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parkersroses · 3 years

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sunflowers. | harry styles.

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader (dad!harry, husband!harry)

summary: harry is very much in love with his little family.

word count: 2724 words

warning(s): a sprinkle of sexual mentions and a whole lot of fluff

disclaimer: gif is not mine.

author’s note: hey there. been a while. i missed writing here and the reason i haven’t been doing that is because i was focused on finishing school. of course now, i still am busy with school, having to start my degree. but i miss writing so i thought i’d make this little piece here. it’s my first harry styles fic! quite exciting and nerve-wrecking for me. but as always, leave a like and a comment if you enjoyed this, also constructive comments do help me to improve my writing and i do want to be better at it. and reblog (!) it really helps writers out in creating content for you so pls do so if you like it. all the love x

She pushes her cart down the aisle as she browses through the shelves of delicious snacks. She already has picked out a bunch of biscuits and juice boxes when her phone rings, making her jump a bit. She takes out her phone and smiles as the screen showcases the contact name ‘lovie’ with a picture of her husband. She accepts the call as she continues to stroll down the aisle.

“Hi, lovie!” she answers happily. “Hello, darling. Hope everything’s alright there,” Harry answers back. She giggles as she stops by the fruits and vegetables section. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re the one that’s looking after the house?” She questions about Harry’s intention of calling her. He chuckles through the phone. “Pfft, don’t be silly, love. I got everything under control here,” He says. She imagines how he is probably pouting a bit on the other side of the phone as she playfully rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, hun. Now, what do you need?” She asks, figuring that Harry has some last minute additions to the grocery. Harry hums and thinks as Y/N picks out some fresh salads. “Could maybe buy more bread for us?” He asks, which confuses Y/N as she thought she has already bought bread for them.

“Harry, didn’t I already buy those, like, two those days ago?” She questions as she starts picking out some fruits. She picks out two packets of strawberries and grapes each and one honeydew melon. She feels as though Harry is hesitating to answer back through the phone. “Yeah, but.. I got hungry so I finished most of them,” He says as though he is embarrassed by admitting this to his wife. Y/N only giggles at this information.

“You and your bread. Any kind that you fancy this time?” She asks as she makes her way to the wet area of the supermarket. “Just the usual ones. Oh, and the whole wheat bread if there’s any,” He requests. Y/N hears the sound of cutleries clanking in the background, though she brushes it off, thinking it is just Harry cleaning the kitchen. “Alright. I’ll see you guys at home, yeah? I’m nearly done here,”

“Of course, darling. Bubs and I will be waiting,” he says, and Y/N smiles at the thought of her little family at home. The couple say their goodbyes and hang up. Y/N makes a note to herself to get some bread after picking out some salmon before checking herself out of the supermarket.

After over a year of marriage, the both of them decided to start a family of their own. It excited her to think about Harry with their own child, knowing very well how good he is with children in general. They were both overjoyed by the news that they will be expecting a baby girl, more so of Harry than herself. He was ecstatic to be a father throughout the pregnancy journey. Even on the occasional dates they would go on, he would always make sure they picked some of the most private areas, paparazzi and fans-free. It was an important time for them and they wanted to keep things on the low most times.

Now, their baby girl Rosie is six months old and is just the purest ball of sunshine and happiness. Harry and Y/N swore that their hearts grew ten times bigger upon first laying their eyes on her baby. Of course after she was born, it was tiring enough for them to handle a baby as they were new to being parents. Though, they managed to get the hang of it after some sleepless nights and cleaning up baby vomit.

All of that which leads up to this moment where Y/N is buying some groceries for the family. Harry suggested they should take little Rosie out for a picnic. Although it was rather difficult to go outside without them getting papped and stalked, they luckily had a backyard that was big enough to have their little picnic together. It was all fenced up with a couple of flowers planted. It was ideally the perfect place to relax and have some family gatherings.

Y/N quickly gets home in time for dinner, not before buying some Chinese food for her and Harry. She unlocks the door and quickly rushes by the living room and into the kitchen to put the heavy bags of groceries down. Harry, who had been folding the laundry and entertaining his daughter, notices his wife and calls out to her. “Hi, honey!” Baby Rosie, who has been laying on a plush little blanket, perks her head up and excitedly babbles after her father’s voice. “Hey, lovie! Give me a minute to put these away!” Y/N yells back at him.

Harry hums and puts away the last of the clean laundry in a basket before laying on his side next to Rosie. He lets his baby grab a hold of his large hand. He watches as Rosie puts his tiny little hand on the center of his palms, smiling widely as she looks at him and babbles about in baby language. It’s not long until Y/N comes in with a bag of Chinese food and some baby food. “C’mon, let’s eat, my loves,” She gently says as she sets the food down on the coffee table. Rosie holds out her arms to her mother; much to her delight, Y/N carries her up and sets her down on her lap.

Y/N multitasks eating her dinner and feeding Rosie throughout dinner time. The faint sounds of a Fleetwood Mac album playing on the vinyl player filling the background. “So, what’s on the menu for tomorrow’s picnic?” He says as takes a bite off his spring roll. Y/N shrugs and wipes the excess baby food off Rosie’s mouth. “Don’t know yet. Maybe I’ll make those smoked salmon sandwiches that you like.”

Harry playfully moans in delight. “You mean, those sandwiches you make are award-winning, darling,” he says, which makes Y/N giggles at her silly husband. “Well, I hope they are, Mr. Styles. Would be shameful if the salmon I bought just went to waste.” Little Rosie eventually finishes her food and decides to play around with her mother’s hair. She stares and strokes on Y/N’s hair, gently tucking it at times. The couple smiles widely at the sight of their daughter. “You doing alright, bubs?” Rosie merely stares at her parents with her big green eyes, not understanding their question. It still amazes Y/N how much of Harry’s features Rosie inherited. “Surely you weren’t a handful with your daddy this evening, were you?” Y/N playfully questions.

Harry chuckles and takes Rosie out of Y/N’s arms. “No, she wasn’t. However, she wasn’t helpful in helping daddy with the laundry, were you princess?” He says as he lifts his baby girl above both of the couple’s heads, eliciting the sweetest laugh from Rosie. He does this a few more times until he stops since he didn’t want her to get dizzy and throw up.

It was a very domestic moment for them. Just the three of them, having dinner, smiles and laughter all around. It is moments like this where Harry prefers the simplicity of life, in the comfort of his little family. “Think it’s time for someone to go to dreamland, don’t ya think?” Y/N says as she caresses Rosie’s soft cheeks with her finger, Rosie obviously showing her tiredness with her droopy eyes. Harry nods in agreement, already packing up to empty food boxes to throw away.

“You wanna go up first, love? Nurse Rosie a bit. I’ll clean this up quickly.” Y/N insists on helping out Harry after he’s taken care of the house while she went to buy groceries. Though, Harry insists back on helping to clean, saying it’s no big deal. Without much of an argument, Y/N lifts up Rosie from his arms and heads up, not before giving Harry a loving kiss of appreciation.

After nursing her, Rosie quickly falls asleep in her mother’s arms, lulling to the faint sounds of her heartbeat as she rests her little head on her chest. Harry soon joins in the room and he stops to admire the sight he has become all too familiar with. Just the sight of the woman he loves, carrying and rocking their baby daughter to sleep, a feeling of warmth and peace fills his entire heart. Sometimes, he can’t believe how lucky he was to have ended up in this position and he always thanks the universe for blessing him a family that he loves with his entire soul.

Rosie gets tucked in her cot, a soft purple blanket covering her. Harry and Y/N go back into their room soon after. Harry lays on his bed with his eyes closed, humming a random tune while Y/N picks out her nightwear, which turns out to only be one of Harry’s T-shirts and underwear. “Can you believe she’s six months old now?” Harry asks out of the blue. Y/N turns around and stands between his legs. He sits up and gently pulls Y/N in by the waist. She runs her hands through his curls, he sighs in delight of the feeling. “Time flies, huh?”

“Soon she’s gonna start walkin’, runnin’, she’ll become quite the troublemaker,” he jokes and pouts at Y/N. She chuckles at his silliness. “It’s nothing we can’t handle, right?” She smiles at him lovingly as she strokes his cheeks. Harry smiles back and puts his head on her stomach, giving it a light kiss through the dress she’s wearing.

“Thank you. I feel like I haven’t said that enough,” he mumbles against her stomach. She looks down at him with a confused expression. “You carried her for a whole nine months and went through so much to deliver her to us. So, thank you. And I love you, darling. I’m so lucky.”

Y/N feels her breath hitched at his confession and she smiles at him. She leans down and kisses him hard. Sometimes, she thinks that she is the lucky one. She managed to find someone who loves and support her unconditionally, even through the late night snacks she had while pregnant with little Rosie. Harry doesn’t hesitate to kiss back and pulls her closer to him. She feels his tongue swipe across her bottom lip, asking for entrance. And who is she to deny making out with her incredibly talented and beautiful husband as she opens her mouth, making the kiss more passionate. Harry hears a soft moan from her and swears he feels shivers running up his spine.

They break away after feeling the oxygen running out of their lungs and lay their foreheads against each other’s, breathing heavily. “I love you, too,” she breathes out. They both smile widely at each other, feeling like teenagers in love. She pecks his lips one last time before pulling away from him. She starts undressing as she makes her way to the ensuite bathroom, Harry watching her every move as his mouth gapes open slightly.

God, my wife is so fucking beautiful, he thinks to himself. He continues to admire Y/N as she undresses until she’s fully nude. He gulps as he feels the blood rushing towards his lower region.

Harry’s cut out from his thoughts as a piece of fabric flungs to his face. He grabs it from his face and he chokes on his saliva upon seeing Y/N laced lavender-coloured underwear. He looks up to his wife leaning against the bathroom door, every inch of her on display for him and him only.

“Mind joining me for a shower, baby?” she smirks as she quickly heads in the shower.

When he hears the shower turn on, Harry jumps up from the bed and quickly takes off his clothes, tripping on his sweatpants on his way to join his wife in the shower.

━

Rosie giggles loudly and she reaches out for the blue butterfly in front of her. Y/N smiles at this soft moment and holds up her digital camera to take a picture. The sky was a nice shade of blue and clouds looked like cotton candy hanging above. The flowers in the garden were blooming and Harry managed to pick out two sunflowers for his sunflowers. It seemed like the perfect day.

Harry comes out with a bowl of freshly washed strawberries and grapes. He sits down next Y/N on the blanket they laid out, giving a soft kiss on her forehead, before looking over at his daughter. “What’s that, bub?” he asks Rosie in a seemingly excited voice. Rosie squeals and babbles to her father as she points out to the blue butterfly fluttering in front of her.

“That’s right, bubs! That's a butterfly!” Harry picks her up and puts her on his lap. Y/N is already munching away on the strawberries. Harry opens his mouth to her, implying that he wants to be fed with the red fruits, Y/N rolls her eyes at his silliness but complies as she puts it in his mouth, plucking out the stem. As she does this, little Rosie looks at the exchange and opens her mouth wide, copying Harry. The couple merely laughed at the little girl’s behaviour.

“You want a strawberry, Rosie?” Y/N smiles as picks one out, she bites lightly on the tip of it so Rosie could have the smallest bite of the fruit. Rosie whines and reaches out for the tiny piece. “Calm down, you bugger. Might wanna say ‘please’ to mommy first, yea?” Harry says to her gently as he rubs her back.

Of course, Rosie wouldn’t know how to say any words at all yet, so she babbles in her baby language and whines to be fed. “Think that might be ‘please’, love,” he says jokingly to his Y/N.

“Well, who am I to say no to the cutest girl ever?” She jokes back and puts the tiny piece of strawberry in Rosie’s mouth, her mouth slightly stained from the juices. Harry wipes it off with a napkin and leans back on his arms, admiring the beautiful day outside. He takes in the clean summer air as he listens to his daughter babbling about to her mother, Y/N merely nods back as if she understands and talks in the most gentle voice to her.

Harry sees Rosie picking up the large sunflower he picked out, her little fingers brushing against the yellow petals. He takes a look at Y/N and as he sees her smile, he thinks back about how lucky he is to have them two. There is not a day where Harry was never in awe of the love and passion Y/N gives to the family and he thinks of how he couldn’t possibly love his Rosie more every day.

He breaks off the other sunflower from its stem and tucks it behind Y/N’s ear. She looks up and blushes at the gesture. “You okay, H?” she asks.

Harry nods and smiles at her. “I just really love you,” he says as he cups Y/N’s cheek, stroking it gently.

Y/N feels the heat rising up to her cheeks. There is not a day where she’ll ever stop being in love with the man in front of her. She holds the hand that’s resting on her cheek and kisses it softly. “I really love you too,”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss or two. They both smile widely at each other, radiating the same amount of love, if not more, that they have for each other. Rosie squeals and claps her chubby hands together as she watches the sweet exchange between her parents. They both laugh at her cuteness. “And we love you too, my little love!” Y/N exclaims to her as she cups her cheeks and plants many kisses all over her face, making Rosie squeal in delight. Harry laughs and smiles at the sight.

Life certainly feels good to him. Surrounded by the loves of his life, there’s no place or moment Harry would exchange this beautiful day with them.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #parkersroses writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #dad!harry styles #husband!harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot

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vodkassassin · 3 years

Text

Shen Qingqiu decides enough is enough! As is his right

If you see any typos in this, no you don’t 😌

—

The door flies open right on the midday hour mark, when the candle that he lit this morning is exactly half gone, and Shang Qinghua immediately dives underneath his desk and throws his arms over his hand.

