#fellas is it gay to share notes in a language only the two of you know? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iridescentmirrorsgenshin · 2 months

Text

no thoughts just comparing the deliberate parallels between the concerned comments layla, faruzan and paimon make to kaveh which are used to contextualise alhaitham’s comments to kaveh during a parade of providence

In the desert, layla who previously had issues with dealing with anxieties, received dubious advice from kaveh about equating worries to that of a sickness for that which is no cure, therefore you have to let its run its course

Layla reveals that this advice isn’t suitable for her, since the cause for her anxiety was solely because she didn’t have a clear goal for herself. She states that therefore, if this advice is something kaveh adheres to, then this is ultimately worse for him, as kaveh claims to have a set goal - as in, he wants to win the interdarshan chanpionship.

She notes that kaveh seems conflicted, and that this could stem from some inner sadness which he suppresses with a façade of happiness.

This points to kaveh’s internal conflict being between that of his guilt complex brought about by his perceived involvement in his father’s passing, and his genuine desire to help others at the cost of himself. Kaveh cannot balance the two in ways that will allow him to prioritise his own needs and desires

Kaveh’s internal conflict is pointed out later on in the same quest by Faruzan, who highlights kaveh’s title as a genius being incongruous with his problem solving abilities after kaveh passes out in the desert due to giving his food and water to the disturbed foxes and going out of his way to lead them to safety, putting himself at risk and jeopardising his place in the competition

However, Kaveh states that his title of a genius has nothing to do with this situation, and although he admits it wasn’t the most practical solution, it was dually his conscience that ultimately caused him to act and perceivably the guilt that would come from not attempting to help

After the second round comes to a close and faruzan inadvertently informs alhaitham of kaveh’s “tribulations”, the player gets to hear alhaitham’s reactions to kaveh’s decision through kaveh, as kaveh and alhaitham have discussed the events in the desert offscreen

Paimon points out that this is definitely ‘something’ alhaitham would say due to the blunt manner of speaking and the dryness of his words - this contextualises how kaveh receives them, as personal goading

When looking past this and focussing on alhaitham’s actual words, the real meaning can be found, and it is even a point in this scene that paimon offers the exact same comments, drawing direct parallels between her and alhaitham’s words, and therefore establishing the same concerns

Alhaitham points out kaveh’s unreliable problem solving abilities being incongruous with his title as a senior - directly paralleling faruzan’s comments in which she highlighted how kaveh’s decision making abilities were at odds with his title as a genius

As well as this, alhaitham alludes to kaveh’s guilt complex being the reason why he exerts himself for others at his own expense - which is a point that the traveller and paimon directly follow up on

Kaveh responds to their questioning amicably despite the sensitive nature of the conversation, just as he did when faruzan pointed out kaveh’s problematical decision making, and this is because of their apparent concern rather than actively seeking offence, with paimon protesting when kaveh asks: “don’t tell me you think i have serious personality flaws, too?” With the ‘too’ clearly referencing alhaitham and the conversation the two had prior to the traveller and paimon turning up

Kaveh can understand the concern in others’ words when they question his problem solving skills and the sense of his inner conflict stemming from guilt, however, when alhaitham makes the same comments, kaveh sees this as a form on animosity and personal critique

Because of alhaitham’s manner of communication and kaveh’s apparent distrust of alhaitham, the two cannot reach a mutual understanding - despite alhaitham expressing the same concerns as three separate characters within this quest

It is telling then that when kaveh gleans an otherwise unseen meaning in alhaitham’s words is when alhaitham changes his method of communication and directly, and intimately, addresses kaveh by using a script that only the two are privy to

Kaveh still doesn’t wholly understand alhaitham’s meaning, but the switch up in communication method is enough for kaveh to question alhaitham’s sincerity and not attribute it to alhaitham mocking him

Kaveh continues questioning the cause for this throughout the remainder of the event, being seen to question why alhaitham left the notes for him and whether if it was a coincidence or not. He concludes that it wasn’t a coincidence and then states “then…”, inferably questioning why alhaitham left the notes for him and what the meaning of his words were, in a script only kaveh would understand. Additionally, kaveh mentions wanting to ask alhaitham what the meaning of his notes were when at dinner after the closing of the interdarshan championship, as the uncertain meaning of his words has seemingly left a profound effect on him

Alhaitham changing his manner of communication, which kaveh usually perceives as negative, causes kaveh to question alhaitham’s sincerity, and therefore causes doubt in whether alhaitham is patronising him or not. This in turn can cast obscurity over kaveh’s assertion that alhaitham holds “disdain” for him due to Alhaitham’s expression of concern which kaveh cannot perceive due to the abrasiveness of his words. Alhaitham conveying his concern in a roundabout way only allows for kaveh to misinterpret him, which kaveh perceives as “disdain”.

A parade of providence establishes the cause for the rift in alhaitham and kaveh’s relationship mainly to be perpetual misunderstanding in communication, and sets out to propose a solution being that a change of communication.

By using a language that only the two of them know shows that for kaveh to fully understand his meaning, alhaitham must meet kaveh on his own terms when it comes to communication - the two must be on equal and frank level. this could allow a potential rebuilding of intimacy the two once shared when initially learning the language, and thus overcome the idea of “mutual disdain” which kaveh asserts due to his fundamental misunderstanding of alhaitham which alhaitham seems to reinforce with his typical language

(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)

#haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #a parade of providence #okay this is a condensed point from The Essay so yes there are several layers missing #i will talk about kavehs altruism and alhaithams egoism i promise!!#also i just think its interesting that kaveh and alhaithams arc in this event centres around miscommunication and understanding #not that the two should empathise with each other but that they should embrace and accept their differences #as in they should ultimately be companions to one another #kaveh’s hangout is PIVOTAL to this!!#which is why i stand firm in the belief that a parade of providence is kaveh’s story quest #also forever thinking about kaveh being fixated on that gay ass note #fellas is it gay to share notes in a language only the two of you know?#and how he finally got to ask alhaitham at the end of the event once alhaitham set out to find him after returning from the desert #of which he only went to in the first place for kavehs sake #im chewing my teeth

231 notes · View notes

thiswasinevitableid · 5 years

Note

Matchmaker or stripper sternclay?

I chose the following: “I strip because I enjoy it and it’s good money, but I didn’t expect to be hired for your friend’s bachelor party. hello, professor“

Given the prompt and where it went, This is Not Suitable For you Workplace. It’s a lemon, in the language of the olden times.

