#see if I need to schedule a follow up to get that refilled or if I can just message her and request that refill | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

little-writers-posts · 18 days

Text

Keeping You Warm (The Milkman x F!Reader)

Author's Note: It's been a long (LONG) time since I wrote smut, so please excuse anything, plus English is not my native language so I apologise for any mistakes. But I do hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ Smut. However, it's quite light/soft, so to speak. The reader has a female genitalia.

Word Count: 1.957

“Double shift again, Francis?” I asked over the phone.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” I heard Francis’ tired voice say in almost a whisper.

“Is there really no other person who could take the shift? It’s the third time this week, Francis. You’re killing yourself.” I sighed as I rested my head on my hand.

“Not really; everyone has been quitting lately because of the rise in the number of the doppelgangers' sights.” I heard the sound of glass bottles clattering in the background.

“Just… Don’t push yourself too hard, okay? You’re already tired and worn out. I understand that there’s a job that needs to be done, but you’re human.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t wait up for me, okay? Get your rest. You need it more than I do. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up the phone, lowered my head, and laid it on the table.

It has been nearly two weeks since I last saw Francis, which is foolish since we live in the same apartment. However, due to our jobs and taking shifts, our schedules haven't been exactly the same. It’s actually gotten worse because he’s been taking double shifts to cover the lack of people, and now he has to deliver the milk and stay an extra shift preparing all the packs for the next day, which means not only collecting the empty bottles but also refilling them and sorting them out in the boxes. We only see each other when the other one is asleep since I start my shifts early, and he only gets home quite late.

As I was lost in thought, someone knocked on the window. Steven was waving his papers to get into the building.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, proceeding with my work.

Eventually, my shift ended, and I went to my and Francis’ apartment. While setting down my things, I checked my schedule for the next day, and a big smile spread across my face. It was a day off. I decided to wait up for Francis, so for the next few hours, I occupied myself with getting dinner ready and tidying up the house. When I ran out of things to do, I sat in the living room watching one of my favorite shows.

It was past midnight when I heard the keys to the front door. Francis walked in looking as tired as ever, sighing as he locked the door, the tension leaving his shoulders at being home becoming visible.

“Welcome home, love,” I said, getting up from the couch.

“I told you not to wait up, (Y/N),” Francis whispered as he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me tight.

“I’m not working tomorrow, so I thought I would wait for you,” I whispered back. I held his face in my hands, and he looked exhausted. “Do you want to go to bed? We could cuddle a little before sleep.”

“I would like that,” he smiled.

He followed me into the bedroom and started to get changed. I got in bed while waiting for him.

Soon, I felt his arms around my waist and his lips pressed against my neck. I turned off the lights and faced him. I put my palm on his cheek and caressed it with my thumb. I heard him sigh and move his head closer and I held it between my hands. His lips met mine in a soft and slow kiss.

“I missed you” Francis’s embrace tightened.

“I missed you too, my love” I smiled.

We kissed again, our lips moving slowly, just appreciating each other’s presence. His hand moved from my waist to my hip and down to my butt, giving it a light squeeze. I gasped slightly, and Francis took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside my mouth. What was just a lingering kiss turned into something more pressing. The warmth and softness of our lips, the wet touch of tongues, and the subtle taste of each other only added to my incoming arousal.

Unconsciously, I pushed my hips against his during the kiss, feeling his semi-hard dick. Francis moaned into the kiss. With his hand under my neck, he grabbed a fist full of my hair at the back of my head, squeezing tight and deepening the kiss. His other hand moved back to my waist, slipping under my shirt, caressing my skin, leaving goosebumps all over me.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, breaking the kiss and leaving both of us panting.

Francis rested his forehead on mine, and his hands continued rubbing the skin of my waist and neck.

“I thought you were tired,” I smiled.

“I am, but I want you,” he said hoarsely.

At the same time, his leg slipped between mine, pulling me closer by the waist. I could feel his need pressing against my intimate parts. I squeezed his leg between mine, rubbing my heat trying to ease my aching, but I knew he was exhausted, so I took the lead.

“What if I keep you warm?” I asked.

I spit a bit into my hand and reached for his pants, slipping under the waistband and into his underwear. I took his dick and started slowly moving, feeling him twitch. Francis groaned, and I felt his breath at the top of my head; he hugged me tighter and started to slowly, rocking his hips against my hand. I felt a chill down my spine; my core throbbed, and I felt it was getting wetter.

“Prep me up?” I mumbled.

Francis hummed, agreeing. His hand went from my waist to my heat, massaging my skin lightly along the way, and he pressed one finger to my entrance. I moaned quietly, continuing to pump him. He started to spread my juices around my lips and then pushed one finger inside. I moved my hips along with his finger, Francis kept his movements slow, and with each thrust, he touched a new spot inside me. Soon, he added a second finger, making me moan again and grind my hips in his hand.

“And I thought I was in need,” Francis chuckled.

“Francis…” I whimpered.

He pressed his thumb into my clit and began his scissors movements inside me, also curling his fingers to reach that sweet spot and stroke it, making me roll my eyes and breath heavily. I lifted my head, looking once again for his lips, and captured them in a hungrily open-mouth kiss, our tongues stroking each other rapidly and messy, with spit starting to drip.

I felt my walls pulsing around his fingers and that tickling sensation in my lower belly rushing me to grind faster. But I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand away from his throbbing dick and grabbed his wrist, moving him away from me. I pushed Francis by the shoulder, laying his back on the mattress, and undressed myself. I lifted my leg and sat across Francis's lap, pulling his clothes down, freeing his dick, making him groan.

I kissed his tip and licked his entire length, from bottom to top, taking him to my mouth next. I took him until his tip reached the back of my throat and pumped the rest with my hand. I bobbed my head, sucking him and pressing my tongue against his flesh. Francis gave a husky groan and thrust his hips, hands tangling my hair.

When his dick was all wet, I raised myself and aligned my entrance with his tip. I slowly sink into him, feeling him twitch, relinquishing the feeling of his dick filling me up until he was all of him was inside me.

I set my hands on his stomach, getting used to the sensation of having him inside. Francis released a strangled breath, his hands resting on my thighs, caressing them with his thumbs.

When I was about to move, Francis took a strand of my hair and nestled it behind my ear, pulling me towards him by the back of my neck right after. He kissed me again, lips moving rapidly, only pulling away when we needed air.

The sudden movement had me squeezing his dick and he grinded his hips against me.

“Fucking tight,” Francis whispered.

I began rocking my hips, Francis matched my pace by grinding into me. Grunts and pants echoed in the bedroom; my hands were back on his stomach for balance, his hands pressed firmly on my waist to guide my movements and leave bruises. Each thrust felt heavenly, his dick sliding in and out, hitting the right spots every time, making me whimper and my legs shake.

The familiar tickling feeling in my lower belly came back, and my movements became erratic, faster, and sloppier, chasing that rush.

“I’m cuming,” I begged.

“Wait for me,” Francis urged.

He grabbed my leg and pushed my back onto the mattress. Settled between my legs, Francis resumed his movements, thrusting deep and fast. The change in position made me whine and squeeze him even tighter; it was bliss, the feeling of his weight on me, his grinding, and his dick rubbing every part inside me and hitting just the right spot.

“Francis, please” I begged again.

“Almost there” he grunted.

I tried my best to delay my incoming orgasm, focusing on Francis, on his short breaths, his muscles stiffening beneath my fingers, his raspy moans in my ear, just everything about him, taking my mind away from the pleasure he was giving me.

I tightened my legs around his body and my nails scratched his back, I was so close.

“Cum with me,” Francis pleaded.

I focused back on the sensation in my lower area. Francis sped up his pace, with chaotic and messy movements, as he began to shake. I felt the buildup of tension that made my back arch and my toes curl, like a clenching feeling. As soon as I thought that I couldn’t take it anymore, I sensed all that tension being released and pulsing throughout my body, an all-consuming release and euphoria. I moaned loudly against Francis's skin.

At the same time, Francis tensed up gave his final deep thrust and his dick throbbed inside me, releasing all of his seed, filling me up.

Francis kissed my lips tenderly, again, again and again, holding my face while supporting the weight of his body on one arm.

“I love you” he whispered between kisses.

“I love you too” I giggled, kissing him back.

He lay next to me, pulling me onto his chest. We stayed like that for a while, still panting and recovering.

“I’ll get you some water and a towel,” he said kissing my temple.

“No, it's okay I’ll get it” I pushed him down and got up. “I have to use the bathroom anyway. Do you need anything?”

“Just some water, please”.