“I’m almost done!” He calls out desperately. “Just give me a few more hours, I promise I’m almost done!”

Following this, a silence in his office, long and inspecting, takes place. Shang Qinghua, despite all his instincts screaming otherwise, peeks his head up over the edge of his desk and gulps. The person standing in his door, who is surveying his admittedly very messy office (it’s not his fault! Paperwork breeds like multiplying cells! Why doesn’t anyone understand that?!), and looking very, very unamused.

“Ha, um,” he scrambles back to sit on the chair again, trying to get his thundering heart under control. “H-Hello, Shen-shixiong! This — I — I wasn’t expecting….”

Shen Qingqiu finishes his examination of his workspace and locks his gaze upon Shang Qinghua. He steps smoothly into the office, and shuts the door behind him with sure but quiet movements. A cold sweat breaks out down Shang Qinghua’s spine.

He swallows. He reaches forward and grabs up the paperwork he’d been pouring over before this interruption and holds it feebly before himself like a shield.

“A-Acruelly, shixiong…. If shixiong has something he wants from this shidi, I-I’m afraid it will have to wait. Wei-shixiong demanded these requisition forms be looked over and approved before tomorrow a-and there… there are a lot of them to go through…. I think he waited until the last minute — Oh! And Liu-shidi, he — um, he sent in his audit reports late again, so I have to go through those too and I’m really really sorry but whatever you have for me I can’t —!”

“Stop your babbling.” Shen Qingqiu snaps. Shang Qinghua’s jaw clicks shut so fast his teeth hurt a little. Ow.

He watches with wide eyes as his shixiong — who is now scowling heavily, nooo — begins to flip through the various stacks of parchment and scrolls that sit heavy upon Shang Qinghua’s desk. Too terrified to tell him that, actually, only the sect leader should be looking through those ones, Shang Qinghua remains quiet.

Really, nobody tells Shen Qingqiu what he can or can’t do. Those who have tried before are —

Well. They’ve all seen their sect leader.

“These.” Shen Qingqiu slips a smaller stack of documents out from the middle of one of the piles and holds it up. “The supply logs from the previous joint peak night hunting expedition. They have yet to be filed?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water in frustration, and he holds up his sleeve to cover them. “I meant to, I did! But — but when I was going to get to them, Qi-shimei came in with a cart full of delegated peak maintenance reports! She said if they weren’t done before noon she’d — Ah.” He shudders, peeks over his arm, and goes pale at the way Shen Qingqiu’s eyes have narrowed viciously. He hurries on, voice growing smaller. “I’d just finished them when Wei-shixiong brought me his backlog requisitions….”

He trails off, because the expression on his shixiong face has gone colder and colder the longer he spoke.

“Why haven’t you chosen to delegate?” The man demands from between his locked teeth. “All these disciples that you have, and you’re telling me you can’t delegate a single task to them?”

“Shixiong,” Shang Qinghua’s eyes water again and he shiffles pathetically into his sleeve. “Shixiong, I do delegate. This stuff in my office here, this is all the work only peak lords have the security clearance for. Everything else I delegate to my disciples, because I can’t… I can’t….”

Shen Qingqiu stares down his nose at him, and Shang Qinghua stops talking. He drops his gaze and listens as the man silently turns on his heel and stalks out of his office, closing the door with a solid thump.

He wipes his eyes with his sleeve and drops his arm defeatedly into his lap, frowning down at the water stains his stupid tears have left in the fabric. Silk is so fucking dumb, you can’t walk through without it picking up dirt somehow. It’s why he changed his peak robes to darker colors, because at least black doesn’t show where you’ve been all day.

And seriously, it’s just so much easier to scrub blood out of clothes that aren’t white or beige or pastel.

He shoves his paperwork to the side and folds his arms before him, letting his head thunk down on them with an exhausted sigh. The door opens slightly again and a head peaks in.

“Shizun?”

“A-Kao,” he mumbles into his arms. “I’m gonna die.”

His head disciple gives a polite sound of acknowledgement. “I’ll have someone prepare some of the spiced tea imported from that Eastern desert oasis, then.”

“I love you,” Shang Qinghua says fervently, and listens as his favorite disciple huffs a quiet laugh.

“Will return shortly.”

The door closes again, and with it, Shang Qinghua closes his eyes.

Jin Kao is true to his word, as always, and in fact brings a light snack of fruit and a pastry along with the tea. Shang Qinghua plows through it at record pace and is energized! He’s halfway through the requisition forms for Wei Qingwei when his door is slammed open once again.

He flinches. Taking a fortifying breath, Shang Qinghua glances up and immediately loses all color.

“Shen-shixiong is back!” He shakes, voice wobbling. “With — with Z-Zhangmen-shixiong, ah…!”

Shen Qingqiu stalks into the room, side stepping Jin Kao whose arms are laden with the empty tea set. The head disciple wisely flees into the corner, watching with a narrow gaze as the Qing Jing peak lord all but drags their venerated Sect Leader across the office to stand before Shang Qinghua’s desk.

Shang Qinghua trembles as they both loom over him. What did he do?! Shixiong, what he’s said before was completely reasonable! There was no need to go and fetch your overbearing ge!

Shen Qingqiu points a finger at Shang Qingh— oh wait, not him. At his desk. At the mountains of papers littering his desk.

“If you have time to relax and drink tea in your spotless office,” the second in command sneers at his superior, “then you have time to pick up the slack so that our shidi can do the same!”

Shang Qinghua gapes. He stares up at them with round, round eyes, uncertain as to what’s going on.

Yue Qingyuan, for his part, quails under Shen Qingqiu’s steely and unrelenting gaze. His shoulders are tense, and the way in which he looks around Shang Qinghua’s office with a startled look, only to then turn it upon Shang Qinghua himself, just screams ‘bro, you live like this?’

Not by choice! Shang Qinghua never asked for this, Yue-shixiong! The paperwork just never stops!

Shen Qingqiu pivots sharply, glaring down at him instead. Ah!

“What are you doing?” The man says. “Get up.”

“Ah?” Completely bewildered, Shang Qinghua only stares up at the man in confusion.

“Honestly.” Shen Qingqiu sighs under his breath — a sharp and stilted sound of frustration.

He rounds the desk himself and grabs Shang Qinghua by the upper arm, hauling him up from his chair and dragging him away from the desk.

“Th-This—?!”

“Sect Leader,” Shen Qingqiu nods at the desk. Yue Qingyuan only stares blankly at him, and so he sneers. “These forms must be finished. And the next stack. All by a peak lord — I’m taking Shang-shidi for a well deserved break, so I can’t do it, and Wei-shidi was the one to submit them in the first place. Of the four foremost peak lords of the sect, only you have time and clearance to do it.”

Shang Qinghua sways, shocked. If Shen Qingqiu didn’t still have such a bone-crushing grip on him, he might have even fallen. The other man steadies him immediately, and the sour look on his face sours even further.

Yue Qingyuan’s face is pale. “Qingqiu-shidi….”

“It isn’t as if you were busy with anything else.” Shen Qingqiu plows on past whatever refuting the sect leader was trying to pull. He shakes Shang Qinghua roughly by the arm, and Shang Qinghua rapidly blinks away the spots from his vision. “Look at our shidi, he’s nearly dead on his feet. Are you telling me that you would make him work more, when it’s already clear that he’s overworked?”

Yue Qingyuan pauses. He glances around the office another time, shoulders lowering in slow increments. His resolve is crumbling visibly to everyone in the office.

Shang Qinghua silently mouths ‘overworked’ to himself, stunned.

Finally, the sect leader sighs. “No, Qingqiu-shidi is right.”

Shen Qingqiu snorts. As if to say ‘of course I am.’

Yue Qingyuan steps around the desk and slowly takes the seat that Shang Qinghua had just been forcably vacated from. He eyes the stack of paperwork that are piled high, not just on the desk but on the floor and the shelves surrounding the desk, and an expression of regret eclipses his face.

“This shixiong had not realized Shang-shidi’s workload was quite so…” he trails off, trying to fish for the right word, and finally lands on, “heavy.”

“It’s the Sect Leader’s duty to ascertain that all those under his sect’s banner are taken care of. Those directly under his command even more so.” Shen Qingqiu sniffs disdainfully. “You have no excuse.”

Yue Shixiong bows his head. “No, this one does not.”

“I’m taking Shang Qinghua to Qing Jing to recuperate.”

“Yes.”

Shang Qinghua pales even further. He ducks his head down and glances over to the corner into which his head disciple had squirreled himself away for help.

Jin Kao stares back, an expression of smug victory on his face, and doesn’t say a single word.

This traitor! Unfilial disciple! Shang Qinghua takes back what he said about Jin Kao being his favorite. He’s replacing that brat as soon as he’s able to escape Shen Qingqiu’s clutches.

Shen Qingqiu yanks on his arms, dragging him out of the office. He cranes his neck around, and the last scene he sees before the door slams shut is Jin Kao setting down the empty tea set, picking up a large stack of papers from one of the various spots on the floor, which he then ferries over to the desk at which Yue Qingyuan has picked up the half-finished requisition, looking it over with a frown.

Huh. He’s never seen his head disciple look quite so intimidating before. The boy is practically looming over their sect leader with a dark expression.

That’s a little strange.

He doesn’t see beyond that, though, because Shen Qingqiu slams the doors shut again and drags him off his own damn peak.

—

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#Jiuplane #yes I ship it #scumplane #svsss #scum villain's self saving system #Shen Jiu #Shang Qinghua #Vodkassassin fanfiction #svsss prompts

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

California Dreamin’ (2/?)

Pairing: Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: underage drinking, mild violence, drug use

Part Summary: Y/N and Topper have lunch together and later attend the Cameron’s party.

Masterlist

Y/N

After surfing for most of the morning, I've grown tired. The waves here are so different than in Malibu. I run out of the water onto the sand, tossing my hair to the side. I hadn't noticed Topper on the beach in the middle of a morning run until I return to my belongings. He slows to a stop once he reaches my stuff.

"Morning," I greet with a warm smile.

"I could see you down the beach. You're really good!"

"Thanks! Years of practice." I giggle.

He raises a brow. "What are you up to later?"

"Well, there's the party at the Camerons since Ward and Rose are gone for the weekend. You're going right?" I ask.

"I was thinking of making an appearance." He remarks wittily. "You free until then?"

I shrug. "As a bird."

"Would you want to get some coffee or something?"

A faint blush forms on my cheeks. "Sounds good."

____________________________________

Topper

Sitting at the small table outside of the cafe, I can't help but admire her as she talks about California. All changed out her bathing suit and into a cropped Boston band T-shirt and ripped up Daisy Dukes. Half of her hair is tossed up into a bun, the rest hanging loose in waves over her shoulders. She doesn't notice my absentmindedly listening as I analyze every inch of her, even her white Converse high tops, the laces so stretched that she can tie them around her ankles multiple times.

The waitress interrupts my daze and takes our orders.

"Regular black coffee and farmer's breakfast please," I request.

"Lavender tea and granola acai bowl, please. Thank you so much." Y/N smiles, handing her menu to the girl.

What the hell is acai anyway? Does anyone know? Because I don't.

When her eyes meet mine, she giggles. "What? Are you gonna start calling me Granola Girl?"

"I didn't even know how to pronounce acai until you said it," I admit.

"You should try it! It's very good for you!" She encourages.

I make a 'yuck' sound and cower. "Isn't it purple?"

"Maybe... Don't let that scare you!" She giggles. "Branch out, Thorton."

"Okay, I'll try it, but only because you're peer-pressuring me!" I laugh.

After a few minutes, my coffee and her tea arrive. Almost immediately, she reaches for the bottle of honey on the table and squeezes some in.

"Did you know it takes bees almost a month to produce honey?" She asks. "A little fun fact."

I glance up from stirring my coffee right as she brings her honey-coated finger to her mouth and begins to suck on it. Her eyes meet mine innocently, not suspecting of my thoughts. Fuck me.

I swallow hard and quickly return my focus to picking up my coffee.

"Sarah mentioned a party happening at The Boneyard tomorrow. What's that?" She asks with furrowed brows.

"It's uh... it's place on The Cut," I stammer, still caught off guard by the honey incident.

She frowns as takes a sip from her tea. "Why is it called 'The Cut'?"

"It's where Pogues live. It's just the less valuable part of the island," I do my best to describe.

"Pogues?"

"The people from The Cut."

"Do you all from your neighborhood have a name?"

"They call us Kooks." I shrug.

"At least it's fair. Sounds rather West Side Story," she teases with a giggle.

The waitress appears with our food. My plate is rather basic, All-American breakfast. Y/N's is a symbol of the trendy West Coast. In summary, we fit our stereotypes.

I'm hesitant to say what I'm thinking, but Y/N doesn't know the island as I do. She hasn't met any Pogues and should be careful. "You should stay away from Pogues. They have a tendency to steal and lie." I advise.

Her face falters, apparently, they don't have stuff like where she's from. "Oh... wow... noted."

"Yeah, I would stay close to Rafe or me tomorrow night," I suggest, genuinely concerned for her and partially for my own benefit.

She smiles, taking a bite of her smoothie bowl. "Will do."

"Our friends will be there so you should be okay, but Pogues will be too. Tourons too."

She laughs. "Is that what you call tourists?"

I suppress a grin and drag my tongue across my lower lip.

"So I'm a touron?" She questions with amusement.