Note: I have an additional part of this planned, if people end up being interested in it.

Most days, Lucky Stern likes this job.

Stripping isn’t what he’d imagined he’d do during college. But it keeps his head above water and the loans from overwhelming him. He likes most of his colleagues, and the place he works is in the gay neighborhood, which is relatively safe when he gets off at weird hours of the night. Plus it means he gets more exercise than he probably otherwise would as a student working two jobs.

So yeah, most days are fine.

Then there are days like the one he’s having now.

He’s one of two dancers hired for a bachelor party, a small one at a nice house in the fancy, woodsy part of town. He and his partner are doing one of their favorite routines (Scully and Mulder, with his partner doing the drag for Scully), so he’s feeling confident.

Until he turns around and sees a familiar face.

His professor.

Technically his former professor. Also, technically, the professor he’s had a raging crush on for two years.

Barclay, as he asked his students to call him, was an athro professor, but Stern had him for a folklore class (“Cryptids in American Folklore and Culture”) as he finished his depth requirements during his sophmore year. It was his favorite class of the year, and that was only partially due to his professor looking like a lumberjack centerfold (he’s on the younger end of professors, that much Stern knows). Barclay made the material engaging and challenging and shared Sterns fascination with cryptids and their role in the world. And so Stern went to office hours, sometimes because he needed a clarification and (most times) to talk with Barclay about his theories or research or the latest episode of the ridiculous Bigfoot hunting show they both watched. They kept meeting even when Stern moved into the next semester and the semester after that. His life got busier, but he still made time once a week to drop in on his favorite professor (and time after to go somewhere private to jack off to the idea of having sex in his office).

Hell, he was in Barclays office five days ago, telling him he’d scored a paid internship after graduation that might, one day, get him a job investigating paranormal phenomena.

And now here he is, looking as surprised as Stern feels.

He can’t bolt, he can’t, they’d probably demand a refund and he’d screw himself and his partner out of a nights pay. So he goes through the routine on autopilot, though every time he hazards a glance at Barclay the other man is looking down. Except for when they finish, both down to what could be called a thong, if you were being generous. Then he’s staring, and Stern’s never felt more exposed.

They disappear back into the kitchen (their staging area) even as some of the attendees cheer for more. He tells his partner to go for it, then throws on an undershirt and pants so he can go into the garden and have a panic attack.

He’s doubled over, stress dry-heaving into some shrubs. It’s not that he’s ashamed, but he’s heard so many horror stories about people who stripped having a client who recognized them blab and cost them their job or their social circle or, or..

A water glass enters his vision.

“Thanks.” He rasps.

“No problem.”

He stands bolt upright, turns, finds Barclay standing in front of him looking worried. For a moment an awkward pause fills the night air.

“Found a way to pay for school, huh?”

“Yes. What do I have to do to convince you not to tell anyone?” He sighs, tries to keep his shoulders from shaking with pent up panic.

“Convince me to-oh, Lucky, hey, you don’t have to anything.” A hand rests on his shoulder, the gesture familiar and comforting.

“Hold on, are there other people who know and are making you do stuff?” His tone is deathly serious.

“No, it’s just, I got a bit jumpy and went into damage control mode. I apologize.” He takes another sip of water, still can’t look Barclay in the eye (he may be the only man Stern actually has to look up to talk to).

“Listen, I know folks who did the same thing and god knows you’re not the only student at the school who’s landed on this as the best way to avoid money troubles. So no judgement or anything from me, okay.”

Stern nods.

“How’s your stomach?”

“Still feels like shit, but less so.”

“C’mon, lemme make you some tea, it might help.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

“Need a break from the festivities myself, you’ll be doing me a favor.” He smiles and Stern tries not to melt at the sweetness in it.

They head back into the kitchen and Barclay moves through it effortlessly as he grabs a kettle, a mug, and some tea.

“So…how do you know the groom? Or is it grooms?”

“Grooms. I know Ned better than his fiance, met him through friend of mine named Duck. I’m willing to bet Ned’s the one who hired you guys. He can never pass up a chance to be over the top. Plus I imagine both him and Boyd are enjoying themselves.

“Boyd?”

“Groom number two, guy with all the tattoos and muscles.”

There’s a whoop from the other room just as the kettle boils.

Barclay sets the mug in front of Stern before continuing to putter about the kitchen.

“You hungry at all.”

“Not really, what with panic and the puking.”

“Good point. Lemme know if you start feeling different.”

Stern blows on his tea to cool it, catches Barclay looking at him.

He’s blushing.

“Was the Agent Mulder bit something you picked, or just a happy accident.”

“I picked it as one of my go-tos. Everything said to choose things that made me feel confident and sexy and well, you know me.”

“Yeah, future special agent Stern. Can see why you picked it, it looks good on you.” He sticks a serving knife into a pan of brownies. Stern wishes he had an appetite, there’s some really good food in here.

Wait, does he smell buffalo wings?

Indeed he does. There they are, sitting on a tray, probably left over from dinner.

He loves buffalo wings.

“Help yourself.” Barclay grins as he slides the tray across the island to him, passes a napkin along behind it.

Sterns resolve lasts two seconds and then takes a bite.

“These are amazing.” He whispers and Barclay chuckles.

“Thanks, came up with the mix for the sauce myself. Took a few passes to get the texture right.”

“You made these?”

“Made basically all the food for tonight. It’s a hobby, and like cooking for my friends.”

“That’s very attractive.” He murmurs, taking another bite of the wing. Barclay arches an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

The kitchen door swings open and one of the guests comes in, a bigger guy wearing dark green.

“Hidin in the kitchen already?” He drawls at Barclay, before catching sight of Stern, “Oh, howdy, your friend out there said you were feelin sick all of a sudden. You doin okay? Barclay behavin himself?”

“Yes, thank you. I’m sorry for leaving you all with less than you paid for.”

“To be honest, think your friend’s got it covered. Only a few of the fellas are into the whole, uh, whole, y’know.” He gestures at Sterns outfit.

“You’re not dying to have someone cute and mostly naked in your lap, Duck?” Barclays tone is teasing.

“If I wanted that, Indrid is right there.”

“How’s he enjoying the dancers?”

“He’s had too many of those hard sodas, so he’s the kind of drunk where all he wants to do is stare at the lamp with the color changin bulb. Relatedly,” he grabs a water glass and fills it, “I ain’t drinkin anymore tonight so I can get us home safe.”