I went to the bathroom, cleaned myself and then got a glass of water from the kitchen. When I came back to the bedroom, Francis’s breathing was deep and slow, suggesting that he was already asleep. I smiled and placed the water on his nightstand, I gave a small peck on his lips and laid down in bed, feeling my muscles relaxing after so much tension and pleasure.

The fact that our lives are regularly in danger because of the doppelgangers leaves everyone on edge, meaning that our time together safe at home is a blessing and a getaway from everything on the outside. Losing ourselves in each other is not only a reminder of being alive but also a reassurance that the other person we love so much is still by our side.

Thinking about all the things we do for each other, and while caressing softly Francis's face, I also fell asleep.

#milkman #milkman x reader #francis mosses x you #francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #francis #x reader #reader #x you #thats not my neighbor #doppelganger francis mosses #doppelganger #the milkman #francis x reader #smut

1K notes · View notes

femmefatalevibe · 7 months

Note

Hello darling! I’ve tried several times to do time blocking and have my app calendar organised but it never works. I have adhd so it’s like I don’t know how to keep it up because I never found a method that it works for me. Can you share how you do it in case you do it? And some tips? I feel like it’ll help me to organise my life but I feel stuck every time I have to do it. Thank you <3

Hi love! Sharing my method below. Hope it's somewhat useful xx

To-Do List Planning:

Spend an hour or so on the weekend to list all of the important assignments/errands, etc. you need to complete during the week. Fill your calendar with your school/work/activity obligations first see an overview of how you will need to spend a considerable amount of time dedicated to each non-negotiable activity. Use this overview to help you map out the "free" time" you have and pre-schedule when you will do specific work projects, study for a particular exam, when you will run certain errands, engage in leisure activities, etc.

Before bed/dinner, use this weekly framework to finalize the next day – your agenda for the upcoming day. Determine the big 1-3 tasks you want to complete the following day and when throughout your day you will focus on these specific tasks. Giving yourself this pre-assigned schedule will eliminate decision fatigue and allow you to go into a more "autopilot" mode by completing the action you've already planned to take at any time of the day.

Important Date Reminders:

Utilize your Google Calendar and sync it to your iCloud (make sure it's private!) to allow you to write down any important dates available for viewing on your phone, computer, etc. at all times.

Create a color-coding system to organize your calendar (i.e. make any big projects due in blue, regular/smaller assignments to complete in red, important job reminders in yellow, errands tasks in green, family/friend obligations in purple, appointments in orange, etc.)

If you need to remember to submit certain paperwork, run an errand, etc., use your Reminders app to alert you at the time when you're able to complete this task before a deadline, going home, etc.

Use the location function or invite other participating members on a specific Google calendar event for any obligations where you need to be at a certain place at a specific time and/or are working on a group project, having a meeting, or need to be at a location with someone else.

I'm very into my "bookend" routines aka the rituals I do before I start my tasks for the day and how I wind down at night.

In the morning: Skincare, outfit, makeup, 2 big mugs of black coffee, reading articles & newsletters

In the evening: A long walk outside or a 15-30 minute YouTube workout/dance party session when the weather isn't optimal. Shower, skincare, get into sweats, make dinner, clean up around the house

To plan out my work week/days:

I use the 3-Month Productivity Planner by Intelligent Change (linked here). It's been my holy grail while building my business for the past 3-4 years. I also love having a physical "To-Do" list notepad next to me for tasks that come to mind or come up throughout the day that I want to organize/come back to later. (I always try to plan my week out on Sunday evenings and for the next day either before my evening routine or after dinner) I was gifted this one from The Daily Edited a few years ago and love it. Very much worth refilling the inserts.

For meetings: I use Google Calendar that's linked to my iCal. The notes section is essential for me.

For small tasks/bills/errands: I set scheduled Reminders for the day/time I need to pay a bill, write an email, schedule something for work or life, create a reminder for something I need to take before heading out to a meeting or appointment, something I need to buy at the pharmacy, etc.

As someone who in certain ways completely embodies the stereotypical "creative" type, my brain naturally goes in a million directions at once, so streamlining everything has become an important, deliberate habit and way of life for me. People think I'm naturally organized at this point in life, so I hope this system works for someone else out there too! x

176 notes · View notes

pleaseeeimjustagirl · 3 months

Text

♡Weekly Chronicles♡

Hey babes! I haven't done a weekly chronicle in so longgg but I have some good updates because I missed you girlies<3 Welcome to my new girliesss!

♡Education♡

The semester has officially started and so far I like all my classes. I decided to do 18 credits worth of classes this semester and I didn't realize how busy my schedule would be until last week lol. I'm trying to find a way to reorganize my schedule because babes it is a lot. I have a bunch of items I need to get a few textbooks I will try and order this week but other than that it has been very simple since it is the first full week of the semester I don’t expect them to do too much. I hope all my college girlies are doing well let's buckle in and get this semester done so we can be hot girls all summer lol. Side note there is this really cute guy in a few classes near me and I see him all the time he is soooo cute lol he's blonde and tall I had a math class with him I believe a year ago never said anything to him and I don’t plan he’s just cute lol.

♡Mental♡

I have been great mentally. So far this year I have been super organized when it comes to my goals and habits so it has made me feel secure knowing I am going down the right path. I need to pay for my refill of my antidepressants I like to call them my happy pills. They have helped me a lot these past 3 months because I remember last year around this time I was so depressed Seasonal depression affected my motivation and goals, so I didn't accomplish much. Thankfully this year is different. Also, I've been working on saying more affirmations I sometimes have a tough time looking in the mirror, especially around the time of my period but I'm constantly reminding myself I'm beautiful self-love is a continuous journey and to be patient.

♡Physical♡

I have been sticking to my diet plan! It has been working I've been seeing major results of course I have slip-ups sometimes but I get right back on and I don't judge myself because I'm human and weight loss will not be linear. I can’t wait to reach my goal I still have more pounds to go but I got this! I've been super strict on my skincare routine and I've been seeing results with that as well my dark spots are slowly fading and I'm super happy. I recently cut my hair so I’m on a hair growth journey now. So if you have any tips especially if you have 4a, 4b, and 4c hair I'd love some tips below, and even if you don’t please share babes<3

♡Hobbies♡

My schedule has been super hectic. So now I'm trying to figure out how to organize my hobbies into my schedule but also trying to keep balance so I don't become overwhelmed. Pilates has been amazing I love the burn it's so addictive I can’t wait to get back into weightlifting in the second quarter of the year! I want to learn how to create flower arrangements so I can keep fresh flowers in my home. I'm still looking into new hobbies so I can have some excitement in my life outside of school. I tried some hobbies during the break and realized certain hobbies aren’t for me and some are. Also, I have been on it with my Italian! By the end of this year, I want to be bilingual. Every time I practice it makes me want to book a trip to Italy just to speak Italian with Italians lol.

I love chatting with you babes and want you girlies to chat back<3 so let me know what you have planned this week and how was your weekend Love you babes we are almost at 200 followers<3

47 notes · View notes

atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Firehouse Harrington - Chapter 5

fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

Steve is still recovering from his injuries. She's just trying to help. But tensions run high when they clash over who knows best.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, really rough sex, degradation kink, slight dubcon, also angst because, duh

a/n | wooh boy! I got a little carried away here, folks. Had the day off and couldn't help myself. get yourself a tall glass of water and sit down for a long one

“You’re healing nicely, son. I’ll send another refill script to your pharmacy for the oxycodone and I wanna see you back in a month, alright? Wanna keep an eye on those headaches you’re having.” Steve grunts out a thank you to the doctor as he’s led back to the front desk. After three weeks, he’s still not used to seeing her, sitting and waiting for him after his appointments at the VA medical center. She’s been coming with him whenever she can and he would hate to admit how much it means to him.

She offers him a bright smile from where she’s sitting in the waiting room, a large stack of index cards in her lap. With Thanksgiving next week, her exams are fast-approaching and she’s been studying so hard it makes Steve worry that she’s working herself to the bone, and that he hasn’t exactly been helping her stress-load. Since the week after Halloween, she’s all but moved in with him, save for when her RA job or classes demand she be on campus. She’s been taking care of him, and it both amazes and terrifies Steve that she’s willing to, while all he can really do is be a human rolodex for her endless supply of flashcards. She’s been having him quiz her in the evenings, her hands around his neck and her thighs straddling his waist as she rattles off insanely-smart sounding descriptions of the brain. His girl is studying neuroscience, and his girl is going to be a doctor, and then, Steve figures, his girl isn’t going to be his girl anymore. But for now, he’ll enjoy whatever sweetness she’ll give to him.