My eyes grow wide and impulsively, my hand travels across the table to land on hers. "No, no! Not you!" I then notice my hand resting on hers. Oh geez, I'm messing this up! "Oh.. uh.. sor-"

Calmly, she glides her hand over, allowing our fingers to interlock. She brings them down to rest on her lap under the table. "You're fine, Topper!" She giggles. "You apologize too much. Relax. It's just me."

A smile forms on my lips and I nod. She's right, it's her, she's not scary. She's kind and understanding, more relaxed than anyone I've ever met.

"Here, try this." She scoops up some of her smoothie bowl, picking up some granola and fruit on top. She guides the spoon into my mouth and I try it.

I nod, processing the experience. "Okay, I'm a fan."

"I knew you would be," she grins, giving my hand a faint squeeze.

The remainder of the meal, on the walk to the car, throughout the drive, and until I dropped her off, we hold hands. It felt so natural and right, as though our hands were made for each other. It was difficult to let go, to say the least.

__________________________________________________

Well into the party at the Cameron's, Rafe challenges me to jump off the roof into their pool three stories below. Kelce gets him fired up, encouraging the challenge. Y/N and Sarah innocently stand nearby on the balcony, smoking a joint together. I would be lying if I said I haven't been watching Y/N all night. That yellow bikini should be illegal.

"I'll do it if Y/N does!" I compromise.

Rafe grins wickedly and I instantly regret what I said. He gets up from his spot on the couch and jogs over to the girls. He rests his hand on Y/N's lower back, dangerously close to her ass. I swallow hard, doing my best not to make a scene. As they talk and laugh, he glides his arm around her. The way she looks at him so intently, makes me wonder if it's solely friendly. Then again, Y/N has the ability to make everyone feel like they're the most important person in the world.

"Oh, you're on!" I hear her tell him.

Rafe takes her hand and brings her over. "She's down!"

The next thing I know, Y/N and I are standing on the roof of the Cameron's house.

"Scared?" I ask her as I peer down at the pool below. People stand with their heads tilted back, cheering for us to jump.

She shrugs. "It's just like cliff jumping. I do it all the time back home." She slips her hand into mine.

My eyes flicker down to our interlocked hands and an idea pops into my head. I tuck my arm behind her legs and scoop her up.

She instantly flings her arms around my neck and squeals. "Topper!"

"Ready?" I chuckle.

"On three!" She giggles nervously.

I nod and begin to count. "Okay! One! Two!" I jump and cheers ensue louder.

Y/N screams and clings to me. Her face is hidden within the curve of my neck. Within seconds, the cool pool water consumes us. We break apart and I kick to the surface. When I pop out of the water and wipe my eyes, I find Y/N close by. She swims over to me, smiling brightly. I snake my arm around her and guide her legs around my waist.

I point to her and announce to the cheering crowd. "This is the coolest girl in the OBX!"

________________________________

Rafe

The party has died down, the sun threatening to rise in two to three hours. Topper and Kelce finish a game of pong outside and Sarah crashed a while ago. I watch dazed as Y/N takes another hit from the joint and hands it to me. She sits back onto the couch and leans into my side, resting her head on my shoulder as I take another hit. Once there's nothing left but ash, I set it down on the ashtray on the side table. I rest my now free hand on Y/N's knee as she rests against me.

"So soft..." I mumble, rubbing my thumb over her skin.

Y/N rises off my shoulder, resting her chin against it. I turn my head, meeting her red and dilated eyes. She smiles softly at me.

I lift my other hand to caress her cheek. "So beautiful..."

She stares into my eyes and I'm left wondering what's going on inside her head. My eyes flicker down to her lips and I want to kiss her. Following my instincts, I lean in.

Shaking her head, she presses a hand to my chest and moves away. "Rafe, don't."

I persist, scooting closer to her. "Why not? It's not like you're still with Nate," I chuckle.

"We're friends..." She reminds me.

I press against her shoulder to urge her down onto the couch. "We could be more." I lean in to kiss her again.

Within seconds, Y/N's palm flies across my cheek with a smack. "Jesus Rafe! I said no!"

I hiss, my hand covering up my cheek.

Y/N takes the opportunity to slip out from under me. She storms off toward the staircase. I slam my fist against the back of the couch. Damn, that slap fucking hurt. She really knows how to hit! Suddenly, Topper and Kelce appear from outside, laughing and talking about the party. I pull out my vile of coke from my pocket, ready to release the pain in my face.

"Where did Y/N go?" Topper chuckles as they plop down on the couch with me.

"I don't know, bed? Who gives a fuck," I grumble, pouring myself a new line on the table.

“What’s with the attitude?” Kelce questions.

“Nothing, man. Just don’t care about her.” I hide behind a disdained expression.

________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly @cc13723things@hockeybabe87 @jolomez @plutooryectors

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televisionboy · 3 years

Text

Anti-Gentleman

A note from the author: this is in celebration of NINE HUNDRED WONDERFUL HUMANS WHO DECIDED TO JOIN ME AND MY CHAOTIC JOURNEY. YOU ARE MY FAVORITE PEOPLE EVER! this is 100% dedicated to the love of my life @ciriswife for putting up with me and helping me through thick and thin, being the godmother to my dogs and blessing me with her pets and tiktok links. THANK YOU MY LOVE YOU HAVE MY HEART

taglist: @my-haunting-romance @thatsonefishyboi @punkgeekcryptid @pierrespandas @valterras @prvtbullshit @liebegott @jackswilder @order-of-river-phoenix @himbowelsh @real-fans @pierrespandas @vintagelavenderskies @snafus-peckuh @sydney-m @warrior-healer @starkiddasilva @neverendingstories00 @3milesup @noneofurbusinez @sunnyshifty @meteora-fc @gutsandgloryhere @band-of-bitches @murphyism @wexhappyxfew @we-always-hit-our-ass @lovingunderratedcharacters @contrabandhothead @alrightnicelighter @georgeluzwarmhugs @sodapop182 @hoosiers-blanket @justwant-samu-ass @stressedinadress @ciriswife @ohmydazee @mavysnavy @rayofshanshine @band-of-brothers-headcannons @easy-company-tradition @happyveday @saritanotserena

The first time you saw Floyd Talbert, you nearly dropped the two bags of groceries you were cradling in your arms like babies.

His jaw nearly dropped to the floor, forgetting to be a gentleman and pick up the fruit that had spilled in your bag during this process. Not that anybody could call Floyd a gentleman anyways.

“You’re gonna catch flies. Close your mouth, gentleman” you muttered, picking the dropped oranges and lemons off the ground and setting the bags on the ground so you could look for your keys.

His mouth shifted into a smirk “Aren’t you a charmer” leaning against the wall slightly, watching you struggle to find your keys in your purse was just pure amusement. “What are you doing here, Floyd”

“Walk of shame”

“I guess I’m stupid for not jumping immediately to that conclusion” finally finding the apartment key, you rolled your eyes and opened it. Shoving the bags into the corridor and turning around slowly. “You’re usually the one kicking girls out, I’m surprised that this girl you probably forced to sleep with kicked you out”

A smirk slowly etched its way on to Floyd’s face and he crossed his arms, his body leaning against the door frame of his one night stands apartment. “I’m a gentleman now, did you not pick up on it already?” His all too familiar teasing tone that you thought you escaped lit a fire deep inside of you.

“Fuck you, Talbert”

The door slammed so loud it could have woken up people on the floor above you.

The second time you ran into Floyd was when a storm had happened the next Saturday night. Needing to use somebody’s phone, you went into the first apartment building you could find and knocked on a door. Fairy lights adorned the top of the door, flowers at the entrance. It looked like someone nice lived there, oh how wrong you had been.

“Well well well. Look what the cat dragged in. Seems like the universe really wants us to he together, huh?”

You had to pinch your skin to resist from rolling your eyes, taking a deep breath and sucking up to Floyd so you could ring your date. “Look, I just need to call someone and I knocked on the nicest apartment door. D’you mind if I use your phone?”

His eyes followed you as you walked in to the apartment, looking around, it was nothing special. A brown couch, white side table, two photos on the wall and a few on the mantle, barely anything was on the kitchen counter. You nearly felt at home with his odd design styles.

Dialing Greg’s number was a little nerve racking, Floyd was right behind you attempting to grind coffee beans, making your phone call helpless. “Hey! Turns out I’m not going to make dinner after all. It’s raining cats and dogs outside.. but I can still make it over tomorrow morning. We’ll make it a breakfast date then?”

Murmurs of oh fuck and piece of shit oven made you roll your eyes and hang up the phone. Pushing Floyd to the side and insisting of making him coffee so he’d shut up. “Don’t want your apartment getting burned down, then you’d be showing up at my doorstep all the time”

And there he sat drinking his coffee like a smug son of a bitch. He really hadn’t done anything wrong since he came back in your life, things between the both of you were strong even when he was at war. Until he wrote you that he wanted to break up, that he had fucked other women, that you needed to move on.

How dare he.

To say you were over it would be a complete lie. It haunted you at night, he was a solid building block of who you were.

“I missed you” he softly said, it wasn’t cocky, it wasn’t a joke. He was genuine and it pissed you off.

“You just miss the idea of me. The idea of having a girlfriend so you can reject any ugly girl who hits on you” it was unfair, but it was what he deserved.

“Why do you hate me so much, Y/N?” His mug was empty, yours was full. He sat there concerned and you stood in the kitchen angry. His apartment was small and depressing. Yours was vibrant and welcoming. Everything about him, every move he made, every decision he had done made you rage.

“Because fuck you, that’s why. You left me for some European women to fuck for one night. I loved you and committed to you for 4 years. And for what? For you to cross having sex with German women off your bucket list? I’m here making coffee for my ex fiancée, missing a date, trying to get over you and you ask why.”

You really don’t know why you hadn’t left by now. Maybe it was fear, maybe you wanted him to see how you were doing. But more importantly, the monster ate at the bottom of your stomach. Reminding you that you never responded to that letter. You didn’t say anything, you had even continued to dust the photos of the two of you, continued to wear the engagement ring, continued to talk to his mom and sister. It haunted you how in denial you had been.

But you had long since decided that living well was the best revenge.

“I don’t love you anymore. Maybe in another life we’ll meet again and it will be different. But I’ve since found peace, and it’s something you can never take away. Thank you”

So you gave him a side hug, and settled on seeing him in another life

#vereds 900 celebration #not edited #band of brothers #floyd talbert #floyd talbert x reader #floyd talbert headcanons #floyd talbert imagine #Floyd Talbert angst #Floyd Talbert fluff #Floyd Talbert smut

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voidcat · 3 years

Text

— take me home

Characters: Dazai Osamu/gn!reader (+agency members)

Genre & wc: fluff — 1.9k

a/n: happy Valentine’s Day!!! Normally I was gonna make this one big thing but my writing style for all this so far and “the second part” don’t carry the same vibe. (Also it was getting v long) Anyways, enjoy. I still suck at naming fics. — part 2 !!

“You could feel the bomb going off and suddenly-“ Doctor Yosano stops looking at the clock, “Oh it’s been that long already? I shouldn’t keep you waiting for any longer” she motions with her hand to you with a smile.

“It’s alright, I enjoy hearing your stories.” You smile back. “If it’s alright with you and no new cases show up, would you like the finish the story tomorrow at my place? Maybe over a cup of tea or a glass of wine?”

The glint in her eyes tell you the answer long before. “Only if the infamous pastries Ranpo cannot get enough of are there!” Yosano says with enthusiasm and all you can do is nod and share the excitement.

As she proceeds to get her coat and bag, you decide to wait until you hear someone else speak up.

“I thought you didn’t like to have people over?” Atsushi asks standing behind you with a stack of papers and files.

Eyes closed, you hum “True, true… But I make an exception for some, dear. Where did you think we baked all those for Kyouka?”

Stopping for a second to recall that day Atsushi scratches his head. The moment of realization comes to him fast, apparent from the sudden change of expression and the wide smile on his face “Oh! You’re-“

“I thought you didn’t allow anyone in the kitchen!” Ranpo exclaims rather loudly, slamming the newspaper he was reading moments ago onto his table.

Tilting back and forth from where you’re standing and occasionally looking for Yosano to come back, you turn to where his voice came from. “That rule only applies to you, I’m afraid. No matter what an amazing detective you are, cooking and baking simply aren’t your forte.” With one hand in the air as if offering the plainest of truths, you say.

“However you’re still my most trusted taster, so please don’t make that face?” You finish with an apologetic smile and hearing a low rumble coming from him, you let out a breath thinking you’re off the hook.

You thought wrong.

As Yosano’s heels clank against the surface, you can feel a persistent gaze on your back, already sensing what’s to come next. Before you can make an attempt to the door however, Dazai announces your name, in a whine no less, coming a little too closer than you expected right behind your ear.

Slowly turning back to see his smug face, right in your personal space just as you guessed, you refrain from rolling your eyes. “What was it Dazai? Is something the matter?”

Coming all the way from wherever he was previously , he couldn’t be here now for anything other than to bother you. You just hoped Yosano would show up and drag you away before your patience was tested again.

Raising his arm and resting the back of his hand against his forehead, eyes closed and mouth open, as if a he were a character straight out of a tragedia, Dazai opts for the dramatic route. “Yes! I’ve just been informed of horrifying news!”

“Which is?..” you leave the statement unfinished, already knowing what’s to come.

“That you never invited me over to your house! And we’ve been friends for the longest time! What our live have come to, have we driven so far away from ea-“

“Enough with the antics Dazai, we’re busy, can’t you see?” Your savior, Yosano cuts in putting a hand over your shoulder. Turning to look at her, you mouth a ‘thank you.’, and you think she has never looked as beautiful as she does in this moment now, with the golden sun behind her setting, the lights illuminating her face, making her look like those heroes painted to be immortalized.

