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shina913 · 2 months

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Code Blue | KMG

Code Blue

Pairing: PFWeek!Mingyu x Stylist!Fem Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: Idol au; hints of FWB; fluff; angst; smut

Warnings: porn with a hint of plot; cussing; fingering; clit play; breast play; oral (F-rcvng); penetrative, unprotected sex; creampie; soft aftercare

Word count: 3.8K words

Summary: Mingyu doesn't want any other stylist--he only wants you.

A/N: The story was prompted by this video clip and title is from The-Dream's song of the same title. I only meant for this to be something quick but the clown car stopped by my house--it was headed to Deluluville so I just got on, ofc. Nothing but horny word vomit featuring Dior/PFW Mingyu. Tiny bit of angst brought on by the song, and also because I'm me, and why the hell not? Enjoy!

It’s fashion week and by some wild coincidence, many of your A-list celebrities are in town and they all have scheduled appearances at the big-ticket shows. Unfortunately, due to the location of a few shows and heavy traffic, you can't personally manage everyone's looks. So, you rely on your trusted assistants to cater to everyone's preferences, under your guidance, of course.

One of the clients you couldn't personally attend to was Mingyu. He called you, disappointed, when he saw your assistant, Monica, standing at his hotel room door with a clothing rack to present him with outfit options for tomorrow's show.

“Why did you send your minion here? I thought you were coming?” You hear the pout in his lowered voice.

“I'm at a fitting with another client at their hotel, and it's running late,” you whisper into the phone, then motion to an intern to approve your client's accessories. “Also, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call her that. She's my second-in-command, and I trust her judgment. I can't be everywhere at once, so some compromises had to be made.”

Mingyu’s debut appearance at a major fashion show was a big deal for him and his career. Since his appearance was announced, you prepared accordingly, discussing options based on the fashion house's lookbook. Having worked closely with Mingyu for over a year, you're well-versed in his style preferences. Before he left for Paris, you had shortlisted two outfit options, which is why you felt confident leaving Monica in charge.

“So, I’m the one compromised? I heard you’re dressing a couple of people for Chanel and another one for Saint Laurent. You can’t do that for me?” He huffs out.

You hiss through gritted teeth and excuse yourself to take the rest of your call in the bathroom. “There’s no need to be childish! Those two shows are right next to each other, while yours is across town. I can’t reach you in that short timeframe. Have you seen the traffic?”

He eventually concedes, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I was just…hoping to see you since we're both in town. I thought that maybe we could grab dinner tonight at that restaurant we went to last time?”

You sigh, wishing it could be that simple. Instead of responding to his invitation, you run through tomorrow’s schedule. “I have another fitting tomorrow afternoon and a meeting after that. Olivier is also hosting a party tomorrow night after the Balmain show, so I don’t know—”

“I can meet you after your last event, just tell me where.”

“You can’t just show up randomly. There’s going to be other designers and stylists. You might feel out of place since you won’t know anybody,” you reason.

“You can always introduce me,” he suggests.

“As what?”

He’s silent for a few beats then says, “Your client?”

You chuckle, feeling a hint of embarrassment due to your presumptions. You've never clarified the nature of your relationship. Since you’re part of his team’s regular stylists, you have to stay professional, especially around staff and his other teammates. Occasionally, when he can steal a quiet moment, he whispers what he'd like to do when he gets you alone.

“Gyu—”

“Please? I miss you,” he pleads quietly.

Apart from the occasional sexy video calls, you haven't seen each other in over a month due to your busy work schedules. As much as you try to convince yourself that you don’t feel the same, hearing the need in his voice makes your chest twinge.

You open your mouth to answer but a knock on the bathroom door startles you. It’s the intern, telling you that your client needs your opinion on shoes.

You sigh, cursing under your breath. “I have to go. Just trust Monica, okay?”

You didn't wait for him to respond before you hung up. You didn't want to hear the disappointment in his voice. You wished you could leave all the work to your staff and head off to dinner with Mingyu, then go to bed with him. But there were too many eyes on Paris this week, especially on him.

This wasn’t like one of your clandestine meetings. He was more recognizable now, which meant photos could be snapped of you and him anywhere. When that happens, it’ll be all over.

After that call, you didn't hear from him for the rest of the night.

********

“So, how did you pick your outfit today?”

The question, posed by one of many journalists in the bustling press line of the fashion show’s venue, brings a warm smile to Mingyu's face.

“This outfit?” He took a moment before responding, his eyes had a hint of nostalgia as he revisited the process that eventually led up to the ensemble he was dressed in.

“Ah, well. My team put it together!” His response elicits laughter from both the photographers and the journalist.

“No, but seriously, I like clean, timeless looks with hints of detail and different textures to keep it interesting. My stylist knows me very well, and she has a great eye.” He finishes with that million-dollar smile of his, leaving the journalist flustered.

“Well,” the journalist says, “Sounds like someone out there deserves a nice bonus.”

“Oh, I agree!” He looks straight into the camera and gives a subtle wink at it right before the clip ends.

You chuckle and shake your head at your phone, swiping away to close out of full-screen mode.

Earlier this morning, he texted you a photo of his final look. He had chosen the blue suit and bejeweled button-down shirt, the ensemble you put together, and hoped he would go for. His choice delighted you, despite how sour your phone call ended last night.

You sent a text to Monica, thanking her for the link to Mingyu's interview clip and complimenting her on her first solo styling job.

She responded, saying that you did 90% of the work. She merely pulled together what made sense, and you approved.

You laugh. She's right, but she would at least get credit in the magazines and fashion blogs where Mingyu's photos would appear.

********

It was well past midnight when you got out of the limo with a couple of colleagues and walked into the hotel lobby, coming back from an after-party when your phone rang. You fish it out of your pocket and drunkenly squint your eyes at the caller ID.

It was Mingyu. You slide across your screen to answer it.

“Hey. Where are you?” His voice was gruff, like he had just woken up or maybe had a few drinks.

“I just got in from Olivier’s party.”

“Mm, how was that?”

“Good. We had fun. Nice way to cap off fashion week.”

He hums in response. “Are you back in your room?”

“Not yet but I’m heading up there soon. What’s up?” You step into the elevator and punch your floor number.

He sighs softly on the other line. “Nothing. Just wanted to make sure that you were back safe.”

“Uh-huh,” you say skeptically.

The elevator dings and stops at your floor. You step out and follow the hallway toward your room. “Why don't you tell me what's really going on?”

As you look ahead, you slow down upon seeing someone leaning against your doorway. How did he even… you stop that thought right away, not wanting to know all the details.

“I was hoping to say goodnight to you,” he says into the phone as you stop in front of him.

You glance at your watch and tell him, “But it’s already 2 in the morning.”

“So, good morning then?” he smirked. Then, his eyes rake you from head to toe. “You look nice.”

Judging by what you recall from your reflection in the elevator's mirror, you knew you were anything but. “Thanks. You look…clean.”

He was showered, barefaced, and dressed in sweats, his hair sticking out in every direction. Now this was the version of Mingyu you were used to seeing in private.

“Can I put you to bed?”

You bit your lip as he moved in closer. The thought was tempting, but you were aware that other staff members were staying on the same floor. But it was also late, and they were likely asleep. Perhaps a little nightcap wouldn't be too bad.

Before you can answer, you freeze when the door across the hall opens. Monica pops her head out, her sleep mask perched atop her head. “Oh, hey guys! I thought I heard voices. What are you doing here?” She directs her question at Mingyu.

“We were just talking,” he tells her with an innocent smile, relieved she didn't see him enter your room.

“Oh. Is everything okay?” She looks worried, assuming that Mingyu is there to tell you that she did an awful job, despite reassuring her that she did great filling in for you.

“All good! He and I just ran into each other in the lobby and started discussing an upcoming shoot,” you say apologetically.

“We'll try to keep it down,” Mingyu adds.

“No worries. I have a white noise machine,” Monica replies with a knowing smile. “You can be as loud as you want.”

Your mouth falls open as she casually turns back into her room and closes the door.

Mingyu suppresses a laugh. “You think she knows?”

You smack him on the chest and roll your eyes, making him giggle some more.

“You're lucky I pay her well,” you say, reaching into your purse for your key card. You swipe it on the door sensor and step inside while he's still laughing. “Are you coming in or not?”

He laughs even harder, but he follows you right in.

********

“Did you like Monica’s picks?” you call out from the bathroom, as you finish up your skincare routine.

“You mean what you picked?” he retorts.

“I wasn't even there! That was all her.”

“He snorts at your comment. “You think she pulled those pieces all on her own without your sign-off?” He snacks on a few pomme frites that he ordered from room service during your quick shower.

“I've been training her for a couple of years. She deserves some credit,” you reply as you reenter the room in an oversized shirt, walking towards him on the couch, and taking some fries.

“I mean, she's good, but she doesn't know me that well.” He pauses to watch you settle next to him. “You do, though.”

“Then let her get to know you! Help her out a little.” You suggest, barely looking up from your phone.

“You mean the way I got to know you? Is that what you want?”

You tense up and purse your lips. However, considering you have no claim on Mingyu, you have no right to feel upset.

“I'm just saying—I can't always be where you need me to be and…you’re free to do what you want.” You clear your throat, attempting to sound nonchalant.

He lets out a sigh, pulling your phone down to get your attention. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want anybody else to get to know me.”

You could hear the yearning in his voice, something you didn’t quite expect.

After years in the industry, you told yourself you’d never get involved with a client. And then Mingyu came along. People were naturally drawn to him, and even you weren’t immune to his charms. He was always sweet, and you assumed he treated everyone who worked for him the same way. It wasn’t until after an overseas photoshoot followed by celebratory drinks with him and his staff, that you let your guard down.

What you initially saw as a one-time slip-up gradually became a series of encounters, each growing more intimate than the last. But you couldn’t stay in that mindset. You couldn’t get your hopes up, especially with someone as famous as he was. Not only was it bad for business but it was bad for you.

“I’m not playing games.”

“Neither am I.” He says evenly. “The fact is, I want you and I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”

You scoff at his audacious remark. “Look, it’s my job—”

He shakes his head and interjects. “You know what I mean. I want to make things official…with you. Just you.”

You sigh. “You know that we can’t.” Even though everything in you wants to scream yes.

“You can’t or won’t?”

“I know that you can't,” you counter. He's just too... public. Not only are you concerned about your reputation, but you're mostly worried about the backlash if his fans ever find out about you and him. The stakes are higher for him.

“That’s not true. It’s not like I’m a prisoner.”

You chuckle humorlessly, as if he doesn’t see how this won’t end well for either of you. “I know how this business works, okay?”

“You think I don’t know that either? I just want us to try. I feel that there’s something more between us. And I know you feel it, too.” He reaches out and rests his hand on your bare knee.

Your skin tingles with the warmth of his touch. It’s been too long since you last felt it, and you’re ashamed to admit how much you missed it. Craved it, even.

You stare at his hand, now snaking past the hem of your shirt. “There are a million reasons why we shouldn’t do this.”

“Then let’s do it for the reasons that we should,” he retorts, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. You quickly realize that was a big mistake.

His eyes quietly pleaded, causing the knot in your stomach to tighten. Things weren't going to be easy. A million questions swirled in your head, but he quieted all except one as his face drew closer.

“How would we even do this?” You ask softly.

“Let me worry about that. I just need you to tell me that you want the same thing.”

Your hand lifts to his neck, fingers grazing his jawline, then up his cheek. He sighs softly, melting under your touch.

After a few beats, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You know, part of me feels like I’m letting you off easy. Maybe I should let you work for it a little?”

A smile ghosted his lips. He lowered his head, his voice deep and sexy. “I’ll work for it now.”

Even though you see the kiss coming, it still knocks you out. Mingyu’s lips meet yours, his tongue stroking greedily into your mouth. “C’mere,” he says roughly before urging you onto his lap.

Your phone rings, but you silence it quickly before chucking it, not caring where it lands. You tangle your fingers in Mingyu's hair, holding his head while you kiss him ardently. God, you love kissing him. The feel of his lips and the rough sounds of pleasure he makes are music to your ears. He’s ravenous for you, just as you are for him. He catches one of your wrists and pulls your hand over his chest, pressing it flat so you can feel his heart pounding.

“This all you,” he breathes against your mouth.

And with that, your walls come down. You’re done for.

You tear at each other’s clothing, yanking off each other’s shirts. You’re desperate to feel him, your lips and teeth catching every inch of his golden skin. At this point, you don’t care if other staff hear you throughout this floor.

He urges you backward until you feel the armrest of the couch behind you. Kissing you deeply, he cups one of your breasts in his hand, kneading it before pushing the bra cup down to touch your bare skin.

You fumble with the drawstring of his pants, whilst palming him through the material, feeling how hard he already is. You growl in frustration when he pulls your hands away.

He shakes his head and tuts. “You first.” Clever fingers circle your nipple and roll it, sending shocks of delight straight to your core.

The next moment, that mouth you love to kiss is on your breast, surrounding your tender nipple. His tongue flicks at the tip, his cheeks hollowing as he sucks. His other hand is between your legs, rubbing your aching cleft through your panties, teasing you even more by grinding his length against your thigh.

His scent surrounds you, just as his hands and mouth are all over you. You want some control, but he’s too strong, too quick, sliding lower before you can catch him.

He keeps his gaze on you as he tugs your panties down your legs. Your center clenches at how much that turns you on.

You sit up slightly to unclasp your bra, tossing it while Mingyu scoots back, lifting his hips to shove his sweats and boxer briefs out of the way.

In an instant, he’s on you again–too impatient to strip all the way naked. He pins your hips down, urging your thighs further apart while he lines himself up to your center, and slowly pushes in. Lowering his head, he groans right in your ear, feeling how tight you are for him.

You pant as he burrows deeper. Your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around his waist. You’re wetter by the moment, rendered helpless by the way his hips move, his body mindlessly seeking a deeper connection to yours.

You gasp when he slides in deeper, your hips fighting his hold, needing to arch upward.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans, pulling back an inch and thrusting again.

He pulls out abruptly, leaving you empty and aching, but not for long. His mouth is there between your legs, licking, sucking on your clit, and fluttering over the bundle of nerves. Your hands fist at the cushions, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You went from zero to sixty so fast that your orgasm takes you by surprise.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out.

Shivers of pleasure course through you as you suck in air. He keeps your legs spread wide with his shoulders, holding you in place, as he slips two fingers inside. He moves them in and out slowly, circling your clit in between. He teases you a few more times, edging you, making you desperate for his cock.

The instant he shifts to slide over you again, you seize the moment to push him to the other end of the couch. He doesn’t put up a fight as you move to straddle his hips. He simply leans back, his eyes wide, cheeks flushed from arousal, waiting for your next move.

You reach for his cock under you, fisting it slowly. He fights to keep his eyes open but the pleasure you give him feels too good. His chest heaves and he lets out a drawn-out groan.

Fuck, he was hot. And the way his hands grip your hips tightly as you position him to your center drives you insane with the need to ride him hard.

You slide the tip between your folds, coating him with your slick before your hips sink in one swift move. Your mouths fall open when your ass hits the tops of his thighs, both of you relishing in the sensation. You rest your hands on his shoulders for leverage and roll your hips toward him slowly. His neck arches, letting out a groan of pleasure between clenched teeth.

His hands reach up to cup your breasts, palming them, and pinching your nipples, making you hiss at the perfect combination of pain and pleasure. “Ah…Mingyu...fuck, yes…”

Once you find your rhythm, he thrusts upward, meeting your hips. You push your fingers into his hair, cupping the back of his head to hold him close.

He nuzzles against your temple. “You want this?”

Your nodding wasn’t enough for him.

“Say it.”

So you say it loud and clear for him. “Yes, I want this. I want you.”

With a shift of his hips, the tip of his cock notches into your opening. Pressure builds as he fucks into you. Slow, easy thrusts that work him into you with every lunge. Your entire body tenses, as he sinks deep into your core. You feel yourself inch closer and closer to your climax.

Your grip on him tightens, and you grind your hips, matching his every move to direct him into where it feels good.

“Kiss me,” you gasp.

Soon after his mouth makes contact with yours, your body surrenders to him. Tears sting your eyes when the tension in you breaks, and you come harder than you did the first time.

The pulsing only deepens as Mingyu continues to pound into you, chasing his own climax. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he finally reaches it, tethering his orgasm to yours.

It's one of the most intense sensations you've ever felt. Despite your body's natural instinct to pull away, your mind resists. The steady thrum of your heartbeat soothes you, and you stay there, quietly relishing the comfort in each other's arms.

********

Reluctantly, you take a second shower, with him doing most of the work cleaning you up. Afterwards, you crawl into bed. You watch him, carefully tucking you in, mildly annoyed that he can move and think clearly while you're still stuck in a post-orgasmic haze.

When he finally flops into bed beside you, you turn to face him. “How are you still moving around?”

He props his head in his hand and grins, his fingers running lightly down your cleavage. “Did you forget the ten minutes it took me to get up?”

“I’m making sure you’re down for the count next time,” you pout playfully.

“Hmm...” Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours. “I’m just happy there’s a next time.”

You nod, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Lots of next times.”

Reaching up, you brush his hair back from his forehead. His post-sex look is even more breathtaking. His face is softer, his eyes are brighter, and that smile… you sigh deeply. He looks so happy that it twists your heart to think that you had a hand in that without even really trying. Yet, this also worries you, knowing it would be devastating if that smile ever faded.

“I’m scared, you know,” you confess.

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to it. A few moments of silence pass before he replies, “Yeah. Me too.” You don’t even want to think about how the staff will react when they see him walk out of your room in a few hours.

His facial expression tenses, and you immediately regret bringing it up. You pull him closer, holding him tightly as a silent apology.

“Can we agree not to bring anything but us into bed?” he murmurs, running his nose along your cheek before pulling away slightly to look at you. “I just want us to have some place where nothing else matters but you and me.”

“Okay.” You nod, your hands stroking up and down his back. Burying your face in his chest, you breathe in, letting the familiar scent of his skin ground you in the moment.

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fruitcoops · 1 year

Note

just had a tornado blow through...(we're okay, it's kinda normal here). but could we get another blackout/big storm fic? (if you're up for it?)

Glad you're alright! We've got a big storm here tonight as well <3 Have some Lions working through life to distract. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW mild/ medium relationship issues, Sirius' bad habits, and previous people not being very nice to Leo

There was something in the water. Remus was sure of it.

“Put—stop it! Put it down!”

Maybe carbon monoxide was leaking into the rink. Plus all of their houses and apartments.

“I told you, it’s not about the rutabaga.”

Or, fuck it, Mercury was in the microwave again. In the Gatorade? Something like that. He wondered if Marlene would know.

Arthur knocked on the doorframe and the mass of grumbling died down; the air still tasted like sour sweat and irritation and Remus wrinkled his nose at the mats. After a cursory look around the room, Arthur raised a brow and gestured with his clipboard. “Y’know, I’ve got a lot of notes—a lot of notes—but none of you look like you can handle them right now, so we’re doing the short version. Cap, come see me. Lupin, Moody’s waiting for you, don’t give me that face. Olli, figure your shit out. Kuns…Kuns.” He shook his head. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Tremzy, stop being mean, and Harz, stop being stupid. Bliz, Layla gets the honor of having you this afternoon. Do your cooldowns without biting each others’ heads off, please, and then go home and sleep this off. Goodnight.”

“Night, Coach,” came the mumbled chorus.

Remus chewed the inside of his lip while he stripped his shin pads off. Sirius was already halfway out the door, still in his under armor—the rush of endorphins that usually accompanied the sight of his gorgeous fiancé was notably absent. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Recenter. It was a rough day, rough week, rough whatever. It would be best to just let it go now.

A hand clapped his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus!”

“Woah, hey, easy.” Talker held both hands low, palms down between their stalls. “Just saying hi.”

“What—” Breathe. Recenter. Remus blinked a few times to clear his head. “Fuck, no, you’re good. Sorry. Hi. Sorry.”

Talker’s gaze turned dark with worry. “You okay?”

“Just…in my head.” It was a shit answer, but his vague wave seemed to get the point across. Talker nodded slowly. His hands remained on his own side. “You?”

“Been better, been worse.” He tipped his head back and forth, making his small earring swing. A gift from Noelle, if Remus remembered correctly. He watched it catch the fluorescent light for a few seconds before Talker spoke again. “Weird energy in here.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah.” Remus turned back to his pads with a humorless laugh. “No kidding. We should crack a window or something.”

Talker hummed, tucking his hands beneath himself. One knee bounced incessantly and Remus tried not to let it bother him. “Reminds me of the you-know-whats.”