He finishes scheduling his follow-up, turning and finding her already standing with her bag slung over her shoulder. He opens the door for her and they step out into the sharp bite of the oncoming winter.

“Well, what did he say?” Steve’s apartment is only a few blocks away from the medical center, so they set off down the sidewalk as she asks her question.

“Said everything looks good. My next appointment is in a month, gave me another prescription for the painkillers.” He feels her hand flex in his and he knows it’s because she doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What about your headaches?” He shrugs, glancing at her and seeing the worried look on her face.

“He said he’d keep an eye on it, whatever that means.” She stops in her tracks, fully looking at him now. He just sighs.

“Steve, I really don’t like how they’re just feeding you these pills. Has anyone said anything about getting you in an MRI machine?” He huffs, tugging her along to continue walking.

“Baby, it’s fine. Nothing new, really. Once I get back to work it’ll go away on its own, it always does.” His paid-time-off is ending after Thanksgiving, and Steve is chomping at the bit to get back into the station, to her much-vocalized dismay. She stops walking again, and he tries his best to tamp down his growing frustration.

“I still think you should let me–” “No.” “Steve.”

“No. You’ve already done way too much for me. I’m not letting you do that.”

“You would be helping me out by coming in. You know I need the practice, i-it’d be killing two birds with one stone.” She had told him two weeks ago about one of her specialty courses at the university medical center, conducting brain scans and assessments that were free to volunteer patients. She had been bugging Steve about coming in ever since, but he was putting his foot down on this one.

“Hey, I’m sick of all this nagging, alright? I told you it’s fine and I meant it. Making my fucking headache worse, jesus. Just wanna get home.” He can see her face crumple at his words and his stomach twists, but he’s too pissed off and cold to really feel sorry, instead squeezing her hand and continuing their walk home. She’s silent the rest of the way.

…

Steve is really starting to worry her. At first, he had seemed to be making a change, being endlessly sweet with her, letting her take care of him, even opening up a bit about his life. She knows his concussion symptoms are lasting well within a normal amount of time, but it seems like some of them are getting worse. He’s been more irritable, more reactive, his headaches are endless, but he won’t listen to a word she says about it. She had talked to Robin over the phone about it, and she had told her his irritability could also be stemming from the impending holiday. Steve wasn’t exactly on good terms with his family, something he had only hinted at to her, and hadn’t been home for Thanksgiving or Christmas in five years. As a result, he turned into a bit of a scrooge (Robin’s words) the instant that the holiday season kicked up.

Perhaps more than anything though, she doesn’t understand why he’s so eager to get back to work after he nearly died on the job. She had actually started inquiring at her school about admittance for veterans, reading whatever information she could get her hands on. It’d be practically free at a state school like Indiana University, with vets nearly sure to be accepted. She hadn’t yet broached the subject with him, knowing it’d probably lead to a huge blowout argument, but she had convinced him to do Thanksgiving with her, just the two of them, and was planning to get him good and sedated on turkey and stuffing before bringing it up.

When they get back to his place after his appointment, he barely looks at her, mumbling that he’s going to lie down for a while. She already knows he’s going to be looking for his bottle of oxycodone, which she had flushed down the toilet that morning. She had talked to one of her supervising professors about the medication, posing questions from a place of clinical curiosity, and had learned just how wickedly potent the stuff was. Steve shouldn’t have been on it for more than a week max, and it was now coming up on a month of doctors filling the prescription for him. She had decided then and there that she was going to get him off it, kicking and screaming if she had to.

She sits down on the couch, pressing her fingers into her temples and waiting for his inevitable question about where his pills are. She can hear him rummaging in the bathroom, and then in the nightstands in his bedroom. All of the sudden, his movements still, and she can hear his bare feet padding back into the living room. Her heart sinks when she sees that he’s holding the pamphlets she had gathered about veteran’s admission to IU in his hand. She must have left them in the nightstand on her side of his bed. Shit. His expression is cool, steeled, as he waves the pamphlets in front of her.

“Care to tell me what this is?” Her mouth had gone completely dry, and a thickness settled in her throat.

“Um, I– um–” He cuts her off, shuffling over to stand in front of her, bending at the waist to get in her space.

“Um, um, um. C’mon, miss college. Thought you were a big girl. Use your words.” He’s practically sneering at her with the way he’s talking and it makes her feel impossibly small under his flashing gaze. She gulps a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Steve, I’m just trying to help–” He scoffs, standing back upright and starting to pace the floor.

“You think you know what’s best for me? Think you’re so much smarter than me, huh? Gotta help your poor, stupid boyfriend get along, is that it?” She shakes her head vigorously, going to stand but he’s back on her in an instant, resting his hands on the back of the couch to cage her between his arms. She shrinks back into the seat.

“That’s not what I think, Steve. I-I just want you to have options, that’s it! All I did was ask around in the admissions office, it doesn’t mean a-anything, baby. I just thought it’d be helpful for you.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his sharp eyes fixing her in place.

“Well it’s not. Quit trying to mess with shit you don’t understand.” With that he’s turning heel so fast it makes her choke, storming back into the bedroom. A beat later she starts hearing loud clattering.

“Where are my fucking pills? Goddamnit!” She jumps in her seat at his roaring words, punctuated by the sound of what she assumes is one of his nightstands getting thrown on the floor. She sits there for a moment trying to steady her breathing, the continuous sounds of slamming drawers and muttered curses coming from Steve causing her heart to jump. Finally, all the commotion stills and she thinks to herself that she liked it better when he was at least making sound.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly stands, inching towards the bedroom on tenterhooks. She holds onto the doorframe, peering into the room. Both nightstands are tipped onto the floor, their drawers skewed open and the contents strewn on the floor. The wooden bureau that sits across from Steve’s bed has been shoved a few inches out of place, its drawers all open and the clothes usually neatly folded inside in various states of spilling out. Steve’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair, his chest heaving. She really doesn’t want to do what she’s about to have to. She inches into the room, kneeling down in front of him to try to catch his gaze. She reaches out for him but he swats her hand away.

“Don’t. Fuck, baby. Don’t know where I put my damn pills. I-I need ‘em so bad right now.” His voice is a broken grumble and she feels a sharp twinge in her stomach at his words. It’s time to rip the band-aid off.

“Steve, baby? I know your head’s hurting, but you can’t keep taking those, ok? Why don’t I get you some advil? I know it’s not the same, but we can do that combined with tylenol and it should start to help.” He finally looks at her, and the anger in his eyes is breathtaking, causing her to sit back on her haunches.

“What did you do with them?” She takes a sharp breath in, watching Steve’s knuckles go white where he’s still tugging at his hair. She’s not going to let him scare her, not on this. She squares her shoulders, slowly standing in front of him. She hates that there’s still a warble in her voice when she finally speaks.

“I-I threw them away, Steve. They’re no good for you, and that has become painfully clear this afternoon.” His jaw goes slack at her words, but he quickly catches himself, swallowing hard and glaring up at her.

“Well, that’s not really your decision to make, sweetie.” He stands, brushing past her out towards the front door, starting to toe on his shoes. She follows dumbly behind him.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t even glance at her, already shrugging on his coat.

“The pharmacy. Gonna get my new prescription since someone has to make everything so goddamn difficult.” She swallows hard.

“I-I called the pharmacy this morning too. Told them that under no circumstances should they fill any more oxy scripts for you. Steve, please–” He lets out a bark of laugh that startles her where she stands, whistling low as he finally sizes her up.

“You are something else, bunny. Really think you know better than me, don’t ya?” He’s started slinking towards her, causing her to back up until she’s pressing up against the wall. He presses a forearm up by her temple, leaning into her. She’s trying to not dissolve on the spot.

“Steve, that’s not what this is about. I-I talked with one of my professors about those pills. He told me it's some of the nastiest stuff out there. People get addicted to them all the time. Please, I just wanna help you.” His other hand has come down to grip her hip harshly, his fingers flexing into the skin and sure to leave bruises.

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and stop trying to play doctor on me. You wanna help? Here’s how you can help. If you’re so hell-bent on taking away my pills, my relief, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me, don’t you?” She’s trying to steady her breathing, but can’t help the light gasps that rise as Steve nudges the slope of her neck with his nose. He harshly grabs her jaw, forcing her gaze to focus on his steely expression. She hates that there’s already a simmering heat trailing down her spine.

“Words, now.”

“O-okay, Steve. I’ll m-make it up to you, w-whatever you want, baby. I’m s-s-sorry.” His smile is slick, not reaching his eyes.

“Want you on your knees, pretty. Can you do that? Be good for me and do what you’re told, for once.”