As you step out, you hear Yosano stop and say: “And for the record, I’ve known them the longest.”

The day spent with Yosano goes better than you could accept. By the end your face hurts from laughing, your stomach full from all the food and drinks you’ve consumed, times flies away like a plane and by the time Yosano makes way to the door, it’s dark and you’re both dragging your feet.

Despite the enjoyable day off, Dazai’s recent behavior starts to make you question if it was worth inviting her over so publicly.

At any chance he gets, he tries to get you to give away something about your location, who has been over before and how many times, what type of hosts you prefer and ‘oh maybe we never got the chance because of our schedules, you should invite me over some time’, ‘don’t be so shy, we’re friends after all! Oh is it your place you’re ashamed of? Worry not, I won’t judge!’, ‘hey are you free on a Thursday night?’s met with ‘No, I don’t want you over.’, ‘Yes, I have a very good reasoning.’ And almost a slip up of a ‘I’m free- Oh wait, I have a date with Sergio, sorry no can do!’.

For each cheeky smile he offers, you give back a grunt or a snarl, one time almost yelling right in front of the director and another time you stomp out of the office in fury while Atsushi watches in horror.

Fifth time of your hiding in the café and you find yourself wishing for a crisis to surface, the carefree Dazai to be replaced by the serious and logical man that manages to impress you no matter how hard the case, counter measure after counter measure, even if he takes reckless risks once in a while.

Inhaling the sweet smell of your tea before taking a sip, your wish seems to have come true partially, from the set of steps approaching you in a determined yet unrushed pace.

Taking a long sip, savoring the taste and the warmth of it, you slowly place the cup down and open your eyes to see Dazai standing in his neutral and calm state.

The two of you stay like that for a while, like a photograph, the café empty and the mixed smells of coffee and tea lingering in the air, not quite looking at one another but not dozed off either.

When he opens his mouth, it doesn’t feel like the moment has been broken, not even a clearing of throat or a quite mumbling under his breath beforehand, yet his voice flows along the smells despite the absurdity of the topic of conversation.

But you beat him to it. “If you’re going to be standing for so long, you might as well sit down.”

He settles down as you reach for your cup again.

“So, how are things with Sergio?” He says the name with a hint of hostility.

It takes everything in you not to spit out your tea laughing. “Sergio is a street cat I take care of.”

Composure and crossed arms off, Dazai’s eyes widen. “But- you said that-“ “A date with Sergio, yes, for his yearly check up at the vet.” You finish for him.

“That was just an excuse to get you to stop bothering me.” You add.

“Fair enough, I deserved that.” He chuckles “but you did mention you had a very good reasoning for not inviting me over. I know I pestered you enough about that…” he trails off, reaching for your hand with his. “And yet, would you be so kind to tell me why?” he asks, eyes locked into yours.

“My cat doesn’t like you.”

And this, you think, is the exact moment the atmosphere is ruined, the photograph ripped apart in the middle.

Dazai just stares at you, still holding your hand.

Blinking few times, rather unimpressed, you notice a waitress by the counter, probably there to rearrange something.

“Alright, I’ll be off now if that’s all!” You say a bit too cheerfully, pull your hand before Dazai can do anything, pay and leave as soon as you can.

Dazai just blinks, hands still in the air, stays frozen like that until Kunikida drags him back to work.

Bad decision after bad decision seems to follow you wherever you go because after that interaction at the café, it gets worse.

You thought Dazai was like a fruit fly before? It gets more irritating than an army of them. And on top of that, Kunikida scolds you to undo whatever you’ve done on Dazai, his already poor work ethics now on the floor, getting on Kunikida’s nerves and yours.

Hearing your name spreads terror in you now, the second your ears catch the familiar tone of Dazai’s voice, you fleet for your life.

Coming clean and explaining your statement from earlier would be the logical way to end this but fate disagrees as it laughs you in the face.

“Why wouldn’t your cat like me? I didn’t even step foot into your place before!”

“Hey Dazai, remember the day you wouldn’t get off my back? Trying to embrace at any chance and I gave up in the middle of the day at one point?” Resting his hand under his chin to think, as if his face doesn’t make it obvious he remembers the day crystal clear, he lets out a “hmm…”

With a snap of fingers and a “Ah! I remember now! You were so comfortable, I almost fell asleep.” He grins.

With a shake of your hand, trying to dismiss the memory of how he basically trapped you to the couch, you cough and continue. “That evening, when I got home, my clothes must have reeked of your smell.” He nods, good, so far he seems to follow. “My cat just sniffed the air once and stayed in the living room until I washed those clothes and took a bath.”

Hands resting on his hips, he keeps nodding and humming in understanding. “I see…”

You let out a breath, thank god it’s over.

“Nope! Still makes no sense.” Hs exclaims suddenly, turns away and leaves. You just stare at his back, now it’s your turn to blink in ‘unbelievable, is this real?’

The loud chatter and pestering doesn’t stop however and with each word, it gets more ridiculous.

“Is your cat perhaps jealous of me? That you secretly love me and they don’t want competition?”

“The cat is just another excuse, isn’t it! Admit it, you have a secret! It must be something you’re afraid I won’t like.”

“Is it Chuuya? Did you take pity and let him rent a room?”

“I don’t even know a Chuuya…”

“Maybe a weird collection…” he gasps and says your name. “Are you a hoarder? Is that why you won’t let me in? I told you already, I would never judge your lifestyle!”

“Dazai, please stop-“

“No, no, I got it this time. It’s a shrine of me! Isn’t it? Your face tells it all, it is a shrine! Ah, I must say I’m flattered, if not a little scared now.”

If anger could set a fire, you think Kunikida would be arrested of arson right now. You just rest your head in your palm, trying to ignore Dazai’s ongoing nonsense.

“Is there really a-“ Kenji begins a question as Ranpo ends it with a firm “Nope!”

Getting up from your place at last, you grab Dazai by his coat and drag him out.

“There is No shrine, no other human, no hoarding or weird collections. It’s just me and my cat who scrunches his nose when I bring home a file that sat in your desk all day!”

Before giving him a chance to reply, you walk away.

The next day, and many other days to follow, goes uneventful, Dazai’s never ending bickering about your house seems to have reached a stop. Everyone, especially Kunikida, enjoys the newly achieved peace of going back to normal. You hope this marks the end of this whole nonsense, and that the Dazai everyone knows with a little mix of annoying and impressively serious has returned back to his sense of regular.

Tags: @atsumusdomain @celosiiaa @ywanfen

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

.. for mermay.. 8, indruck nsfw?

Here you go! Duck’s design is based on a rudderfish.

Authors note: since prompt 8 is “drunk,” drinking is mentioned in this. It’s also implied Indrid is doing some self-destructive behaviors to cope with trauma.

The party is a splendid success, as was the book launch that preceded it. Indrid has done what he does best, lined his pockets and those of his agents and editors, and gotten everyone talking.

“Did you see the one of the pyres?”

“The one of the hurricane aftermath, the look in the girls eyes is so haunting.”

“Personally, I found the jeweled mummies a bit much, but the emergency room shots? Stunning.”

This is why Indrid is sitting on the rocks on his private cove, and will not be going back up to the house until he’s polished off all three of these heavily spiked bottles of eggnog. It’s better than the time he emptied most of a bottle of vanilla vodka, but not by much.

He was tipsy when he snuck out the back door and down the path to the sea. So when the empty bottle rolls away, all he can do is whap at the air close to it and wave as it plonks into the water.

“Oops. Hic, oh, hic, well, what’s one more piece of trash in, hic, a dying world?”

He yelps, knocking his remaining bottles into the sand as the lost one flies through the air towards him. Or he thinks that’s the trajectory; it’s hard to tell. The point is, the bottle is back and he’s clutching his chest like an old man in a silent movie.

“Look, man, I know it’s temptin to just leave trash everywhere, but there are signs up and down this beach sayin not to litter.” A man floats in the water at the foot of the rock, black hair plastered to his forehead and muscular arms crossed over a bare chest.

“It, hic, it was an accident. And I am, hic, in no condition to retrieve anything from the water.”

The man frowns, “shit, if you’re that drunk, you oughta get off the rocks. It’s deep here, you might drown. Go sit on the sand, it’s safer. Warmer too, still holdin heat from the sun.”

“I, I’m fine, hic, don’t, don’t need some wet man babying me.” He stands to prove his point, nearly falls face first into the water, and sits back down, “see, m’fine.”

“Get off the rock.” The man says, sounding for all the world like a cat owner two seconds from grabbing the spray bottle.

“No.” Indrid huffs.

Water splashes his face and he sputters.

The man pulls his hand back, preparing to send another wave at him, “Get.”

“Fuck you”

The splash is much more intense this time and he curses, scrambles sideways, and falls to his knees in the sand.

“That’s better, now I don’t gotta worry about fishin your careless ass outta the water.”

“If, if we are, hic, t-talking careless, you, you shouldn’t say a thing. You’re, hic, swimming in cold water with, without a wetsuit.”

The man shrugs, “Don’t need one.” With that he floats on his back, bringing a dark-scaled tail into view.

“You’re, hic, you’re a merman.” He crawls forward, breathless, “that’s so cool, wanna, gotta photograph you, so handsome, gotta-”

“Nope” The merman swims back into deeper water, “no pictures, those can end real bad for us.”

“But, but you’re so beautiful. If, hic, if pictures are no good, I, I can draw. I draw good, even if no one likes it.”

“Uh, you really wanna sit on a cold beach paintin my picture instead of hangin out at that shindig?” He points up the hill to the brightly lit house.

“No, nonono, hic, don’t, don’t wanna go back up there, s’awful, hic.”

“Awful?” The merman sounds concerned, and in the patchy moonlight he swims close enough that Indrid can see the details of his face, “is someone up there hurtin you?”

“No” He shakes his head, “it, it-”

“Indrid!”

“Damn it.” He mutters as the merman retreat beneath waves. As his guests grow closer he stands, carefully picks up all three bottles, and heads uphill to meet them.

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

Indrid shuffles through the house, head pounding, decides he hates the following people, in this order:

-His agent

-Himself

-Whoever mentioned it was a shame there were no Plata River Bridge photos, causing Indrid to drink a whole martini in order to bite his tongue.

It’s not until his third cup of coffee that he remembers the merman. God, he was really rude to someone who was just trying to keep him from drowning.

Very, very carefully, he makes his way to the beach, sketchbook in one hand and thermos in the other.

“Hello?” He calls across the water. No reply. Of course there isn’t; the merman has the whole ocean to explore, there’s no reason for him to hang around Indrid’s house. He sighs, sits down on a piece of driftwood, and draws. Normally the cold would drive him back indoors, but today it’s bracing, blowing his hangover off of him and down the sand.

“Glad to see you’re in one piece”

Indrid sits bolt upright. The merman waves to him.

“You came back?”

“Yeah? I mean, this is part of my rounds, so I come by here at least once a day. More surprised you’re down here when it’s all cold and grey.”

“I, ah, I wanted to apologize for last night. I was being stubborn and rude.”

“You were, but I was kinda grumpy too. At the end of my shift and all that, but I shouldn’t have splashed you.” He smiles, swims closer, “do you, uh, remember any of the other stuff you said?”

“I have a vague memory of begging to photograph you. Or maybe draw, it’s all very fuzzy.”

“You did. I, uh” the merman’s cheeks turn pink, “you were really, uh, well let’s just say you were excited at the idea of drawin me, so I thought maybe, if you wanted to..”

“Yes” Indrid shifts down into the sand so he can rest his back on the log, “can we do it now? You said you were on rounds, and if you’re working I don’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m done for the day. Should I get on a rock or somethin?”

“Can you come on the sand at all? Oh, ah, it seems you can.” Indrid scoots back as the merman slides gracefully ashore. In the daylight, his tail is a rich green-brown, his hair streaked with grey near his forehead. His eyes, one green and one brown, regard Indrid with curiosity as he turns to a new page.

“You got a name?”

“Indrid. Indrid Cold.”

“Duck Newton. It’s a nickname.” The mer stretches his arms and tail, and were Indrid in a self-flattering frame of mind he’d say he was flexing for him, “I gotta pose?”

“No, as long as you don’t move too much, I should be fine.”

Duck nods, shifts onto his belly with his tail dipped in the surf. Indrid sets his pen to paper, asks Duck what he does for work and when the tunnel vision of his project dissipates, it’s dusk.

“Oh my, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”

The merman yawns, “S’okay, it was nice talkin with you, and I got to birdwatch some. Can I see?”

Indrid turns the sketchbook. Mis-matched eyes widen.

“Holy fuck. You made me look damn good.”

“I simply captured you as you are.” Indrid feels a blush moving up his cheeks as Duck scoots closer.

“You gonna do this tomorrow? If, uh, if you don’t wanna draw me again, I can bring you some interestin stuff from the water. If, uh, if you want.”

His schedule for tomorrow starts with a phone interview, after which he was planning to sit in a dark living room and watch mindless T.V.

“That sounds lovely. Thank you, Duck.”

The merman beams, waves, and then pushes back into the sea, raising his tail once in farewell.

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

“...now, Juno thinks it’s-holy fuck ‘Drid, was that your stomach?” Duck raises his head from where he’s been sort-of-napping, sort of talking.

“Hmm? Yes, I suppose it was.” He has his watercolors out today, a surprise stretch of sunny days rendering the beach and hillsides in glorious technicolor.

“When did you last eat?”

“..............”