“Here, take Indrid one of these.” Barclay slips a brownie onto a small plate.

“Thanks, man. See you in a bit.” Then he disappears.

“He seems nice.”

“Yeah, Duck’s a good guy. He and Indrid got married about a year ago, think that man’s gonna be in the honeymoon stage for the rest of his life.”

“Is everyone here married or about to be?” Stern had assumed a bachelor party would have more, well, bachelors.

“I’m not.” Barclay shrugs and Stern nearly chokes on his food when the larger man gives him a suggestive look and sits down beside him.

“What about you? Anyone waiting at home to rub your…legs after a hard nights work?”

“That’s oddly specific, and no.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised. You’re the complete package, smart, hard-working, good looking, only a little messy.”

“I’ll have you know I’m very fastidious-oh” Barclay reaches forward, wipes stray sauce from the edge of his mouth. Stern takes a chance, turns his head slightly and brings the tip of the thumb into his mouth and playfully bites it. Barclay inhales sharply, pupils widening, before slowly pulling his hand back.

“Easy, tiger, I’m not making any kind of move until you’re not a student.”

“I don’t have any classes with you, we’re not even in the same department.” Well, that came out as more of a whine that he wanted.

“That’s my policy, babe. I don’t date any students or TAs, period.”

“But graduation’s not for another month.”

“Gives you time to change your mind safely. And if you still want it, then it gives you lots of time to savor the anticipation.” His deep voice is almost a purr as he brings a hand around to rub Sterns neck, pulling them closer as a result.

“You’re a scrupulous man, Barclay, and right now I could kill you for it.”

“Believe me, it’s as hard for me as it is for you. But if we do, well, anything like that, I want to treat you right and on the level from the start.”

He presses a kiss on the top of Sterns head before sitting back.

“Oh HO!”

Stern jumps and Barclay groans

“Hey, Ned.”

“Here I thought you were simply preparing more refreshments and seeing to our under the weather guest.”

“I’m doing exactly that.”

“Barclay, there were specific rules I agreed to when I hired them-”

“So it was you”

“-and one was that there were to be no private sessions OR touching of the performers.”

Barclay is turning shades of pink never before seen by human eyes.

“It’s alright, really, Barclay was just helping me calm down.”

The man, Ned, look’s concerned.

“Did something happen?”

Stern racks his brain for a half-truth to explain the whole thing.

“Ned, this gentleman is a student at the college. He and I know each other, so you can imagine it was a bit of an unwelcome surprise for him to see me here, so I was doing what I could to help him feel better. And so help me, Ned fucking Chicane, if you ever repeat that piece of information about him to anyone, I will never let you near my cooking again.”

“You have my word. My real one.” Ned looks genuinely somber, “now that’s out of the way.” He bursts into a deep belly laugh.

“I’m so sorry, my dear boy, for landing you in such a difficult, but hilarious, situation. I will be sure to inform your employer that we were all extremely satisfied tonight and wish to add a considerable gratuity on top of what your friend out there has collected from my betrothed.”

“Thank you.” And Stern thought he knew academics with bloated vocabularies. This guy takes the cake.

“My pleasure.” He winks at them and heads back out into the living room.

Stern gives Barclay a perplexed look.

“That’s Ned Chicane? The guy who runs the Cryptonomica? How the fuck can he afford this place.”

“I’ve learned it’s best not to ask.” Barclay steps onto the floor, offers his hand, “C’mon, handsome, help me get the desserts ready.”

“Only if you let me lick whip cream off you.”

“Bold, but no. Not for another month.” He hands him serving tool and Stern takes it with a smile.

—————————————–

Stern has been a graduate all of two days.

Last night was spent with his folks, who were delighted and proud and took him out to dinner.

Tonight he’s working the club, and getting more distracted by the minute. Because someone special is picking him up tonight.

He’s changing into his street clothes when Ray, the most classic butch lesbian he’s ever met and the best bouncer in the city, taps him.

“Hey, there was a bigger fella who came in during your last number and watched like a fucking hawk. Saw him i the back parking lot with a car. Don’t recognize him as a regular. You need someone to walk home with you?”

“Was he taller than me and wearing plaid?”

“Yep.”

“It’s alright, I know him. He’s my date.”

Ray gives him a thumbs up as he steps out the back door.

Barclay leans against the side of his car and watches Stern as he approaches.

“Hey there.” He stands up straight, opens his arms and pulls Stern into a hug.

“I didn’t expect you to catch part of the show.”

“Curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see what it looked like when you weren’t dealing with a massive, unwelcome surprise. Gotta say, you looked pretty damn good.”

“Apparently you were watching me so intently I had to convince the bouncer you weren’t an unwelcome suitor.”

“Nope, nothing but pure intentions.”

“Is that so?” He rolls his hips and Barclay hisses with pleasure.

“I could see you were hard from the other end of the parking lot.”

Barclay grins, and then pulls Stern in for a kiss, mouth hot and hungry against his own. Stern rolls his hips again and Barclay growls, pushes him against the car.

“You got me, my intentions are fifty percent pure and fifty percent ‘if you don’t get in the car I’m gonna lose what’s left of my self control and fuck you over the hood.”

“Jesus.” Stern moans, one hand searching for the handle of the door. Barclay pulls back and grabs it, opening the door and gesturing for Stern to get in.

By the time they get to Barclays place, Stern is close to passing out from excitement. Barclay is on him as soon as they’re safely inside the apartment, tossing keys and jacket haphazardly towards the kitchen counter even as he pushes Stern up against it. His kisses are only broken when he speaks.

“Goddamn, this is worth every time I had to lock my office door and fuck my own hand after you came to see me.”

Stern moans at the image, kisses his way across Barclays cheek while he tugs at this shirt.

“You’re one-of-a-kind, Lucky. Didn’t think I stood a chance with you.”

“Likewise. God, Barclay OHgod” The larger man grinds against him, hands digging into his ass.

“Where do you want to start? Assuming you still want to ohokay.” Barclay laughs as Stern drops to knees and starts undoing his belt, “hold on, got a condom in my jacket.” There’s a rustling above him and in a few seconds Barclay hands him the foil packet.

“Presumptuous.” Stern teases as he unzipps his fly.

“I wanted to be ready in case we didn’t even make it to the apartment.”