“Yes, Steve–” He cuts her off with a sharp squeeze to her jaw that makes her whimper.

“Not my name. Not right now.”

“Yes, daddy. I’ll be good for you.” Part of her wants to leave, just grab her bag and go. But she’s fixed to the spot by the way he’s looking at her. She figures it’ll be quick, a rough blowjob and then Steve will finally calm down, so she complies, kneeling down in front of him while he starts working at his belt buckle.

She goes to reach for his hips when he starts to unzip his jeans but he immediately swats her hands away.

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to touch. You don’t even get to think. That pretty head of yours has done enough thinking for a while. Just gotta sit there, open your mouth, and take it, you understand?” She nods as he comes behind her, drawing both her wrists back. When she feels the soft leather of his belt circling her wrists she shudders. She winces when he tugs the loop tight.

“C’mon, if you’re so smart why don’t you use your fucking words?” She gasps when he pulls on the belt, making her fall back onto her ass, her back crashing into his heaving chest.

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own anymore, entering that higher, breathier register that she knows only Steve can draw out. He grunts at that, squeezing her hips to help her back onto her knees before he’s getting up and coming back in front of her. He slips his jeans and boxers down just enough to tug his cock out, already hard as he fists himself. Stepping forward, he cards his fingers through her hair, tugging harshly to tilt her face up towards him.

“Open your mouth, bunny. You better be good for me.” She complies, letting her jaw slacken and Steve’s on her in an instant, forcing his thick cock past her lips as he holds onto her hair for leverage. She can’t help the small, sputtering chokes that come out around his length as he already begins fucking her mouth, getting deeper with each thrust. Normally, he’d give her time to work her way up to taking all of him, it wasn’t exactly an option to just go for it with his length if she didn’t want to gag. But Steve didn’t seem too concerned with that today, already grazing her throat with his tip.

“Fuck– that’s perfect– just take it, bunny– s’what your pretty little mouth is made for– don’t want you thinking– shit– or talking– just keep your lips around my cock all the time, huh?” She can’t exactly respond to his degrading words with the way he’s dragging her mouth up and down his cock, his fist in her hair guiding her. But she guesses he’s not really looking for a reply.

“What would your little egghead professors think– shit, take it– if they knew their star student spent her time sucking dick like a f-fucking whore, huh?” His words sting, but she hates to admit that they send a clenching ache right through her core too. Unfortunately, Steve seems to notice the way her thighs are clenching at his words and he lets out a jeering laugh.

“Aw, you like that, bunny? You like it when I call you a whore, huh? Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are, just a dumb slut for her daddy’s cock.” His thrusts are unrelenting, now hitting the back of her throat everytime, causing her to gag and sputter around his cock. She can’t help but wriggle her arms against the belt confining them, trying to find some purchase as he uses her mouth but with no success. On the next thrust, Steve’s hips still with his cock down her throat, her nose crushed up against his pelvis. Drool is dripping down her chin as she chokes around him. He just holds her there, and she starts to panic, trying to fight against the hold he has in her hair.

“You don’t need air, do you, pretty? Just need my cock down your throat, right? S’all you need, you stupid slut.” He finally relents, pulling out of her mouth and she’s a wheezing mess, coughing out exhales as she hunches over her shivering body. He’s still hard, but he tucks himself back into his boxers, watching her reel on the floor. Before she can catch her breath, he’s hauling her up by her armpits and pressing her back against the wall, her hands still bound behind her. The way he holds her jaw, fingers skating over her cheeks, is startlingly tender as he drinks in her cockdrunk appearance. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks.

“Look at you, bunny. So pretty for me.” Something in her snaps, her lip starting to wobble as tears pool over her lashes. Steve sighs and she shivers under his delicate touch as he wipes away the first tears to fall.

“What’s got you crying, baby? I don’t like it when you cry, at least not very much.” His grin is sardonic and entirely patronizing as he watches her crumble. She’s trying to stifle the sobs that want to flood her body, her words coming out on heavy shudders.

“You’re s-s-so mean, Steve. I-I j-j-just wanted to h-h-help you.” He tuts, drawing his fingers under her chin to tilt her eyes up to his.

“Aw, you did help, pretty. You and that perfect little mouth of yours. And you know what else? I think you liked it.” With that, he wrenches one of his hands into the front of her jeans, cupping her cunt and stroking harshly through her folds. She lets out a broken gasp at his brutal movement. Steve just chuckles.

“See, bunny? You’re fucking soaked. All because daddy fucked your little throat, huh?” He easily slips two fingers into her, curving them in a way that makes her let out a long, preening cry. She stumbles in his grip, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as he starts fucking her with his fingers.

“P-please, daddy, it’s too much.” He scoffs in her ear, not letting up with his relentless thrusts.

“I know what’s too much for you, bunny. Daddy knows what’s best, right?” When she doesn’t answer, his other hand comes down in a harsh crack on the outside of her thigh and she yelps.

“Y-yes, daddy. You know w-what’s best!” She can feel his smile in her hair as he abruptly removes his fingers, causing her to slump in his hold.

“Atta girl, I think that little brain of yours is finally starting to get it right.” She can’t tell where the pleasure ends and the pain from his words begins, but she knows that the more he says, the more poison that drips off his tongue, the smaller she feels in his grip. Holding her in his arms, he walks them over to the couch, facing her towards the arm rest and bending her over it, her cheek smearing into one of the cushions. Her arms are still bound behind her back and she’s all but given up tugging at them, but Steve seems to notice her squirming.

“If I take the belt off will you be good for me, bunny?”

“Yes– yes, I will, daddy– please– be so good for you.” He shushes her, laying a kiss in the middle of her spine before finally unwinding the belt from her wrists. She flexes her hands, whimpering at the ache that’s already set into her joints. Steve presses a kiss to both of her wrists and she can’t help the shudder that runs through her at his gentle movements.

“There you go, baby. I know it hurts, I’m sorry. Gonna make you feel so much better.” His hands snake under her waist, undoing her jeans before sliding them down her legs. His rough palms splay over the swell of her ass, squeezing the flesh and making her gasp.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. I promise. But, I just don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson.” She jolts at that, craning her neck to look at him.

“No– I have! I promise I have, daddy!” He chuckles, catching her off guard when he lands a harsh smack to her ass that sends her lurching forward into the couch.

“You saying you know better than daddy, baby?” She shakes her head, burying her face into her forearms.

“N-no, daddy. Just don’t want it to hurt.”

“Aw, pretty, you won’t learn if it doesn’t hurt, yeah?” He runs his palms up and down her spine, a soothing before the storm.

“Tell you what. Since you’re being so good for me now, we’ll just do five alright? No belt, just my hand.” That’s a small mercy. She hates when he uses the belt, and he knows it. She sighs, nodding her acceptance.

“Does that first one count?” He chuckles, hands squeezing her hips.

“I don’t think so, pretty. That one was a warning, these five are punishment. You think your little brain can handle counting them for me?” She huffs at that, he’s twisting an already deep knife in her gut, but she nods.

The first blow is quick and she yelps out “one!” For a while after, he just rubs his palms on her ass to the point that her legs start trembling in anticipation. He abruptly lands the second and third in the same spot and she shrieks out the count. She already knows that he’s aiming to leave a mark. The fourth and fifth come quick too and she’s been reduced to a mess in the aftermath. Tears are streaming down her face and her whole body shivers under his touch, but she can also feel the wetness smearing across the inside of her thighs. Steve leans over her, draping his warm chest across her back and she reaches a hand back to grab onto his thigh.

“Did so good for me, baby. My good girl, huh?” He presses a kiss into her temple before he hoists her up, keeping her back pressed to his chest as she’s all but slack in his arms. He helps her step out of her jeans and panties, turning her around in his arms and letting her clasp her hands around his neck. She’s mute in his hold, pressing her face into his neck as his hands slide down her thighs to hoist her legs around his hips.

He pads into the bedroom, laying her down across his bed and slotting himself between her legs. She brings her hands to the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, sitting back and shucking it off over his head. She thinks that she’ll never get used to it, seeing him bare. There’s strange scars along his abdomen, she assumes from previous burns, but he’s still the prettiest thing she’s ever seen, all tan muscle and the sweetest little freckles. He motions for her to sit up, slipping her shirt off when she does before pressing them both back into the mattress in a harsh kiss. His tongue invades her mouth immediately, wrapping her senses in a hazy fog of him. He pulls away with a hot gasp.

“Need to be inside you, baby. Need your pussy so bad.” She just sighs out his name, watching him lean back to tug his cock out of his boxers before dropping the heavy tip against her folds. She whines when he draws the head of his cock through her cunt, her wetness smearing over the length of him.