“Oh my fuckin god, ‘Drid, no wonder you look like you’re close to passin out.”

“I’m fine.”

Duck has that look on his face again, the one he got when Indrid admitted to walking the cliff-side trails when he’s coming back from the roadhouse on the edge of town. When Indrid says he hasn’t slept in two days.

The merman says nothing, goes back to reading the book of nature essays Indrid brought him. A buzz cuts through the air and he groans, shuts off the alarm on his phone, “I need to go get ready for that interview.”

“You wanna meet up tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Great. But, uh, seem to remember you promised me some of those cookies you say are the best in the world.”

Indrid smirks, “I suppose I did.”

“I want some. But not for dinner, with dinner. You feel me?” There’s an edge in his drawl, as formidable and unyielding as the nearby cliff-face.

“Alright, I'll bring you some other things to try.” Indrid smiles, suddenly looking forward to a grocery run.

Duck, now in the water, looks over his shoulder, “Good boy.”

Indrid shivers even as heat blooms in his chest.

When sunset graces the beach, Indrid is busy setting out a half dozen take-out containers and many plastic boxes of cookies and fruit.

“Damn” Duck slides and wiggles his way onto the sand by the blanket, “you went all out.”

“You wanted a meal. I brought you one.”

“Sure did.” Duck sniffs the air, taps a carry-out bowl of soup, “what’s this?”

“Umm” Indrid peers at the label, “french onion soup.”

“Can I have it?”

“Of course.”

The merman downs the soup as fast as temperature allows, munches happily on the orange segments Indrid peels and samples the cookies.

“Ahhh” He flops his head into Indrid’s lap, “that hit the spot.”

The human nods, bottle of pineapple soda on his lips. He’s so happy and full.

Wait.

“Duck? Did you suggest this just so I would eat something?”

The face in his lap only looks a little chagrined, “Kinda. I been meanin to suggest this, and today seemed like the right time. And, uh, I know sometimes I have a hard time lookin after myself for me, but if someone else tells me to do it, or I have to do it as part of lookin after them, it’s easier. Thought that might be goin’ on with you. I, uh, I won’t do it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Nono” Indrid sets a hand in his hair, stroking it so Duck rubs his cheek against his thigh, “you’re right. It was easier to do the kind thing for myself when you told me to. Would, ah, would you be willing to do it again.”

Duck meets his eyes, gaze bubbling with something dark and alluring, “Sure thing, ‘Drid.”

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

“Before you go, I wanted to give you this.” Indrid holds out the small camera. Duck, perched on a rock, takes it with a puzzled frown. He adds, “It’s waterproof. You mentioned you wish you could take pictures of the things you see in your home. I couldn’t think of a better time to give you than your trip.”

“Thanks, ‘Drid.” Duck leans forward, rubbing their cheeks together, “you remember your instructions?”

“Yes.” He whimpers when Duck pulls back.

“Good. Want you in good shape when I get home.” Duck’s voice returns to normal, “should be back in a week. I’ll see you then.”

Indrid waves goodbye, keeps waving well past the point where Duck could see him, even if he surfaced. Then he grabs the basket of fresh oysters and heads to the house to call Barclay.

The phone calls and dinners with one of his few friends in town are part of his agreement with Duck. The mer told him he couldn’t meet every night, so maybe Indrid should find other forms of company. He also helpfully supplies Indrid with fresh shellfish that he has no idea how to cook, but his friend the professional chef certainly does. This dovetails nicely with his promise to Duck to eat at least one full meal a day.

It’s not just the strange dynamic they’ve hit upon that’s improving his life; it’s Duck. The merman makes him feel so safe, like someone cares about the real him and not just the him that makes them money or feeds their morbid curiosity. Not to mention he’s even more handsome than Indrid first thought and he spends plenty of nights jerking off to the thought of a cool, strong tail between his legs.

He does well the first five days Duck is gone. Barclay and Dani come over for dinner, he paints and draws prolifically, and he even reads up on whether it’s feasible for him to adopt rats (“those are kinda like otters, right?” “close enough.”). Friday night his agent calls, excitedly reporting that it’ll soon be the fifth anniversary of the Plata River incident and the magazine is getting requests for a feature on it and Indrid will be perfect.

Indrid says he’ll think about it, hangs up, and opens the fridge. He promised Duck he’d only drink if it was with dinner or with friends. He grabs two wine coolers and heads into the living room.

The next day, he’s idly fiddling with the dating app he hasn’t touched since December when a new profile appears. Very good looking, close by, clearly just passing through town, and interested in Indrid. He invites him over, spends the next half hour getting ready, and even cleans the bedroom because well, that’s what he’d do for Duck, he should do it for anyone else he brings over.

Indrid opens the door at the second knock. The guy takes one look at him, shakes his head, and returns to his car.

Indrid downs the remaining wine coolers and goes down to the beach to sulk. He tucks his legs up, pressing his forehead to his knees, and rocks back and forth. He’s nearly sober when a voice drifts across the waves.

“‘Drid?”

He looks up, glasses slipping down his nose, “Duck? You’re, you’re back.”

“Yep. It was fast goin the last ten miles. Brought the camera back, think you gotta be the one to get the pictures off, but I can’t wait to show you all the cool shit we saw.”

“Me neither” He stands and instantly pitches forward, landing on his hands and knees in the shallow water.

“You been drinking?”

“Yes.”

“You and Barclay have a good time?” He’s giving him the benefit of the doubt, giving him an out, and Indrid decides that isn’t what he wants.

“I wasn't with Barclay. I got horrible news last night, and today I tried to get laid and got rejected, and I’m at the point in my life where I nearly called after the guy that he could keep his eyes shut and I’d just blow him so he wouldn’t need to look at or touch me. So yes, Duck, I’ve been drinking.”

Duck’s expression swims between concern and disappointment, then comes to rest on neutral steel, “That ain’t what we agreed.”

“I’m aware. But I don’t care, I don’t” he aims a splash at Duck, “it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, nothing will come of it, same as always.”

The merman cocks an eyebrow, “You really think that? You forgettin I said there’d be consequences if you broke the rules?”

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” Indrid splashes him again.

Duck smiles, reminding him that all his teeth end in points, “Didn’t say anythin about scarin you. You really wanna believe that nothing matters, you can head home. Or” he points to a nearby rock, “you go get on your hands and knees, facin the cliffs.”

Indrid crawls gracelessly to the designated spot. It’s dangerous to turn his back on the ocean, but a gentle voice in his mind reminds him over and over that Duck is here. Duck won’t let him get hurt.

There’s a splash as Duck pulls himself onto the rock. Then a whoosh of air and a sting in the right side of his ass. He yelps, startled, and looks behind him.

“If this ain’t okay, need you to say so now.” Duck’s eyes are wide and hungry, but his hands stay on the grey rock.

“It’s okay.” He can’t believe this is happening, can’t decide if he should tell Duck this is not remotely a punishment.

Another sharp grin, “Eyes front.”

Indrid’s barely obeyed when the next strike comes. Duck is strong and makes no attempt to hide it, hitting him hard enough that his knees jolt forward in the sand. The pain lights him up each time, forces the thing knotted in his chest up towards his throat.

When the blows stop he whimpers, pushing his ass back in hopes of more.

“Don’t worry, ‘Drid, I ain’t done with you by a long shot.” Cold fingers undo his fly, bring his pants and underwear down to his thighs. He’s expecting another hit, wiggles his ass in anticipation.

What he gets are teeth sinking into his skin.

“AH!GOD” He yells loud enough that his throat hurts.

Duck chuckles, “Holler all you want, we both know no one can hear what goes on on this beach, especially with all the wind.” He bites down again, Indrid thrashing and moaning as teeth sink into already reddened skin. Duck growls in reply, savaging the meat of his as and grazing his teeth along his thighs, dangerously close to his balls. He’s already getting hard, the process expedited by warm breath and lips on his body.

He moans embarrassingly loud when Duck shoves his ass apart.

“Damn, you really did get all prepped for that fella. Shame, he didn’t know what he was missin.” The plug hits the sand to his right.

“You, you don’t have to flatter meEEEoh, oh Duckohmygoodness.” His fingers dig into the sand as the merman teases his rim with a flexible tongue. There’s a muffled laugh, but Duck doesn’t respond beyond that, too busy threatening him with a good time as his tongue gives an experimental push.

Then it retreats and he turns his head left and right, delivering quick bites to either cheek before his tongue returns. He alternates between the delicious, teasing licks and painful bites, the shift never coming when Indrid expects and causing him to cry out every time. When the mer releases one side of his ass in order to slap his thighs while he continues licking, kissing, and nipping his way across bruised, sensitive skin, Indrid lets out a strangled sound, the thing in his chest now trapped at the back of his throat.

“You make such cute noises, but they ain’t the ones I’m lookin for. I ain’t stoppin until you apologize.”

Indrid opens his mouth, intending to say something about how this is the wrong way to make him do so.

“I, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t be angry with me, don’t leave, don’t leave me here, I can’t, I, I don’t want to think about it, Duck please, I’m sorry, so sorry” he;s hunched forward, sobbing into the sand, when he realizes he’s fully clothed and Duck isn’t behind him.

“No” he squeaks, “no please don’t go.”

“I ain’t goin anywhere.” Duck slides up the sand next to him, pulls him into his arms, “I’m so sorry darlin, I didn’t mean to make you cry, I took it too far, I ain’t mad, not really” he eases Indrid’s glasses off and sets them out of harms way, “oh darlin, c’mere, it’s okay” salty kisses dot his forehead and green scales pet his legs.

“It’s, hic, it’s not your fault. I, I l-liked it, but this has, hic, been building up for months. Years.” He hides his face in Duck’s chest.

“Years?” Duck grabs Indrid’s sweater from where he cast it off, draping it over the human.

Indrid sniffs, “You know I’m a photographer. But I’ve never told you what I photograph. I, I made my name recording disasters and their aftermath. For a long time I took pride in it; someone has to document those things, so we can’t erase them, so we have to confront them and try to make things better, or try to keep such tragedy from reoccurring. I was so good at recording it I became famous. Wealthy. And I learned that most people like to gawk at horror and then go about their days. I, I tried branching out and...and I ended up with a disaster anyway. A bridge collapse, I chronicled everything from the instant it started to the funerals and it, it was too much. Ever since then I’ve felt trapped by my work. At times, by my life. My agent wants me to go back for the fifth anniversary, he told me so last night.”

“You ain’t goin, right?”

“I don’t think I can.”

Duck nods, rests his chin atop his head, “tell me what you wanna do instead.”

He does. He tells him about his other art, about the pitches for childrens books and the plans for a real vacation, about the life that, for the first time, feels in reach when he speaks about it. By the time he’s done the stars are out and he’s much calmer and clear-headed.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? That, that you thought I was attractive?”

“Every damn word.” Duck rolls them so Indrid is on his back, kisses his cheek, “thought so since that first night. But, uh” his gaze flicks down to Indrid’s crotch, “if you want more proof I’m happy to give it.”

“Please?”

“Get your pants off and lay on your sweater.”

Indrid complies, shivers when Duck guides his shirt up and off.

“Fuuuuck” the mer rubs his hands up and down his torso, “when it warms up, you’re gonna swim out with me so I can get my fill of this while you ride my dick.”

“Yes. Ah, I, I did prep, but it’s been long enough now that lubrication may be an issueOOOh, ooohyes.” He release into the sand as Duck grinds his tail against his cock. The scales feel as lovely now as they do when he pets them, and he wonders if Duck will let him get off by humping his tail one of these days.

“It won’t, trust me. Lemme just--there we go. Open your legs. Heh, eager little thing.”

“I’ve wanted this too long to play coy.”

“Good.”

“Eeep!” Something slick and squirming presses into his ass, “do, do you have tentacles?”

“Kinda? They’re just the tip, for this exact reason. It, uh, it feel okay?” Duck smiles reassuringly and that, combined with the genuine concern in his voice makes Indrid moans and nudge him closer.

“VeryOH, oohgracious” two more tentacles join the first, pulsing and scissoring him open, “how many are there?”

“About eight.”

He moans louder and Duck laughs, pushes his hips forward, “glad you like it, darlin’. Because from where I’m sittin your ass is fuckin amazin and I wanna be as deep in it as I can.”

“Yes, absolutely, pleaseAHHnnn” enough tentacles now that he can’t keep an accurate count, “please use it as you see fit.”

“As I see fit huh? That’s a tricky question. See, sometimes I wanna, fuck, wanna shove the whole thing in you at once and make you scream while I leave my mark on your neck.”

“AHHnnngod” A firmer shaft pushes in, ridges rubbing all the right places as the tentacles continue exploring him.

“Other times, think it’s better to tease you with the tip, maybe make you blow me first and jerk you off until you’re beggin for my dick.”

“Yes, yesyesyesyes”

“But tonight” Duck bottoms out with a groan, “I’m gonna take it nice and slow, show you just how fuckin wonderful you are. How much you mean to me. My Indrid.”

“Yours” Indrid twines his limbs around him, “god, Duck, it feels so good, you’re so good, you always look after me.”

“That I do. Because you deserve it. And” the tentacles find his prostate and he nearly howls as Duck continues, “you deserve to learn how t’be nice to yourself. And I, ahfuck, know that ain’t easy, but I’m gonna be here to help.”

“Yes, ohgod, yes, you’re, you’re so perfect, aaAAAhnI, I’m, close sweetheart, you fill me so well.”