Stern smiles to himself at that as he yanks Barclays pants and boxers down; the man is exceedingly thoughtful and oh. Oh lord, he is big. He cock is thick and long and Stern needs it in his mouth right now.

As he rolls the condom on he notices Barclay looking down at him with just as much affection as lust in his eyes.

Before Stern can take him in his mouth, a hand grips his chin and holds him in a place.

“Something you want?”

“I assumed that was obvious.”

Barclay clucks his tongue.

“You want it, you gotta ask for it.”

“I want to suck your cock.”

“Close, but not quite. Need you to ask nicely.” Barclay uses his other hand to move his cock against Sterns lips teasingly.

“Please let me suck your cock?”

“Much better.” Barclay releases his chin, braces his hand on the counter, and Stern gratefully opens his mouth, takes the first inch or so in. He shuts his eyes just as warm fingers ghost across his cheek.

Jesus, he can feel his mouth getting sore from the stretch and it’s been a maximum of thirty seconds and something about that idea, of there being so much of Barclay and it’s all his, makes him moan. He pushes his head forward, takes in more of the shaft and rolls his tongue across it. Tries for more, winces when it starts getting close to this throat.

“Easy, tiger.” Barclays fingers card through his hair, “don’t hurt yourself. Need that sweet mouth of yours in good shape if I’m gonna keep fucking it.”

Stern whines, brings one hand to cover the rest of his cock while the other traces zig-zags on Barclays ass.

“I know, you just want to please don’t you?”

The moan that leaves him is instantaneous and he nods. He’d fantasized about partners saying things like that, dominant and sweet all at once, but hadn’t worked up the courage to ask.

He’s kicking himself for not finding a way to practice deep-throating, he’s seen the bulge in Barclays jeans for months (years) and knew it was formidable.

The hand brushing hair from his forehead steers him from those thoughts.

“Don’t gotta worry about how much of my cock fits. I like it fast, with a lot of pressure. Think you can do that for me?”

Stern locks eyes with him as he eagerly nods, tightens his grip and works his hand rapidly, pre-cum and saliva helping him along. Focuses less on depth and more on sucking, pleasure pulsing through him whenever Barclays cockhead makes contact with his cheek.

“Shit, yeah, that’s it. Goddamn, look at you, wanna watch that face bob up and down on my cock every night.” There’s a sharp thwack as Barclay slaps his other hand down on the counter and groans. Stern keeps his head still, moves his hand as fast as he’s able and sucks hard, tongue swiping at the tip

“I’m close, babe, so fucking close. Lemme hear you, I wanna hear how much you like sucking my cock.”

Stern moans from deep in his chest, lets a series of broken moans punctuate the small jerks of Barclays hips, the only movement he’s made in his mouth.

“That’s it, fuck FUCK, Lucky, baby, so good.” He cums with another groan, one hand dropping down to hold Sterns head in place. There’s a panting growl as he adds, “gonna keep my cock in your mouth for hours one of these nights” and Sterns whole body pings with interest both at the image and at the promise of this being an ongoing arrangement.

Barclay carefully pulls back, and by the time Stern gets to his feet he’s opened a nearby drawer and pulled out a napkin, which Stern gladly accepts.

“That was…damn.” Barclay chuckles, kissing his neck as he finishes wiping his mouth.

“Did I, uh..” Barclay looks at him curiously and he nearly chickens out, “did I do well?”

Something exceedingly hungry flashes behind the taller mans eyes and he strokes a thumb across Sterns lips.

“Yeah, you did. You were real good for me, Lucky.” The chasteness of the kiss that follows these words is in stark contrast to lascivious tone they take as he continues, “you gonna keep being my good boy tonight.”

Before Stern can respond, two things happen: his stomach gives an comically loud gurgle, and his thighs twinge from that nights work.

Barclay chuckles and Stern glares at the lower half of his body.

“How dare you sabotage the mood at a time like this?” He hisses, which only makes Barclay laugh harder as he pulls his underwear and pants back up.

“I’ll make you some dinner. Have a seat.”

Stern drops into a chair and watches Barclay root through the fridge, pulling out a few containers and tossing butter into a pan. His leg is still twinging, so he stands, swings it up and rests his heel on the table to stretch it out.

Barclay drops the wooden spoon he was holding, along with his jaw.

“The dancing helps with flexibility.” Stern shrugs, casually.

“No kidding.”

“The stove is beginning to smoke.”

“Shit! Ah, well, guess you’re having leftover risotto warmed in really brown butter.”

Stern does, and it’s delicious.

As he eats, he slips his shoes off and Barclay motions for him to put his foot in his lap and proceeds to gently rub it as he chats with Stern about the research he’ll be conducting over the summer.

“..So yeah, it’s mostly pouring through interviews and newspapers, but maybe there’s one roadtrip in the mix.” He glances down at Sterns plate, now clean, then smirks at him.

“Care to continue this conversation in the bedroom?”

“Very much so.”

Barclay takes his hand and leads him into a room down the hall. Like the rest of the space, it looks as though someone tried to cram an Appalachian lodge into one bedroom apartment.

“Legs still sore?” He murmurs, arms around Sterns waist and lips grazing the back of his neck.

“Yes, but it’s fine, I don’t want that to get in the way of whatever you had planned.”

There’s a soft laugh against his skin.

“Still trying so hard to be good me, huh?”

Sterns melts back against him with breathy “yes.”

“Then take your clothes off and lay on the bed. Facedown. Underwear can stay on, if that’s more comfortable.”

Stern whips off his t-shirt, tosses his jeans after it and flops onto the bed on his stomach. He can’t really see what Barclay’s doing, feels the bed dip after a few moments. And then something cool hits his thigh. For a second he thinks it’s stray lube and Barclay is getting right to the point, but then fingers begin kneading at his muscles and he sighs into the pillow.

“See, Lucky, here’s the thing; you wanna be good for me, you gotta accept that means I’m gonna be good to you.” Barclays hand presses down towards his calf, stopping to thumb at a knot, “don’t gotta try to give me the right answers or anything like that. Just gotta tell me what you want.”

Slowly but sure he works his way down one leg and then up the other before lightly tapping Sterns ass.

“Roll over.”

When Stern does, his breath catches in his throat; Barclay’s in only his boxers, his body otherwise bare and broad and so appealing Stern thinks this may be a dream.

Barclay runs a hand appreciatively down his chest, drinking him in.