Remus’ hands itched to knock on wood. “Yep.”

“But we’re not there. Yet,” Talker added after a pause.

“Nope.”

“Cap’s being…interesting.”

“Tell me about it,” Remus muttered.

Something like relief rippled over Talker’s expression. “So it’s not us.”

“When is it ever?” Remus offered a wry smile. “He gets like this. You know that. Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

Talker’s shoulder relaxed against his own, warm and solid. “Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s really not you, man.”

“I know.”

“T.” Remus waited until he looked over, and ducked his head slightly. “It’s not you.”

The kicked-puppy look in Talker’s eye made his chest hurt. Remus knew he had a tendency to put it all on himself—to think he was solely responsible for maintaining the team’s happiness. They were friends for a reason, after all. A missed pass wasn’t the end of the world, but…god, in the NHL? It sure felt like it.

Leo blew past them, not quite stomping, but certainly not pleased. Remus followed his path and found Logan staring at the floor with the same mournful gaze that plagued half the room. His stomach twisted. For a group of guys with everything in the world, they were a bunch of fucking messes, sometimes.

He patted Talker once on the shoulder before standing; he didn’t bother with shoes. It was a quick enough trip to get by in his socks. Moody’s office door was already open when he arrived, and he had barely raised his hand to knock on the frame when a grunt invited him inside.

The door closed with a faint noise. Silence thickened the air, save for the scribble of Moody’s pen. “Coach said you wanted to see me?” Remus prompted awkwardly. He didn’t like this stiffness. They had never been like that before.

Moody clicked his pen shut and leaned back in his chair with a long sigh, rocking back and forth. “Layla says you’re favoring your bad side.”

Tattletale. Remus bit the instinctive thought back. That wasn’t fair. “Probably.” Moody raised an unamused brow at him. “Yeah,” he admitted, scuffing his foot on the floor. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

“Why?”

“ ‘Cause.”

“The league doesn’t like it when I’m not nice to you boys.” Moody fixed him in place with a look. “But you’re not a snitch, so cough it up, you little shit.”

A scowl tried to claw its way onto Remus’ face, but he kept himself steady. Moody had done too much for him and saved him from too many bad places to be iced out. He kicked at a dust bunny. “Nine years.”

“Since…?”

“Since.”

“Ah.”

He sniffed, dry-eyed and nauseated. “Next Monday. Nine years. I still remember the day and time it happened.”

“We’re not playing Vegas next week.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Moody went quiet, and stayed that way for a long time. His chair creaked as he rocked in slow, maddening patterns. He’d have his leg off, tucked beneath his desk; he rarely left it on when he didn’t need to. Something about sweat. Itching. The works, he’d grumble if Remus asked. The ‘World’s Best Grandpa’ mug—a gag gift from last year’s Secret Santa—sat undisturbed on his desk, filled to bursting. Pens, pencils, a spoon, a screwdriver, an inexplicable parrot feather, all interspersed with his steadily-growing collection of flags.

Remus remembered the day the first one had appeared. A simple rainbow with a wooden stick, no bigger than a postcard. Moody hadn’t said a thing, but he knew it was for him. It wasn’t the only one anymore. The sight of it still made his throat tight.

“Come see me if you need to,” Moody said at last. He tapped his pen on his stack of papers, then nodded. “For the record, I’m not worried. Out of my office.”

“Have a good night, Moody.” Thunder rolled overhead as he turned to the door. “Get home safe, okay?”

He got another grunt in the affirmative and turned the doorknob, hoping the squeaky top hinge would muffle his sigh. The door swung open, Remus walked face-first into Sirius’ chest, and everything went black as night.

“I don’t know why you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Don’t pull that bullshit.”

“My feelings aren’t bullshit.”

“Mon dieu—”

“I’m serious, I’m not angry.” Leo shut the drawer a little harder than necessary. The salt shaker rattled on the counter.

“Then what are you?” Logan demanded, keeping his voice low.

“I’m—” He pressed his lips together and tilted his face up to the ceiling. Upset. Hurt. Stressed. Frustrated. Angry. “I don’t know.”

“I already apologized for the rhubarb—”

“Rutabaga.”

“Jesus, Leo.” Logan’s tone was sharp; he flinched. Okay, maybe he deserved that one. He heard Logan’s unsteady exhale and felt a gentle touch on his arm. “I’m sorry. I should have listened better, or texted you when I wasn’t sure.”

And there it was again, that burning flare of annoyance. Leo shrugged him off and turned to the coffee maker. Someone had left their disposable cup in the machine the last time it was used. The sight made him want to take the entire thing and slam it on the floor.

“Leo?”

“I don’t want you to text me when you aren’t sure.” His voice came out shaky and he silently cursed himself. At least his hands didn’t tremble while he swapped the cups. “I—Logan, I shouldn’t have to be your food dictionary.”

“Hey.”

Leo bit the inside of his cheek at the genuine hurt in Logan’s voice and dug through the mug cupboard. “Look, it’s fine, just…look it up if you’re not sure. It’s not like I hide my cookbooks.”

Or, better yet, be a capable adult. Logan’s sneakers shuffled on the linoleum. Where was his goddamn mug? “D’accord,” he finally said. “Yeah, I’ll—I can do that.”

Was it bad that Leo wanted him to push harder? Maybe he was just jonesing for a fight, but Logan’s instant buckling made him feel even worse. They had been waspish with each other earlier, enough that Finn outright refused to be in the same room until they figured themselves out—perhaps Logan had worn out his ability to argue for the day.

Leo snorted humorlessly. That would be a first.

Pastel yellow caught his peripheral vision. He clenched his hands on the edge of the countertop and took a deep, fortifying breath. Throwing a mug at a wall would get him fired. Throwing things at Logan would never be something he did, in this life or the next, no matter how angry he may or may not be.

Leo plucked the Me-Wow! mug from it’s place—dirty—in the sink—also dirty—by its tail-shaped handle and dropped it in the trash, then walked out of the kitchen, leaving Logan and his coffee behind. Thunder rumbled overhead and guilt bubbled up. He shouldn’t leave like that, not when the storm was only going to get worse. Logan didn’t do well alone and upset. He had almost certainly left his headphones at home, too. Leo was never the one to leave but he just couldn’t take it—

He made it ten feet down the hall before the lights went out and silence doused the building.

Fuck.

James was not live, laugh, loving in these conditions. First of all, his best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was imploding with self-loathing for approximately the seventh time this week. Second, his wife’s best friend/ best man/ adopted brother was a nervous wreck despite his best attempts to keep himself together. And third, two of the rookies had worked themselves into a tiff that made Finn look like that.

Finn watched Logan leave after Leo in utter misery. Poor kid belonged in an ASPCA commercial.

In truth, James didn’t know what went wrong, exactly. Sirius had these cycles—he’d ride high and be so firm in himself, in what he loved and worked for, then crash so hard James expected it to leave visible wounds. It was far more frequent in the early days. Since Remus entered the picture, Sirius hadn’t spiraled more than a handful of times. It was like he needed a pressure-release valve to make sure all those internal works didn’t melt or rust over. Remus was better at getting Sirius to talk than just about anyone. It was shitty that Remus’ wan smiles and sickly pallor had to align with the exact time Sirius most needed someone who wouldn’t put up with his nonsense.

James did his best, but he wanted them to be happy more than anything. More often than not, it meant he didn’t push nearly enough. They all had bad habits.

He knew Coach would bring it up today. Sirius’ dark mood had set them all on edge, caught in that place between wanting to prove themselves and wanting to stay out of the way. Whatever was happening between Leo and Logan had brought the scrap of good mood to rock-bottom. There was only so much slack James could pick up without exhausting himself, and he was already at the end of his rope.

Talker was still fussing with his sock tape when James looked over. The stickiness was dead from his rhythmic wrapping and unwrapping, but he didn’t seem to care. James nudged his toe with the front of his skate. “ ‘Sup?”

Talker half-shrugged. “Not much.”

“You were good in the scrimmage today.”

His hands stuttered on the roll before evening out again. “You, too.”

James scooted over into Remus’ stall and lowered his head, turning slightly away from the center of the room for an iota of privacy. “You wanna talk about it? If this is about the pass—”

“Noelle can’t make it for my birthday.”

Oh. Oh. James’ heart sank. “Aw, buddy.”

“They’re in the playoffs and someone rescheduled.” His lips pressed together in a tight line. “It’s dumb, I just…”

“Miss her,” James finished when he trailed off.

Talker nodded. “Distance sucks.”

“I know.”

James tried not to be offended by Talker’s immediate skepticism. “You do?”

“Lily stayed in Boston for three years before transferring up here.” Worst three years of my life. “She wanted her BS in chemistry. I wasn’t going to be the schmuck to hold her back. We called, and FaceTimed, and texted when she was at school, but it—”

“Wasn’t the same,” they said in unison.

The ball of tape fell pathetically next to the trash bin. “I want to hug her,” Talker said. “It sounds so stupid, but I want to hug her. And—I don’t know, it’s been rainy today. She likes it when it rains.”

“Yeah.” James leaned over to bump his shoulder. “I hear if you cross your fingers and jump in a circle three times, your wishes come true.”

Talker was halfway through a laugh when the lights went out.

Oh my god, I went blind. The thought was wild and harebrained and ridiculous. So, precisely how Remus was feeling in every other aspect of his life.

“Oh.” Sirius sounded surprised. His hands were firm on Remus’ upper arms. “Bonjour.”

Remus blinked a few times to let his vision adjust to the sudden darkness. The remnants of the team’s shouts of surprise echoed briefly before going quiet. “Uh, hi,” he managed. Sirius was nothing more than a blob of shadow, but he felt along his arms and chest until he found a shoulder to pat. “Sorry. Power’s out?”

“Looks like it.”

“Huh. Did you…did you need something?”

Sirius shifted from foot to foot. “Uh. No, not really.”

Liar, but okay. Remus patted him again, and let his hand linger. The rink felt different like this. Low murmuring had started up again in the locker room, but everything else was grave-quiet without the familiar buzz of electricity. It felt like the heartbeat had stopped. Like they had paused in time. “We should—should we go back to the locker room?”

Sirius’ hands pulsed where he held Remus. “Sure,” he said with the reluctance of someone being asked to walk headfirst into the ocean.

Lightning cracked outside and Remus caught a glimpse of Sirius worrying at the inside of his lip in the brief light. “We can stay here,” he offered after a moment. “Or, like…go somewhere else for a bit.”

“Can we?”

The relief in Sirius’ voice ached. They had been so pent-up lately, neither willing to break the ice first but both suffering from their shared bad moods. Remus knew he had been more lost in his thoughts than down on Earth for days, and Sirius was being so…so Sirius. But not his Sirius. The Sirius that was twitchy, the Sirius that tossed and turned all night. The Sirius that barely finished his dinner.

Remus rolled the sleeve of Sirius’ shirt between his thumb and pointer finger, and pulled him in for a hug. His stiffness dissolved in an instant.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into Sirius’ collarbone. He smelled good when Remus took a deep inhale, laundry soap and cologne. His arms were strong and solid around Remus’ back—he felt a few deep breaths come and go under his palms and inclined his head to let Sirius’ bury his face in his neck. His hair was damp from his post-practice rinse. It tickled Remus’ nose along the wings he liked to play with when Sirius was sleepy and cuddly. He sighed again. “Sirius, I’m so sorry.”

“I wasn’t there for you this week.” Sirius’ breath warmed his neck. His hold on Remus tightened. “You don’t need to be sorry, loup.”

“Okay,” Remus said softly. “But I am.”

“If you’re sorry, then I’m—” Sirius broke off with a tired laugh and nuzzled further into his neck. “I don’t know. Throwing myself at your feet and begging for forgiveness.”

Remus snorted at that mental image, but held him closer anyway. “It’s okay. I know you don’t like feeling like this.”

“I don’t,” Sirius agreed. “Doesn’t mean I should stop paying attention to you.”

“I’ve been doing the same to you,” he reminded him gently.

“You had a reason.”

“And you didn’t?”

Sirius fell quiet. His fingertips slipped along the divot of Remus’ spine while his palm warmed the small of his back; Remus felt a bit silly, standing there in his socks in the dark, but it didn’t really matter when he could feel Sirius’ heart beginning to even out at last. Someone padded out of the locker room and down the hall. Red hair stood out for a half-second when lightning struck again and his worry eased. If Finn was going to check on his boys, everything would sort itself out.

“I hate that this still happens.” Sirius’ voice barely cleared a whisper. “It sneaks up on me, and then I can’t sleep and I’m not hungry—or, I am, I just can’t—and I don’t know when it will stop.”

“I know, baby.”

“I want to sleep next to you and not be thinking about the next game, Re.”

Remus slipped his hands beneath Sirius’ arms and pressed their bodies together like he could press reassurance into him. If he could take that burden, he would. If he could fix it, he would. If he had the right words to tell Sirius that he didn’t care whether he was perfect or a wreck, he would. He pushed his nose under the soft spot of Sirius’ jaw and kissed him there. “I love you.”

A small sound stuck in Sirius’ throat.

“Je t’aime,” he repeated with another kiss. Just because he could.

The rise and fall of Sirius’ shoulders was steady now. “Je t’aime aussi. Whatever you need for this week, I’m here, okay? I’m in your nook.”

“My…nook?”

“Your—” Sirius huffed a laugh. “I’m on your side. Whatever the saying is.”

“In my corner?” Remus suggested around a smile. Sirius grumbled something vaguely agreeable and swatted at him, but never loosened their hug for a second.

Leo was holding him, and he wasn’t even angry anymore. Not like he had been. Thunder rattled a distant window and Logan’s grip twisted in the front of his shirt. “I’m fine,” he said.

Leo kissed his temple. “Yeah.”

They lapsed back into silence. He was usually so good at problem-solving, but every time he tried to speak, his tongue got stuck on the words. The anger had burnt itself out. The frustration and annoyance were still there, alongside the hurt. He wished Finn was there. Finn always knew what words to use.

“I’m sorry,” Leo said haltingly. Logan shifted in his arms. “I was shitty to you. Earlier, I mean. I should have talked to you.”

Logan didn’t answer. Somehow, that was the worst outcome. Leo knew how to match him in a verbal fight.

Lightning flashed. Logan flinched. Leo held him like he alone could stop the light from taking his boyfriend by surprise. That was it, wasn’t it? Even pissed off, he’d still hold Logan rather than leaving him in the dark with a thunderstorm.

They didn’t speak, just swayed in place. Footsteps echoed down the hall, growing closer each second before coming to a halt in the doorway. “Babes?”

“Here,” they chorused softly.

“Um.” Finn audibly hesitated. “Okay, give me a landmark. I’m so blind right now.”

“By the countertop,” Leo offered. Logan burrowed deeper into his chest. He was fever-hot the way he got when he was upset. Finn’s noise of sympathy when he found them and felt it somehow made it worse. “Hey, Fish.”

“Hey.” Leo heard the sound of a soft kiss. “Lo, you good?”

“Ouais,” came the murmured answer.

They lapsed into silence for the length of another roll of thunder. “And you…” Finn faltered. “You figured yourselves out?”

Leo looked away despite the darkness. They remained silent.

“Right,” Finn sighed.

“I don’t know what I did,” Logan blurted. “You said this wasn’t about the rutabaga, but it is, and you said you’re not angry, but you are, and I’m confused. And I’m really sorry for whatever I did to upset you, Peanut. I’m being so honest right now.”

“That’s the problem,” Leo said helplessly.

Logan clutched at his shirt, as if the answers were hidden in the fabric. “What?” he asked. “What is the problem? Stop doing that, I told you, I’m confused. Are you angry?”

“A little,” Leo choked out. Ugh, honesty was sawdust in his mouth.

“Is it about the rutabaga?”

“No.”

Logan made a frustrated noise, but Finn cut him off before he could continue. “What is it about, sweetheart?” he asked, so gentle it burned.

Leo let out a long breath, unwinding one arm from Logan’s waist to wrap it around Finn instead. He was nice and cool from his shower. They had all been running too hot lately.

“I’m not your mom, Lo,” he began. “We’re all grown-ups here. You know what food looks like. You know how to google things.” He felt the feelings ramp up again and rather than swallowing them back, let them siphon out on an exhale. Everything inside him was a miserable, knotted mess. “You don’t need me to come to the store with you all the time, and it pisses me off when you keep asking because I’m—'better at it’, or whatever. It’s not my job to shop for you. I’m sick and tired of it.”

Logan’s chest caved against his own. He mumbled something under his breath and Leo closed his eyes.

“I can’t hear you when you do that, c’mon, please—"

“I said, it’s not because I need you to shop for me.” Logan’s voice shook slightly, but not with anger.

“Then why would you ask me to walk to the store with you for the ‘right garlic’?” he sighed.

Logan raised his head, leaving a cold spot on the left side of Leo’s chest. “Because I want to spend time with you.”

That—was not the answer he had been expecting. You’re better at it, Logan would say. You know the foods better than I do. The realization came in waves; he had been teasing. Joking. Making it a bit. And Leo thought he was dead serious the whole damn time. All the frustration he had built up around himself cam down with a rush and a clatter. His heart made a break for hell with a pit stop at his stomach. He stared into the dark nothingness of the rink break room and tried to remember how to breathe.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“I…” He broke off. Words had gotten him into this mess. Were they both that terrible at communicating properly? Finn bumped his arm and he took the hint (for once), wrapping Logan in a hug. By some miracle, Logan hugged him back. “That is the sweetest fucking thing, and I’m so sorry,” he managed, hoarse. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Logan, that was such a fucked-up thing for me to think.”

“I do actually like you, you know,” Logan said, muffled in his shoulder.

The remnants of Leo’s heart went for another spin through the shredder. “No, I know, I know, I’m so sorry. I like you, too.” He pressed a hard kiss to Logan’s temple and squeezed him tighter. “I like you so much. So much.”

“And I know what kind of garlic you like.”

Tears made Leo’s eyes sting and he violently wished them back. He had no right to cry over this. None at all. “Of course you do.”

Logan scratched lightly between his shoulder blades. “I don’t want to think about the type of people that made you think I’d do that, though. But if you want to give me names and addresses…”

Leo laughed weakly and felt Finn huff against him. “No, none of that,” Leo said with a kiss to Logan’s messy curls. He kissed his cheek, too, and his lips for good measure. Slow and easy, the way they both liked it. He wanted to make sure Logan was paying attention. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “You did nothing wrong. I love you so, so much and I never should have thought that about you.”

In the hallway, the whir of generators kicked up. Soft light cast Logan in gold and dull shadows, just enough to make out the conflicted look on his face. His thumb was rough against Leo’s jaw. “I wish you thought better of yourself,” he said quietly. “You’re fun to be around, even walking to the store.”

I wish I had thought better of you. Leo pulled him close without a word and caught Finn’s gaze over Logan’s shoulder. His expression told him everything he needed to know, and he shut his eyes as Finn’s arms came around them both. A kiss lingered just above his ear. Leo kind of wanted to cry all over again.

The generators were a masterpiece of mechanics. The emergency switch flipped the moment the building lost power from the main grid, pooling energy around the rink itself to keep the ice solid. The rest of the lights would come on within fifteen to twenty minutes, beginning with the stadium seats and ending with the more fringe areas, like locker room and kitchens. They were top of the line, the best you could buy for a massive space that relied heavily on electricity to keep it functional.

They were no match for the Lions.

Ice cream, popsicles, and enough beer to cover the team twice over were liberated from the various refrigerators in less than five minutes. The team gathered on the floor of the locker room with iPhone flashlights and glowsticks (also ‘borrowed’ from the adjacent rooms) to enjoy their haul in peace and to play stupid, silly games like middle schoolers at a sleepover. They played games for a living, for crying out loud. Their favorite game. Why on earth would they take it too seriously when an opportunity like this presented itself?

Equal cheers and groans went up when the lights came back on. Moody was the first to leave, having only stuck around that long because the space outside his office door was occupied with an apparently necessary conversation. Arthur was next. The general consensus among the players was that the weather was simply too bad to risk driving. For their safety, they should stay and enjoy their goodies.

The morning security shift found them right where Arthur left them, puppy-piled by their stalls and surrounded by joyous havoc.

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zimthandmade · 4 months

Note

Maybe you could show a reinterpretation of the reactions of the Wammy boys (Matt's especially) and probably Light about L's death? (sorry if there are errors in the text, I am using a translator :'3) PD: I love your art <3

I can't show you yet but I can tell you what I think went down at Wammy's when L died, if you're up for that?