“Damn right. Gonna, nnngh, gonna find every fuckin way to fill you, make you feel fuckin amazin, fuck, that’s it darlin, ohfuckyeah” as he starts spilling into him, Indrid cums with a shout, splattering their stomachs. Duck moans at the sight, wriggles his hips as his shaft continues rippling and pulsing. It turns out mer orgasms are long, so long that Indrid is whimpering from overstimulation by the time Duck pulls out.

A gentle, salt-soaked kiss to his lips, “Lookit you, took it all. You’re so good for me, darlin.”

“Mmmhmm” He doesn’t want to let go, cold, wind, and damp be damned. Duck seems to understand, holds him and whispers sweet promises in his ears until he’s shivering.

“‘Drid, your teeth are chatterin.”

“I kn-know, I s-should g-go home and w-warm up.”

Duck kisses him again, “sooner you go and rest, sooner we can do this again.”

“An excellent p-point.” He stands, blows a shaky kiss towards his future, “see you tomorrow.”

#Indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #mermay fills #mermay

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fijiangecko · 3 years

Text

Maintaining a New Life

Chapter 5 - The Point of No Return

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Read it on AO3 here

A/N: updating every two weeks-ish depending on school

~~~~~~

The car ride is silent the rest of the way back, tension thick and unsettling as the wind blows through the shattered back windshield. Iwaizumi takes the back roads to avoid police and mafia members, and it finally sets in that things aren’t going to be the same for you again. Everything you’ve built up over the past four and a half years is slipping through your fingers like wet sand.

And you’re the one adding water to the mix.

All of the friends you’ve made; Bokuto, Akaashi, Kenma, Sawamura, Sugawara, Asahi, Noya, Tanaka and not to mention all of the little interns and secretaries you’ve learned to love. Takeda and Ukai, the two who helped you out of a dark place, unbeknownst to them, but desperate enough to give you a chance.

Then there’s Kuroo, who’s sitting in the backseat right now. You don’t dare to look behind you to take a glance. You can’t imagine how he must feel. Betrayed. You both had grown to rely on one another and now he’s learning that you aren’t who you say you are. Just a liar disguised as someone who wants to help. While thinking, you absentmindedly push your cuticles back and stare straight ahead at the road. You trust that Oikawa and Iwa are looking out enough for you to clock out and realize the mess you’ve made, not only for yourself but for them as well.

Tendou didn’t seem to care about them, though. And he didn’t call them out by name so they can still get out of this. You stop messing with your hands and purse your lips. But that doesn’t explain how the three of us all worked together back there. Kuroo’s not dumb. He’ll figure it out.

You start to pick at your skin once more.

Numbness feels like pin pricks across your body as you sit and stare into the blank night. Time flies out of the window and what feels like seconds later the soft rumbling of the engine comes to a halt. You blink and take in the building in front of you.

A confused expression covers your face as you turn to Iwaizumi, silently asking why you’re here, why you’re home. He doesn’t answer, instead getting up and out of the seat. Oikawa follows him, each putting on their coats as a shield from the night air. Kuroo and yourself remain in the vehicle, wondering what the next step is.

With a heavy heart, you step out of the car and brace yourself for the cold blast. Hajime passes you the keys, fingers lingering on yours in a silent plea. You shake it off and proceed to the front door, listening for any sign that a certain someone was following behind. Light footsteps make your heart beat faster, keys slightly shaking as you force them into the lock.

“I think we’re gonna head back…” Hajime’s voice is soft as he leans in next to your ear, hot breath making shivers run down your spine. You turn to look at him, and nod.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Oikawa places his hand on your shoulder, worry crossing his face.

Kuroo stands behind everyone, watching the two crowd you as you stand meekly beside them. He doesn’t want to believe that you could have been, or are a part of any of these killings, but his gut is telling him that there’s more. That these two are involved as well, and that this is far from being over.

With one last nod, they back off and let you open your door. The two men flash a glance at Kuroo but quickly hurry off into the night. Slowly, as if there are chains wrap around his ankles, Kuroo places one foot in front of the other and walks closer into the apartment.

You’ve already taken off your shoes and shed your coat as well as your purse. You feel absolutely drained from the anticipation of this conversation. Kuroo felt the same force draining his energy as he removes his shoes and heads to the same table you were all working at just earlier that day.

The chair screeches against the floor when he yanks it from it’s position with a bit too much force. Your hands lay flat on the cool countertop and the thousand yard stare takes over your eyes, thoughts flying in and out of your headspace. Too much information and consideration to handle at once, you just let everything relax and let out a long, deep sigh.

“So…” His voice is gruff, low and drawn out as he stares at the wood grain on the table.

You snap out of your trance and turn your body, hips leaning against the granite. “So-” your voice shakes ever so slightly, but you continue, “-what do you want to know?” Arms fold around your chest in a form of both protection and comfort. His eyes meet yours for a split second when he tries to sneak a peek, but he returns to tracing the aged wood with his eyes.

It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts. To be fair, the question you just asked was a loaded one, and you are putting him on the spot. “Y/N… I really don’t even know where to start.” His eyes shut and he tries to rub the tiredness out of them. He figures going for the lowest hanging fruit first would make it easier to get details. “Are you…still a member?”

“No, god no.” You take a seat directly in front of him, but still he refuses to look at you. Your fingers weave together and sit on top of the wood, softly squeezing. “I haven’t been for a long time.”

After a few moments of silence, you elaborate. “I left them about six months before Takeda and Ukai asked me to join them. I haven’t had any contact with the mafia since I’ve left and I never intended for anyone to find out.”

“You weren’t gonna tell me?” His golden eyes throw you into a haze when they meet your own. He looks hurt, even more betrayed if that was possible.

“No.” You take your time in responding, hoping that somewhere deep inside of him, Kuroo could find it in himself to understand you.. “It would’ve been safer for everyone if they didn’t know.”

“I thought you trusted me?” His voice cracked, as if he was crying out to you. The question shatters your heart, wanting nothing more than to comfort him and assure him. “I mean, it seems like Oikawa and Iwaizumi already know since they aren’t here.”

“I do trust you.” The response is immediate. His eyes tell you that he doesn’t fully believe you, and once more you have to explain. “And they know some things about my past but nothing like this, I told them we could talk tomorrow but I wanted to speak with you first.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek. “It was safer when no one knew, and now that you’ve been seen with me we’re all in danger.”

“Do you think that I wouldn’t be able to handle myself? Or that the other two are incompetent of using their gifts?” The volume and conviction in his voice grows with each syllable. Disappointment quickly turns into agitation as his eyebrows twitch and mouth twists further into a frown.

“No, Kuroo, it’s just that-”

“Just what?!” You clench your jaw at the outburst. “You pretended for years to be one of us and not once did you think you would’ve been more trusted if you told us?!”

His fists flex on the tabletop, his knuckles turning white. He refuses to break eye contact and you sit there for a few seconds, realizing that this is not what you wanted to happen. You knew he would be angry, anyone in their right mind would be, but after working together for so long, you thought things might have been a little more civil. “Like I said, it was safer when no one kne-”

“Like hell Y/N!” Kuroo stands up and slams those clenched fists down. The booming from his fist pairs nicely with the sound of the chair toppling over, but you don’t flinch. Your thousand yard stare returns when it hits you that no matter what you say, he isn’t going to hear you out. “You just wanted to protect yourself from the Port Mafia and nothing else! The fact that your two ‘buddies’ already knew more than me is suspicious as fuck too!”

It’s not his fault. Pressure builds at your temples and your eyes hurt, the slow pulsating of your heartbeat grows louder and louder. You bring one hand up to rub your temples and take a few deep breaths. I would react the same.

“...you’re right...” It’s the only response you can think of. The only thing that can end this conversation as soon as possible.

Kuroo’s face falls, his own little glimpse of hope shattered by those two words. He was thinking that this was somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe you had run into these guys before? Or maybe you knew them from your childhood? But your unwillingness to look at him paired with the confirmation of his accusation makes his stomach churn. “I trusted you!” His voice is much louder than the pounding in your head, and the message is clear. “I mean, what the fuck?! Were you just using us as a shield for the time being? Until they eventually found you?!”

Now he’s just shouting anything that comes to his head. His perception of you twisted into something sinister. Kuroo didn’t want to think about any of the good memories; the countless nights you spent at the office working on cases, teasing Kenma at the bars, having drinking contests with Bokuto, celebrating birthdays and agency anniversaries. All of them are tainted now, “knowing” that you were hiding something so huge and unforgiving from him.

On the other end of the table, you sit and in silence. Each word from him is like a stab to the back, each digging further into your body. This is it. They’re going to hunt him down if I leave and Oikawa and Iwaizumi are suspects. Everything I’ve worked so hard for. Down the drain.

He takes your silence as confirmation. “Fuck this. Fuck you.”

With those final words, he starts to gather his belongings. You finally blink after what feels like hours and watch him. His movements stutter every now and then, telling you that he isn’t in full control of his emotions or motions.

Right before he yanks the front door open, you stand at the end of the hall and speak ever so softly, weary of Kuroo’s response. “Please don’t tell the others…”

He fully stops his actions and head turns, holding a scornful gaze. “Don’t come back to the agency.” The threat is accentuated by the slam of the door which shakes the apartment.

Pin pricks wrack your body, a shiver runs down your spine and you sit there, numb. One of the only people you really cared for in this new life hates you now and deep down you know that this is the point of no return. The door has been locked behind you by a man with red hair and wants to ruin what you have.

Tendou knows. This thought finally crosses your mind. The Port Mafia knows that I’m alive and here in Yokohama. If that Miya boy remembers anything about you, then he might know about Oikawa and Iwaizumi. And even though Tendou doesn’t know who Kuroo is, he’s going to hunt him down now that you moved to protect him during the fight.

You stand in that hallway for hours, just thinking over your options and the thousands of possibilities that each decision would have. You only want to do what’s right. You have to fix the mess you’ve created. On its own, your body follows a procedure you’ve only done once before and you don’t sleep for the rest of the night.

Cold air settles low over the dimly lit streets, the soft rays of the morning sun warming whatever they touched. For all of the other members of the ADA, it was just another work day as they entered the office group by group. Hajime and Tooru enter roughly on time, nervousness bubbling in the pits of their stomachs as they watch the door carefully, waiting for their black haired friend to enter the office.

Normally, the work day starts around eight for preliminary paperwork and meetings, especially if you’re assigned to a big case. The clock now reads eight forty-five. Each time the hand moves, Oikawa feels like hurling. Neither you or Kuroo have shown up, and the interns have tried calling you both, but to no avail.

Three minutes pass when the front door squeaks. The damn thing has been needing oil for months now, but Iwaizumi thanks whatever God there is that lets him know someone is here. He doesn’t turn immediately, knowing it would make him more of a suspect. Heavy footsteps tell him that it’s a man that has walked in, and much to his relief Kuroo is walking to his desk. Heavy bags fall under his eyes, dark circles enhancing the tired look adorning his face.

“Hey Kuroo!” Bokuto, boisterous as ever, slaps his shoulder with a bright smile. When the feeling isn’t returned, his grin falters.

Kuroo continues to his desk and sits down with a huff, turning on his computer and minding his own damn business. Last night was awful, as he had gotten no sleep from his consistent tossing and turning from your conversation. He tried tea, warm milk, pills and all forms of home remedy but everything left a bad taste in his mouth. Something in the back of his keeps telling him that there’s more to your story.

“Um, sorry to bug you, Mr. Kuroo,” Hinata, one of the newest interns, stands next to the desk. “Have you heard from Y/N at all?” Whatever he was working on came to a halt, pen pushing hard into the paper.

Across the room, Iwaizumi and Oikawa listen closely to the encounter, having already told Hinata that they aren’t able to get a hold of you at all and that they assumed you would be arriving with Kuroo.

“No.” The pen scribbles once again.

Hinata continues to stand there, awkwardly looking around since his main task this morning was to make sure all reports from yesterday's investigation got submitted, and if you weren’t there then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He swallows. “Would you happen to know where she is?”

“No.” Any idle chit chatter stops, and everyone turns to the scene. Hinata’s eyes go wide, and he quickly apologizes before scurrying off. The other detectives glare at Kuroo, wondering what his problem is. After his outburst, Kuroo looks directly at Oikawa and Iwaizumi, as if to threaten them, silently saying that he knows.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Sawamura, ever the mediator, walks over to the group of desks and takes a seat in your chair.

“Not in the mood today.”

“I think we can all tell.” Sawamura smiles, trying his best to lighten the atmosphere. Everyone figures something finally happened between you two (since it was fairly obvious that something was growing) and it didn’t go down great. “Hinata’s just trying to make sure he can get his job done for the day, so don’t be too hard on him. If anything, all of us are wondering where Y/N is since she’s never late unless it’s an emergency.”

“Well, she is in the middle of something, but apparently none of us are good enough for her to tell us.” Each word stings the ears of the peeping toms across the pond. Kuroo did not take the news well, each of the men think and they start to text one another.

Kuroo’s statement left a large majority of the agency confused, Kenma, Sugawara, Asahi, Tanaka, Nishinoya and the interns keep an ear out for whatever’s happening.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi continue to text one another, coming to the conclusion that they should go to your apartment and check on how you’re doing all things considered, but they sit and wait for the right moment to escape the tense situation.

Sawamura continues to push, not knowing about the cracks in the dam he’s forming. “You think she’s doing okay? I mean, she doesn’t talk about family all that much but if she’s missing work then something pretty bad probably happened.”