“You act like you’ve never seen me in my underwear before. Which is demonstrably false.”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t do this” the hand moves across Sterns hips, “or this” down to his thigh, “or this” it’s on his cock, gently stroking it up.

“Fair point, ohhhhh.” His back arches as Barclay adds more pressure and he frantically tugs his boxer briefs off, Barclay not missing a beat before taking his cock in his hand. The larger man shifts so he’s laying on his side, hand still working Stern over and lips kissing his cheeks.

“I want you to tell me when you get close. You gonna do that?”

“Yes, Barclay, I promise, I oh, oh fuck.” Barclays grip and pace turn relentless and Stern lets himself be carried away by the feeling until his orgasm starts building.

“Close, I’m, oh fuck you.” Barclays hand stills as he leans in and bites Sterns ear.

“What did I say earlier about being polite?” The growl in his voice makes Stern whimper and wriggle his hips.

“I, I, apologize, please, pleaseplease keep going.”

“Much better.” He starts stroking him again, panting against his ear, and soon Stern feels himself getting close. He could just not tell him. But where’s the fun in that?

“I’m so close again.”

“You wanna come.”

“Yes, please Barclay I want to so badly, I want to come in your hand, wanna come for you, I want, I want-” He’s babbling, he must sound absurd, but Barclay moans, kisses him hard.

“Then be a good boy and come for me.”

Stern bucks his hips, thrusting as best he can in time with Barclays movements and then he’s coming, Barclays name an obscene sound on his lips.

He lays, shaking, as it finishes washing over him, and then Barclay kisses his forehead.

“You did so well. You were so good for me.”

Stern turns his head, makes small, needy noise that Barclay correctly interprets as wanting a kiss. Then he slides of the bed, returning with a towel for the stray cum on Sterns stomach. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do now.

“Do I, should I go?”

“Only if you want to. Be glad if you stayed the night, but don’t want you to if it feels weird.”

“I’d like to, very much.”

Stern means to get up and get ready for bed, or at least ask for pajamas. But Barclay is there and warm and holding him and he’s so happy and so sleepy that he drops off into pleasant dreams, the feeling of Barclays breath slow and even against the back of his neck.

Some disastrous work days, he thinks as he dozes, have very happy endings indeed.

#sternclay #au list prompt #prompt fills #agent stern/barclay #CW: stripping #will this get flagged?#who even knows

21 notes · View notes

ironzombes · 6 years

Text

Honest encounters, by Teller.

“Write on that sticky note, rip that sticky note, stick that sticky note, mhm, mhm!” Teller followed her own tune and wrote positive messages on sheets of blue, pink and green paper. The chair squeaked with every movement of her hips but she simply incorporated it into her melody.

There was a lot of surface area. Most of it she couldn’t obscure, but she did her best with what she had.

‘Work hard, play hard.’

‘School is the best!’

‘Best port pilot.’

‘Get that promotion, baby!!!’

Just a few of the messages she left herself in case she ever felt discouraged. Next she stuck a picture of herself and her two best friends on her window. “Whoo, Teller, you go girl.” she imitated a voice and snorted. “Thanks, I’m so proud.” she spoke back to herself and leaned back on her chair, happy with her creation. The controls weren’t old but they were awfully boring, grey, dead. The little bit of color she put in made her corner of the room stand out.

It was her first day on the job. She shared a room with two other port pilots but there were twenty of them in that tower alone. She had briefly met Cyrill in the hallway as he rushed over for an order. The other one was probably out there, helping some poor sod navigate the port.

Regular pilots often took too much credit. They were the heros of their craft and put them into an empty space, they would all manage wonderfully executed take offs and landings. But ports were different. There was so much going on all the time, so many ships and parts to navigate through, it was difficult to find the right platforms and it was more so difficult to land on narrow spaces. That was their jobs. They got called whenever needed and they would take care of the hard parts.

After her training she knew the port like the back of her hand. This was bound to be easy.

The door opened behind her and she turned around in her chair with an excited look on her face. The man that walked in was short and stocky and the moment they made eye contact the purest most childlike smile spread on his lips, hidden only by a thick, dark brown beard.

“Teller?” he asked, unsure.

“That’s me alright. You must be Toberin. Am- sorry, am I saying that right?”

“Auf, yes. Toberin.” his mouth barely moved as he spoke. It was eerie, like a ventriloquist. He wasn’t from around these parts, his mother tongue was that odd language that had to be spoken with as little movement as possible. It seemed to be difficult for him to shed the habit.

“Really nice to meet you.” she walked over and shook hands with him. What an unpleasant feeling.

“Sorry! It’s so hot out there.” he wiped the sweat off his hands against his chest. “I see you’re making yourself at home.” he nodded to all the sticky notes.

“Oh, yeah. Thought it would look nice.”

“Let’s see… promotion, huh? You’ve barely just started, though.” he didn’t mean to bring her down but he sound a bit unsure of her now.

“That well, sort of? Hah, don’t get me wrong. I’m excited to be here.”

“No judgement!” he laughed it off and sat down at his own desk, to her left.

She stood there a moment longer, then sat down and was unsure of what to say. “So, you’ve worked here long?”

“Oh yeah, best job I ever landed.” he laughed, everything about him seemed so joyous in such a packed body.

“Aha!” she laughed at the pun, though she had heard it more times than she cared to admit so far. It still didn’t really answer her question.

He grabbed a cloth from a drawer and wiped his face with it, then turned on a fan and basked in the cool air. She scratched her arm and took it for as long as possible before she decided to put her jacket back on. He either didn’t care or didn’t notice but Teller was understanding. It was hot out there. Maybe she should have brought a fan of her own for later.

Over the next several moments Toberin was busy cooling himself down while Teller tried to get in a comfortable position away from the cold gushes of air.

“Look at that idiot, auf… Trying to do it on his own, who does he think he is?” he laughed as a ship came into view quite a way away, swaying a bit, struggling not to hit equipment.

“Oh, hah… yeah that’s not good.” she snickered, wondering if sometimes pilots were too stubborn to ask for help.

He didn’t reply, just watched as hundreds of tons of metal struggled to keep in balance. It was a lot like waiting for a disaster. She grew more and more uncomfortable at the sight. Maybe regular pilots were idiotic after all…

Finally a green light appeared on her panel and she stiffened up. A green light meant she was being called for. Then a string of lights lit up the window right in front of her with directions to the ship and she found that it was the exact same ship they had been watching for a few solid minutes. She got up.