Sunday afternoon, 5th of december. L is dead, Roger gets the notification and immediately invites Near and Mello to his office. He has several thing to tell them but only gets to the first 2 because Mello starts ranting right away (what we see in canon).

L is dead. This is a big deal.

L wanted to pick a successor but couldn’t decide who to pick. It’s a shitty situation.

Your families will be put in a witness protection programme as of now. You won’t be able to see them again for the time being.

You no longer have a place to live and no family to return to. Offer: you can stay at Wammy's permanently until further notice or we can find you an alternative.

At L's request, his successor receives a considerable amount of money as an inheritance.

Roger pleaded for Mello to stay, to work with Near, to please not leave Wammy’s overhasty but he didn’t even get the chance to finish what he had to say before Mello leaves the office. Roger explains the rest to Near and schedules a big emergency staff meeting where Roger makes up a cover-up story for why Near and Mello are under special protection now and mustn’t leave the campus under any circumstances. Roger plans to sit down with Mello and Near again tomorrow morning (it's already late today) and explain the gravity of the situation to them once more, pleading for cooperation between the two.

Meanwhile in room 212: Mello storms in and Matt immediately picks up on his mood and just goes "What happened?" and after some heavy breaths Mello goes "L is dead.". Mello is unable to sort out his emotions and goes from rage to resignation in a heartbeat while Matt is trying to calm him down. L's death hit Mello quite hard. I think he felt about him like a distant relative, an uncle or something. Quite familiar but in the distance. He liked him, they were peers, Mello doesn’t have that often with people. And suddenly the whole lighthearted mood from Wammy's turns so grim and heavy in an instance. Matt has always been on neutral terms with L, so the news doesn’t hit him that hard. Though he knows what this means for Mello and he’s scared this will break them apart, that Mello’s gonna leave him behind. They start making emergency plans immediately. Mello is open about running away but is only talking about what HE is going to do until Matt intervenes:

”—okay, yeah, that’s all good but when should I be following you to Japan…? Wouldn’t it be making more sense if we just took the same machine?” ”Uhh no offence but you’re not coming with me, I’m doing this alone.” ”Oh, you mean alone like when you (Matt references some story where he was massively involved in Mellos success)? Or like (another story in the same fashion), hm?” ”… well…” ”I’m coming with you. I’m not letting you have all the fun alone. Get used to it, beban.” Mello accepts this with a nod.

They show up at dinner to avoid causing a stir. Mello is probably being chatted up by Roger once more, telling him not to rush off and Mello lulls him into a sense of security: "Yeah yeah, I’ll be at the meeting tomorrow. I’m not gonna run away just like that. I'll wait for my birthday and then I'll be out of here, you can bet your life on that." Roger is naive enough to believe this but just to be safe, he probably makes sure that the exits of the dorm house are locked and guarded this night. That very evening, Mello and Matt secretly pack their things and break into Rogers office (or wherever their records are stored) to steal their records. They have to be extra stealthy because the staff apartments are just around the corner and they always leave the door open. Maybe Matt is even carrying out a little diversionary maneuver so that Mello can plunder the files undetected. Mello is a clever bastard. He looks up Nears file as well and sees “Nate River”. Mello knows Nears real name now - this is gonna be useful. In his hurry, he loses that photo of him without noticing.

Back in their room (depending on what's outside on Wammy's facade - maybe ivy, maybe some kind of gutter), they climb out through the window. They’re standing in front of the main gate in the middle of the night, rain pouring down on them, looking back one more time at Wammy’s before leaving for good.

#ask #death note #headcanon #mello #mihael keehl #matt #mail jeevas #near #nate river #roger ruvie #wammys boys #wammy boys #wammy kids #wammy's house #wammys house #l #l lawlight #dn au 2.0

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kitkatscabinet · 2 years

Note

Hi I saw your Jacob x reader from the quarry. I loved your writing btw!!! Can I request more Jacob?? Like maybe something where reader has a thing for Jacob but at the beginning of summer, saw that Emma did too so reader backs off cause they’re friends but also cause she thinks Emma’s prettier and that Jacob would choose her anyways. Then when they’re playing truth or dare stuff comes out and Jacob and reader end up together?? If that made ANYYYY sense at all lmao

This was so fun to write and I ended up getting a little carried away. Thank you to everyone that has said they love my writing and yes you can absolutely request more Jacob! Hope you enjoy :D

Word count: 1173

Genre: Fluff, I know you probably wanted angst but this kind of ended up with a comedic twist.

Jacob had caught your eye from the moment you had arrived at Hackett’s Quarry, you couldn’t say you would usually go for the jock types but he had been unbelievably sweet from the get-go. You had been sat next to each other during the initial orientation Mr Hackett had given and your sides had started to hurt from holding in the laughter his quiet commentary had inspired. Leading him to grin in success every time he noticed you smile, the two of you had spent the rest of the day together before the kids arrived.

Jacob ended up being one of the people you spent the most time with apart from Emma. That was how you had noticed the influencers interest in him. Deciding to be a good friend you had slightly backed off, you liked Jacob sure, but it wasn’t like you’d fallen madly in love with him. Emma was also one of your better friends and the two deserved to be happy. It wasn’t like anyone had noticed your slight crush anyway, you were a very laidback person and your interactions with Jacob weren’t very different from how you acted around anyone else, so you couldn’t even blame your friend for not noticing your feelings.

You stalwartly ignored the small part of you that yelled you wouldn’t stand a chance against Emma anyway. The part that decided Jacob couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like you anyway, besides everybody loved Emma. Hell you loved Emma, there was a reason you were friends after all.

At first it had actually been pretty fine, your crush hadn’t been that big you reasoned and pulling away from Jacob had allowed your friendships with Emma and Dylan flourish even more. The problem arose however, when Jacob himself had hunted you down one afternoon and asked to speak with you in private. He had lead you over to the boat house and his silence along the way had made you a little tense, worse case scenarios running through your head at a mile a minute. Seeing that Jacob wasn’t going to speak up first you did.

“What’s up?” you had asked with a smile genuinely happy to see him and trying to defuse the tenion. That smile had faded as you noticed the serious hurt on his face

“Did I do something wrong?” the crack in his voice left you feeling nauseous as you truly took in his body language. He was hunched in on himself slightly, all normal confidence gone and his eyes, oh his eyes were wet with tears and you rushed to rectify it. Desperately wanting to fix whatever had made Jacob feel so small, so unsure of himself.

“What? No you’ve done nothing wrong that I know of. Where’s this coming from?” your tone incredulous as you watched his face carefully

“It just, it feels like you’ve been avoiding me lately and I thought I might have done something” he said trying to shrug nonchalantly but you could tell he was upset by the slight wobble in his smile and fiddling hands. Stepping over to him you quickly assured him that that was not the case and even ended up promising the two of you could spend your free time tomorrow together, just the two of you. He had beamed widely at that and you had ended up linking arms with him on the way back to the lodge for dinner.

That was where the issues seriously arose, as you spent more time with him you couldn’t stop your crush from growing into something more. It was only when you saw Emma laughing with Jacob one afternoon that you were fully reminded of why you had stepped away to begin with. Forcing a smile on your face you went about your day and continued to be friends with both Emma and Jacob unaware of Kaitlyn’s constant disapproving gaze.

As you sat on the log watching the ongoing game of truth and dare that had resulted from the minivans refusal to start you found yourself hoping to every god that existed you would be ignored. What you weren’t privy to was the fact that Emma had well and truly grown out of her initial like for Jacob, and she had noticed how the pair of you behaved around each other. Any other day she’d wonder what she had done to deserve a friend like you but by this point she was tired of her friends dancing around each other, so she decided to be the push that was needed.

“Jacob, truth or dare” she asked, a wicked grin growing on her face as the man enthusiastically chose dare. “I dare you, to kiss the person that you like the most” she egged on, noticing you slumping slightly from your spot.

You couldn’t quite stop the slump in your shoulders at Emma’s words and Jacob’s overexcited expression. However, your brain stalled a little as he jumped up and made a beeline straight over to you, leaning down to kiss you like it was the best thing anyone had ever asked him to do. You couldn’t think much in the next few seconds the feeling of his lips on yours the only thing you could register. When he pulled away he had the biggest smile you’d ever seen covering his face and you finally registered Emma’s cheers as everyone waited for your reaction.

“Jacob what?” was all you managed to blurt out quite dumbly still in shock. It was his turn to be confused now

“I thought you knew. I told you I liked you last week and then you said you liked me too, remember?” he said a little nervously now. That was news to you.

“Fucking when!” you shouted, hands coming to rest on top of your head in distress

“Uh, last Tuesday… I was walking you back to your cabin cause you were tired and I confessed and then you confessed…” he trailed off the two of you staring at each other in blatant confusion, until vague memories of the event came back.

“I was so tired I thought that was a dream” you admitted as your fellow counsellors were staring at the absolute circus in front of them in awe.

“Wait I thought you two were already dating” Dylan chimed in “you’ve literally been holding hands and hugging for all of this last week” his dumbfounded tone setting off a chorus of incredulous laughs from Emma and Abi.

“Oh, my God. We’ve been dating for a week” you said absolutely shell shocked before you suddenly rounded on Jacob once again. “We’ve been dating for a week, why didn’t you tell me!” you demanded, pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I thought you knew!” he defended, like you were the only idiot present. Deciding not to waste anymore time you stood up with a laugh and threw yourself into his chest, the cheers of your fellow counsellor making the smile on your face grow even further as Jacob hugged you to him.

Taglist: @laurakearnxy @wolfsquad @rainbows-dreams @dylanlenievy @kestisvrse @aaetherr69 @sheriff-hackett

#jacob custos #jacob custos x reader #the quarry jacob #the quarry requests #the quarry x reader #the quarry oneshot

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popcornforone · 9 months

Text

Teasing & Tweezing

Part of the Attending Mr York Fan Fic Series

Master list

This is all your fault.

You voted for back to back Dave York. I really didn’t think he would win. So here I am. Posting another Chapter to our Dave York universe on a Saturday… you’d better have your pancakes or grapes ready peoples. This is very intense.

Synopsis:- After asking a rhetorical questions, you find out Dave isn’t as squeaky clean & normal as you think. But your loyalty is put to the test a few days after finding out his secret when he arrives at your apartment at 3am.

This chapter is referenced as moments & memories in one week with Dave York. (Defiantly the Thursday & Saturday afternoon chapters).

Word count:8100

Warnings: EVERY WARNING UNDER THE SUN DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18! DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING…& I MEAN IT!!!! Cheating, adultery, boss employee relationships, controlling at points but not at others, fingering, anal sex, sex toys, bath sex, oral sex, blood, injury detail, repairs, swearing, angst, anger, alcohol, pain killers (in real life please don’t mix then) This gets grim at points for both injury & intimacy, secrets, assassin work.

Yea you have been warned

Thank you all so much for reading this, it’s always a pleasure writing Dave & thank you all for reading last weeks one off. All feedback is welcome in anyway shape or form. Enjoy peoples.

“Mr York?” You pop your head around the office door on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s not unusual for him to ask to see you on a Wednesday, before you do the grocery shop before getting the girls from school, especially as he likes to cook on a Wednesday night. You’ve never found out why, he just likes to do it. It also means you get more time to paint & curate your art portfolio, your eventual out from being a house keeper one day. Although this is much better than the 9to5 grind you used to have. It pays better too.

“Ahhh perfect timing, quick close the door this won’t take long” he spins round in his chair to face you, man spreading for you to see. He’s not hard but you know you could do certain things to make the man who 75% of the time ignores you in this house, to then turn him into the 25% which wants to plunder & pleasure you.

You notice he’s got shredding going on & lots of printing & a building plan laid out across his sofa, lots of post its notes & red crosses covering it. You grab a pen from his desk & tease it in your teeth waiting for him to tell you what he needs so you can jot it onto a post it note. You tease doesn’t go unnoticed.

“What can I help you with today sir…”

“shopping!”’he abruptly interrupts to make you slightly startled as to how quick his response was “I need the following items please & if they don’t have them in the store please can you go to different stores tomorrow to get them, they are all essential items”

“okay Mr York I understand, I…” he interrupts again.

“I would say today but I know it’s Wednesday & your art time. our deal is still the same, that you can work on whatever it is you make, I don’t want to make my house keeper unhappy, unless it’s tears of pleasure” he smirks facing back to his screen & you dampen your knickers instantly. He has very quickly worked out some of your kinks & weaknesses as to how he can make you feel good. He knows certain words get you going & he can also see your an open book when it comes to him & how he makes you scream. Your ex must have been atrocious, but that is Daves gain. It’s only been a few months of sex, but he’s really enjoying getting his frustrations out on your body & how you respond. Carol doesn’t even put in any effort anymore.

Dave lists off the most random shopping list. 2 fishing lines, sand, bleach, 3 bags of sugar, nail scissors, typex, a towel, hand sanitiser, a pack of metal coat hangers & as many packs of pain killers as you can find.

“Is there anything you think I need?” He asks when he’s done.

“Well that’s quite an extensive list mr York, I mean why fishing lines why not…”

“oooh & cable ties & condoms” he interrupts back to facing you & pointing. You blush. You were now on the pill, so you could feel Dave bare filling his seed inside you. No more rushing to the pharmacy to get the morning after pill or him withdrawing, which was rare of him to do. So who else was he having sex with other than you & Carol? Your face can clearly show your thinking this as he then answers without asking“… this is all for work, your my only discretion” he’s not lying you can tell that, you’ve worked out when Dave lies.

“wow that will be interesting for you to put down as expenses” you chuckle as you read the list back to yourself “I mean unless you plan on killing your boss, that’s the only way you could get away with it” you catch Daves eyes which are darting around the room desperate to check he’s not left anything in evidence out. He then looks at you sternly & you realise your hypothetical question might have some truth in it.

“David?” You ask concerned. You hardly ever call him David unless he really hits the spot inside you & you forget your manners. This breaks him out of his worried trance. He likes it when you say his name. If he wasn’t so controlling he’d let you say his name more often but you calling him Mr York for all situations makes his cock throb with anticipation. “Do… do you…” your voice is trailing. you want to ask but you also don’t incase knowing this will put you in danger, but you need to know. Daves business trips usually are on weird days & a pick up at a weird time. Dave sighs deeply shaking his head before his eyes meet yours.

“What I’m about to tell you is highly classified.” He groans . His eyes are deep. Dave is worried he’s about to lose his nanny, house keeper & fuck toy in the next 3minutes. How will he explain that to Carol. He stands up & heads to the family picture on the wall which has a safe behind it “I need to record exactly what i am about to talk to you about & I need you to consent to everything I am about to say” as the safe pops open he pauses & notices you’ve sat on the edge of his desk. “If you want you can leave now, I will pay you a years salary on the spot & you can go” he says & your eyes meet. A years salary is more than generous & could change your life. He is giving you an out. You can pack up your bags & never see the Yorks again, but could you do that to the 2 little girls who finally get you & are happy you play with them, no. Could you then also sit at home if you did leave even with that money in one go & think about the family if the worst happened to Dave, no.

“Tell me David, tell me everything”

“please don’t call me David…” oh fuck you think “… if your going to call me anything other than Mr York, call me Dave” & he hands over a secrets act file for you to read & sign as he hit records on the tape in his hand, all of which has come from the safe, to start telling you what you can know & what he actually does do. David Christopher York is a hired killer & assassin.

10 days later

You stumble into your studio apartment at 11:30pm. You know you’re needed at the Yorks for lots of morning rushes this week so today & tomorrow is your real chance to stay in your bed. They have given you Saturday night & part of Sunday off as a thank you. You’ve been out for a movie, dinner & drinks with your friends. You’re pretty sure that one of thems brother Steve was trying to flirt with you, but he was so wasted by the end of the night that you decided not to go back to his place. Your own bed & your own pleasure would be enough for tonight, especially if when you get to the Yorks, Dave has been on a successful business trip & will want to have sex with you. You slide out of your dress & put on your jammys. It’s summer so very short sleep shorts & a floaty vest are all that’s needed. Make up removed & teeth cleaned, you glide onto your bed & put on your pleasure playlist as you grab your 5inch toy & lube it up. The tip as it vibrates makes you shudder & moan as you carefully edge it inside you. You’re still getting used to having a vibrator which you purchased on impulse after your ex broke up with you. “Dave!” You moan. It’s the first time you have moaned Dave out loud when you’ve been alone & you really really like the way it rolls off your tongue. He’s having that much of an effect on you at the moment. You gasp at saying it & inch it in further turning up the vibrations wondering when Dave will next be on top of you, pounding inside your core.

THUD THUD THUD

You leap up & hear this pounding noise. It’s not a hangover throbbing in your mind or the next door neighbours having an orgy, they like to do that sometimes & you try to stay at the Yorks when you know it’s going to happen. But there’s a banging noise going on. As the thudding happens again you click your bedside light on & see the clock says 3am as you head to the door a few feet away. Being a studio apartment everything is close together. You look though the keyhole & see Daves face in anger on the other side.

“Let me in sweetheart please!?” He says with pain in his voice. You don’t even hesitate to undo the latch, the second your hand twists the lock he barges in, flinging the door almost directly into your face & almost collapses on the floor. There is blood oozing from his shoulder & is seeping down his arm. He throws his back pack across the room & it hits your bed bouncing back towards you both.

“VODKA” he screams as you lock the door shut but are frozen to the spot in a panic. “DONT MAKE ME ASK AGAIN!” He is enraged. The second shout means you run over to your dresser, which has clothes stationary & alcohol in it. You find the bottle of vodka & head to the kitchen area to get a glass. “IM IN FUCKING PAIN. I HAVE NO TIME FOR A GLASS!” You almost drop the bottle at his growl. It’s scaring & arousing you. The idea of Dave being really dominant to you during sex was not one that had crossed your mind, or be it with anyone actually, but he has those traits. You would submit to him so well. You kneel next to him & hand him the bottle, cap already off & he has 2 large gulps almost spluttering out the second. You’ve still not said a word since you woke up 2mins ago. He eventually calms down a little as your hand soothes his back, tracing across his spine & he reaches for his bag but his agony stops him “Bag! pain killers” he musters & you lean & bring it across to the two of you but when you see what’s in there your drop in it shock, scattering part of its contents across the floor, including the small pistol inside it.

Imagine if Dave hadn’t told you 10 days ago what he did for a living. This is still pretty intense & your mind is racing that he’s come to you for help. You are in as much shock as he is pain. But seeing various items you had purchased him sitting it that bag from the other week & a gun & a knife, that made you flinch a little too much.

“Mr York…” you mumble “i… I… im not qualified…”

“you have health & saftey & cpr to work for us, this is just the next 4 steps up” he interject, as he grabs the tablets to take. They, luckily for you, dropped right in front of him. “You said you’d do anything for me & the Yorks & I need this one time favour please please?” He pleads as he drinks more vodka to take the tablets which you both know is highly irresponsible, but he’s suffering badly. You pace a little while he tries to stand wondering what to do. No way are you or your apartment equipped to deal with whatever has happened to Dave.

“A one off? “ you reply “I never have to sort you out again”

“yes I promise, you can quit afterwards for all I care, I just need this to look a little bit cleaner before I go to the emergency room” his breathing is almost calm, & back to what it would be if he had just orgasmed.

“Why can’t you go there & first” you ask.

“That’s a story for another day but right now I need you to try & stop this bleeding please?” His frown tells you he isn’t joking, he has come to you for help. Maybe this is a loyalty test to prove what you would do for the Yorks.

You take a deep breath before the word “okay” stutters out of your mouth, your head trying not to think of what you’re about to face. You walk back over to Dave & offer him your hand to help him up, which he takes. He’s always so strong but this grip isn’t want you’re expecting he’s unsteady & needs support.

“bed” he groans as he realised his legs are going to give up from beneath him, so you grab the shoulder that isn’t bleeding to help him turn & then lower him on the edge of the bed. He winces. Then you can see what’s happening to the shirt. You can see that the pool of blood is still growing, but there is a pattern to it that it is starting to seep out from underneath his T-shirt & trickle down his arm over the elbow, an elbow you want to ride until you can’t think straight anymore as it pushes against your pussy.

“Dave” you say realising it’s the first time you’ve really said that to him “I need you to help me with this, it’s not a cut knee or a bruised foot, your bleeding heavily” & you can see it start to drip onto your bed sheets, which you know no amount of stain remover will get this fully out.