“I mean, Y/N’s pretty reasonable about work,” Sugawara pipes up. “If she was going through something then surely she must’ve told Takeda and Ukai.”

“You’d be surprised what she’s capable of hiding. I severely doubt that either of them know what’s up with her.” With Kuroo’s heavy insinuation that there’s something going on, and this makes everyone’s hearts skip a beat.

“What are you all talking about?” Disturbed by the ruckus, Ukai opens the door to his office and a plume of smoke leaves his lips. Annoyance lays heavy on his tone and he looks at the group that has gathered around Kuroo’s desk. The lit cigarette in his hand fills the agency with a sour smell, one that none of the crew is particularly fond of but it’s their boss. What can they say?

“Y/N hasn’t shown up yet,” Sugawara takes initiative. “And apparently Kuroo knows something that we don’t.” Rather than taking the depressing outlook, he quirks his brow and smiles jokingly, hoping to lighten the mood and clear the air.

The two that are out of the conversation start to gather their things, unbeknownst to them that Kuroo is keeping tabs on what they’ve been doing. He saw them texting and he figures they were planning to check up on you since you all are working on a case together, but his agitation grows larger with each person that enters the conversation.

Even though you did ask him not to tell anyone - to hell with your requests. You didn’t bother to let anyone in for years on this little secret, and at this point everyone deserves to know or they’ll just keep bothering him until he lets it out.

“Oh yeah?” Ukai prods as Iwa and Oikawa stand up and head for the door.

“Yeah. She lied to you all for years.” His voice is crisp and clear. Any sound that was present before stopped immediately, including the footsteps of your companions. They stop dead in their tracks, Oikawa’s hand on the door handle and they wait. “I don’t think she’ll be coming back.”

“The hell you talkin’ about, kid?” Ukai’s hand raises to his face, and he takes a long drag before slowly letting smoke pass through his lips as he looks across the room.

“Y/N was a member of the Port Mafia and you let her under your roof, let you work next to you. She lied to all of us.”

It feels like the world stopped.

Everyone stops breathing collectively, skepticism clouding their minds. Y/N? She wouldn’t…. She wouldn’t have done that… would she?

Each detective and every intern takes a moment to think over the crazy accusation that Kuroo is throwing out there, seemingly without any evidence. Kenma, even though he was the closest with Kuroo, looks uneasy as he imagines you working with those bastards. Bokuto and Akaashi, each at their respective desks, face the accuser and furrow their brows. You four had so many memories, so many nights out laughing together.

Sugawara, Asahi and Sawamura all share a look. They’ve known you since the creation of the agency, and have only known you to be helpful in times of need. Not once had it crossed any of their minds that you could have ever worked alongside the mafia. You were just selfless and smart.

“Y/N… an ex-mafia member?” Thinking out loud, Ukai stares Kuroo down. He’s taking this as a sort of personal attack. Ukai was the one who sought you out and asked you to start this agency with Takeda and the three others. He saw something different in you, a natural sort of gift apart from the supernatural stuff you got going on. Ukai saw that you just wanted to help and in those days you struggled to communicate with the others. You closed yourself off for a long time, and his personal project for months was just to make you comfortable. And now Kuroo is saying that you used to work for people who killed and stole from those that you now help.

This better be a sick joke.

“Yeah, Oikawa and Iwaizumi could tell you all about it.” If this is a game of chess, that would’ve been a checkmate. “We ran into some mafia members last night and they started to talk with Y/N.” His eyes shift to Oikawas, whose hand is still on the door. “Right, guys?”

Knuckles turning white, Oikawa doesn’t dare to turn around and face a room full of prying eyes. Iwaizumis hands turn into fists, his jaw clenches and his shoulders tense. Everyone’s breaths hitch in their throats as they wait for any sort of confirmation.

They’re met with silence

Kuroo huffs, as if he’s won. The reality of the situation settles heavily on everyone’s shoulders and it drags their hearts down to the floor. Whoever they knew, whatever version of Y/N they thought they knew was just a phony. A constructed personality that you put up just to cover that you were part of a group that would murder and steal from people.

As soon as everyone’s hearts shatter, Oikawa finally turns the handle on the door and walks out. He’s aware that people are still watching him, but the scenario has changed drastically in the last five minutes and the only thing on his mind is only on making sure that: one, you’re okay and two, that the mafia hasn’t already found your house.

The pair practically run to the station ignoring the curses from strangers that they bump into and shove past as they squeeze onto the next train.

Back in the office, no one dares to move an inch after the door slams shut. Ukai lets the cigarette sit loosely on his lips, almost falling out when he tries to speak.

“Listen,” his voice is shaking, “I’m sure this is just some sort of misunderstanding-”

“Not when she told me herself.” Kuroo refuses to let them be fooled anymore. He can’t bear to just let all of friends think that they know someone that they don’t. It’s not fair to them. These people have done nothing to deserve being led through the dark. Y/N had no right to hide this information and the fact she didn’t want anyone to know is unnerving.

“Why would she ever have been with them?” Ukai can’t take this shit. He won’t take this kind of slander. In the back of his mind, he’s always known that you had a story to tell, but he was never one to force things out of people. This was on a different level, but nonetheless he wasn’t just going to let Kuroo, one of your closer associates in the agency, try and give you hell for something that may or may not be true.

“I didn’t get that part, but none of us know anything about her from before she joined the agency if I’m not mistaken. She lied to all of us.” Kuroo’s conviction never faltered, not once did he stutter while speaking nor did he shy away from eye contact.

In the depths of his heart, locked under thousands of doors he has a yearning, wanting to understand why. Why didn’t you tell him? Why were you with them? Too bad all of the locks to get there were met with anger and irrationality. His emotions misguide him in this moment, and all he sees is red. It felt like he had been stabbed a million times over; he thought your relationship was going somewhere, that the trust you had built up was going to be worth something.

Everything’s shattered now.

“What if she changed? What if she just wanted to help people?” Ukai marches over to his desk and stares down. A challenge to what was previously a beat down.

“Why didn’t she just tell us? What was so hard about telling us so that we could help her?” Kuroo stands to look down on Ukai. “Huh!?”

Both of the men have snarl’s etched into their faces. Both trying their best to understand how this all happened.

“He’s got a point, Ukai.” Sawamura speaks softly, grasping Ukai’s shoulder as if to tell him to back down. “We don’t know anything about Y/N.”

“So now you’re piling in?!” Ukai’s gaze shifts to Daichi’s. How could he? Being one of the original members alongside you, Ukai thought he would at least try and understand your point of view.

“I’m just saying that he’s making some decent points, and Kuroo hasn’t done me wrong yet. Y/N is a great detective, but none of us know anything about her.”

“Hey guys, what’s with all the ruckus?” The small figure of Takeda stands in the hallway, right outside of his office while he fidgets with his hands.

“Kuroo’s accusing Y/N of being an ex mafia member,” Ukai spits.

Eyes wide, Takeda glances around the office, taking note of who’s in the room. “Where is she?”

“No one knows. Iwaizumi and Oikawa just left.” Daichi doesn’t want to instigate further, only telling his boss what has happened.

“Well at least those two have decent heads on them. Instead of wondering and making accusations why don’t you all go ask her yourself.” This rarely happens. Takeda is usually optimistic and reasonable, but on rare occasions his face goes rigid and he loses his happy aura. “Kuroo’s words may be true, but aren’t you all detectives? Isn’t it your job to investigate accusations and figure out if they’re true or not?”

Everyone in the room knows he’s right, and they don’t dare try and talk back. Kuroo returns to his seat and watches as everyone wonders what to do next.

“If you aren’t going to go ask her yourself or are waiting for Iwaizumi and Oikawa to return please get back to work. We’ve lost valuable time and I’m sure this will all blow over soon.” The smile that crosses Takeda’s lips is forced, but it calms the overall anxiety trapped within the walls of the agency. “Ukai and Kuroo, would you mind meeting me in my office?”

The small chit chatter returns and blends with the sound of the A.C. unit as the three men walk down the hallway. It feels like it stretches with each step, and the tension rises as the blonde and black haired men both hold the anticipation of being scolded in their chests.

Never one to raise his voice, Takeda calmly sits them down and explains his disappointment. He expresses that he does not care what happened the previous night or if you truly were a member of the Port Mafia.

“Y/N is an adult, and she has a right to tell certain people certain things. It was highly immature and disrespectful of you to go around telling everyone her own business. Plus, that knowledge has serious implications, and if she told you then that means she trusted you a great deal considering none of us have ever heard such a thing.” Kuroo can’t tell what Takeda’s eyes hold as he speaks, but he knows that several of those doors unlocked with his small speech. “You still have a job to do. I expect you to work this out with her, Iwaizumi and Oikawa as well as finish the case the four of you were assigned.”

Takeda dismisses Kuroo without any more guidance, and he returns to his desk. Bokuto and Akaashi keep to themselves, almost afraid of what would happen if they asked or even looked at Kuroo. Your desk, which is directly in front of him, sits there.

Empty

You never really bothered to decorate it with much. There were a few pens you really liked, Kuroo always noting the brand and buying you some for Christmas, but not much else. Well, besides the one picture propped up against the mug of pens. The one picture of everyone at the agency during the last Christmas party. Everyone’s faces slightly red from spending the night drinking, but big and bright smiles adorning everyone's features.

More doors unlock at the memory.

Running in work pants was never Iwaizumi’s favorite thing to do. He always favored a good pair of basketball shorts and a tank top for his runs, but today he didn’t have a choice. As soon as the chime for doors played over the subway speakers, he hit Oikawa on the shoulder and they both sprintined up the stairs, out onto the streets of Yokohama.

The morning breeze swept across the streets. You preferred living on the outskirts of the city, but not quite in the suburbs. The closest train station was about a twenty minute walk, and an eleven minute run if you were Tooru and Hajime.

The minute Kuroo started to spout the mafia rumors, their anxiety skyrocketed. Sure they trusted you, but they had no idea just how much you told him: like how they were ex-members just like you.

They assumed not, because Kuroo never lumped you in with them, but it still was concerning that he was just telling everyone your biggest secret like it was nothing.

Both men have shed their jackets, choosing to carry them and flip their ties over their shoulders as they run. Pedestrians and drivers yelled at them as they crossed streets with red lights, but they didn’t have time to worry about that right now.

You weren’t responding to anyone’s messages and this was right after you not only told someone about your past, but right after you “reconnected” with an old friend after years. The last response either of them has gotten from you was a simple “yeah” after Tooru had asked if everything went okay.

After this morning, they knew that was a fucking lie.

Your apartment complex wasn’t gated, and the first thing they notice is the lack of your car in the parking lot. The next thing that catches their eyes is the metal barrel that was used for trash that had smoke coming from it.

The two slow their pace and approach the bin carefully, but when Hajime looks past the rim he recognizes some of your clothes, among other things like scraps of paper. Tooru looks to your apartment, and nudges Hajime with urgency. Looking at his partner, Hajime slowly turns to wherever Toory is facing.

“Fuck…” The door to your apartment is wide open, and from outside they can see it’s been torn to shreds. Furniture flipped over, lamps and light fixtures smashed and no lights.

A gaping hole replaces their stomachs, and for the first time in a long while neither of them has any clue what to do.

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possiblytracker · 3 years

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fruit flies are breeding out of control in my snail tank and my room is full of flies now :/

getting rid of them is hard bc they just keep multiplying, i can't move the snail tank out of my room bc i will inevitably forget to feed/water them thanks to my nonexistent object permanence and terrible memory, i'm mostly just gonna have to clean out the tank tomorrow and hope for the best?? but also what's stopping the flies from getting back inside and continuing to do their thing and hhgh

#suffering.#snailposting #plants are catching a whole bunch of them as far as i can tell but NOT ENOUGH #apparently the fly breeding is pretty inevitable for a moist heated tank full of organic substrate #APPARENTLY you can use chiffon fabric to put over the top of a tank to stop flies getting in (while still letting snails breathe)#but my tank has ventilation in the sides!!!! that wouldnt get covered by it!!!! fuck!!!#im just gonna clean it out properly and stick up some flypaper before putting it back in my room #see if that helps at all

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

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Home Front, Mission 27: Cat and Mouse

The Thurman Show

[alarm blares]

SAM YAO: Five, Five! Get up, get moving. Something's triggered the mall's alarms and every zom in earshot's shambling towards your location. You need to get warmed up if you're gonna stay ahead of them. Head out of the room into the corridor.

[door opens] There should be a couple more doors at the end of the corridor. Open the first one, and – [zombie roars] Aw crap! Zoms. Slam it, quick! [door shuts] All right, we'll try straight on. Zoms that way, too. And behind you! They're blocking all our exits.

Okay, okay. Just-just think. Wait a minute, is that an open door straight ahead of you? I don't remember that being there before. And uh, no, it's not on the map. It's painted, so you'd hardly be able to see it if it weren't opne. Well, it's the best option we've got. Head through... [door opens and closes]

Ah yeah, I can see you on my cams now, Five. There's a staircase down. Wow, those steps go down a really long way. You better get moving and I'll... I'll try and work out where you're moving to.

SAM YAO: I can't find the staircase anywhere on the map. There shouldn't be anything this deep under the mall, but I'm getting camera access as you go down, like... like the whole place is waking up around you. You've reached the bottom, Five. There are zoms on the stairs behind you, but there's a door ahead of you you can lock from the other side.

[door opens and closes] Right, more cams turning on, and then I can tell where you are. [door creaks open] Okay... you're in a wardrobe. In a bedroom. Right, that's a bit surreal. Get out and close the wardrobe behind you, okay? [door closes]