“Wait, wait a minute.”

“Uh…”

“Let him struggle for a bit longer.” Toberin laughed and gave her a wink. “It’ll teach him, I swear to you. Next time he comes through here he won’t be so macho.”

There was a conflict inside her. On one hand she wanted to go help, it was her job. On the other hand Toberin had to have known what he was talking about. She stood there, feeling the pressure of each passing second. “He’s holding up other pilots.” was the excuse she used and left. Toberin clicked his tongue and watched her go without another protest.

---

After about two weeks Teller began feeling a bit more comfortable in the office. She knew what to expect from the other two men. Cyrill was always hungry and liked to talk about shows or plays he saw in addition to always carrying a notebook with him to write down ideas for a book.

Toberin often spoke to himself, but Teller had learned to tune him out. She still wasn’t perfectly sure whenever she was supposed to talk back but she thought she was getting the hang of it. She had also learned to always bring a jacket with her in the office because the fan was always on, but she knew it was also necessary. It was so damn hot out there working in such close proximity to so many machines and ships.

The two men often got into debates about a show or a character she had never heard of, but just listening to them was hilarious. They all laughed well and hard and despite her not being into series she found herself agreeing to watch something called Vanity Ville. It was a cool concept. The same story about five different neighbors was tackled in very different ways. At the beginning of the week they’d air the comedy side of the show and people would swarm the internet debating how the same concept would be tackled in a much darker rendition at the end of the week.

Two months into her job and she was debating with the guys, feeling at home at her new job.

She was one of those port pilots that never gave her jobs to anyone else. Whenever dispatch sent her somewhere she was right on it. She worked extra shifts and covered anyone who needed help. Her promotion sticky note was always on show.

Today was a good day. The three of them had worked long into the night to help large shipments to come through and they were well exhausted by the time the last ship ported.

Cyrill was the first one to stand, popping all of his joints. “Ugh… dinner’s on me, fellas.” he smirked at the other two, noticing their exhausted faces.

“Can’t we just sleep?” she protested jokingly, then her stomach protested her protest with a loud grunt. “Guess not…”

“Your wallet better be ready cause I’m starving.” Toberin didn’t sound too happy. They were all exhausted, but they walked out together and headed to the restaurant down the road.

It was a cheap place that had major discounts for port pilots. They stuffed their plates with food and sat down on the less than comfortable chairs.

“You’re still going to take that day off?” Tobering asked her.

“Hm, dunno? My friend isn’t sure she could get time off herself to visit me.” she examined a particularly succulent piece of meat and dug her teeth in. “If she does, I’ll take the day off. It’ll be nice to catch a break.”

“We’ve introduced you to our friends.” Cyrill pointed out. “Why don’t you introduce us?”

“Ugh, dude! You don’t even have to ask. I was already planning it.” she grinned.

“Is she single?” Toberin laughed, feeling better from eating.

“She is very, very gay.” Teller smirked.

“Ohhhh, is there a story behind that?”

“What, being gay?”

“No, I meant with her and yourself, duh.” Toberin nudged her elbow.

“No, we’re just good friends.” she sounded indifferent.

“Well alright. Introduce us anyway.” Cyrill smiled.

The week went by without a hitch. On the day, however, Teller was nowhere to be seen at work. At first the guys thought it was strange for her to be late, but upon checking the logs they could clearly see she wasn’t registered to work that day.

---

The next morning was the same as usual. Teller drove in, found a parking spot that wasn’t to her liking but she parked anyway, nearly jogged towards the entrance. Keycard, security check, another keycard, saying hello to the security, taking a three minute bullet train ride to her area of the port, going up a flight of stairs, crossing a glass bridge, going up another flight of stairs, crossing the employee lounge, crossing a long hallway before she reached her office.

She stepped inside and saw the two already at their desks. “Morning, sorry I’m la-”

The office was fairly small, which was only compensated by the wall window they stared at all day and the employee lounge which was too big for comfort. It had always been Toberin on the left, her in the middle and Cyrill on the right. She clutched her purse a bit tighter and frowned. None of her sticky notes were up.

“Woah, what happened here?” she walked over slowly. Toberin looked over his shoulder at her while Cyrill stuffed his face with his second breakfast.

“What do you mean?”

“My sticky notes…” she pulled her chair back but didn’t sit down. She surveyed the room.

“Those… well, they were distracting.”

“Wait, who took them down?” she looked at the two suspiciously.

Cyrill looked at her, then nodded towards Toberin.

“Uh, not cool man…” she couldn’t really understand, but she eventually sat down. “I mean, I’m sorry. You should have told me.”

“You weren’t here.” he pointed at the clock.

It was weird to say the least but what could she do? If they were distracting the maybe he was right. But she could tell the atmosphere was off. “Did I miss anything?” she asked. They had since picked up the habit of filling in whoever was late on the stupidity of some pilots.

“Nope.” Toberin shook his head.

That was normal. She didn’t expect every morning to be eventful.

Cyrill tried to jump start a conversation about the show and Teller took it gladly. Toberin was more quiet than usual but she chose not to put him on the spot. Obviously something was bothering him and he didn’t want to talk about it.

Luckily it had been a busy day so she focused on work most of all.

---

The following day she did better. She made sure to wake up early and pack her breakfast with her so she wouldn’t be late again. Teller genuinely thought Cyrill was onto something about bringing his meals at work and when she noticed how early she got there she decided she was going to follow the same pattern from there on.

The door opened up behind her ten minutes later and she lifted her hand to make a peace sign over her head. “Yo!” she called out, mouth stuffed.

“Morning.” Toberin replied in a flat tone.

“Hey man, good morning?” she asked and turned her chair a little to talk to him.

He immediately sighed. “You brought food in?”

“Yeah, I decided never to be late again.” she sounded proud of herself.

“You know I hate the smell of food…” he dropped his bag next to his chair and sat, rubbing his eyes.

She stared at him dumbfounded. “You never said that.”

“All the time, Teller, all the time.”

“Wh- well… I’ve never heard you say it. Cyrill eats in here all the time.”

“Whatever, could you eat in the lounge from now on?” he gave her a tired look.

After a moment of contemplating she smiled at him. Clearly something was wrong, something had happened. She wasn’t going to push his buttons. They were friends. “I started my shift, but I’ll eat in the lounge from now on.”