Dave glance at your face as he picks up the bottle of vodka to swig again, & sees the concern in your eyes. “You’ve got this sweetheart, did you every play operation as a kid?” He asks & you nod. Dave can feel his shirt getting wetter from the blood trickling out of his collar, so he removes it straight over the top of his head screaming slightly from the pain it causes, but not loud enough for the rest of the building are hear, but enough if your neighbours were in they would’ve heard that. He can feel your eyes train on every single inch of his abs. His muscular stomach, his broad shoulders & his chest, gleaming with sweat & the blood that has slid down the side from where he has been shot. it is only now that you can see that his wound is more than just of flesh one. He has been shot & you can see as you stroke his back up & down from behind, that it’s not come out the other side. Your face drops. You know you’ve got to help him try & get this bullet out or at least stop the bleeding to make it look like it’s okay before he goes to the emergency room later. He catches the look of concern in your face which is now one of complete paralysis. “It’s not come out has it?” Dave asks. Silence fills the room as your eyes meet. Yours which are filled with concern now, turn into ones which are soft. His glint back at you to say it’s okay & he will be okay. His hand takes yours & the bloodied hand rolls across your knuckles. You take his ruined shirt & apply pressure to the wound.

Dave so far has always been in charge of making the first move or kiss, but right now you can’t control yourself & your urge. He might be bleeding still, but his lips are parted. You hold onto his chin keeping his face looking at you as you crash your lips into his. It smooth & succulent. Two wet plump mounds taking over the other. He’s shocked at first that you’ve done this, it’s always been his decision when this is instigated, but he can’t help himself. He goes with it as his hand leaves your to caress your face before going into your hair. He is now panting but he’s relaxed a little & you can feel the stress leave his body slightly. He softly moans your name as you part, & both your eyes open. “Sorry” you say “but I needed you to be calmer for me to have any attempt at this” he raises an eyebrow.

“That’s the best excuse for a kiss I’ve ever heard” & as he says this you hear a ripping sound of your bed sheets. He’s got at least a quarter of it as he straps a small amount around the lower part of his arm to tighten it. Clearly this isn’t his first injury.

He gestures at the bag & points. “You need to find nail scissors, tweezers, the condoms, lighter & hand sanitizer” he says before realising half of the bag is now scattered across the floor. He laughs at this before yelping as the next part of your bed sheet he’s torn away makes a connection

“a laugh wow didn’t think I’d hear that when you arrived a few mins ago”

“well your studio now looks like someone’s burgled it after you dropped my bag. Also do you have a stronger light that this bed side lamp? You’ll need as much light as you can get to help me.” Dave groans as he leans down to grab the pain killers as well but he stops half way as pain shoots through his body.

“Let me have you in the Bath” you blurt out.

“what!” Dave replies shocked “I don’t think…”

“oh not like that Mr York, my bathrooms got mirror lights & spotlights & white walls, so it’s bright. also it’s easy to clean afterwards & stops you from ruining my bed.” You snarl back. He likes you being in command, it makes his groin twitch at the idea of what else he can one day make that mouth say.

“Oops sorry, force of habit to take whatever is near me to repair something, I’ll replace them. I like your thinking though” & with that he leans his intact shoulder across yours. “Help get me to your Bath then” & the two of you tentatively stand up & you help him hobble to the bathroom. However he’s distracted. He’s looking down at to your almost bare back & a neck free for kisses, which he starts to peck at. His lips igniting your core with each smooch down your radiating skin. Radiating for him alone. You gasp as he licks up your neck behind your ear. You can’t really stop him due to having to carry his weight with you to the bathroom. It may only be a few feet away but it still takes a while. Also you don’t want needy Dave to stop.

Your bathroom has the bare minimum in it. A shower at the end of the bath, sink, toilet & a clothes basket for laundry. But it will do for now. “Mind the ledge Mr York” you say as he plants his first foot in the tub. When both feet are in steady ground you help him lower in & he also takes off his trousers, so he’s just in his boxers. Maybe he did just have sex on his mind.

“I’ve got spare clothes in the bag I can change into, but can you bring back the booze & pain killers before the rest of that list first” he says as he hands his jeans across to you. They are as black as the night sky. So if there was blood in them it would be hard to notice, unless you knew. Once he’s happy in the bath, you’ve given him a spare bath Mat to kneel on & an old cushion to lean on the edge of the bath, you go get the rest of the items as he takes one more pain killer. All but 2 items were still in the bag, those 2 were that hand sanitiser & condoms. As you head back into the bathroom with the rest of your bed sheet to mop up the blood, which he had torn already you ask.

“why condoms for a repair?” You notice these were the ones you picked up last week.

“Evidence bag” he states as his lips detach from the bottle of vodka “especially these ones, good choice by the way. They are sturdy don’t break & leave all finger prints on what’s inside, nothing ever escapes this unless it’s really rigorous “ & you blush. You can imagine Dave has tried that out before, but inside your mind wonders to think with whom & would he pound you that hard?

You go to step in the bath with him but he shout “no I need you outside, if you slip & fall, were done for”

“Dave it’s my Bath I should no how to bal…”

“not if you make a mess of this, but I have faith. You got this sweetheart” you take a few deep breaths & stand right in front of him, you thin sleep shorts separate his mouth from your mound. You liked it last time when he performed oral sex on you. His tongue lapping away at you, humming as he tasted each drop. His fingers felt fantastic too, so long & fat, curling away rubbing against your walls as his thumb danced across your clit, sending you spiralling out of control. Dave sniffs as he can smell your arousal. If he wasn’t in a so much pain & this wasn’t so urgent your shorts would be off & he would be fucking you, but that would be too much of a distraction. He needs you coherent.

“So what first Mr York?” You ask with everything you need on the side.

“Hand sanitizer for your fingers & my wound, we need you clean & the hole slightly numbing it cos you’re going to have to cut it a little bigger than it already is”

“what?” You screech as you open the bottle, “what if I hit…”

“it’s ok it’s okay…” Dave says as he sees you go into panic mode “ there is nothing you can butcher too much up here, oooh you’ve got your phone right? because I need to see where the bullet is when you get inside?” This is all now becoming a little bit too much. You’ve seen this on tv shows & always thinks they make it look so simple & easy to heal a bullet wound or stab. But now you are faced with this as a first repair job for Dave you feel physically sick.

You go to grab the vodka but Dave holds it away from you “I know you’re nervous, but this won’t help you, trust me” he can see your pale & freaking out inside. “Breathe with me sweetheart come on” & you do 3 lots of 5 in & out & as he starts the 4th you sigh & drip the sanitisers across his injury. His yelp is small & you use half the bottle, “quick 4cms towards my neck go in through the existing hole” he cry’s putting a dry part of the bed sheet in his mouth. Even if this was a pro doing this he knows he would scream at this. You slowly & carefully start to snip at his flesh opening the hole wider, blood trickling out to start with. You go to mop it up but Dave moans as he shakes his head. “Clean up when we are done” he muffles biting into the bedding for all his life. Considering you’re new to this he’s impressed you’ve not put him in more pain. You slowly snip away, amazed at how calm you are & amazed at how the human shoulder & collar are constructed. So much so that it only when Dave shouts yet it’s still muffled “no more snipping” that you stop.

“Sorry Dave, I was…” you feel a bit embarrassed by saying this “I… I was admiring the way you were constructed.”

“If I come out of this in one piece sweetheart, you can admire all you want” You look into Daves eyes, he’s not playing games or teasing he’s being serious.

Dave then gestures his eyes at the tweezers which you grab. He keeps your hand in place over his shoulder. But it’s not just for pressure on his oozing wound, it’s for reassurance for the two of you. He wants to feel your touch & he want to make you aware that he needs you. You face him again.

“It’s going to be okay Dave trust me” your calming words actually fool you both. You’d said it to make Dave feel at ease but it was also you tel yourself you could do this.

“You need to use the tweezers to open the cut up a little bit & then I need you to take a few photos so I can see how bad it is.” Daves slowly getting calmer in his tone, but he’s sweating a lot. Clearly his adrenaline has now warn off too. Maybe his shallow breathing & loss of blood is having an effect on him.

He winces as you carefully open up your fresh cut, & try not to turn your head away, as the seeping continues.

“Sweetheart you’ve got this, I trust you, look at me” your eyes meet Daves in solitude. “You never have to do this again I promise” you click a few photos, the flash almost blinding Dave in his eye, it’s so bright he will see that little outline in his eyes for a few minutes for sure. You hand him your phone. His blood soaked thumb zooms in on the screen. “I can see 3 obvious bits but you see this bit” he turns the phone around & points at a piece that’s hanging onto something inside his shoulder & collar. “That’s causing the bleeding”

“Okay Dave is it as simple as me just using the tweezers or…”

“Ha” he cackles “I wish it was” he sighs deeply “if you do this half as well as I think you can sweetheart , I might have to train you up as a medic.” You raise an eyebrow at Dave. “Jokes are getting me through this sweetheart, that & the fact that you’re right cunt at points has been inches away from my face, desperate for me to lick it. A taste of that would make all the pain go away” Daves breathing has ramped up casising his blood to pump more.

“Calm Dave” you say as you go to clean the tweezers with hand sanitizer but Dave grabs you hand.

“Stop!” He shouts.

“Why Dave? I thought…”

“The lighter, you need to heat the tweezers up”

“What?!”

“He hand sanitizer is alcoholic, it will be a blaze in seconds” his eyes are worried at what you were going to do “what are you an amateur?”

“Yes Dave I am” you snap back at him “you could easily be in the emergency room right now, but no here I am helping you out at good knows what time I’m the morning” your half tempted to walk away but a dead assassin in your bath tub wouldn’t be the best idea either. You’re in too deep. “Sorry Dave, I shouldn’t have snapped” you say calming yourself down. Trying desperately not to look in his eyes that you know will be raging because you answered back. “I know you know what’s best, & I’m trying my best, this is all so much to take in”

“I’m sorry to sweetheart” you make eye contact this time. Dave never apologises to anyone, for anything, even when he knows he’s wrong. His face is pleading for forgiveness too. “I mustn’t treat you like medics who stitch me up or help. As much as I employ you, you’re not trained for this. I’m sorry but this is the only way” he grips your shoulder with his clean hand, he’s been very deliberate to make sure one hand stays clean throughout this, with no blood contamination. He strokes you to sooth both your sets of anger away & it works almost instantly.

You follow Daves carful instructions. Heating up the tweezers for 30 seconds on a low heat to nudge the bullet away before then scorching the surrounding are & then attempting to fish it out, putting it straight into a condom, so he can have it analysed. He screamed 3 times as you did this, his face wincing in pain when a few nerves were hit, but he then asked you to try & get the second & third piece out using the same technique. It’s as you’re getting the 3rd piece out Dave screams the most. It’s high pitched & straight in your ear.

“Fuck, what are you tugging on I need to see” He screams & you while leaving the tweezers in place so the hole is open take a photo. Daves face drops. “Put that back where you found it right now. It’s stuck in a nerve. If it’s too far lodged it can’t come out, or I might lose some feelings in my fingers. I then can’t do my job.”

“Okay Dave” you slowly place in back into his shoulder, as well as you can but then he scream again & you almost nip at a vein as you drop the tweezers. “What did I do wrong?” Your voice is panicked.

“Lighter on tweezers for 10 seconds then push them against where you’ve just been, keep doing this until I tell you to stop.” His face is contorted as he growls this.

“But Dave what if…”

“This isn’t operation anymore sweetheart, just do it” he viciously interrupts & you start doing what he said with the tweezers. Fresh blood is now coming out of him.

Every 10 seconds you push the heated metal against him & each time he’s moans & gasps for air. Then you remove it & do it again & again. But it’s not helping. & then you see the hand sanitiser on the floor.

“Do you trust me Dave?” You ask in a hurry as you plunge the tweezers into the liquid.

“Do I have a choice?”

“No” you click the lighter on & the tweezer start to blaze.

“Are you fucking crazy woman? What the…” but you thrust the molten tweezers into his wound. “FUCKKKKKK!!!!!” You know that people asleep on your floor have probably just been work up due to Dave’s cry. “FUCKING HELL WHAT THE FUCK!!!! YOU FUCKING BITCH!!!” Daves eyes are tightly scrunched together in pain. He’s engulfed by heat too. But you don’t care. You’ve worked out this might be the only way of heeling him. To stop the bleeding. He might always have part of a bullet inside him but it will save his job & life if you fuse it to his nerves. So that’s what you do.

You’ve notices it’s working. His fingers & hand that are covered in blood are still twitching. He has some control or maybe it is second nature, to check that he can still move & work everything. A smile spreads across your face as you then reheat the tweezers with the lighters & hand sanitiser & do it again. Daves scream less in shock this time. The blood slowing down, his breathing calming. In your own panic you accidentally came up with an idea that is actually working better than his.

“I gotta say I thought you were gonna kill me doing that,” Dave eventually says when he’s back in the here & now, eyes no longer stinging.

“Well I wasn’t sure it would work Dave, I just had to try something, I couldn’t let you bleed out.” He hisses as you apply pressure on where has been scorched to make sure it’s sealed.

“You’re a fucking crazy bitch you know that?” He says still in pain drinking a bit more vodka before then picking up the condom with the pieces of the bullet inside it to seal it off.

“I will take that as a thank you” you calmly say, As you remove the tweezers & rush to your first aid kit that you brought in with the other bits earlier. His eyes rolling at your sarcastic comment but he knows you’ve done well. You grab a needle & thread & start to get it ready to stich Dave up.

“I’ve seen you learning to sew so this should be fun, you drop stitches all the time” he cackles before taking another painkiller with some more vodka.

“Well Dave if you swivel your shoulder this way slightly I can lean over the top of you & make sure that this holds until you get to an emergency room, that’s all I can promise. I can’t even promise it won’t hurt.” You mumble & then get him in the right spot. “Sorry Dave you’re in a bit of a tight spot here just bear with me. Keep drinking that vodka” he sees the genuine smile on your face & he starts to smile back at you, before he whimpers as you dig the needle in him.

“Fuck, why does this never get easy”

“Sorry Dave but I need the extra light, don’t want to make to much more of a mess” You can hear Dave moaning as you try to do the best job you can.But then your body jitters forward. A sensation you’ve not felt for a while as he slips his fingers inside your pussy ,as he starts saying “you’re not the only one who is working with a tight space”. His fat finger on his clean entering you easily, having their way with you, making you clamp around them instantly. You hadn’t even realised he was near your entrance or in a teasing mood until he was inside you.

“Dave stop Dave stop” you moan as the two fingers start to curl inside you,

“Beg” he cries as you accidentally dig the needle in further.

“I’m gonna make a mess if you continue” you moan griping into his other shoulder trying to concentrate as he works your pleasure. You’re trying not to moan or gasp but when Dave brings you pleasure it’s always hard to concentrate on anything else. Especially as He strokes his thumb across your clit.

“That’s the point sweetheart” he growls & looks you dead in the eye “it’s distracting us from the actual mess your doing to my shoulder & collar,” his breathing becomes enraged as his hand becomes slicker from your arousal. His pace picking up. Making you want more than just his fingers. Making you bite your bottom lip as your hips start to roll.

“Don’t blame me if I stab you” each word is panted amour of your mouth. He’s watching intently as your eyes become filled with desire.

You both scream in different tones, one of pain & one of pleasure when the third finger joins the party. His thumb Stimulation around your clit just making you want to grind onto him. It feels divine. Daves more concerned as he keeps his rhythm up about what your own hands are doing.

“That will do sweetheart” he says as he pulls you closer. His fingers are pulsing away making you want his fat cock buried inside you. The squelching & your moans now the sounds track to your bathroom.

“Fuck dave, oh fuck yes, oh god, I need this, I fucking need more” your almost growling as Dave sometimes does, as you drench his hand, spilling out & you hold the side of the Bath for balance as your legs turn to jelly from the intensity of your orgasm. “I knew you were good but I didn’t know your hands were that good baby” you whimper.

“Well it’s better than that pathetic excuse of a toy you have on your bed side table sweetheart.” You blush. Even in pained state bleeding out earlier, he had clocked your vibrator you had used earlier. you try to gather the words before Dave cackles. “What you’ve purchased might be okay for a one off but what you need is something more pleasurable” Daves smooth silky words in his seductive tone make you want his fingers back inside you at a minimum.

“Well you weren’t here to satisfy my needs.” You say as you edge to the basin to get a cloth for yourself as Dave dampens the last part of the bed sheet to mop up his dried blood.

“I promise you, that you will never need to look for satisfaction anywhere else when we’re done sweetheart.”

“Are you teasing me Dave?” your ask as you take his hand & help him out of the Bath. He’s in your personal space & his lips are just begging to be taken by yours.

“Well you’ll just have to wait & find out”

12 hours later you are in a hotel lobby, waiting for Dave. After you finished stitching him up, he told you to sleep on the sofa & that he would sort everything out, before a tender thank you kiss before he left to go to the emergency room. You got 5hs sleep before there was more knocking at your door. Clean up had arrived & by clean up, it means part of Daves team who had spent most of the night sorting out the place where Dave had been shot. Your flat was spotlessly cleaned, new sets of bedding were out on your bed along with 3 other new sets, more expensive that youve ever owned & replacement vodka also put in your cupboard. You had to sign NDA forms once it was all done, to never speak of last tonight to anyone other than Dave or the people in the room with you who were cleaning.

The thing that freaked you out the most though was the call from Carol at 11am saying she was sorry you had a sickness bug & would call someone else for the next 2 days to help. You went to protest & she said that you had called Dave who’s still away on business earlier to tell him. As you’re speaking to her you see Daves messages appear on your tablet to say that this is all okay & to meet him at a designated hotel later for a real thank you. So here you are at 5pm at the Drove hotel waiting for Dave, wondering what or how he is going to say thank you.

“Sweetheart?” You turn around & see Dave who extends his hand & pulls you up inches away from his face.

“Mr Yo…” he’s hungrily kissing you before you can finish the word York. His embrace & his lips only leave your mouth to kiss your neck for the entire journey through the lobby, into the lift & into the suite he’s hired. It’s the honeymoon suite & it’s so romantic in there & grand, not that Dave is the romance type at all.

“I told them I was here for 2 days & hadn’t seen my girlfriend in 6months, being persuasive does sometimes get you exactly what you want” Dave is seducing you with his own words, no persuasion is needed here, your already under this man’s spell.

“I didn’t have you down…”

“I’m not romantic in the slightest, but as this was already here when i arrived I thought I’d keep it. Make you feel like the bride. Make you feel romantic. So that then when you beg me to keep fucking you, you remember how sweet a girl you are. That you’re not my fuck toy.” Daves demeanour changes, his eyes dark & dilated & he gestures to the bed. “I do want to thank you though for what you did & not telling Carol earlier, she doesn’t need to know.” You sit on the bed & take your shoes off.

“I did promise to obey & attend your needs Dave,I just never expected that to be what was needed” you coyly look up at him. “We did it as a team”

“You did an amazing job sweetheart in everything & I am still giving you the opportunity to quit tomorrow, However…” the devilish smile that arouses you creeps over his face. “… you need a proper thank you & an eduction” Dave then dumps a black bag on the bed & unzips it. Your face turns red & blushes.

“Dave what the actual fuck” you hold the first box up & then the second. His bag is filled with unboxed sex toys.

“Sweetheart, I saw your toy, it might give you a few moments, but it’s never going to match me. So allow me to pleasure you, so you know what you like. You will then know what gets you off, so I know how to make you cum so hard. I like sliding into you, your arousal hardly ever needs me to lube up” Daves words embarrass you but also make you feel good. He wants to take you on a sexual adventure. & you’re here for it.

After looking at the various boxes you pick a very small stimulator to start with.

“Ooh starting small & working up are” says Dave mischievously. “I’m sure there would be some girls who run away after being presented all of this, but no you sweetheart, you are a slut. You present as the helpful house keeper so well & I bet you were loyal to that ex of yours but damn you want your fill don’t you. You want to feel my fat cock, in your cunt, pounding away don’t you.” You’re speechless & just nod. Dave, since you’ve started having sex has been dirty in his talk, but never like this. Your knickers are already damp. You bite your bottom lip which makes Daves cock twitch. That’s his sign for she’s all mine, so he pounces, turning you around on the bed so you’re lying on your stomach.

You’re stripped in seconds except for your knickers, your tights shredded & thrown across the room. The dress & bra flung somewhere for you to find eventually. Your mind is now on the fact that you can hear Daves belt hit the floor behind you too.

“Dave please”

You groan as he he kisses both your arse cheeks & then slowly rolls your knickers off your arse. You’re dripping for him already & he sees it pooled in your material as he removes them.