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to your new apartment, employee! Overwhelmed? Take a moment and breathe it all in. Need to escape from it all? Well, there's your 13-inch color TV complete with walnut cabinet and Betamax video recorder!

SAM YAO: A recording of Thurman's voice. What's going on? It's like you're in a show house or something. Look for a way out, Five, I don't want you trapped in there.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Not in the mood for telly? [continues in background]

SAM YAO: It's like you've walked into the 80s. And everything's so clean. It looks box fresh. If anyone was supposed to live here, they never turned up. Right, there are zoms behind the wardrobe, so you're not going that way. Front door's locked... you're gonna have to kick it in, Janine-style.

Right, stand with one foot in front of the other about shoulder-width apart. Lift your back leg and bend it, keeping your knee as high as you can, and kick your heel straight out in front of you, remembering not to lock your knee, okay?

Go for it. Aim your heel at the door hinges. You can lean on the wall for balance if you need to. Pull your toes back as you kick, otherwise you might break them on the wood. All right, swap to the other leg, now same again. Knee up, kick out. Yep, yep, you're definitely getting there. Fantastic, Five! You've got legs like, like... a donkey. But in a good way. Yes, you're through!

Head out into the corridor. Cams are showing me you're on the ground floor of an apartment block. The doors either side of you must lead into other flats. Go straight ahead and you'll get to the main door. Did you hear that? Flies, buzzing behind the doors of those flats.

I don't want to know what's in there. Get out of the building. If the main door won't open, you know what to do. I don't understand what's going on here, Five, or why the zoms were suddenly like, herding you here, but we've got to get you out.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to Thurmanville, loyal employee! To reward your tenacity, creativity, grace under fire, you've earned what everyone wants: citizenship in my own personal utopia!

SAM YAO: It's so weird. It looks like you're in a cookie cutter suburb from an American movie. Huge pastel houses with swimming pools, massive cars. But the trees are... plastic. And it's empty, like a ghost town. I think something very bad happened here. The apartment block you just came out of, someone's written inside the window with lipstick, I think. It says, “Help us.”

I can see Thurman! He's here! He just walked out of that same apartment block. Oh, he looks angry. He's looking for you, Five. Duck behind the hedge now! [foliage rustles] Okay, I can get you away. Commando crawl. Stay low to the ground and crawl forward on your forearms. Go. Thurman still looks exactly like he did in his videos. Could it be his son? It's a pretty uncanny resemblance, if it is. He's quartering the area, pacing up and down. You've got to keep moving.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Don't you dare let Thurman down!

SAM YAO: Five, just keep moving. He hasn't seen you, just keep going. Okay, right, that wall will break his line of sight. When you're ready, head for the next building, but stay low.

SAM YAO: Okay, Five, he's moved on. Head towards the convenience store ahead of you. I had a look on ROFFLEnet, and I don't know if this is good or bad, but I think I know where you are.

Remember how Thurman wanted to create a bunker that would survive the nuclear apocalypse? Well, there were rumors he built a whole underground town. It was supposed to be for him and the people he thought were worthy of joining him. I guess that includes you, Five.

So there must be a lift back up or another set of stairs, right? But until we find them, you need to steer clear of Thurman. God knows what he wants you for, or what happened to the people who were supposed to live here.

[door opens, bell rings]

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to Thurmart, where you can support your town through the magic of capitalism 24/7.

SAM YAO: There's a lot of food in here, Five. You could hole up in here for months, if you really like weird-colored soda and tins of hot dogs. Yeah, you'd better crank those storm shutters down, I don't want Thurman to see you inside. Grab the handle and move it up and down like your bicep curls, yeah?

Oh no, Thurman heard the shutters rattling! He's coming. Keep going, Five. They're good and thick, they're your best chance at keeping him out. Halfway. Keep cranking the handle. You're doing so well. Nearly there, Five, but so is Thurman. Keep going. That's great, Five. The shutters are down.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: I'm not finished yet.

SAM YAO: Bloody hell, he's hitting the shutters with his fists. I can't believe how strong he is. What's he done to himself? The shutters won't keep him out for long. There's no back door, but there should be a fire escape on the first floor. Head up the stairs, and mind that fruit display! You're going to - ooh... knock it all over. The fruit, Five. It's plastic, like the trees outside. The food in here, it's-it's all fake. Get up those stairs, Five. Yep, that's brilliant. You're nearly there.

Oh God, there's someone up ahead lying on the floor. He's dead, long dead. Except the body, it's-it's not decomposed, just sort of uh... it's dried out, almost mummified, like there's no bacteria in the atmosphere. And there's some of that fake fruit in his mouth. I think he was trying to eat it when he died.

I don't understand, Five. Why bring someone down here just for them to starve to death? It's-it's monstrous! The shutters won't last for long. If there's a fire escape, Five, you'll need to use the handle to crank down the ladder. Hurry!

SAM YAO: Okay, I've found a lift shaft on the plans that will get you back up to ground level. I think it might be in the tall building to your right, the one that says Thurman High. Smash the window and get inside. [glass shatters] You're in, Five. Man, it's like stepping into the high school from every American kids' TV show, except it looks brand new and completely empty.

Okay, go straight past that row of lockers towards the trophy cabinet. Wow, there's even a poster for the prom, Summer 1989. We never had anything like this when I was at school. I suppose Thurman thought America was the ideal of capitalism or something.

Yep, there's the lift. Press the call button quick. It's not coming. Maybe it's stuck on a higher level. Get up there and see if you can unjam it. [glass shatters in the distance] Thurman smashed a window and he's climbing through! Oh, his face, Five. He looks so angry. What does he want? Get up those stairs, go.

There's another body on the stairs. I think... I know who she is. Keep moving. All that noise has attracted some zoms. The woman on the stairs, she's a New Canton runner, vanished six weeks ago on a meds run. Her mum offered a reward on ROFFLEnet. Her name was Marsha. I guess we know what happened to her.

You're nearly there, Five. If you can get to the lift, we can get you out of there. Keep climbing. You're there, and there's the lift! Ah, but there's no up button! It's not the one to the surface. I'm so sorry, Five. Okay, there's a corridor ahead of you. I think it's a connecting bridge over to the next building. I'll get you out, just keep going.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: Welcome to the Thurman Institute of Technology, where today's dreams become tomorrow's reality.

SAM YAO: Five, there's a mob of zoms chasing you. Head for that sturdy-looking laboratory door past the robotics department, the one marked longevity research. I've watched the tapes back. Thurman definitely set off the alarms in the mall to use the zombies to herd you down here, just like we did to him with the water, but we can use that trick, too. [door shuts] Brace the door. You need to stop the zoms coming in. Remember your wall sitting?

Get your back pressed to the door in a sitting position, your knees over your ankles, and hold it as long as you can. Yeah, keep bracing, Five. And there's another dead body slumped over that workbench. Oh, I hate this place! She's holding... is that a Dictaphone?

[alarm blares] Okay, right, I've set off the fire alarm to distract the zoms. Thurman must be bringing people down here just like he did with you. The zoms are starting to disperse. Is it all some sort of sick game for Thurman, luring people here just to watch them die? I won't let that happen to you.

Okay, the zombies have gone, you can relax. Damn it, here comes Thurman again! Quick, Five, open the door and - No! There's no door handle on the inside! You need to find a way out before Thurman comes in, but there's no other door. That must be how the poor dead scientist got trapped. There's... there's no way out.

Hang on a minute, loads of the food's piled up around that cupboard in the wall, like it fell out... It's a dumbwaiter, Five! That's it, that's the shaft back to ground level. I think... I think I can reroute power to it long enough to get you out of there. Just give me a minute to uh... Yep, yep, it's working!

Grab the Dictaphone, we'll listen to it later. Might be something on the tape that'll explain this place. Now wedge yourself in the dumbwaiter in your wall sitting position and hit the switch. Yes! It worked. You're going up, Five. And in the nick of time, too.

ARTEMUS THURMAN: You're one of the lucky ones, one of my chosen ones. No matter how far you go, there'll always be a home waiting for you in Thurmanville. There'll always be a home waiting for you... always waiting for you... always...

SAM YAO: Thank God you're out of there. For a moment, I thought I'd lost you for good, but you're safe now. You can't be comfy, squeezed into a tiny food elevator, but you're nearly back at ground level and Thurman's hundreds of feet below ground along with all the zoms. The worst thing is he seems to be obsessed with you, Five. We need to figure out what's going on down there or we'll never be able to stop him.

Oh... that's weird. Your headcam’s glitching. Back on the surface, Five. Time for you to get some rest. There's someone there, Five, waiting for you outside the dumbwaiter. But that's not possible. How could he be here so quickly? It's... Thurman.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf 27 #cat and mouse #zr transcript

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nicka-nell · 4 years

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I'm Kiyoomi Sakusa and I'm a germaphobe - Chapter 4: Prejudices, clichés and more

Words: 1.059 Warning: Manga Spoiler

Chapter 3 - A woman? | Masterlist

(y/n) = your name | (l/n) = last name | (e/c) = eye colour | (h/c) = hair colour

Sighing, (y/n) takes off her coat at home and puts her shoes in her shoe rack. The keys end up in a small bowl on the wardrobe and briefly her view wanders on a pile full of letters. With a somewhat bored look on her face, she picks up the letters and flies over them.

A bill, another bill, and commercial letters. Nothing special. She puts the letters back down and walks tired towards the kitchen. Her desire to prepare now the food for tomorrow keeps itself in limits.

But having arrived in the big kitchen, her stomach begins to growl at the smell of freshly fried fish and delicious fragrant vegetables. „Hey my little one, I came home earlier today and I thought I’d take care of the cooking today.“ her brother's voice takes her from her thoughts.

With a warm smile she goes over to her brother, stands on her tiptoes and waits until he bends down to give him a kiss on the cheek. „Thank you Kaede. Why are you here so early? I didn’t see you leave the clinic.“ she asks him curiously, as she fetches two plates and cutlery from the cupboards.

„An operation was scheduled today. It was about a liver transplant. However, the day before, the patient had celebrated his daughter’s graduation with a glass of champagne and well... This means that he is not teachable and has in addition slid down very far on the waiting list. The liver, which was to be transplanted, then went to another patient in another hospital. He’s probably gonna die soon, but unfortunately, he’s got himself to blame." Kaede sighs and dumps the vegetable’s water into the sink.

„That’s terrible Kaede..." With a sad look she looks up at him, but then she straightens up the fish on the plates. „That’s what it’s like in a hospital. You have patients who survive and whom you could help, and you will also have patients whom you cannot help and who die. I know you haven’t had a patient who died under your surgery or treatment, but (y/n), you can’t save everyone. You should know that. Please get used to it." Worried, he looks at his little sister as he distributes the vegetables on the plates. „I know..." her voice is heard as she sits down with her brother at the dining table.

„How was your day?“ Kaede’s words are hard to understand, since he already has a piece of fish in his mouth when he asks his sister this question. „I had a very interesting patient today. A germaphobe. Of course, he thinks his sanitation is normal, but I don’t know... he was really interesting. He's actually too pretty to be so isolated from his environment. I’d like to know more about him. How a person who suffers from Germaphobia lives." she enthuses.

„So? A hygiene freak. You learned a lot about Germaphobia in your studies. So you should know everything about a person like him." completely factually he neglects (y/n)'s words, in which she described the man as pretty.

„Yeah, but he’s kind of different. He told me he was playing volleyball. After seeing where he was playing on his jacket, I was actually a little surprised. He plays for the MSBY Black Jackals. That means he trains a lot. With several people together. That doesn’t really add up, does it?" She ponders while poking around in her vegetables. „Did my little (y/n) fall in love? Do I see red cheeks on you?“ He grins sweaty and bends forward to have a better view of his sister.

„Shut up, you idiot!“ she laughs and throws a towel at him. Laughing, he sticks out his tongue and then the two still eat in peace. Hard to believe her brother is really eight years older than her. He’s still acting like a seven-year-old.

Together they sit down on the couch before they go to bed shortly before ten. Actually, they could live in separate apartments, but they have inherited the house of their parents and do not pay as much as for two apartments despite the size of the house. In addition, the location of the house is perfect.

It is close to the hospital, the park is also nearby, there are a few nice hiking trails, several shops and also the weekly fruit and vegetable stand is only ten minutes away from the two.

Exhausted, (y/n) closes her eyes and falls asleep only after a few seconds.

The warm water of his shower is dripping on his skin. He flushes the bacteria off his body. Clean him up. With his eyes closed, he tilts his head backwards and lets the water flow over his hair.

After twenty minutes, he steps out of the shower and dries himself with his towel. The mirror in front of him is still fogged and with narrow eyes his gaze wanders to the salve prescribed to him by the doctor. „Tzz... against dry skin..." he hisses as he walks towards the cream.

Slowly he raises his hands, turns them a few times and examines them. Small cracks can be seen and a little bit of his skin looks as if it would peel. It’s like a sunburn or when a snake sheds its skin.

Snorting, he reaches for the cream and squeezes a hazel-sized drop out of the tube and rubs his hands with it.

It’s just before twelve, when Sakusa looks at his cell phone for the last time, before he ties it to the charging cable and lays down in his bed. His annoying team members appear before his eyes again and his eye rolls are literally heard.

But to his surprise, (y/n), the young doctor who treated him today, suddenly appears before his eyes. How her eyes sparkle at him and her cheeky yet pleasant nature lures him out of the reserve.

Maybe this woman is right, maybe... his fear of bacteria, fours and germs is higher than in other people and maybe this is no longer classified in the normal range.

„Such nonsense.“ He mumbles shaking his head and turns to one side to sleep.

Chapter 5 - What is your goal?

Taglist: @kara-grayson04 @suna-allie

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