Before he could answer Cyrill walked in. “Heya.” he was the same as usual, not too cheerful, not to remote. He sat down and gave both of them a smile. “Man, that looks good.” he leaned in closer to look at her dish. She brought it closer to him and offered him a bite, which he eagerly took.

After he got comfortable he of course took out his breakfast as well. Teller rushed to finish hers and expected Toberin to complain but the man just whipped out a tablet and started typing away on it instead.

“Mh, have you seen the news yesterday?”

“With the fire station?” Teller asked, so glad that Cyrill was breaking the silence. “I did, that was horrifying.”

“Yeah well… I heard that they’re gonna do a sweep virtually every building in the city, check for fire hazards.”

“It’s crazy. Like, after yesterday I think it’s necessary but do we really live in that sort of world?” she rubbed her temples.

“A fuckig fire station blew up. I think it’s safe to say we do.” Toberin added roughly.

Both Cyrill and Teller looked at him, agreeing. It was hard to admit that they weren’t advanced enough to prevent such disasters but they needed to be sure.

“Makes you think twice about this place.” Cyrill twitched nervously. “It’s so fucking hot out there. Too hot. It makes my skin crawl…”

Teller didn’t want to think about it. “No, that’s nothing you should worry about. It is hot but all the ships are safe. We’re safe.” she reached out and touched his shoulder, watching him calm down a bit.

The day went on as normal as it could with Toberin still moody and Cyrill trying not to think about fires.

---

A couple of days later Teller walked with a particularly happy stride towards the office. She had gotten her hair cut bob style with the strands that framed her cheeks a bit longer than the rest and a cute little fringe that she could easily swipe to the side. Along the way she had gotten compliments from everyone she had gotten to know and was particularly happy about her choice.

She got to the office and waited for the boys. Since Toberin had asked she had stopped eating next to him.

Cyrill was the first to show up.

“Oh damn, you… look so different!” he said quite happily, impressed by her hair. “Looks good. Kind of reminds me of Vele.” he referenced the show again.

“Thanks!” she chipped and ran a hand though the smooth strands. It was odd to feel it so short.

“You look happy.”

“Today is a happy day!” she swiveled in her seat.

Toberin came in later than usual. He said his monotonous hello and sat down, only giving Teller a weird sideways glance. “Big change.”

“Thanks.” she replied on instinct.

“Sure…” he had not meant it as a compliment.

All three of them were called nearly simultaneously to port ships not too long after their shifts started. They headed out, did what they had to do as on any other day and came back ready with stories about the pilots. Most of them were obnoxious people that couldn’t stand handing over control. Some were clueless but some were nice too.

Teller walked in the room later than the boys and sat down with a huff. “Happy to report my pilot was very sweet. It was her first time here.” she said happily.

“Mine was an idiot. Nothing’s changed.” Toberin added.

She kept looking over her shoulder every now and again, expecting something. When a knock on their door came she resisted the urge to jump up and check it. The worker who knocked let himself in cautiously. “Hey is there a…” he looked at the envelope in his hand. “Teller?”

“That’s me.” she got up, both nervous and happy.

He checked the envelope again, then smiled at her before handing it over. “Congrats.”

“What, really!? No way!” she took it and forgot to even thank the poor guy before he walked on to the next office.

The other two turned in their seats to check on her. “What’s that, now?” asked Cyrill.

She turned the bright purple envelope in her hand a number of times. She could feel something hard inside it, a thin piece of plastic. “Oh, sorry. I, I enrolled in this pharmaceutical course. I just got accepted!” she walked over with the envelope. The congratulatory words were printed on the outside. She didn’t bother to open it there, she’d do it at home.

“Pharmaceuticals?” Toberin scoffed. “What’s that for?”

“It’s just something I’ve been meaning to do. I love this stuff.”

“Don’t tell me. You didn’t get into a good medical school?” he crossed his arms over his chest.

Both her and Cyrill looked at him shocked and hurt by his words.

“No… Nothing like that. I just wanted to take this course.”

“Yeah, right… Keep telling yourself that.”

“What the fuck, man?” Cyrill asked, just as surprised to hear his dismissive voice.

“What? I’m just looking at all the evidence here, alright?”

“What sort of evidence is that?” she was so thrown by his comments.

“It’s pretty fucking obvious, Teller. You’re en overachiever but you’re not one of the smart ones.”

“Excuse me!?”

“Okay, uhm, let’s see.” he turned to face them again. “My guess is you’ve always wanted to be a pilot. That’s why you were going for a promotion. You must have sucked at the academy or something. I mean, you did go to a proper piloting academy, not the sort of thing me and Cyrill went to, right? One of the big ones? But you failed and now you’re stuck working here hauling ships left and right, not ever really touching the sky. But before that you wanted to be a doctor, hm? Couldn’t do that either. So you’re settling for second best but aaaalways looking for the top. The bullshit pharmacy course, this.” his voice was cold and pressing as he gestured to the whole room.

She stared at him. “Okay, I don’t know what your problem is but fuck you! I happen to really like this. And so what? Wouldn’t you want a fucking promotion? You wanna work in this damn box all your life?”

“Woah, guys, come on. There’s no need for that…”

“You hear that, Cyrill? This damn box. You know what, I’m pretty fucking over your sour attitude.” he waved a hand to try and shut her up.

She bit her lip and stopped herself from saying or doing anything stupid. It felt like a long time coming, considering Toberin’s attitude lately but she had never expected this. She shook her head at Cyrill and went to work. It had been a terrible day but she focused on what was right in front of her.

---

A week later her and Toberin were still not talking to each other. Cyrill tried to help out but whenever he tried to include them both in a discussion either one of them refused to take it further. She was nicer about it because she knew he was just trying to help.

After a particularly long and painful port she came back exhausted, sweating all over. She sat down on her chair and tapped a button on her console that send a message to dispatch, asking for a ten minute break before her next port. That button felt like a little piece of heaven.

“Bad port?” Cyrill asked.

“Yeah… the pilot was alright. It was just, his ship was fucking massive. I reported it to inspection.”

“Something fishy about it?”

“The weight of it didn’t make sense.” she shrugged. Inspection officers would look over it more thoroughly. It was no longer her problem.

She sat for a few minutes in silence, just trying to relax. She was sweaty as all hell, her hair was sticking to her face and neck. Looking over she noticed Toberin’s fan pointing straight at her, making her skin cold and even stickier. It was at twice the power it was set to normally. “Do you mind turning that down?”