“Is my little slut already gagging for me?” He groans. You hadn’t heard his trousers or boxers come off, but your arse suddenly feels his bare penis rubbing against it. “I can use this” he say smirking rubbing his erect penis through the slick which has gathered, leisurely pumping himself. You then see a bottle of lube lying next to you on the bed, before it is gone in a blur. You moan & go to ask before he speaks. “I need to work you open first or…”he says smacking your arse cheek making you yelp, “maybe your arsehole is already puckering for me” he’s going to have sex in your arse. You have never done this before & you instantly tense up.

He takes the bottle of lube & covers your other enterance for him & you instinctively rock your arse back towards him, making his cock edge nearer your arse. No man has claimed it before, but this is Dave York & you are all his. He can fuck any hole he wants.

“Dave no one no, oooh baby” your words are interrupted, you didn’t realise he had the stimulator in his had that had been on your clit for the last few minutes, but your body shudders as the vibrations ignite your desire. Dave was right you did need educating to be his fuck toy & you can already feel your climax approaching.

“Ooh your cunt loves anything baby, that’s it rock, let me watch you enjoy yourself,” Daves desperate to start ramming you. But his eyes are hypnotised as to how quickly you settle into a rhythm. He ups the setting to make you moan more, almost losing his grip from the slick gathering.

“I know your nervous sweetheart” he whispers into your ear, you own hand now taking the toy to pleasure yourself with, as he reads himself”… but I promise to stop if you find it uncomfortable at any point okay, im going to take this slow & we will build up to more” you nod through your moans silently, unable to speak through pleasure. Dave then grabs your jaw firmly”consent sweetheart” it’s a snarl.

“Yes Mr York”

His penis covered in your slick & your arse covered in lube, he makes his slow approach seem like it takes forever. But the sting as it slips inside you, has you panting & gasping desperately.

“Dave oooh fuck” he stops & pulls out & then you say “again”. Each time he gets a little further inside you. Your cheeks parting, waiting to receive him. The stimulator was actually a brilliant idea as you move it to get more pleasure it’s distracting you from what Dave is doing to your arse.

“God everyone else has missed out on this delight” Dave states as he edges deeper inside you. “I’m the first, I’m taking your arse virginity, everyone else might have had that tight little cunt, the most gushing of pussys but this…oooh fuck” Dave can feel every inch on you as he’s half way to being fully inside your area & he stops. “I’ll properly destroy this another day, I’m sure there will be more occasions I need to thank you for.” & so Dave starts, his penis taking your arse, & you are having a pleasure over ride. “Say red of you want me to stop” he says as he gets going.

You lie in the big bath tub the next morning after having sex with Dave all night. A nap here & there interrupted by the sudden feeling of his lips sucking your breasts or his hands wandering to pleasure you. Dave has all the stamina in the world & he’s proving that right now as you swallow every last drop of his cum after his morning blow job. His face a delight watching you gulp him down.

“You are a cum hungry little slut sweetheart aren’t you.” He rubs your face & then lowers himself behind you in the Bath.

“I only get to taste the saltiest though Dave” you giggle as your wash yourself. You both reek of sex, but it intoxicates you both.

“So what we did last night, was that okay? You’re not to sore this morning?” Daves voice is one of genuine concern “if you don’t want to do anal again I understand, but”

“I ache Dave I’m not going to lie but” Dave is initially upset when you interrupt him you go to apologise but then you see his face nod to say keep going “…I am here to attend to your needs, & if that pleases you, we can work up to it & do it from time to time”

“So that’s not a no?” Dave smirks, he’s stoking his length in the Bath ready to give you another filling. “I mean no one else has fucked that glorious arsehole before, so it’s officially mine, I own it. No other bastard has fucked all your holes. Just me, just you assassin fuck buddy.” He lifts you up ready to place you on his lap.

“Only you Dave only you,” he slowly lowers you onto his penis as it effortlessly slides all the way into your arse. Your moan is deep & it’s stings but you feel invigorated. “Dave oooh Dave” he starts to bounce you in the tub.

“Stay sweetheart, let’s me keep thanking you,” he says as the water slashes as you start to get moving & into it & even enjoying it. “I promise you will never have a boring life looking after me & attending our needs”

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bonfire-at-the-crossroads · 2 months

Text

I’m going to try and list the events of today - just so I don’t lose track.

Dawn. Barnum got us moving by 7:00 as usual. Maggie had a pee accident in the night, and the stench was horrible. Bri took Bernie and Maggie out, I took Murphy, and followed up with the Woodge.

Fed the cats and started a fire in the stove in the kitchen. Yeah…we ran out heating oil yesterday afternoon. Had a limited supply of wood and coal, but it began to take the chill off…

Maggie threw up.

And now it gets serious. I googled up pyometra a deadly infection which un-spayed female dogs can get post-heat. Yup. Bri called the vet and talked them into seeing her immediately.

He called the fuel oil company and begged for a delivery - then off he went with Maggie into town.

I continued cleaning and moving things back to the studio - my client guy is coming at 2:00 to pick up his paintings. I bake two loaves of cinnamon bread, and loaf of white bread for tomorrow mornings breakfast. Swill down a cup of coffee, and keep tidying up.

The belt on the dryer busted yesterday, leaving me with two loads of wet laundry which will continue to be wet and will soon begin to get moldy. Bri ordered a replacement part and we will look forward to taking the dryer apart (AGAIN) in about a weeks time.

I mix a bucket of green mold killer and have a go at the front step and walkway - it’s become ridiculously slippery and neither one of us wants to hit the ground hard. I scrub with a chunk of old broom, and leave it to do its thing…

Bri returns with some cat and dog food procured from the vets - but no Maggie. “Shes going to have surgery today. She’s infected and has to have a hysterectomy.”

Barnum had surgery four days ago to remove a cancerous mass in his belly. Now it’s Maggie’s turn.

I take Murphy out again, apply the xeroxed info onto the back of all the completed paintings, and keep tidying. Magda the vet calls to say that Maggie will be operated on this evening, and promises to call and let us know how things went.

The oil guy shows up, pumps €500 into the tank - and leaves. Bri goes out to jump start the boiler.

It doesn’t start. “I’m going to drive to Belleek and buy more wood and coal” - and so he does.

I find the boiler-guys phone number. He’ll be here in two hours.

My client shows up, we chat, drink coffee - he refuses my cinnamon bread, but likes Woodgie very much? We load his Mercedes with the paintings (he’s brought me another BIG one) - I tuck several of my pillows and blankets around the art to cushion them for the ride home.

He does not hand me money.

Which leaves John the boiler guy unpaid. He arrives, works his magic over the next hour - I wrap up a fat slice of cinnamon bread and tell him we will drop his money off at his house tommorrow.

I start making the dough for tonight’s pizza. A figure looms in the doorway - it’s Pat. “I’m just coming from a funeral in Kilty and had to stop as we were passing. Do you mind if I show some people your house?”

Pat is always welcome, I would say “drunk or sober” but somehow we never see “sober”

He rolls in. He is followed by four other people from the funeral - three of whom are smashed. The kind woman who IS sober apologizes for the drop-in, but it really doesn’t matter at this point. They are roaming around the house, tripping over dogs and enjoying Pats tour.

The funeral is for a young g man who “was shot” -?! There is confusion as to whether it was suicide? “In his side” - and yet nobody mentions murder. We offer our sincere condolences.

The tour comes to an end, they all roll outside again - and we bid them farewell- “safe home.”

It’s now 8:00. The pizza dough is rising, the dogs are passed out in front of the fire - and we still have not heard from the vet.

It’s been a day, and no mistake.

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tragic-shadows · 2 years

Note

could you do with gibbs, number 11: "If we get out of this alive, can I go home?" and number 69 (lol): “You alright?” “Alright I think I almost died!” where gibbs takes reader for some of his back road driving??

Title: Sirens in the Beat of Your Heart

Word Count: 785

Warnings: None

Pairing: GibbsxReader

"So we got the afternoon off, whatcha wanna do?" Gibbs addressed the team.

"Well I know what you want to do." You smiled and rolled your eyes.

"What's that?"

"Work in your basement on the boat with nothing to accompany you but whiskey?"

"Bourbon," Gibbs corrects.

"Well I have a date," Tony grabbed his bag, sprinting out the door before he could be called back in.

"And I am going to get a manicure," Ziva explained.

"Abby and I are going to see a movie," Tim grabbed his things, going down to find the scientist.

"You?" Gibbs turns to you.

"Catching a cab and going home."

"Cab?"

"Yeah my cars in the shop with a flat. Should be ready by tomorrow but for now that's my only option."

"Lemme drive you home," Gibbs offered.

"Oh no it's ok. My apartment's on the complete opposite side of town that your house is, I don't want you to go out of your way."

"Y/N, it's ok."

"Ok then, if you insist. If you want to you could stay for drinks after? Since we're not working."

"Sure. Let's go."

You and your boss had something that certain people would call unresolved sexual tension. Neither of you spoke about it but you knew it was there; maybe that's the reason why when you rode in the car together and he put his hand on your knee you didn't pull away. But it's also why neither of you had asked the other out yet.

"Alright if we take a little detour?" Gibbs asked.

"I suppose. I don't have to be anywhere so yeah."

"Kay."

Gibbs took a sharp turn onto a back road.

"Uh, what are you doing?" You held onto the handle above the door and gripped the seat with the other as to not be thrown around.

"We're goin' for a little ride."

"Why?"

"'Cause why not?"

"Can you just take the normal way?" You really weren't in the mood for one of your boss's back road joyrides. "I have laundry I need to do. Kinda just want to get home."

"Spend too much time alone, ya' know that?"

"Really?" You scoff. "Coming from the man who's had three ex wives and the only thing he does for fun is get drunk by himself."

"Could get drunk with me," Gibbs smirked. He pulled his hand off your knee and pressed on the accelerator. "Hold on." The car bounced unnervingly over the gravel but something told you that Gibbs had total control. The car hopped over a large rock and you grunted.

"If we get out of this alive, can I go home?"

"We'll see."

He made another sharp turn and in front of you seemed to be something of an airport. "What is this?" You ask

"Abandoned air strip." Gibbs explained, speeding up even more. "Think you'd like this a little more than the backroads."

"Thanks?"

Gibbs took turns and straights like he was running on a formula 1 track. After taking a glance over you saw you were going over 100. Realizing it was all of, you let loose, smiling and laughing when you spun out of a turn or when Gibbs turned on Party In The U.S.A.

"Miley Cyrus!!?" You exclaim. "Who woulda thought!" You snorted like you were a little kid. Gibbs pulled the car around a tight hairpin, laughing along with you. The car skirted over some debris and as Gibbs turned a sharp corner, the wheels on your side of the car popped off the ground. "Holy crap holy crap holy crap," you rambled. "Gibbs Gibbs Gibbs!!" With one last hoorah he drifted perfectly into a parking space.

“You alright?”

“Alright?? I think I almost died!” You let out a breath, leaning back in your seat.

"Died?" Gibbs scoffed. "C'mon Y/N don't you have any sense of adventure?

"Uhhhh-" you shook your head.

"Alright alright, I'll take ya' home now."

"No wait," you interject. "Let me drive."

"Kay." He shut off the car and switched seats with you. "Know how to get outta here?"

"Out?" You grin, turning the car back on and looking over at your boss. "Who said we're getting out of this?"

"You doin what I think you doin?"

"Depends on what you think I'm doing." You press your foot to the gas.

"Hey Y/N? Don't crash my car." Gibbs once again slides his hand over onto your knee.

"I'm going to if you keep distracting me like that." You jerk the wheel to the right and a flurry of happiness erupts in your chest as Gibbs squeezes his hand tighter to keep hold of you. He reaches over and turns the radio up higher.

"Wouldn't dream of distracting you."

TAGS: @aleck-cross @ah-blossom @ilovemark1951 @marennnx @originalsoulcollector @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

#ncis x reader #ncis #reader insert #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs x reader #x reader #gibbs #gibbs has scary driving and i will never understand how the team lived through that

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periwinckles · 11 months

Text

Please tell me you have a middle name - chapter 11

“Ok, change of plans, I’m going with you to the Hob tonight.”

Delly comes barging into the bakery’s kitchen, unannounced, and takes a seat across from me, next to Reese. She’s wearing a dress, and I’m pretty sure that’s not what she was wearing this morning.

“Why are you prepping for tomorrow, isn’t that Rye’s job?” She asks, while flattening out her hair with her hands.

“Rye’s at my uncle’s house. Here, I’ll wash that, you’ll be done faster.” Reese takes the dirty mixing bowl from my hands and takes it to the sink.

I‘m supposed to be at the Hob tonight, to check the empty vendor space that’s opening up and have a word with the person in charge. Luckily, I’m almost done and it’s still early enough. Delly takes a look down her dress as if she’s pondering her options, but she ends up taking a drying towel anyway and helping out Reese with the dishes.

“Why exactly are you going with me to the Hob?” I ask her, keeping my eyes focused on my last batch of sourdough.

“If Delly’s going with you, then I’m going, too. I’ve never been to the Hob!” Reese complaints. “I don’t wanna reach adulthood without ever going there!”

“I can’t show up with a whole entourage! Katniss might be there!”

“We’ll make ourselves scarce!” Delly argues back. “Trust me, I have no intention of hovering around you. How do I look? Too obvious?”

She’s wearing a dark blue dress with long sleeves, but she has them rolled up to her elbow despite the evening’s dropping temperature. Nice cleavage too, without showing too much skin. Except for her soulmark, of course. That’s on clear display, but who am I to judge? I only put on pants half an hour ago.

“You’ll be cold.” Reese points out. “Don’t come begging for my jacket to walk back to town, you’re not getting it.”

“I don’t care! Tonight’s my night , I’m feeling it!” Delly claps her hands together, giddy with excitement and Reese and I exchange a look. We’ve been through this at least a dozen times.

“I’ve asked around.” She goes on, her voice raising with eagerness. “Taylor Banks, 21, miner, plays poker at the Hob every Friday night. Thom Campbell, 20, miner, no family, eats dinner at Greasy Saw’s every night. Two birds with one stone.”

“How do you even know all of that?” I ask half impressed, half terrified. This morning she didn’t even know Thom Campbell existed. Ten hours later, I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew what each of these guys had for breakfast.

“I told you. I’ve asked around. People like me. And I have a few favors to collect, ever since I started matching soulmates.”

Between the three of us the final cleaning is done in record time. Everything is clean and put away, the overnight dough is resting, the firewood rack is full and the ovens are ready to be lit tomorrow at dawn.

When we step outside it’s already dark and the wind is picking up. I’ve never been to the Seam more than a handful of times, and never after dark. Which is why it comes as a surprise when I realize the street lights we usually have in town grow further and further apart the more we get away from it.

“Don’t get any ideas to come to the Hob by yourself, ok Delly?”

She nods to me in silence. I’m sure she wasn’t anticipating the lane to be so dark and ominous as well. After about twenty minutes or so we see a big building down the road. No street lights around it, but the windows are glowing enough to light the way. There's a big double door open ajar and we step inside.

It’s as busy as the day market at noon. I take a look around and notice several different vendors. Second hand clothing, knickknacks, cutlery, you name it. Most merchant businesses close before dinner, but here it feels like they are just reaching their rush hour. It makes sense. Miners spend their days holed up in the mines. This is the only time they have to do business. Yes, my initial plan to work at the bakery in the morning and the Hob in the afternoon will go well with the Seam’s routine, as long as I extend my opening hours through diner time.

We wander around as I look for Mr Paxton, the superintendent in charge of vendor booths at the Hob. There are several stands selling food and beverages, and the woman serving stew at the back must be the famous Greasy Sae.

“I think I wanna try moonshine. Yeah, I’m trying it!” Reese says with a grin, stopping next to a liquor stand.

“I’m not carrying you home drunk.” I tell him, as he takes a gulp and squirms in disgust, throwing the rest away.

There are several men around, and they look at us with suspicion. Three teenage merchants, one of them a girl. We’re hard to miss. To our right is the table holding the Poker game and I signal for Delly to take notice. She brightens instantly once she spots it.

“Mr Mellark, I was waiting for you!”

Mr Paxton finds me before I find him and we shake hands. “Right this way!” He says, gesturing for me to follow him.

“Don’t leave her side.” I whisper to Reese before following Mr Paxton to the free empty spot.

It’s bigger than I expected, but that’s not necessarily bad. The fee is still the same, and I’ll have room to expand if it comes to it. We discuss the terms of the agreement, but it’s mainly just reaffirming what he previously agreed with my Dad. We have access to the space in exchange for a fee, but we need to build the stand, maintain it, and keep the adjoining areas clean.

“I’ll bring the papers to the bakery tomorrow, for you and your father to sign, and you’ll be all set. You can open it as soon as you’re able to.”

I’d open tomorrow, if I could. The last months of school feel like I’m just dragging myself, not really taking anything out of it. We shake hands again and Mr Paxton excuses himself to leave. I take the opportunity to take a few measurements. I’ll have to work after hours to build the stand, as school and the bakery are keeping me busy during the day. But I still reckon I’ll have it ready in a month or so.

“Peeta, hi!”

The greeting is muffled, as if someone is covering the mouth of the speaker, but I can still hear it. I almost don’t spot them among the crowd, but Prim is kind enough to lift her arm up in a wave.

“Katniss, Prim, hi!”

Prim beams back at me, but Katniss just gives me a nod. Her scowling would be enough to deter a younger and foolish Peeta. This Peeta? This one has a black K on his leg that tells him this isn’t over.

“Congratulations on your win!” Prim exclaims. “You were awesome at the match! You were my favorite candidate right from the start, you know?”

Read the rest on AO3

#please tell me you have a middle name #the hunger games #everlark fanfiction #everlark #peeta x katniss #peeta mellark #thom x delly #katniss x peeta #thelly #katniss everdeen #thg

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gently-decaying-flowers · 3 months

Text

Blake and Mateo’s Backstory

summary: house visit :) silly boys and oh no… is it getting sadder??

Ch 5

The next morning Blake had to drag himself away from his bed. A glimpse in the mirror showed him a ghastly corpse.

“Jesus Christ.” Blake muttered. “I know I didn’t sleep well, but holy shit.”

“Blake! When are we meeting with Mateo?” Danny shouted through the bathroom door. Blake groaned quietly.

“Danny!” he exclaimed, opening the door with a fake cheeriness. “I told you, I’m going to his apartment today, we are both going to the cafe with him tomorrow.” Blake tried his best not to come off as shitty, but Danny continues forgetting plans and it’s getting on his nerves.

“Oh yeah. Sorry.” Danny smiled, but Blake could see the emotions brewing begin his eyes.

“No, you’re good. I’m sorry.” Blake apologized, softening his face. Danny nodded and shuffled away. He took a quick shower, got dressed and hopped downstairs.

“Headed out?” His dad’s gruff voice creeped from the dark kitchen. Blake jumped and turned to him.

“Jeez- yeah I’m headed out. I’ll probably be back before dinner.” He explained. His dad nodded and took a slow sip of his coffee.

“Be safe. Love you.”

“Love you too dad.” He waved and jogged out to his car.

[heading over! ETA is fifteen minutes!]

Blake hit send and turned his car on. His phone rattled quietly in its car holster, and the radio quietly played Alt Nation. His fingers drummed lightly on the leather of the steering wheel, his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

His eyes darted down to the google maps and back to the road constantly, making sure he was in the right place. Notifications popped at the top of his screen as Mateo rambled on, he did this a lot when Blake was driving. Blake couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

Finally, he pulled into the lot of the apartment complex. It was like a cul-de-sac with a few townhouses all lined up. Blake quickly checked his hair in the camera of his phone, checked his pockets for his wallet and keys, grabbed his phone and hopped out of the car.

He wandered, trying hard not to look lost as he tried to figure out which house was Mateo’s.

“Apartment 204…” He muttered, scanning the numbers as he walked by.

“Blake?” Mateo’s voice sounded smug. Blake whipped around to see him standing a few feet behind, one hand in his pocket and the other waving awkwardly.

“Oh jesus-“ Blake exclaimed, walking over to him.

“I saw you pass my apartment and thought I should come rescue you.” Mateo laughed. Blake’s chest fluttered.

“Thank God. Who knows how long I would’ve been out here for.”

The pair walked through the misty morning to Mateo’s apartment. Blake looked at the floor most of the time, syncing his steps with Mateo’s.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” Mateo presented, spinning around the foyer with his arms spread wide. Blake looked around, the apartment was small- but perfectly sized for one or two people. It was shockingly clean but had a lot of personality.