“Tell me you want it, pretty. Tell me you want me.” He dips into her entrance and she gasps at the feeling.

“I want it, Steve, please– want you now.” He rolls his hips forward in one smooth thrust that sends her reeling, her hands clinging to his back as she cries out at being entirely full with him. He groans into her neck, quickly finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into her.

“Fuck– pussy’s made for me, baby– so perfect– just take it.” He brings one hand down to toy with her clit and it makes her hips buck up into his as she chokes on his name.

“Come for me, pretty– need it so bad– you better fucking come right now.” Her release sneaks up on her and then she’s falling hard, spasming around his dick and digging her nails into his back. He isn’t far behind her, fucking her through her high before he thrusts into her one final time and spills inside her with a shivery groan. They’re both panting, laying entangled in a hazy stillness as they come down. The ache is already coming back into focus, in her wrists and along the swell of her ass. She winces hard when he finally pulls out.

He had certainly gotten her good and fucked out, but she’s all too quickly coming out of the haze, all the dark things he said resting heavy on her chest until it feels like she can’t breathe. She goes to get up, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing his hands to her shoulders to press her back.

“Woah, easy, baby. Just lemme take care of you.” She shakes off his hands, dipping under his hold to stand and shuffle into the bathroom.

“‘I’m fine, Steve. Just– give me a minute.” She scrubs her hands down her face before turning in the mirror to take in the sight of her mottled ass. Sure enough, there’s a perfect, blotchy, red handprint across her one cheek, it even looks like he broke skin around the edges. There’s little bruises dotting her hips as well from where he had dug his fingers in, and she hisses as she runs her fingers over them. It’s then that she catches sight of her wrists in the mirror, rubbed red and raw from his belt. Normally, she enjoyed this kind of thing, evidence of a good session with Steve. But right now, the sight of her weary body coupled with his words still swirling in her head just makes her want to cry.

“Baby?” She’s startled out of her thoughts by Steve’s hoarse voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a furrowed look across his face. She sighs, not quite able to meet his gaze as she brushes past him back into the bedroom. He’s following behind her mutely as she grabs her shirt, quickly pulling it back on before walking out into the living room to get her panties and jeans. She’s sliding her pants up her legs when he finally speaks again.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I think I should go, Steve.”

“What? What do you mean? Baby, I– you need someone to take care of you, lemme look at those bruises.” He goes to reach for her but she flinches, stepping back away from him. He stops dead in his tracks.

“All that shit that you said, did you mean it?” He gives her a confused look, but she presses on.

“Steve, your words really hurt me. All that talk about me being your stupid slut. I-It felt different, it felt like you meant it.” He swallows hard.

“I was just angry, baby. I didn’t mean that shit. You just– you caught me off guard with those– those fucking pamphlets– and then the pills. I overreacted, I–”

“I can’t keep doing this, Steve!” His face crumples in an instant at her words, and when he speaks, his voice is so small it makes her breath catch.

“Can’t keep doing what?” She huffs, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“This! All I wanna do is help you and all you wanna do is push me away. It’s-it’s absurd. Why you won’t stop being so fucking stubborn is beyond me. But then, you just get so nasty about it, so mean.” She lets out a bitter laugh, sitting down on the edge of the couch and holding her head in her hands.

“And the worst part is, I let you be that way to me. I keep trying to help you and you keep lashing out at me a-and I can’t take it anymore, Steve. I just can’t.” Her words seem to have left him speechless, he just stands there, his eyes searching her face. She huffs, standing and heading towards the front door. It’s silent as she shrugs on her coat and puts on her shoes, sliding her bag up her arm. When she goes to open the door, however, his large hand comes into view, pressing the door shut. She turns around to tell him off, but chokes on her words when she sees his face. His eyes are swimming in tears, his expression completely crumpled.

“Please don’t go, baby. I’m sorry– I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I just– I got freaked out, ok?” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying anymore.

“You say that every time this happens, Steve. I can’t keep believing what’s obviously a lie.” And then, Steve does something she couldn’t have expected in a million years. He gets down on his knees in front of her.

“I swear it’s not a lie this time, I swear. I-I’ll go to a shrink like you want me to– I won’t take anymore of those pills, just– please don’t fucking leave me, baby. You-you’re so good a-and so smart and– I love you, I really fucking love you.” It’s the first time he’s said it, and she wishes more than anything that it had been under any other circumstance. For a moment, she wonders to herself how she got here, in only three months, completely entangled with this broken man. She’s startled out of her thoughts when he wraps his arms around her hips, burying his face into her stomach.

“Please, baby. You know I need you.” She tentatively rests her hand in his hair, feeling the way he slackens against her at the contact. She draws her fingers through his hair firmly, tilting his head back to look at her. She lets out a long sigh.

“Listen to me, Steve Harrington. This is it. I swear to god if you’re lying, if anything like today happens again? I’m gonna leave and I’m never gonna come back.” His eyes go wide at her words and he’s quick to get on his feet, cupping her face in both his palms.

“I promise, it’s never gonna happen again. Gonna be better for you. Love you so much, baby.” She lets him press a damp kiss to her lips before pulling back.

“Will you let me take care of you now, pretty?” She nods, having to admit that her skin is smarting under the rough material of her jeans. He gives her a sweet smile before taking her hand and leading her back into his bedroom.

…

She swears she could get whiplash from how quickly Steve can change, going so sweet on her the second he has her laid back out on his bed. He gently peels her jeans down her legs, having her turn over onto her stomach while he rubs aloe lotion into her welts, murmuring apologies as he works. He thumbs at her wrists before kissing each, letting her turn onto her side while he slides behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. She’s exhausted from everything and falls asleep easily, moored by the steady rise and fall of his solid chest pressed into her back.

When she wakes up, it’s much later, the sun already setting on the city. Steve stirs behind her, grumbling into her neck.

“Can you stay tonight?” She hums her affirmation. She’s off RA duty until tomorrow and doesn’t have morning classes either, she can stay. Steve sighs. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.

“How’s your head?” He groans.

“Hurts. I’ll take some advil.” Relief floods through her system that he really has seemed to drop the prescription debate.

“You can probably take a higher dose than normal, just for a little while before it starts getting better.” He sighs again, a seeming acceptance of her words. She wills herself to believe that it will get better.

“You hungry, baby?” She hums another yes to his question, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Should probably get something in you before you take anything too.”

They order takeout from her favorite spot, something Steve does every time he’s had to apologize to her. She’s had a lot of takeout in the last three months. She hopes this time really is different.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au

186 notes · View notes

sparkledfirecracker · 1 year

Text

Chapter one: The Kiss

Summary: Could an innocent date turn into more?

Pairing: CEO!Andy Barber x female reader

Word count: 3742

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit language, mild mention of sexual harassment in a work setting, slow burn, fluff, no smut (I know who the hell am I?), kissing/make-out.

A/N: 18+ only, please respect that. My first add-on to the wonderful collab with @chase-your-dreams-away and the adventure of our gym bro shenanigans. Also my entry for her lovely 800 followers challenge. The prompt given is still to come, I couldn’t fit it into this first chapter. It’s a mild slow burn and yes, even I’m surprised by it. Smut will be delivered eventually, patience!

Not beta-read, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @firefly-graphics and moodboard by @chase-your-dreams-away.

Comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

I do not consent to have my works copies, reposted or translated on any other platform. Reposts on any given platform have been posted without my permission or consent.

BY CLICKING ON KEEP READING YOU AGREE TO BE 18+ OR OVER!!

Excitement coursed your body with the outlook of having the afternoon off. It was Andy’s regular day off, so it wouldn’t interfere with your boss’s schedule. You had been looking forward to this date but hadn’t enjoyed the interrogations from Nathalie and Tess throughout the morning. It was none of their business who you were seeing. Work and privacy were two things that needed to be strictly separated, at least in your opinion.

You had been thankful that Andy hadn’t loaded your desk with too much work. Just some emails and a few documents to file. You scoffed at the sight of Ransom Drysdale’s name, wondering why Andy would keep the creep around. He was a liability to the company, touching up ladies and being completely reckless in his actions without taking any responsibility for them.

Walking towards the water station, you let your thoughts wander. It hadn’t been rare for you and Ransom to have verbal arguments. You let out a giggle thinking back to Andy telling you both off. His demand had been adamant - you and Ransom had to stop the nonstop bickering. The both of you pretended to try but rarely succeeded.