“It’s hot in here.”

“Well I don’t want to get sick.”

“Put your sweater on.”

“That… no. I’m sweaty, it’s gross. Just turn it off for five minutes.”

“I don’t wanna smell your sweat.”

“You’re such a fucking child.” she got up and couldn’t take it anymore, slamming her hand down on the device to turn it off.

“Like fucking hell you will!” Toberin got up and yanked the portable fan out of her hands.

“Just turn it off for five minutes, jackass!”

“Guys don’t! Come on. Toberin just turn it off. It’s cold and uncomfortable!”

“Get lost, Cyrill.”

The man stared at the struggle for a bit, then noticed the green light on his own screen. He ignored it. “Stop it, now! This is ridiculous.” he got up and yanked the fan from them both. “Five minutes without this shit, alright? I have to work. You both better behave.” he thought about putting the fan down but he feared they both might have a go at it again so he simply stepped out of the room with it in hand, ignoring Toberins’s curses.

“You’re fucked in the head.” Teller spat. “What’s your problem?”

“You are!” he stormed out of the room to put some space between the two of them.

Teller sat down and raked her hands through her hair. She tried not to let it get to her but she couldn’t stop but wonder what had happened, why all of a sudden the guy was so pissed off with her. All they did was talk anyway.

---

The days dragged on like that. The atmosphere in the room changed dramatically. Cyrill tried his hardest to either talk or not talk depending on the situation. Teller and Toberin stopped exchanging greetings.

She started seeing it more like just a work environment. Her and him didn’t have to be friends, so they kept a distance from each other. She busied herself with her courses and learning new things, taking up classes whenever she could like first aid or fire hazard courses. Despite the setbacks at work she thought she was growing a lot. Eventually the sticky notes came back and that time around Toberin didn’t take them down. Just in case she had an entire stack at the ready anyway.

Her and Cyrill avoided going out to eat together. He didn’t want to be more friendly towards either of them so he became more quiet as time progressed.

For the longest time it seemed they were at a standstill. But that was fine by her too, since she was increasingly more busy, bringing books at work and trying to incorporate as much stuff into her breaks as possible.

---

Night shift. She had been silly a few months back to even think that the night shifts were any easier. If anything, they were the worst. Pilots were cranky, the crews were hard to deal with, piloting took a lot longer due to other slow moving ships. She hated them but signed up for them regularly in order to get some more cash, they were better paid than standard days.

Cyrill stayed at home during night shifts and a few times she had bumped into Toberin but that night was entirely different. He was slow, he denied most requests to port and he kept bouncing his leg up and down, almost incessantly.

She refused to even so much as look at him as she read and sat on her phone, waiting for the next call.

Once more he turned the fan at full speed and made sure the majority of the gush hit her right in the face. Teller took it for as long as possible before a headache started taking over. “Please… I don’t want to fight. Turn it off, I’m getting a headache.”

“Pull your hoodie on?” he arched a brow at her and noticed her jacket was on the armrest.

“Then can you at least move it so it doesn’t freaking blast me?”

“I feel very comfortable.”

“Yeah, because you’re aiming it at me.”

“Oh shut up. I’ve just about had it with you.”

“I’m asking you nicely…” she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don’t take orders from whores.”

She stared. How could she not? Never in her life had she assumed Toberin to seep that low. “What… the fuck?”

He turned in his chair, finally snapping. “Yeah, you heard me! I don’t take orders from whores!”

“How dare you!?” she slammed her hand on the console. Thankfully it didn’t send anything flying.

“Yeah you act like you’re all that, but I know you! I’ve been nothing but nice to you ever since you came here and started taking up space with your stupid post it notes and your passive aggressiveness, acting like you’re always cold, trying to get me and Cyrill’s attention. All you do, you do it for attention!”

“How can you even say that, how… I- what’s even going through your head? Cause of some sticky notes?”

“No, it’s not just the sticky notes! Like you’re always wearing your jacket instead of talking like a normal person!”

She felt like she was going to lose her mind. “I did just fucking ask you to turn the fan away from me!”

For a split second it looked like he was about to get up from his chair and do something dangerous, but he forced himself back down. “That was before you started acting like you don’t even know us!”

“How did I ever do that? We fucking work together…”

“Act like you don’t know, go ahead.”

“I really do. Not. Know. Stop being so whiny and tell me, fuck… This is ridiculous.”

“Oh yeah? Me and Cyrill did everything, everything to make you feel welcome, but all you do is lie. Like that one time you promised to introduce us to your friend like we introduced you to ours and then you ditch us! I bet everything else about you is a lie too.”

Teller took a long time to make the connection, but it made sense in the timeline. Her and her friend had met up without calling the other two guys, it was true. But she hadn’t thought about it evolving into this much hatred. By then she just wondered if Cyrill was feeling the same.

“That’s it!? Me and my friend spent a day together without you cause we haven’t seen each other in months and that’s why you’re angry at me?”

“It’s not just that… it’s everything you do. You could have just told me you’re gay, for example.”

“I’m not gay? I’m not! And even if I were what’s that to do with anything?”

“Girls like you do this all the time. I’m nice to you, I can see you’re lonely and sad and try to make friends with you, talk to you, get Cyrill to talk to you more and you don’t even have the guts to tell me you’re gay. That’s very manipulative of you.”

“You’re delusional…” Teller shook her head and got up, grabbing her jacket. “Fucking insane.”

He grabbed her wrist.”You better let go of me right now!”

“Is that how you treat all men? You disgust me, you whore!”

“Let go!” she tried to pull back, but he was easily three times bigger than her and getting angrier.

“Nice guys like me, we try to be nice to you and all you do is go around behind our backs. You’re disgusting!”

“Let go of me you psycho!” she finally broke loose from his grip. When she stormed out of the room she never looked back.

She was shaken. Never in her life had she thought that what seemed like a normal working environment would turn into this. It was ridiculous and she knew it. All of his cruel words and accusations came back to her one by one as she walked into the employee lounge, thankful to be left alone.

The truth was she always knew how to stand up to herself, but this had all taken her by surprise. Looking around the room she felt her skin crawl like the whole building was suddenly tainted.

She thought back to all of the times her own friends had complained about work and how many times they stuck through it all. She had always thought that was a stupid thing to do. It was insane to have to put up with toxic people when they had to work with them on the daily.

Teller was not going to let herself beat down like that.

#ironwill #characters #teller

0 notes