“Wow…” He mumbled, in slight awe. Mateo’s only a year older than him but seems to have his life far more together.

The morning and afternoon were so carefree. They watched movies and made snacks, played card games and just talked. Around 3:30 they’d ended up in Mateo’s room, Blake on his bed scrolling tumblr and Mateo on a beanbag chair watching youtube.

“This has been the most chill day I think of my whole life.” Mateo said, not looking up from his phone. Blake felt a tug in his bones.

*I’m not going to be able to ignore this for much longer.*

He thought with a wince.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

By 4:30 Blake knew he’d have to go home soon. Mateo had moved to his bed with him, they laid side by side doing their own thing and occasionally showing the other something funny. A few minutes ago Mateo had gotten a notification, his face dropped and he excused himself to the bathroom. Blake stood up, texting the family chat and carefully stepped out of the room.

“Mateo?” He whispered, but heard a sniffle come from the living room.

“Ah- sorry.” Mateo’s voice sounded strained. Blake nudged into the living room. The tall, strong boy he knew looked shriveled and deflated. He didn’t even try to hide the fact that he’d been crying. Blake quickly sat beside him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Blake had a feeling this had to do with Mateo’s family.

“I-“ He looked into Blake’s eyes. His eyes were wide and tears brimmed them still. He turned away. “No. No you go home.”

“Okay. Please text or call me if you need anything.” He placed a gentle hand on Mateo’s shoulder. He just nodded, allowing Blake to quietly make his leave.

The whole ride home was filled with anxiety, but a worse one than his way there. There weren’t butterflies or buzzing thoughts. He was scared.

Blake constantly checked his phone. The rest of the evening was a daze. There were no new notifications.

He didn’t remember getting into bed, but he was there. The little clock on his phone said 12:24 but he didn’t believe it. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed aggressively in his hands and fell onto his chest.

“mmmnyeah?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes.

“Blake?” Mateo’s voice was quiet and cracked. He immediately sat up. “Help me.”

#blake and mateo <3 #my writing #sorry for the cliffhanger #i’m writing 6 now don’t even worry

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thiswasinevitableid · 1 year

Note

15 sternclay?

Here you go!

15. As a career-oriented city-dweller who’s also a fan of Hallmark Christmas movies, Christmastime has me trying and failing not to worry that my new partner is going to leave me when they go home for the holidays

His eight years with the FBI lead to a lot of strange coping mechanisms. One of the few Joseph still indulges in is watching cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies from Thanksgiving until New Years.

He never sits down to watch them these days. Instead, they form the background noise of his early winter, and he cleans his apartment or sends work emails while people with white smiles and no chemistry fall in love in a matter of days. He even makes up a mental bingo for himself, including things like “someone drinks hot chocolate,” “an ugly sweater is worn,” and, “behavior that makes me think of serial killers is treated as charming.”

This viewing habit is also the reason he’s trying not to panic when Melanie, his girlfriend of six months, tells him she’s going back to her hometown in two days and will be there until after Christmas to help get her great-aunts flower farm up and running again.

“I thought about asking you to come, but I know how busy you are with work.”

“Most of mine can be done from a laptop, and I’d be happy to come help you out, even if it’s only for some of the time.”

She shakes her head, “Apparently Snowfall Springs is in the National Radio Quiet Zone; no phone signals, and all the internet is, um, ethernet.”

“Oh.” Joseph manages a smile, “well, in that case, I guess we romance each other the old fashioned way. On landlines.”

Melanie nods, but her nose is quirking the way it always does when she thinks he got too corny. He knows she’s into Joseph Stern, former special agent, suave and confident and battle-scarred. But Joseph Stern, aspiring writer and cryptozoology fanatic who cleans his kitchen to decompress does not seem to rate as highly.

When she kisses him goodnight and heads to her car, she promises she’ll call him tomorrow once she reaches Snowfall Springs. Joseph tells himself it’ll be fine. Life isn’t a movie. People don’t undergo a series of holiday hi-jinks and then fall in love with some guy who wears flannel because the boyfriend they left at home is a prissy workaholic who doesn’t understand the true magic of Christmas.

(She doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have a Christmas tree. After all, a friend of hers growing up had one even though she was Jewish, why can’t he?)

Melanie calls him the next afternoon to say the house by the farm is in disrepair and she’ll be staying at the neighboring mint farm for most of her stay, which happens to be the home of the guy who spilled his hot drink on her this morning.

Joseph hangs up the phone, types out a message to work, and pulls his ergonomic suitcase out of the closet.

Snowfall Springs is only an hour and a half away, but being tucked away in the mountains means a lot of curving roads that have to be carefully navigated. As the wipers whack the snow from the windshield, Joseph reassures himself that this is the right thing to do, not because he’s about to get dumped, but because his girlfriend has just learned this project is going to be even bigger and more stressful than anticipated and he should be there to support her.

When his headlights hit the sign for Excitemint Farms, he turns up short, country road and pulls in front of a house decorated in enough Christmas lights to be seen from space. His knock summons an older woman in a nativity sweater.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Melanie? She said she was staying here when she called. Unless this is the wrong mint farm, in which case I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Joseph?” his girlfriend appears in the doorway, smiling, “ohmygod, what are you doing here?”

“I came to help out. From the sound of it your great-aunt’s place is in serious disrepair, and I thought if nothing else I could make sure you’ve got coffee while you sort it out or deal with any extra-obtuse paperwork for contractors.”

“Oh. That’s really sweet of you.” She leans out the door and pecks him on the cheek, which would be nice except he lost feeling in it two minutes ago.

“C-could I come in? I only brought one bag” he turns his best special agent smile on the older woman, “and Melanie can confirm I’ll do any chore under the sun.”

His girlfriend shifts from foot to foot, “Um, there’s only one spare room and it’s not even a twin bed. I just don’t think you’d be comfy if we both squeezed in there. But there’s probably somewhere in town? Hank, where’s a good place to stay?”

“He could try Amnesty Lodge. It’s a little, uh, quirky, but lots of folks stay there.” Hank appears in the doorway. He’s a little shorter than Joseph, blonde with a face that screams all-american charm but is so standard issue that Joseph couldn’t pick him out of line-up.

“Okay. I’ll try there. Thank you. Um, Melanie, give me a call at the Lodge when you know what the gameplan is for tomorrow?”

“Uh huh.” She laughs as a golden retriever nudges her, “Oh Donald, no more treats for you.”

Joseph gives them all a polite wave goodnight and spends his drive to Amnesty Lodge reassuring himself that just because Hank looks like every guy who used to pull their eyes into slanted shapes when he walked by in high school doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, let alone that Melanie will decide to leave Joseph for him.

Amnesty Lodge is undecorated save for a string of rainbow lights around the front, double doors. A young woman with a black and orange up-do and a sweater reading “hex the patriarchy” checks him in, pausing halfway through to shoo a massive, white rabbit away from the computer cables.

“Here you go! It’s just down that hall. Springs are open 7 am to 9 pm–Dr. Harris Bonkers, don’t you dare jump up there–and the restaurant is open six to nine.”

The wooden clock above the fireplace informs him it’s 8:50.

“How mad would the staff be if I tried to get in there now?”

“Worth a try. Barclay is closing tonight and he’s a big softie.” She gives him a conspiratorial wink, “but you didn’t hear that from me.”

He thanks her and wheels his bag across the worn, diamond patterned carpet until he reaches the restaurant. It’s empty except for a man behind the counter, wiping down the flattops with half the lights off.

“Excuse me? I, is there any chance of getting something to go?”

The man glances over his shoulder, “I could pack you up a few things, but do me a favor and throw that bolt once you get in here.”

Joseph locks the door as instructed and moves to the counter, sitting down just as the man tosses a towel over his shoulder and turns to regard him.

Okay, things could be worse. Melanie could be staying with this guy. This guy with his strong jaw and gorgeous, auburn beard, his full lips and arms like a fucking lumberjack, god how is he making a man-bun look good? And why is his shirt unbuttoned those two buttons, it should be illegal to tease someone with that glimpse of the broad expanse of chest and dark hair-

He snaps himself out of the intense reminder of his bisexuality to find the cook giving him the exact same once over. It’s not until they lock eyes that the bearded man looks over at the bakery case, coughing awkwardly.

“Uh, so I got a few slices of cake left. I could throw some bread and stuff under the salamander if you want something toasty.”

“That would be amazing” He glances at the name tag, “Barclay.”

“You in town for the ski season?”

“No. My, um, my girlfriend has family here. Apparently. And she’s helping fix up their flower farm. I came down to help.”

Barclay sets slices of cheese on a thick bread with everything seasoning on the crust, “You want me to make two of these in case she’s hungry?”

“She’s not staying here. She’s staying with the neighbors.”

The cook pauses, plate in hand, “You want two anyway?”

“Please.”

He wolfs down an offered slice of flourless chocolate cake, pulls out his wallet as Barclay sets a to-go box on the counter.

“Don’t worry about it man, it’s on the house.”

“You sure?”

“Yep” Barclay smiles, melting the last of the frost from Joseph’s chest, “One time only, you come back tomorrow and you gotta pay full price.”

Joseph lifts the box like it’s an antique vase, “If everything else is as good as that cake, it will be worth it.”

Seven hours later, Joseph takes the same seat at the counter and is surprised to find Barclay writing something on a chalkboard.

“Do you work every hour this place is open?”

“Nah. I’m usually here early to bake what we need for the day and then I work the breakfast shift. I covered for Moira, the afternoon and evening cook, so she could go see visiting family yesterday. Here, this is the winter menu and, oh, lemme just-” He lifts the small chalkboard from the counter and hangs it near the cash register, “there, those are the specials.”

“Latkes? Really?”

Barclay chuckles, “Yeah, Hanukkah started two days ago, wanted to offer some specials for it.”

“No, I know it did, I’m sort of shocked anywhere in town acknowledges that” He winces, looks down at his menu, “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“Aw, c’mon, didn’t the giant merry Christmas signs on all the public buildings clue you in to how multicultural this place is?”

Joseph offers an exasperated smile, “I’m glad I’m not the only one who notices that.”

“Latkes?”

“Please. Oh, and a side of eggs and some coffee, if you could.”

“Coming right up.”

They chat about the Lodge and the town as Barclay cooks, Joseph the only one in the place until a young, blonde woman appears in her apron just as a part of four comes in through the doors.

“Swear Dani always knows just when it’s gonna get busy. Oh, lemme top you off. Need any more cream?”

Joseph bites back a flirtatious comment in favor of, “no, thank you.”

When his breakfast arrives, Joseph takes two bites and moans, “God, if I had more money I’d demand you come cook for me in the city the next time my family visits. This is amazing.”

“Glad you like it, but don’t hire me yet” Barclay scrapes hash across the flattop, “my latkes are great but my sufganiyot needs some work.”

Joseph wipes his lips with a napkin, “No one in my family can make them either. My mom would get them from the bakery on the Sunday and then we’d eat them watching The Thin Man. Or It Happened One Night, that was dad's favorite.”

“Fuck that sounds nice. Hash and eggs up!”

He stares down at his plate as Barclay and Dani trade orders and instructions back and forth. Melanie isn’t interested in watching old movies; she loves seeing new ones with him, but the older stuff isn’t her cup of tea.

After breakfast he sends some emails from his laptop, then takes his paperback into the lobby to read by the fireplace until Melanie calls.

He wakes up in a comfy chair at noon to Aubrey, the young woman from last night, gently poking his shoulder.

“Hey, so, your girlfriend called with a message. She says she has to help Hank decorate the mint farm for an important work event. Um, that means something to you right? Because it seemed weird to me.”

He runs a hand through his hair with a sigh, “Yes, it means I’ll have plenty of time to finish my book. Thank you, Aubrey, for telling me.”

An hour later his book is finished and he’s wondering if he should just go nap in bed all day when Barclay enters the lobby, yawning and pulling on his coat.

“Hey Joseph, thought you’d be off fixing a house by now.”

He explains the situation, doing his best to hide the frustration and worry burbling in his stomach. Barclay rubs his beard thoughtfully and says, “You wanna give me a hand getting some decorations for the Lodge? You don’t, uh, you don’t have to, but it’d be nice to have some company.”

Five minutes later, he’s bundled in the passenger seat of a red, battered pick-up as Barclay steers them towards the center of town.

“We mostly need the greenery, like branches and stuff. We’ve got all the lights we need in storage so we’re good there, and we promised Duck–uh, he’s a friend, works in the national forest–we wouldn’t just harvest our decorations from random trees near the Lodge.”

“And we’re getting a tree?” Joseph asks as they turn at the sign reading directing them towards the Christmas tree farm in red letters.

“Nah, we try to keep it more general. Like, being a place of light and warmth in the darkness of winter. This place sells branches and wreaths in bulk if you know who to ask and also bring them cookies” he taps the tupperware box on the seat between them.

They park and walk across the snow-dusted gravel to a small cabin at the front of the farm, turning to the back of it while the other guests weave between the different pines. Even working as a team, it takes the two of them a half hour to move the crates of greenery to the truck.

“Phew, that’s the last one.” Barclay shuts the tailgate, “You hungry? The lone Vietnamese place in town does a mean lunch special.”

“Let me treat you? After all, you did make me breakfast.”

A puff of breath marks Barclay’s laugh. With a remarkably demur smile for a man his size he adds, “You’re pretty gratifying to cook for.” He reaches out, brushing stray pine needles from Joseph’s black, winter coat. Joseph is a nanosecond away from returning the favor when a familiar voice catches his ear.

“Melanie?” He waves to his girlfriend, who hurries over to him with Hank and three small children in tow. She loves kids, so he’s glad she’s getting to spend time with some (he knows she wants a big family, something he can’t give her quite as easily as a cis guy could).

“Hi sweetheart, thanks so much for understanding about today. They’ve had trouble selling the mint, I guess demand is really low? Anyway, Hank and I have to get a tree for the party, and there’s going to be a ton of clean-up tomorrow, but the next day do you wanna come with me to the hot cocoa tasting? It’s to support the volunteer fire department, Hanks a member so I thought it’d be great to support him.”

“I, um” Joseph tamps down on all the ways this is setting off his “she’s in act one of a rom-com and I’m the boring stick in the mud” alarm bells and nods, “yes, that sounds great. Good luck with the party tonight. And, um, just give me a call if you end up needing more help.”

“Melaniieeee, come on, someone has to hold uncle Hank’s other hand.” One of the blonde little girls waves her arms emphatically. His girlfriend departs with an apologetic smile. He blows her a kiss. She doesn’t seem to see it.

“....Did she say the guy can’t find buyers for mint? Like, the plant that’s a major ingredient in all kinds of food and also medicine? That mint?”

“It seems so.”

“It’s either man-eating or it tastes like shit.” When Joseph just keeps watching the happy group walk away, Barclay sets a warm hand on his shoulder, “still wanna get lunch? I’m not a gorgeous blonde, but I’m still a pretty good date.”

Joseph turns, eyebrows raised, and Barclay grins, “There you are. I was worried you’d stay spaced out and I’d have to stick you in the bed with the plants to get you home.”

“Not a chance, big guy.” He nearly apologizes for the nickname, but Barclay just playfully shoulder checks him on his way to unlock the car door.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph slept through his alarm, so technically he has no one to blame but himself.

But come on, it isn’t that ridiculous to think a morning hot cocoa tasting event will have food that isn’t Christmas cookies. Or that it would have coffee.

Instead he’s been sitting next to Melanie as she chats with other Snowfall residents like she’s known them for years. Betty, Hanks’ mother, is at their table, and seems to have taken a distinct dislike to Joseph. One he is really, really hoping isn’t related to the fact that he and Melanie are the only mixed-race couple in the building.

He gamely drinks whatever cocoa Melanie suggests, and he has to admit the one Hank made tastes nice. But his pouring sugar into an empty stomach is making him feel like he’s ten years old and just ate all his Halloween candy in one go.

Hank finally joins them and Joseph earnestly tries to get to know him. But he keeps getting boxed out when Melanie and Hank turn the conversation towards their favorite Christmas traditions.

“Marshmallows!!!!” The three kids at the table shriek and sprint off to a figure that just came through the doors. Barclay manages to keep his balance as they clamor for the boxes in his arms, and gives them each a white, pillowy square before unboxing the rest onto the table.

“I don’t know why he fusses with that. You can get two dozen bags at Walmart for ten dollars.” Betty mutters.

“He likes it. We were chatting yesterday and he admitted that he makes macarons when he’s stressed.”

“Which means?” Melanie looks at him, perplexed.

“He fears nothing.” Joseph says blithely. When he notices everyone at the table looking at him oddly, he stands, “I’m going to see if he needs any help.”

Barclay looks up as he more or less dives into the community center kitchen, “trying to get first dibs on the coffee ones?”

“No. Not that those don’t sound delicious but if I eat anything else sweet I’m going to be sick.”

“Kinda thought that might be the case.” Barclay reaches into one box, pulling out a McDonalds bag and two travel mugs of coffee, “it’s not fancy, but when Dani said she saw you literally running out of the lobby this morning I had a hunch you might need a pick me up.”

Joseph takes the offered mug, staring at the shiny blue exterior.

“Can I hug you?”

Barclay rumbles out a laugh and opens his arms, “C’mere.”

Joseph tentatively wraps his arms around him, tension that’s been there since 2014 melting out of his spine as Barclay hugs him back.

“Is this all Egg McMuffin related?”

“No. I’ve felt lonely all morning and I’m…seeing you changed that.”

A soft, concerned hum is all the reply Barclay gives as he holds Joseph a little tighter before reluctantly letting go.

After the cocoa tasting is through, Melanie asks Joseph to come with her while she does some Christmas shopping downtown. It’s perfectly pleasant, walking in the light snow with Christmas carols drifting from every store. But as they hold hands, all he can think of is how it would feel to do the same with Barclay. Judging by how much of Melanie’s conversation revolves around Hank, he’s guessing she wishes she was holding a different hand.

As they’re turning back towards the community center, street lamps lighting their way, a voice calls out “fire” and they’re suddenly pelted in snowballs.

“Hah!” Hank yells to Melanie from where he and his nieces and nephew are hidden behind a snowbank, “told you I’d get you back for last night!”

“Oh it’s on!” Melanie takes off after them, calling a goodbye to Joseph as she does.

Snow slips past his collar and drips down his back all the way to his car. By the time he arrives at the Lodge, no amount of blasting the heater relieves the chill.

He’s trying not to look uptight or upset on his way to his room, but when snow manages to slip down his pants, he groans and thunks his head into his door.

“You okay there?” Barclay is behind, wrapping paper in one hand and tape in the other.

“No. I got hit by a bunch of snowballs and I couldn’t act like I hated it, which I did, because Melanie clearly loved it and I don’t need yet another reason to seem stuffy and out of touch next to Hank! And to top it all off I cannot get warm.”

“You wanna use the springs?”

“They’re closed.”

Barclay gives him a sly smile, “Get your suit and meet me at that back door.”

He changes, tugging his complementary robe around himself as he waits. When Barclay returns, he ushers him out and past the usual springs to a door marked Staff Only.

“Holy shit, I thought this was a maintenance shed or something.”

“Nope. We want the staff to have a way to enjoy the springs without dealing with guests.” Barclay tugs off his sweatshirt, revealing his bare torso. Like his arms, it’s dotted with tattoos, and Joseph quickly tosses his robe over a chair so he can join him for a closer look at one in particular.

“I like the Bigfoot one.”

“Knew you would” Barclay teases, eyes skating along Joseph's arms and chest, “think yours is more, uh, tasteful.”

Joseph glances at the black silhouette of Bigfoot on his shoulder, then at the woodland scene with the cryptid peeking out of the trees on Barclay’s bicep, “Yours is much more eye-catching.”

“Got it when I was cooking out on the west coast. My nickname was Bigfoot so it seemed like a good memento.”

Joseph playfully nudges his foot beneath the water, “They don’t seem too big to me.”

“Maybe not. I like to think every part of me is, uh, proportional” He leans back, spreading his arms over the side of the pool and Joseph uses all his self-control not to look down and confirm his statement. Then it runs out.

“Is…is that tattoo of a jar of chili crisp?”

Barclay blushes, “Yeah. A friend of mine and I got condiment tattoos as part of a stunt to raise some money for the Lodge.” The cook opens his legs, ostensibly to move the tattoo closer so Joseph can see it.

As Joseph adjusts for a better look, Barclay frowns, “Fuck, that looks like it hurt.”

He sighs, looking at the scar on his side, “Being shot generally does.”

