed you.” was all you could say. God, his insults still stung and bringing them up again as you stood in front of him only made your eyes start to well up again. Embarrassing and feeling sorry for yourself, just as he had originally thought. Moving closer to you, he placed his hand gently on your upper arm that was still holding onto the cart. You wanted so badly to pull away, but he felt comforting. Normally with other guys you never had such trouble blowing them off, but everything about being with Mat felt different and maybe that’s why it hurt so much to be betrayed by him. “I think… no, I know my worst trait is speaking out of my ass. Now when can we talk, maybe privately? You deserve a hell of a lot more answers than I was able to give you before.”

You shook your head looking anywhere other than his eyes that were dead set on you. Biting your lip you just shrugged, “Your place? I do have some shirts to return.” He nodded finally getting what he wanted. Pulling you close by the arm he was holding onto he kissed the top of your head. It wasn’t meant to be flirty, just something he’d done to try and comfort you. You were bothered by how the affection didn’t bother you, it didn’t make you feel any better about your situation, but you also didn’t want to claw his eyes out. “I’m leaving for some away games tomorrow, but I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be around.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal imagine #mathew barzal imagine #new york islanders #new york islanders imagine #hockey oneshot #hockey imainge #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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