Sexual harassment was a real issue. Unfortunately, some of the investments into the organization made came from the Drysdale household. Giving Ransom all the freedom he needed to stick around for as long as he did.

You hadn’t paid attention to the water overflowing your refillable water bottle. According to Steve, it was an environmentally friendly reinforcement and an important executive decision. In his effort to figure out a way not to pollute the environment as much.

Sometimes you wanted Steve to shut up as his ideas could get out of hand a little bit, but he was one of Andy’s best friends. Having met each other during their college days and stayed good friends as the years progressed. At least Steve had always been much better company than Ransom or any of the other guys.

You scrunched up your nose in disgust, thinking of the overheard conversations about illegally fucking a girl on the job. Or only being able to talk about anything fitness related. Having caught Johnny and Colin having a pissing contest whose biceps were bigger. Only to have Curtis join in and shame them all. Ending in long conversations about what exercises the two knuckleheads had to do to get biceps like Curtis.

“Earth to the secretary.”

Shaking your head, getting out of your trance and noticing the water pooling at your feet. Quickly shutting the tap and meeting Natahlie’s gaze.

“Oh Jesus, what a day already.” You mustered in the sight that had unfolded beneath you while you had let your thoughts wander.

“Where’s your head at?”

“Nowhere.” You wanted to hit yourself on the head for replying suspiciously fast.

“What are you up to?” Nathalie asked.

“Nothing. Work.”

“You know what I mean. I saw your name crossed off the lunch list. You never take time off, especially on days when Andy’s off.” Nathalie didn’t seem to want to let go of the topic. “In your words, you love the silence and peace.”

“I have too many extra hours to catch up on.” You shrugged, grabbing a cloth from a kitchen cupboard and throwing it on the floor. Your heel tried to wipe up the spilt liquid. The pencil skirt was too tight for you to bend down.

“Oh, spill the beans,” Tess huffed, nudging Nathalie’s shoulder. “She’s probably just going on a date.”

You stiffened at Tess’s assumption and rolled your eyes. Nathalie’s eyes grew bigger while stopping Tess in her tracks and frantically pointing at you.

“Oh shit, she is. She is going on a date. Finally, my baby has grown up,” Nathalie cheered. The melodramatics felt exaggerated and unnecessary. “Who is it?”

“No one you know, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Name.”

“Can't remember. I would have to look it up in the app.”

“You used a dating app?” Tess questioned, making you groan. “What’s his name? Where does he live? We want you safe.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be safe. It’s a museum date.” You smiled, receiving a few awes and kissing sounds. The ping of your phone went off. Glancing at the screen. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you later.’

Heat coursed through your body while reading the sweet message. He was just as excited as you were. You knew about his feelings. He had vocalised them well enough on multiple occasions. Although your last failed relationship was still in the back of your mind. Never being treated the way you deserved, but with this man, it felt different. He was willing to go the extra mile and treat you in a way you had never experienced before.

“He’s called Stephen.” Nathalie grinned. You scoffed at the privacy intrusion but were thankful for how he was saved on your phone. “It isn’t a bad cover-up name for Rogers, right?”

“Gross.” You scrunched your nose in disgust.

Without any more words, you grabbed your water bottle and left the wet cloth on the floor. Nathalie shouted a verbal apology after you started to walk away and back to the upper level.

Annoyed at Nathalie’s behaviour you sat behind your desk. They could not ever know what was happening. They should’ve minded their own business instead of sticking their noses up in yours. Shrugging off the annoyance, you dove into the final few tasks of the day.

As the alarm on your phone went off, you cleared up your desk by making sure no files were in sight and locked away. You grabbed your bag and made your way down the stairs towards the locker rooms.

After a quick change and freshening up, you took a final glance in the mirror. Twirling from side to side if the chosen outfit accentuated all the right parts of your body. A nervous smile played on your face, breathing deeply in and exhaling out the bubbling anxiety. Everything was going to be fine, it all would work out. The worst part would probably be eventually, having to resign from a job you had come to love and one you appreciated a lot.

Nerves were overtaking you when you stood in front of the steps. Your eyes scanned the crowd, hopeful to see that one familiar face you were waiting on. The Museum of Fine Arts had been his choice and one you had always wanted to go to but never been able to.

Nervously you glanced at your watch. Maybe he was running late. Deciding to check your phone to see if he had messaged you. No notifications when you tapped on the screen. Anxiety bubbled to the surface again and you started walking back and forth. The possible thought of others staring at you, the poor hopeless girl, getting stood up by her date.

Trying to shake the intrusive thought from your mind you tried to focus on the fallen leaves on the floor. Counting them as you paced past. Your head cocked up as you heard your name being called out. The familiarity of the voice instantly warmed you up inside.

“I’m so sorry, I waited in line to get our tickets sorted and then my booking didn’t go through. It was a nightmare.” The word vomit immediately made you feel at ease, he was just as nervous as you were.

“It’s okay, Andy.” The warmth of his hug made you melt into him.

“No, it’s not, I’m so sorry. I could’ve at least sent you a message.” Andy apologized again, breaking the contact between you both. His wooded smell filled your nostrils and wanting nothing more than to smell him all day. “Let’s go, because we have a lot to see. I’m excited.”

You smiled at his vulnerable statement, adoring his openness and not hiding his feelings from you. A spark jolted through your body as he grabbed your hand, guiding you towards the entrance.

Andy hadn’t been able to contain his excitement while guiding you through the museum. His outstanding knowledge of the museum and its artefacts made you wonder why you had refused to go on an earlier date with him. You knew why, but it seemed to be an excuse not to get hurt by yet another man.

You rounded a corner, the low-lighted room made you stop in your tracks. One of your favourite paintings hanging on the wall.

“If I’m correct, this is one of your favourite paintings.” Andy glanced your way taking in your awed expression. “Renoir, 1883.”

“Dance at Bougival.” You both spoke in unison, a slight warmth washing over you. The view of the painting gave you chills. Not quite being able to grasp why it was making you feel the way it did. The elegant way the woman held on to the man or how maybe it was the way the man leaned into the woman held firmly in his arms. Or was it the people in the back minding their business while the couple danced away the afternoon?

“Renoir had a thing for capturing intricate details of contemporary fashions. Just look at the woman’s red bonnet trimmed with purple fruits. Another open-air cafe in suburban Bougival - the floor littered with cigarettes, burnt matches, and a small bouquet. The touch placement of their hands and intimate proximity suggest a sensuous subtext to the scene.” Andy rambled on while pointing out all the different details on the decorated canvas.

“Dance with me?” It came out like a question, one you hadn’t intended to be a question. Your eyes grew at the realisation of having asked the question out loud.

Without hesitation, Andy whisked an arm around your waist while the other grabbed your hand. For a second, you both mirrored the dancing pose of the painted couple. Andy portrayed the man with the straw hat while you posed as the young woman with the red hat.

An intimate moment shared, the proximity allowing you to feel Andy’s rapid heartbeat. The fact that he still was just as nervous as you were settling some intrusive thoughts you had been trying to push at the back of your mind. You turned your head. His lips brushed against yours for a split second. Watching his jaw clench, holding back on something you both seemed to desire. With a final twirl, he spun you away from his body, bowing down at you as if to thank you for this lovely dance.

Firsthand embarrassment was felt when a few people in the room clapped at your spontaneous moment. You wanted to hide away and run out of the room, but Andy stopped you just in time. His arm wrapped around you, holding you firmly against his side. One of your palms pressed into his chest while you both giggled at your escapade.

“I miss being this in love. It’s good to see romance isn’t lost yet. You’re such a cute couple.” An older lady spoke nodding her head as if to approve of you both.

“We ar-”

“Thank you very much.” Andy’s lips pursed together as he nodded back towards the old lady. “But we must get going, otherwise we’ll be late for the next surprise.”

Confusion was written all over your face, as Andy strode out of the room.

“Why did you do that? We’re not, this is-”

“We would’ve been stuck in that room for another hour if you had said we weren’t together.”

“The woman looked harmless.”

“And she also looked like one who would tell you that you’re wasting your time being single.”

You both laughed, walking towards the other wing of the building. The exhibition hall came into sight as Andy made his way to the entrance.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am.” You confessed. “Very happy.”

The exhibition poster informed you about Italian Romanticism. Italian paintings were an ode to your art-loving obsession. The delicacy and the attention to detail never made you get bored of any of it. Just sitting in front of a painting for hours, getting lost in the world being portrayed. A loud gasp filled the air and you were quick to cover your mouth. You looked over at Andy and he just gave you one of his infamous lopsided smiles, motioning for the empty bench.

“What attracts you to this painting so much?” Andy asked, you kept silent for a few seconds debating if you should share the intimate answer with him.