“Holy fuck. When you said you’d been in the FBI I didn’t realize it meant, like, dangerous shoot-out levels of FBI.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be. I was negotiating with a chunk of a cult that had taken some hostages on a farm and my back-up…didn’t back me up. They started firing on someone else's order and didn’t stop no matter what I said. I found out the hard way that someone had ammo that could pierce a bulletproof vest.”

“Fuck, Joseph, I’m sorry.” Barclay reaches out, tracing the skin above the scar.

“It was for the best. I like the work I’m doing now much better and I go to sleep with a clearer conscience. Plus I have more time to write.”

“I really do wanna read your book when you’re done.”

He means it. No one in Joseph’s life has ever meant it.

“I’ll send you a copy, even if it’s just a stapled together one.”

Barclay yawns, rests his head on Joseph’s shoulder, “Gonna hold you to that.”

A hand bumps his thigh, palm upturned. An invitation.

Joseph takes it, holding tight to the warmth as the snow swirls through the air.

—--------------------------------------------------------

“I hate being right.” Joseph hangs back against the Lodge wall, sporting the closest thing he owns to an ugly sweater (deep blue with snowflakes and UFOs) as his girlfriend kisses a man in a far uglier one on the other side of the room.

“I’m sorry.” Barclay murmurs, though his voice is oddly tight.

“It’s for the best. But I need to go talk with her.”

Melanie is still glowing when Joseph waves her to the side door so they can talk outside.

“Joseph, I, before you say whatever it is you want to say I need to tell you that I’m-”

“Breaking up with me?”

Her face falls, “You could tell?”

“I did have a career in investigation for years. What I wanted to say is that we’re on the same page. Dating you has been great, but I think we just want different things.”

“Yeah” she looks over her shoulder to where Hank is explaining the nativity scene on his shirt to his nephew, “I think we do. Take care, okay?”

He smiles and nods, giving a little wave as she disappears inside. Then he skirts the Lodge and sneaks in the back door, no longer in a festive enough mood to be in a crowd, even if that crowd includes his friends from the Lodge.

The noise from the party dies down around ten, the same time he finishes the last crossword puzzle in his book. He’s wishing he’d done them in pencil so he could erase them and do some again when there’s a knock on the door.

Opening it, he finds Barclay standing there, hands behind his back.

“You can tell me to fuck off but I…I brought these” He produces a bag of jelly donuts from behind him, then reveals a DVD case, “and a copy of The Thin Man.”

Joseph takes both, voice shaky as he thanks him.

“I thought we could watch it together. I, I know it’s silly, and I almost didn’t do this because doing it right after you broke up with Melanie seemed creepy but also you’re only here for so long and I didn’t wanna chicken out” Barclay pauses, taking a deep breath, “but I wanted to say that I can’t think of a better way to spend a winter night than eating and watching old movies with you. Or just being with you.”

Joseph carefully sets the gifts on the bed. Then he takes two, determined strides and backs Barclay against the door, kissing him like his life depends on it. The cook moans, throwing his arms over Joseph's shoulders.

“That” Joseph murmurs, tracing his lips along Barclays’ throat, “is the best way I can think of spending a winter night.”

Barclay tips up Joseph’s chin to kiss him again, chaster but twice as hungry as before, “You make a convincing case, babe. So how about we find a new way to keep warm?”

They only make it down to their underwear before the exhaustion of the day sets in, but neither of them minds. As the snow falls in clumps outside, the cuddle close, trading sugar-coated kisses under the covers.

#sternclay #agent stern/barclay #winter fills #trans agent stern

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dknuth · 9 months

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The rest of Backroads and independent travel near Anchorage

I have been putting off writing this post. Hoping for more interesting material I guess.

The Backroads trip was generally rainy. Sometimes light, sometimes more, and generally cloudy and damp. So not terribly exciting, or good for photography. In addition, Cathie was very optimistic about her ability to do the walks. In general, one mile of walking on pretty flat ground was enough to do her in for the day. It also typically took an hour. So she wasn't really walking with the group, as the "short walks" were more like 3 to 5 miles. So I needed to decide whether to support Cathie and do something with her, or walk with the group and leave her behind by herself.

I went on the walk to Exit Glacier. There were two options, the "Toe of the Glacier." and an upper-level viewpoint. It was explained that the trail to the upper level was steep and muddy with switchbacks that were very steep and slick in the corners. I had done that on the last glacier hike and it wasn't fun so I went with the Toe. Most people made the same decision and the three that went for the upper option came back only having gone a third of the way.

So here's the view from the Toe viewpoint.

I pointed out that the Toe had receded out of view and we were looking at the ankle.

When everyone was there I did take a loose group photo.

As you can see it was another damp day, but not heavy rain.

Our last night we went to dinner at the house of a woman that runs a place for weddings and other events. It was a very Alaskan place: woodsy and folksy. But the food was good and it had a lot more character than most restaurants.

Our last night was at the Alyeska ski resort. A very nice hotel, but pretty dead out of season. With little else to do, I took the tram to the top of the ski area. Overpriced in the summer at $39 (with a discount). But some good views.

As you can see the views of the mountains were clear, but still oppressive skies.

My plan was to spend an extra week in the Anchorage area where we could pick things Cathie was able to do. But there's really not much in the Anchorage area that fits that bill.

Just up the valley from us is the Eagle River Nature Center. They pointed out a short one-mile loop and we did that. There was a moose in the water just up-stream, which was nice.

I thought that if we stopped for lunch Cathie should be able to do the local small botanical garden, but it became clear that would be too much, so we called it a day.

The next day we went to Reflection Lake which has a one-mile flat trail. My thought was we would do that little walk and then drive around and sight-see a bit. But that was also too much.

But it was a nice walk around the lake, with views and reflections in the water.

So I took Cathie back to the Guesthouse and headed back out for the afternoon.

I headed up Highway 1 to the east of town through a section labeled "Glacier." There was one glacier in the distance, but really not worth the several hours of driving.

The next morning we went back to the botanic garden. It's pretty small with one 3/4 mile loop. But some nice flower gardens.

Then back to the apartment before dinner. The apartment was another strategic error. It's up the Eargle River Valley about a half hour out of town, so every extra trip out there was an extra hour of driving.

Then we discussed our situation and decided we weren't getting that much out of our stay here, so we should go home a few days early. I checked with American and determined we could get a flight 3 days early and save $78 there. Then canceled the last three nights in the guesthouse and got a $400 refund, plus fewer days on the rental car and fewer meals here in Anchorage (where the food is very expensive.)

So we went for it and will head back to Madison tomorrow night.

It hasn't been a terrible trip, but not exciting either. We did come to a better understanding of Cathie's ability to travel and I've been changing future travel plans accordingly, so that was a good thing!

#kenai peninsula #Alaska #Anchorage

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saultnpeppah · 2 years

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Back to You: Chapter 5

The Waynes weren't the only family Diana left behind. What happens when she finally faces Clark and Lois after more than a decade? Read Back to You Chapter 5 now!

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14077571/5/Back-to-You

Diana

May 19. Kent Farm. 15:05

The hot air that blows through the cornfield and through the trees makes it hard to breathe, and for the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would want to live here. It's hot. It's humid. It's worse than the fiercest of summers in Gotham. But as I walk up the driveway that leads to the small farm house, I notice the serenity a place like this could offer. It's quiet, it's peaceful, and to Clark, it reminds him of his childhood. It's the same for me on the island.

After lunch with Penelope, the two of us had gone back to the manor. She had gone upstairs to nap and I had taken the opportunity to get out of the manor and clear my head. I flew around, no clear destination in mind. I just traveled until I landed in a spot I knew from late nights huddled on the couch, watching movies as Lois gave me pregnancy tips. To my surprise, however, the apartment I had come to love as a second home hadn't been occupied by Clark and Lois Kent, but rather by a couple of college roommates, shocked to see an Amazon knocking on their front door on a random afternoon.

It had taken some quick investigating, but I found out they had moved back to Smallville after the death of Clark's mother, taking over the farm with the help of their son, Jonathan. So I flew as quickly as I could to Smallville, wanting, needing, to see the people I had missed dearly.

The gravel that lines the driveway crunches under my boots as I make my way to the house. When I step on the first wooden step that leads to the large porch, it creaks under my foot. It breaks me out of the trance I am in, and I begin to worry I'm making a big mistake. What if they don't want to see me? What if, much like Damian, they hate me for leaving without a word?

The creaking increases when I step onto the next step, then onto the wooden porch, and I let out a sigh of relief when it doesn't give way. Maybe I should just turn around and leave. Bruce can call Clark and ask about Jonathan coming tomorrow. After all, neither of them know I'm even here. No harm no foul, right? I am about to turn and rush off the porch when the front door is yanked open.

"You were supposed to be home twenty minutes ago Mister-"

Lois stops when she sees me standing in front of her. Her eyes go wide and her mouth stands agape as she stares at me in shock. This must be a big deal as I have managed to shut up the woman who has talked Lex Luthor into submission on more than one occasion. "Diana?" she asks, taking a step toward me.

All I can do is nod. I watch as she shoves the phone in her left hand into the back pocket of her jeans and squeals. "Oh my God, Diana!" she says as she hops onto the porch and pulls me into a hug.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I wrap my arms around the woman who was like a sister to me. The only woman who had no superpowers that I trusted. If only I had trusted her and had told her the truth before I had left. "Lois," I whisper, trying not to cry as she hugs me tight.

Lois pulls away and smiles at me. Her eyes are welled with tears and I feel ashamed that I have caused them. "You son of a bitch," Lois says, trying to sound angry as she punches my arm.

I raise an eyebrow and rub my shoulder. "Ow," I say in shock.

Lois wipes a few tears that have fallen from her cheek and shakes her head. "It serves you right, leaving like that," she says. "But my god it's so good to see you." She grabs my hand and yanks me into the house, pulling me into the living room.

I've been to the Kent Farm on more than one occasion. Ma Kent was always a wonderful host, cooking alongside Alfred for Thanksgivings and treating us all like her children on Christmas. She was a good woman.

Inside the room looks the same as the last time I saw it, nearly twelve years ago, right before Penelope turned one. The couch is newer, the rugs are different, and there are different photos along the wall, but it still feels as homey as ever.

Lois pushes me onto the couch and sits beside me, turning to face me. She's not going to let me go until I answer her questions. I knew this was going to happen, and it's only fair.

"So, spill," she says. "What happened?"

I shrug, unsure of where to start. I've told no one of everything that has happened between Bruce and I. Even Antiope only knows bits and pieces. The other Amazons know only that I am their Queen and Penelope is their princess. They don't know the messy details of what had to happen to get us to that point.

"What did Bruce tell you?" I ask. I need to know what has already been said. I don't want Bruce to sound like the bad guy, because in all reality, he's not solely to blame for what happened. I take most of the responsibility for that.

"Bruce hasn't told us anything," Lois answers. "When you left, he shut down for weeks. Hell, Clark and Dick had to pick up the slack around Gotham because he couldn't do anything. The man was depressed."

"I see," I say with a nod.

"Did he cheat on you?" Lois asks rather bluntly. I only stare at her with wide eyes and shake my head. "Did-did you cheat on him?" she asks, this time a bit more skeptical.

Once again I shake my head. "Neither of us cheated," I answer. "It was nothing like that."

Lois breathes a sigh of relief. I can see she's glad nothing like that was the reason I left, but now I can see she's even more confused than before. "Then what happened?" she asks.

I take a deep breath, holding it for a few moments, before I let it out. "My mother went missing," I say. "Everyone fears she's dead." Lois gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. She knows the relationship I had with my mother. It was rocky, especially when I left the island, even more so when I had been banished for bringing men to the island, but we had been working on it for years. By the time Bruce and I had gotten married, and Penelope was born, my mother was a constant in my life. Losing her had been devastating in its own right, but I never knew that I would have to lose her and Bruce in the same week.

"So you went to go look for your mother?" Lois asks.

"Yes and no. I went to look for her, but Themyscira needed a Queen, and it was my duty to the Amazons to lead them in their time of grief. I had no intention of staying. I was going to go just to find my mother, and if need be appoint another Queen until we could find her, but then Bruce and I started having problems."

"What kind of problems?" she asks. "I always thought you two were perfect."

I let out a nervous laugh. "You know Bruce, he's stubborn, and I'm stubborn, and we both fight so passionately that sometimes we don't know when to stop. He didn't understand why I needed to go back to Themyscira, and the more he pushed me, the more I wanted to get away. He couldn't understand what I owed the Amazons."

Lois nods and places a hand on my knee. I can see the skepticism in her eyes, but like Bruce, she doesn't understand what it's like to be pulled between what you know is right in your heart, and what your brain wants to tell you what's right. It was never an easy decision, and had he not shut me down more than once, I would have made it with Bruce instead of venturing out on my own.

"What made you change your mind? About Penelope," Lois asks. She wants to know why I kept my daughter away from Bruce for a year, why I even bothered bringing her back to Gotham to get to know the man I had run from.

I give her another shrug. "I realized it wasn't her fault her parents were so stubborn. I remembered the feelings of uncertainty, the questions I had about myself as I grew up with only my mother. She needed a father just as much as she needed a mother. I couldn't deny her that."

"And Bruce is so grateful you gave him the opportunity to get to know her, and we're all happy you let her come back into our lives. But we all missed you too.

My eyes meet the floor and I let out a sigh. "I know," I whisper. Lois is right, I've missed them too, but they don't understand the sacrifices I've made. The sacrifices I've needed to make. First and foremost, I am an Amazon and my duty comes to my people. I cannot let anything distract me from that, not even Bruce. Walking away from him, both times, were the hardest things I had ever done in my life.

Lois opens her mouth to speak, stopping only when the front door opens and the room is filled with the sound of boisterous laughter. I look up just in time to see two men step into the room, laughing, holding their sides as they try to contain their giggles.

Clark is the first one I notice, his wide shoulders nearly shielding the other person from my view. He's wearing a blue shirt and dark jeans, his eyes hidden behind thin framed glasses. He looks up and sees me sitting on the couch and his smile fades as he stares at me in disbelief. "Diana?" he questions.

I stand from my seat on the couch and nod. "Hi Clark," is all I can get out before he rushes over to where I stand and envelops me in a tight embrace. It feels like home. Clark has always been quick to forgive - first with Shayera, now with me. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. My eyes well with another round of tears as I wrap my arms around him and return the hug.

We stay that way for a few moments, before I glance up at the man staring at us and pull away, wiping my eyes with the heel of my palm. Clark says nothing else as he glances over at Lois who gives him a small nod, letting him know she'll fill him in later. I love that the two of them can speak without muttering a word. It was something Bruce and I used to do, although I fear we are too out of sync to even attempt it - as if he'd even want to.

Clark turns to the younger man and introduces me. "Jon, this is Diana." He turns to me. "Prince? Wayne?" He's unclear what surname I am currently using, but it does not matter. On the island, none of that matters.

"Diana," I answer. Neither of those last names feel right to me anymore. I am no longer the person I used to be when I used either of them.

I look up at the younger man, my lips curling into a smile. Jonathan is the splitting image of his father, even down to the fake glasses. "Jon, hi," I say, "you probably don't remember me."

Jon squints at me and gives me a grin. "There's a photo of us hanging by the stairs," he says, using his thumb to point at the staircase behind him. "I remember you used to show me all the cool swords and stuff."

I smile at him and nod, trying to avoid the wide eyes from Lois. It was by accident, as he had come to visit the manor while I was decorating the library, but I was careful. Besides, I was pregnant at the time, so I couldn't have gotten into much trouble with him.

Jon chuckles as he sees his mother's expression. "Chill, Mom," he says. "It was fun, and I didn't get hurt."

"Uh huh," is all Lois says as she crosses her arms over her body. She scoots over to the next couch cushion, giving Clark space to sit down, as she narrows her eyes at me. She knows I would never let her son get hurt, even if he wasn't as strong as his father, but it's the mother instinct in her. I would do the same for any of the boys and Penelope, none of which have powers to help themselves.

Jon kisses his mother's cheek and watches as she relaxes, before he gives me a small wave. "Well, it's nice to meet you again, Diana," he says. "But I have chores and homework."

I nod. I watch as he makes his way to the staircase before I remember one of the reasons I had come all this way. "Oh, by the way, Penelope wants to go to the amusement park tomorrow and wants to know if you want to come."

Jon looks at Lois and Clark, who both nod, and smiles widely. "Oh absolutely!" he exclaims. "Thanks for the invitation. I'll be there tomorrow morning."

He turns to run up the stairs, waving goodbye to me once more, before speeding up and into his room. "Make sure you get all your chores done first," Clark calls after him, before he turns to face me. "So, PJ invited you all to the amusement park? You and Bruce….going together?"

I glare at Clark and shake my head. "She wanted to go, so we're going," I state. "And she was adamant I ask your son." I turn to Lois. "Does my daughter have a crush on your son? Your adult son?"

Lois laughs and shakes her head. "No. But he does have a crush on Damian," she confesses. Clark laughs and nods as Lois says, "But don't tell him you know. We're not even supposed to know." She lifts her finger to her mouth and pretends to shush.

I nod and chuckle, but I can't help the feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jonathan is my godson. I was there the day he was born. Bruce and I put together his first birthday party. I was the one who would baby sit when Clark and Lois needed a night to themselves. The fact that I don't know this about him makes me realize I have missed out on so much of their lives. Who knows what else I've missed out on.

Clark opens his mouth to say something, but stops and places a hand on his ear. He's getting a message on his comlink. He nods and turns to Lois, plants a kiss on her lips, and tells her he'll be back soon, before he looks at me. "Distress call on the Watchtower," he says. "Want to come?"

I shake my head. The Watchtower is the last place I should be. Actually, Gotham, in the manor specifically, is the last place I should be. The Watchtower is a close second. "I don't think I can face everyone," I say. I am still in the first stage of making amends. Talking to Bruce and the boys was one thing. Staying up late last night crying with Alfred was one thing. Coming to Smallville to talk to Clark and Lois was one thing. Seeing everyone on the Watchtower is a completely different thing.

Clark shakes his head and waves away my concern. "Shayera and Jon are no longer here," he says, "they left about two years after you left. Long story." I raise an eyebrow.

"Together?" I ask. Clark nods and I become even more confused. Shayera and Jon left together? When I went back to Themyscira, Jon was still dating Vixen and Shayera was….well she was still trying to grasp her mind around the fact that Bruce had met her son in the future.

"Shocking, right?" I nod. "Dinah and Oliver are retired now. They had a baby and decided to get out of the game."

"Dinah had a baby?"

Lois chuckles as she nods. "And he's the cutest little thing. He's a little under five now, but boy is he a little troublemaker."

"Wally and John knew you wouldn't leave unless you had a good reason to," Clark begins, pulling his glasses from his face. "And they're more forgiving than you think."

I let out a sigh and drop my head. He rushes out of the room, leaving Lois and I to stare at each other, rushing back dressed in his signature blue and red costume, his cape flowing behind him. His costume hasn't changed since I've last seen him. Leave it to Clark to keep up with the nostalgia. "Plus, I could use the help."

I let out another sigh and nod, knowing he won't take no for an answer. Besides, I have a few hours to spare before Penelope expects me back for dinner; an emergency on the Watchtower seems like a decent enough reason to get out of an awkward dinner with Bruce. "Fine, Clark," I say. "I'll help you."

Clark nods and flashes a wide smile. "I'll be home soon," he says to Lois, who only nods and gives him a small wave goodbye, before he steps next to me and touches the comlink in his ear. "J'onn, I have two for transport."

The two of us are enveloped in a white light and suddenly the all too familiar feeling in my stomach returns as we're transported into the Watchtower's transportation bay. I shake my head after we arrive, placing a hand on my stomach. There used to be a time when the feeling of being transported wouldn't bother me at all. Now I can't shake the feeling that has settled in my chest. It's been far too long.

"Superman!" Clark turns beside me, facing the owner of the voice. I follow suit and face the control panel. The room is different, updated. I can't imagine the amount of money Bruce has put into The Watchtower throughout the years. "Diana?"

J'onn stares at me in surprise. His green lips curl into a small smile as he phases through the controls and down to where Clark and I stand. "Hi, J'onn," I respond sheepishly, watching as he becomes solid when he reaches the two of us.

"It's nice to see you," he says. I can see the internal struggle on his face. He wants to tap into my mind, figure out where I've been all these years, but he promised long ago to not intrude on our minds unless specifically asked.

"You too," I say, placing my hand gently on his forearm.

Clark places a hand on my shoulder and steps forward. "Diana is here to help. What's going on?"

J'onn nods and points to the large monitor in the middle of the many smaller screens. "Earthquakes along the San Andreas fault line have caused a building collapse in San Francisco. The Flash is already there starting evacuations with first responders."

Clark nods. "You want to change first?" he asks me, taking a glance down at the jeans and tshirt I'm wearing.

I know he's right. This is not what I should be wearing if I'm going to help with Superman and The Flash on a mission - I should not be helping anyway - but I can't bring myself to even think of putting anything from my heroic past back on. "I think we should get going," I say, shaking my head slightly, not wanting him to question me further.

Clark nods and turns back to J'onn. "Two for transport," he says. "It's nice to have you back," he says as the air around him begins to turn to static, the lights around him turning bright as he begins to phase out of view. Moments later the lights around me begin to get brighter and I get that queasy unsettling feeling back in the pit of my stomach. My eyes close by instinct as I feel my body get weightless.

My eyes open when I feel the sheer force of gravity hit me in the gut. I don't understand how I was able to do this daily for years with no issues. The sound of air rushing past me fills my ears and I look up just in time to see a blur of red rush past me.

Wally stops, his feet sliding against the pavement, a trail of rubble sliding in the wind he has created. His head whips my way and his jaw becomes slack. "No way," he says, more to himself than anyone around as he continues to stare at me. "Is it really you?"

I nod at Wally and give him a smile, my hand offering a small wave to the man who had become like a younger brother to me. "It's me," I say nervously. "I'm here."

Wally rushes up and wraps his arms around me, locking me in a tight hug. I hug him back, the smile on my face growing as I realize the worry I had that he would be angry with me was for nothing. "I can't believe it!"

"I know," I say. Something crashes in the background, the sound of glass shattering against the ground. It forces the two of us to look toward the building that is barely standing straight, its foundation crumbling by the minute. "And while it's nice to see you, we should probably save this for after."

Wally nods and drops his arms, rushing toward a woman who has stumbled out of the rubble down the street. He picks her up into his arms and runs down the street and out of harm's way. I turn on my heel and run toward the building, hopping over the cracked and broken pieces of the road, sliding along the pavement. I silently curse as I watch the heel of my boot grind against the rough street, mentally kicking myself for at least not grabbing a pair of my old boots. I will have to toss these as soon as I get back to the manor.

"Help!"

I scan the area, my ears perking up when I hear someone's desperate cries. In front of me, one of the buildings is on fire, smoke billowing out from every open window. I am about to focus my attention on the building behind me when I hear that desperate voice again.

"Please! Someone, help me!"

I look up and notice something poking out from one of the fourteenth floor windows. A rush of air moves the smoke just enough for me to see the terrified face of a woman unable to escape the flames and smoke. She waves frantically, crying as she tries to get the attention of the firefighters, who start to retreat, thinking they've rescued everyone, wanting to get away from the building before its foundation gives way like the others.

I run toward the building, ignoring the heat that fills the air the closer I get to the building. I take another large step, jumping over a few cars that have been smashed with falling debris, before I fly up and toward the building. My eyes are locked on the woman leaning out of the window. Her face is covered in soot, only cleared by the tears that continue to stream down her cheeks.

"Help! Please!" She calls once more. She begins to cough on the smoke as it becomes more dense, the flames engulfing more of the building by the second.

"There's someone still up there," I hear from the ground.

"We can't risk it," another person says.

I glance over my shoulder and watch as the firefighters stare in shock. Their faces are covered in dirt and soot, the sweat on their brow dripping down the side of their faces. A few of them look on in terror, some look down in defeat as they realized they haven't saved everyone.

I turn back to the building and fly the rest of the way toward it, pushing myself harder than I ever have. I'm nearly at the building, flying higher toward the fourteenth floor. I watch as the woman starts waving a piece of fabric out the window, her throat choking on the smoke too much to yell for help. She leans further out of the window, trying to let the green piece of clothing get away from the smoke, however she doesn't realize she has overextended, and falls out of the window.

Everyone gasps as they watch her fall. She lets go of the green piece of clothing, letting it blow away from her as she waves her arms in an attempt to fly up and away. I swoop down and grab the hem of her shirt, momentarily pausing her descent. She stops a few feet before she hits the pavement, her legs hovering over the heated pavement.

She looks up, her eyes meeting mine, and breathes a sigh of relief, before she cries even harder. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice raspy from all the smoke.

I nod and continue to fly, adjusting her in my arms until she is firmly planted in both my arms. I rush her to the edge of the perimeter the fire department has set up, gently landing beside an open ambulance. I gently place her on an empty stretcher and look up at the EMTs. They both stare at me, wide eyed, mouths agape. "She took in a lot of smoke," I say.

Both men nod, snapping out of their temporary confusion, and begin to work on the woman laying in front of them. One of the EMTs, the older of the two based on the white hair that covers his head, places a mask over the woman's face and begins the flow of oxygen. He turns to his partner and nods once.

They move in unison and push the stretcher to the back of the ambulance. The older EMT stuffs the tank of oxygen onto the stretcher beside the woman, making sure it won't roll off as they shove her into the back of the vehicle.

I turn back to the building when I hear the low rumble of concrete and steel shifting. I watch as the building the woman had been in a few seconds prior falls to the ground, a large cloud of debris filled smoke rushing down the streets inside the perimeter. I move to fly back to the area, stopping only when I feel a hand on my arm. I glance over my shoulder and notice the woman on the stretcher staring at me, her eyes still welled with tears as she keeps her hand on my arm.

Her hand shakes as she moves to the mask over her face. She pulls it from her mouth and whispers, "Thank you, Wonder Woman," before she falls back onto the stretcher. The EMTs slide the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. The older EMT climbs into the back of the vehicle and shuts the door, as his younger partner goes to the driver's seat and drives away, flipping the sirens on as they rush to the nearest hospital.

I take a deep breath and let out a sigh. Being called Wonder Woman was strange, but it brought a familiar sense of peace I hadn't expected.

I quickly snap back to reality and fly back toward the other buildings that have been hit by the earthquake, knowing the job is far from over.

It takes a little under three hours to get everything under control, enough for Clark, Wally, and myself to feel comfortable leaving everything else to local authorities. We talk to the police and firefighters, making sure they feel confident none of the other buildings have been compromised enough to fall, before we make our way out of the perimeter. I try to avoid the line of reporters that have been stationed along the perimeter San Francisco PD has set up since the first aftershock hit the city. I already know photos of my return have been circulating the internet, and the video of me catching that woman, who I now know is Grace Benton, a marketing intern on her second day, has been playing every hour on every news station in the city. I can only imagine who else has seen it.

"Diana," I hear from behind me. Wally rushes up to me and places a hand on my shoulder. His outfit is streaked with dark soot and I can see the sweat on his face. I can only imagine how I look, with my singed shirt and torn jeans. "It was so nice having you back," he says. He gives me a tired smile.

I smile back and try to stifle a yawn. "It was nice to be back," I say back. We make our way toward the edge of the perimeter, ducking under the police tape.

It isn't long before the two of us are bombarded with reporters and photographers, shoving their cameras in our faces. "Wonder Woman," one of them calls, "where have you been?"

"Wonder Woman," another says, "how long have you been back?"

"Wonder Woman, are you planning on staying this time?"

"Wonder Woman, does this mean you and Bruce Wayne are back together?"

I take a deep breath and glance at Wally. I don't have any answers to these. I don't know if I'm staying. I don't know how to explain where I've been, and I definitely don't know how to answer that last question. If I had even the slightest idea, I would have been able to sleep just fine last night. I wouldn't be walking through the manor on eggshells.

Wally steps in front of me, his chest hitting the microphone that was thrusted toward my face during that last question. "Come on guys, give her some space," he says. "She's back, she saved a bunch of people, she helped SFPD and SFFD."

He places his hand on my back and leads me away from the reporters. He glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is following us, before he lets out a sigh and drops his arms. "Thank you," I say. "I just didn't expect to be bombarded like that."

Wally nods, reaches over to the table that has snacks and waters set up for the first responders, and grabs a granola bar. He unwraps it and takes a bite, chewing quickly. "You know," he says as he swallows his bite. "If you got some time, there's an iced mocha on The Watchtower with your name on it." He shoves the rest of the granola bar into his mouth and gives me a wide smile.

My lips curl into a smile and I nod. "I'd like that," I say. "I'd really like that."

#wonderbat #batman #wonder woman #fanfiction #brucexdiana #bruce wayne #diana prince #bruceanddiana #backtoyou

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theretirementstory · 2 years

Text

Bonjour à tous, it’s a gorgeous day 26c and although I don’t want to be inside, I have jobs that need to be done!

Now what have I been up to this week 🤔, oh yes, I had a visit from a man from Orange (the phone people, not the City), he was explaining that I have to change to fibre as ADSL is on its way out. He had to come inside while we discussed things and as he wrote his name on paperwork I noted it was not a French name. It was Tunisian and as we had been speaking « Franglais » I remembered 4 words in Tunisian Arabic, he was quite impressed that I knew the word for stars and was able to bid him farewell in Tunisian too. As my dad would have said « No flies on me! »

It has been a week of catching up with friends, one who celebrated her birthday and then both her and her husband tested positive for Covid! I had a message from Monique, she had sorted some items for Ukrainian refugees and wanted to drop them off at my home. We had a lovely couple of hours , chatting about her grandchildren and mine, it was great to catch up. I met the Chief of Police in town and then as I called into the police office to pick up recycling bags she was joking about the new terrace on the front of the house, she said she has told her colleagues that I sit and drink cocktails there! After that (as I was stressing a bit) I called into the pharmacy to see if they were doing vaccinations again as I had looked to have a 4th Covid vaccination and the website only gave me towns dozens of kilometres away! Yes! I was added to the list and I received the telephone call on Friday and a rdv for this Thursday……. brilliant! I turned up at the bar on Wednesday morning even though I know he is closed, I did go along on Thursday evening to read the paper and have a coffee. I messaged Pauline, she is enjoying her work so much. Unfortunately, her grandmother did contract Covid but not from Pauline…. She is feeling better now.

It was the barbecue for the refugees on Wednesday. I was told it was at midi, however the barbecue was just getting fired up then, I was sat with the refugees and couldn’t see any other volunteers there, it turned out they were in the kitchen preparing the food, I maybe should have been up there too but no-one told me that! There was so much food and food parcels of chicken, sausage and merguez were given out at the end . It was a wonderful way to pass an afternoon, the weather was very good too. The lady who had been refused « right to remain » for a second time was telling me on Friday, that they have been given until the end of July in their apartment and then they will be moved to temporary accommodation before going who knows where! She is the lady who is pregnant with her second child, due in November, I am sure she could do without all this stress. I am busy knitting something for the new baby before they go.

I have been preparing my « speech » for Tuesday afternoon, I need to speak it aloud to make sure I have the pronunciation correct. Laëtitia is calling by on Monday evening so I will be able to practice it then too.

It’s official, I have a date to come over to the UK I need to try and book the accommodation tomorrow otherwise I will be well and truly snookered! I am going to be looking after my granddaughter for a few mornings but I am sure we will be able to fill that time in with playing etc.

Excerpt from July by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts

I am for the open meadows,

Open meadows full of sun,

Where the hot bee hugs the clover,

The hot breezes drop and run.

How have we arrived at the seventh month of the year so quickly? My grandson will be celebrating his first birthday soon, wow I can’t wait to see the little chap again. I also cannot wait to see my « big men », my DiL and my gorgeous granddaughter.

See you next time!

#barsuraube #nature #trees #skies #photography #crafts #baking #livingthedream

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viviworkshere · 3 months

Text

Unspoken wounds.

word count 1895

pairing skz!seungmin x gn!reader

genre non-celeb!au, angst, friends/roommates to ???

credits a special thanks to my dear friend flaire for proof reading this for me~

author's notes yay my first work here!!! hopefully you guys liked it... and will most definitely be another part soon.... also english isn't my first language so please please please excuse my mediocre english skills ( ･᷄ὢ･᷅ )

Arguments with Seungmin were always dreadful. Despite them not being often; both of you are quick witted and known to have a sharp tongue when upset, so of course these arguments would sting the most.

You've been friends with Seungmin since forever, and negotiations have always been an ease for you. However, it seems as if your luck has burned out, causing Seungmin and you both getting more stubborn and impatient, which lead to the argument leaving wounds that are yet to heal. You'd just have to hope that this argument wouldn't leave scars that no one would be able to heal.

The argument had started from snarky comments quickly dissolved to yelling at each other at the top of your lungs, not caring about the peace of your neighbours.

Seungmin was sitting on the couch as you entered your apartment, hastily taking off your shoes and setting down your belongings.

"Where have you been?" Seungmin scoffed as he turned around to see you.

It was only 8pm. It wasn't too late to be home around this time. You'd always jump at the opportunity when it comes to Saturdays to go out doing whatever you pleased with your friends since it was the only time you were able to do so. However, this time was different as you went to a date with someone instead. You've told Seungmin about it before leaving, not giving him time to hear his response before shutting the door on him. Perhaps he was upset about that?

"I made dinner for us, but clearly you don't need it anymore,” Seungmin coolly interrupted your train of thoughts.

Only then you've noticed the two plates of food seated at the dining table, untouched. Yes, you've mentioned only going on an afternoon date. But to your disappointment, you've waited for him for hours at the agreed location only to realised you've been ghosted. You probably looked like a fool in others eyes. All dolled up as you sat there alone, perking up hopefully at every time the door opened, bell jingling cheerfully at the same time, only to find out it was some random stranger there. You've tried texting him multiple times only to be left on read.

The waiters weren't pleased with your extended presence without ordering much — only a cup of tea, as they repeatedly came up to you and reminded you to leave if you're just going to sulk there with your tea in hand. You didn't blame their unfriendliness to you though, since it was a busy time and many people were queuing outside, waiting to enter and have their meal before leaving. You left after a few hours sitting there. Defeatedly, you've gone to your friend's and cried there as she tried comforting and quieting your sorrowful sobs.

"Oh, sorry Seungmin. I must've forgotten to remind you about that. I can still join you though! I didn't eat that much during dinner anyways...", you apologised, hoping to get this settled with him so that he'd stop sulking.

"Does it matter? Clearly you've eaten enough,” Seungmin replied. "maybe you should've spent the whole night at his house too while you're at it, hmm?" he jeered.

"Look I've already apologised, I'll finish your dinner and make it up with you tomorrow okay?" you asked wearily, just wanting the conversation to end.

"No. I've been waiting for you for hours! I haven't even took a bite while waiting! Yet you still didn't even tell me that you'd be home late, otherwise I would've just finished my own food and left", Seungmin spat out, patience running thin in him.

The argument then escalated from there before Seungmin ended it by grabbing his plate of food at the table and stomping into his room. Then you sat on the hard-rock couch, quietly sniffling as you replayed the argument in your mind, again and again. Soon, your quiet sniffles escalated to full on sobbing before quieting down and drifting to a deep, dreamless slumber, as if the universe was mocking your loneliness.

You were then woken up by beeping. Peeping from the couch while your eyes still struggling to open fully, you could roughly make out a figure in the kitchen. As you rubbed off sleep from your eyes, you could now clearly see Seungmin in the kitchen – he was taking something from the microwave and turned around to see you staring right back at him. Seungmin scoffed amusingly as he took some utensils, shuffled to the couch and sat next to you, facing you.

You faced him too to see him holding a spoonful of food in front of your mouth, nudging the spoon closer to you. You slightly opened your mouth and let him spoon feed you, chewing the food quietly as he glared at you silently. He continued to spoon feed you as if he was forced to, looking annoyed each time you took a bite. The silence was loud, unbearably loud; and the tension was thick, so thick you wished you could cut it in half with a knife, lessening the tension.

The way Seungmin's gaze landed on you makes you feel horrible about yourself, making you doubt your friendship after this. You felt that if he were to look at you like that silently any more longer you might actually burst into tears.

You wanted to rush into your room and bury yourself into your pillows, sobbing your heart out as it muffled your cries, to avoid the others from hearing. Without even thinking, you got up from the couch and were about to sprint into your room — only to be stopped by Seungmin as he grabbed your wrist to prevent you from leaving his sight.

"Eat." he commanded, gaze stern, observing your body language to predict your next move.

Defeatedly, you sat down as he fed you again, quietly but more cautiously, not wanting you to run away again.

Soon you've finished your plate of food and Seungmin hummed, satisfied; and went to the kitchen sink to wash the dishes… silently.

"You can leave now", he said flatly, not wanting to converse with you any longer.

“Should we talk?” you asked timidly.

“We've already said enough just now.”

“Yet you're still upset about it.”

“I’m not. You're just overreacting.”

“Overreacting?” you scoffed. “You do know that the reason this argument happened was because of you being dramatic, right?” you retorted, arms crossed.

Seungmin loudly sighed to himself as he stowed the plates away. “Sorry,” he apologised insincerely before continuing. “Let me correct myself, you're just being sensitive, as usual. If it weren't for my sympathetic ass I would've left you to starve since you're too petty to even take care of yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yea, you've heard me correctly. Honestly, why do I even bother with you? You're just gonna run to some stranger and leave me no matter how well I treat you,” he spat out bitterly before stomping to his bedroom.

His words struck you like venom, intoxicating you with poisonous thoughts as you stood there, watching Seungmin slowly disappear into his bedroom.

You weren't even tired. Yet you still begrudgingly went to your room and got ready for bed, repetitively asking yourself whether Seungmin now hates you or not. You weren't even tired. Yet you still laid yourself onto the mattress; bed slightly creaking in the process, making you wince at the sound. You weren't even tired. Yet you still tried to force yourself to sleep by squeezing your eyes shut, hoping that you'd drift to sleep soon.

Except you don't. Instead you've fallen into a rabbit hole of thoughts. Looks like his venomous words had not yet worn off you. Does he hate me? you questioned yourself. No, he can't have… you two have been friends since high school! It wouldn't be a valid reason to make him hate you… or worse, throw away the years of friendship you've shared. It'd be illogical. Seungmin is someone who thinks logically, he wouldn't do that. However, he did say those hurtful things to you. Was that logical? Or was that just you being too sensitive? You've always been someone sensitive. Maybe it's just you. You're the problem… but don't worry, just cry it off and it'll be all alright tomorrow; you thought to yourself.

And that's exactly what you did. Waking up the next morning still with the thoughts lingering around, you tried to brush it off as you got ready for work. You walked into the kitchen hoping for it to be all back to normal. Except it wasn't. Or was it? Maybe you were just overreacting after realising that Seungmin had left first, clearly not bothering to join you for breakfast. Ignoring the doubtful thoughts that started to cloud your mind, you finished your breakfast and hurriedly grabbed your things and left.

Time flew by quickly during work. In a blink of an eye, you were already walking back home. It was as if your mind was on autopilot, doing your daily routine as usual, but this time with dreaded thoughts clouding your brain. You could only walk back home hoping that Seungmin would've already cooled down from yesterday.

When you entered your apartment, you saw two plates of food that Seungmin must've prepared for the both of you. At least he doesn't hate you enough to not cook for you…

Seungmin is always the better cook between the two of you. It's not that Seungmin was an amazing cook, however, he's definitely better than you. Besides, your work schedule is always packed, leaving absolutely no time to cook a nice, warm plate of food for yourself during weekdays. If it weren't for Seungmin, you would've probably been suffering from severe malnutrition after eating instant noodles 24/7.

You awkwardly hung around the living room, waiting for Seungmin to make his appearance so that you both can eat together. And he does after a while, acknowledging you with a ‘oh, you're home.’

You two ate in silence, which is a common occurrence, excluding how you'd exchange small conversations here and there, which didn't happen this time… but you brushed it off. Only did it seem off when Seungmin rejected your offer for a movie night – which you two have been doing almost every night, watching at least one episode of a drama before descending into your rooms, to getting ready for bed. You still brushed it off however, Seungmin must've felt awkward after that argument; which you must admit, you also felt like that too.

There wasn't much interaction with Seungmin the next day either, which you still brushed off – despite feeling uneasy about it. Perhaps he just needed space?

But days turned into weeks of silence from Seungmin. You wouldn't really mind him wanting space, but this is too much space, more than you'd like. You two still ate dinner together, but other than that… nothing else. You still greeted him as usual, only to be given a glance that you can only describe as annoyance. Has the argument really taken a toll on him?

Despite being friends since forever, he's never been like this. Even during the arguments that still sting when recalled, it has never resorted to Seungmin taking it this far. You've tried to not take it to heart, but you'd be lying if his coldness didn't make your heart shatter to pieces.

You must admit, this argument doesn't seem like one that'd heal completely.

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