“I adore the simplicity of this painting.” You avoided his gaze, but from the corner of your eyes, you knew he was intrigued. “The subtle touch that captures a passionate gesture between two lovers.”

“Huh.” Andy’s head tilted to the side as if he was surprised by the answer and had never really thought about it that way.

Minutes of comfortable silence filled the room, just the two of you staring at the painting and both having a mutual appreciation for art. Both your heads tilted to observe the techniques used, watching the way the swipes of the paintbrush left delicate traces on the canvas.

Once again intrusive thoughts weaselled their way into your brain. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, keeping from exploding at the thought of what it would feel like if Andy kissed you that way. How one finger would perfectly cup your cheek while his thumb would rest on your chin. A passionate gesture of eager desire.

The way his other hand would hold the back of your head as his lips lingered over yours, feeling the bristles of his beard gently tickle your skin. His ocean-blue eyes turning into a pool of lustful waves from desired emotions before pressing his lips against yours with a fiery passion.

The rapid flow of thoughts bouldered through your mind like an unstoppable train. Only coming back to reality when Andy shook your shoulder lightly calling out your name.

“Sorry?”

“Lost in thought?”

“Yes, it’s what paintings do to me. They allow me to drown in stories and questions, making me fall down this rabbit hole of thoughts.”

“I love when that happens. It’s what art is supposed to be, it has to make you feel something.”

You simply nodded, agreeing to everything Andy added to this visit. The two of you wandered around the museum, making sure to have seen everything and losing track of time. Giggling at the announcement of the museum closing soon. Lost in conversations of art, discussions about artists and their problematic history. There was much more to Andy than you had anticipated and it felt new and exciting.

Ending up at the exit gathering your coats from the wardrobe and heading your way outside. As soon as the fresh air hit, Andy started to fidget a little. He seemed nervous again like he did when he met you outside earlier.

“Just spit it out, Andy.” You were preparing for the worst where he would tell you he hated every bit of the date and didn’t want to do this again. Preparing for a break-up while not being fully involved yet. The heartache already felt inside your chest. An uncomfortable rhythm of beats thumping inside your ribcage. Another disappointment in the dating scene. “It’s okay if you hated every second of it. It was nice going as friends.”

You rushed through your words, looking up at his stunned expression. A desperate need to want to get out of there and your feet bolted at the thought. Only to be held back by a hand firmly gripping your elbow.

Your body was flung back, crashing into his chest. His mouth inches away from yours. Again you noticed the calculated jaw clench. His hot breath caused goosebumps to run down your spine. While his eyes kept glancing between your eyes and your lips. For a moment hopeful that he would go the extra mile and just kiss you like you had imagined he would.

The softness of his lips almost to be felt but instead, another disappointment washed over you when he stepped back. An immediate rush of cold air ran between your separated bodies, making you miss his warmth.

“Do you want to grab something to eat?” He asked, awkwardly stuffing his hands inside his pocket like a teenager.

It wasn’t a question you had expected. But it certainly wasn’t a question you were mad about. Surprising would’ve been a better explanation of how to feel.

“Yes.” You nodded and without any hesitation, almost sure he had pumped a clenched victory fist inside his pocket before grabbing your hand with the other and dragging you along.

“Before I assume anything. Did you come by bike?”

“I don’t always cycle everywhere, Mr. Barber.”

“Very formal of you,” Andy laughed. “I’m taking that as a no.”

“That would be correct.”

A wide smile appeared on his face. It was a rarity, Andy never smiled. You hadn’t seen it often, at least not at work. But the fuzzy feeling in your stomach made you smile shyly. You wanted to jump for joy and squeal, but you had to keep it together. Squealing like a schoolgirl could be done behind doors later with no Andy in sight.

“How does a lobster roll sound?”

“I never had one.”

Andy stopped right in his tracks. Almost too shocked to even say something, gulping like a fish himself.

“You what?”

“I never ever had a lobster roll.”

“We’re going to fix that. I know the best place in town.”

It hadn’t been a far walk, but you had been thankful for being able to sit down. Your feet had been sore from strolling through the museum.

Andy had gotten himself in line to get you both a roll. He seemed so excited to be able to share this first experience with you. One he hadn’t been anticipating. It had settled your worries from earlier that he might not have been enjoying himself.

Collected by your own thoughts, you sat up straight at the thud in front of you. Watching the glass of white wine being placed in front of you. Meeting Andy’s wide smile.

“Had to bribe the owner to let me take this outside.”

“Bribe? Well, I didn’t take you for a crook.” You giggled, accepting the small plate he handed you.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He taunted, only making you more curious.

The sliced pickles and stacked potato chips made up the decor. The warm filled bun smell was incredible. Making you excited to try it out.

You hadn’t noticed that Andy had been staring when you took your first bite. It wasn’t until you opened your eyes and were met with his hopeful blue eyes that you nodded as you chewed. A lame thumbs up followed as you couldn’t chew as quickly to give him a worded reply.

“What?”

“You got something on your cheek.” Andy smiled.

The rare trait slowly was growing on you. It felt nice to know that you had been the source of his smile. You leaned into his touch a little as he wiped your cheek with a napkin.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Dinner had been so delicious. The tender and sweet lobster was placed inside the buttered-toasted bun. A certain simplicity to the dish, but you loved every second of it. You both had eaten in silence, with an occasional ask if the other was enjoying their food or wine. The chamblis had been a nice pick on Andy’s part for sure, matching the seafood tones nicely. He had warmed your heart with every stolen glance. If you had to describe the feeling, he would be a rock on solid ground.

Andy Barber was going to be trouble to your heart, soul and body.

You stood in front of your door. Keys fumbling in your hand, looking at Andy once again. Not really knowing what to say and how to act. You truly enjoyed yourself on this date and hopefully, he would want to repeat it one day.

“Thank you for today.”

“My pleasure.”

“I enjoyed myself.”

“I did too.”

“Get home safely.”

Andy nodded and he turned around. It had been your queue to turn around, fumbling with the keys to finally fit into the lock. Twisting the lock and opening your door. You looked over your shoulder finding Andy debating something.

“Are you okay?”

Your question startled him, and without blinking an eye he charged your way with large steps. Making you crash into your own door. Air left your lungs at the impact. Andy’s palms rested beside your head while his lips hovered over yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” The response was barely audible, but his lips crashed hard onto yours. A rushed need of hopeless want. A fire rapidly spread inside, rushing and flooding every inch of your body. Andy’s tongue grazed your upper lip. Granting him access to battle over dominance.

Your hands gripped his tie and shirt, pulling him into your body. No one was watching while the man that had given you butterflies devoured every part of your mouth. A circle around your tongue, scraping your palate. You hummed at his expert control of owning you. Melting into the pressure he applied by pushing his body into yours.

His hands cradled your head while yours rested at his waist. With another deepened kiss you fisted his shirt underneath his grey coat. You needed Andy just as much as he needed you. He was all worked up because of you and allowed you to feel every inch. Not wanting to stop the one thing that kept you both going.

Unfortunately, it stopped, and your mind tried to gain back logical thinking. Your eyes opened staring back at Andy, his lips were swollen and reddened from your make-out session while yours still held a pucker to them.

“I need to go.”

“You can stay.”

“I won’t be able to hold myself back from taking you.”

You gave him a simple nod and rested your hands on his chest. His hands covered your wrists as he took a slight step backwards. He leaned in for a final peck on your lips. Leaving you without another word said.

For a moment you doubted yourself if this had really happened. Your fingers ghosted over your plush lips, closing the door in disbelief. As soon as the door clicked in its lock, you jumped around and squealed loudly.

#lilos writing #andy barber x female!reader #andy barber fic #andy barber x reader #andy barber smut #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #ceo andy barber #series: gym bros #chase 800 followers celebration

189 notes · View notes

onebigfangirlworld · 2 years

Text

Peace and Quiet

Summary: Your exhausted but you also want to spend some time with your boys

Relationship: Bob x Rooster x Hangman x gn!reader

Warnings: none, this is just a lot of fluff

Word Count: 598

A/N: I havent written a fic since like 2018/2019 so please be nice to me. This is heavily insired by @daughterofthereaper02 and her work. I don’t own these characters and please don’t steal my work

Link to masterlist

You didn’t know who or what to blame for your exhaustion. You could blame the full moon that was happening tonight. You could blame the fact that all the students in your classes today were rambunctious and couldn’t sit still. You could blame the fact that you were up late unpacking box after box, trying to get moved into your new home with your boyfriends. You tried to find a reason for your exhaustion but there were just too many to count. Even though you could feel the exhaustion sitting in your bones, you still joined your boyfriends out for a night at The Hard Deck. Having not seen them, in what felt like weeks due to busy schedules, you’d take any chance to see them.

“You doin’ alright, sugar?” Jake asked you. The two of you had been playing pool against each other but you were struggling. Jake had noticed pretty quickly. So had Bradley and so had Bob. The three of them always seemed to notice when something was wrong.

“Yeah,” you give him a soft smile, “but I think I’m gonna get another drink. Can you step in for me Bradley, please?”

“Of course, darling,” he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, and you passed the pool cue off to him. You stopped by Bob, sitting on a bar stool watching the pool table and having a conversation with Phoenix, and asked if he or Phoenix needed anything. You got their drink orders, and a refill of peanuts for Bob, before making your way over to the bar.

Returning to the pool area you pass off the drinks to everyone, before slotting yourself between Bob’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist, as he continues his conversation with Phoenix. Your back presses against his chest, as you feel yourself relax into his embrace.

“You alright there, sweetheart?” he mumbles quietly in your ear.

“Yeah. Just tired that’s all,” you respond before stealing some peanuts out of the cup in front of you. He nods his head in response and gives you a quick kiss on the side of your head before returning to the conversation. You closed your eyes, laid your head back on his shoulder, let out a deep sigh and relaxed even more into Bob’s arms.

Bradley nudged Jake’s ribs, stopping him from lining up the shot he was just about to take.

“What-” Jake started saying before Bradley cut him off and pointed towards Bob and you. Both you and Bob were enjoying the quietness of each other’s company. The two men smiled at the two of you fondly. They wished they could freeze the moment and stay there forever. It was as close to perfect as they could get right now.

Bradley and Jake were finishing up round two of their pool game, when Bob got their attention. He jerked his head towards the door, a subtle hint, asking if they were ready to go. You were practically falling asleep in Bob’s arms and the boys all agreed it was time to go home.

“You ready to go sweetheart?” Bob softly asked. You opened your eyes and saw your boys all staring at you. You nodded your head and moved out of Bob’s arms. Jake wrapped his arms around your shoulders and led you out the front door, with Bradley and Bob following behind you. As you walked to the car, you felt Jake give you a gentle kiss on your forehead. You gave him a soft smile. You were very happy and content and ready to go to bed.

#top gun maverick #robert 'bob' floyd #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #jake 'hangman' seresin #bob x rooster x hangman x reader #top gun maverick imagine #robert 'bob' floyd imagine #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw imagine #jake 'hangman' seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #robert floyd x reader #writings of one

254 notes · View notes

anashins · 2 years

Note

Hi, i had this sort of idea where the reader is an idol and also a leader of their group. Before the comeback, the members are having problems with health, practice , schedules, following their leader and whatnot and as a leader the reader is stressed a lot. Taeyong comes and sees this and comforts her in his own way. My concept is mostly fluff but if you want to make it suggestive no problem just no angst ending.

Please make this happen 🥺

Pairing: Taeyong x You

Genre: a bit of drama, fluff in the end

Word Count: 1,5k

A/N: I went along with the concept of the members not wanting to follow their leader, that's so interesting, I hope you like it 💗

“We’re doing it again.”

Your group members stared at you, at a loss for words. The past eighteen hours spent in the practice room were showing through thick strands of hair glued to red foreheads, wet t-shirts stuck to sweaty bodies and empty water bottles that you needed to refill every half an hour.

Two members were already lying on the floor, the three others crouching down, but all of them panting heavily in unison - including you who was the only one still standing on her feet despite them burning like hell.

“It’s almost 2am!” the youngest girl protested. “We can’t anymore, we need to rest, leader, please!”

“She’s right,” the oldest member backed her up, “and we have to stand here again in a few hours, we’re finished, can’t you see?”

You turned to the one who had last spoken, the anger that had been coiling up inside your stomach threatening to come out and showing through your voice over her commanding tone. You swallowed it all down though - like always when the oldest talked back to you, and this was sadly the case for the majority of the time.

“We’re doing the choreography once more,” you explained calmly, “and when we get it all right, we can go rest. So give it your best.”

“Tsk. You think we’ve been slacking off?” She folded her arms in front of her chest. “If they had chosen me to be the leader, like the oldest one usually is, I would have let us go already and not make it harder on us as it already is.”

You froze on the spot and heard everyone else pausing everything they were currently doing as well, perhaps even breathing. Their pupils went from the oldest member’s challenging gaze to you, then back to her, the silence following so overwhelming, it nearly broke you apart.

With mechanical steps that appeared smooth but so clumsy to yourself, you approached the door to the practice room, moving away from the stiffening silence to one that wasn’t less heavy as you reached the corridor, because as the door fell closed behind you, you were left alone in this new silence that suddenly made it so hard for you to breathe.

All the anger, despair and sadness suddenly flowed together, and you just weren’t strong enough anymore to keep them all down. Shortly later, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the empty hallway in the middle of the night, sobbing into your hands. You were sure your group had all left already by now like the oldest one suggested, and once again, you felt so inferior and defeated.

“I remember when I was sitting here, doing the exact same.”

Like someone had switched a button inside you, you stopped weeping, but before you looked up to face the person who had just addressed you, you wiped the fabric of your shirt all over your face to dry your tears. Taeyong had seen you in way worse stages, to be honest, so you didn’t know why you cared in this particular moment. Probably because you felt stripped off your entire confidence and felt so vulnerable after what had happened.

“Why are you still up?” you then asked Taeyong.

As you blinked against your remaining tears though, you realized that he looked just as disheveled as you, sweaty forehead, red cheeks, wet clothes. You were confused. NCT weren’t supposed to have a comeback parallel to yours.

“I was practicing until now,” he explained nonchalantly despite his seeming exhausted outward appearance.

“Alone?”

“Alone.”

“What for?”

“Just my own projects.”

Perhaps, that was why Taeyong was so respected in his huge group and overall in the industry - because he always did more than he was supposed to and way more than that, always reaching higher, always exceeding. He was the first to start practicing and the last to leave the halls, training himself and his group to perfection.

“I know how you feel,” he said and relaxed into the chair next to you. “It hasn’t always been easy on me either.”

“I can barely imagine that.” You didn’t mean it in a discrediting or disrespectful way, so you quickly corrected yourself, “What I want to say is that you seem so admired and respected, I actually envy you for that and cannot imagine that there was a time in which this has ever been different. If my group would pay me at least half of the deferential attitude everyone is holding towards you, it would make everything much easier and I wouldn’t sit here, crying my eyes out because my own group wouldn't listen to me.”

You didn’t know why you suddenly were so open to your senior. Wasn’t there a saying that nothing good ever happened after 2am? Perhaps, you would regret it tomorrow, but right now, it felt like a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulder, having this heart to heart with Taeyong.

He crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back. “I’ve cried at least once per training session, sometimes in silence, sometimes openly, that was how desperate I was. We practiced like twenty hours a day, but still didn’t get to where we needed to be. Some even walked out of the practice room, because they were so done for. I couldn’t blame them.”

“Perhaps, that’s the problem. I’m the problem,” you concluded. “I cannot blame them for not wanting to listen to me, because if I were in their shoes, I would do exactly the same. We’re exhausted, we’re tired, we’re at our ends, but it’s not enough, and since I’m the leader, I have to tell them to continue. It hurts me too.”

You choked, tears burning behind your eyes again, but you didn’t want to break down in front of Taeyong again. His presence next to you had something comforting, he didn’t need to say much. He understood you, that was enough.

“You’re not the problem.”

Something warm covered the back of your hand that laid on your thigh, and by the time you realized that it was Taeyong’s gentle palm that had wrapped around your cold fingers, he already continued speaking,

“You’re the one to solve the problem. If the choreography is not perfect, you’re responsible. If someone acts up, you’re responsible. As a leader, you’re always responsible. There is so much responsibility and pressure on you, no one would understand. And if it means being hard on them and on yourself, then you have to pull through. The reward will be great, but the path is difficult. You have been chosen for a reason. You have been chosen, because everyone believes that you’re the only one who can do it, out of all people. Where would you be if you don’t believe in yourself?”

Your eyes had rested on his hand tightly holding yours in a comforting gesture that filled you with new energy and something way more than that that you couldn’t really define just yet but made you heart flutter just a tiny bit. He was right.

“As for me, I believe in you.” Taeyong smiled. “I always have. And you should start doing so more often from now on, too.”

There it was again. The tiniest flutter of your heart. You didn’t know what that meant, but it suddenly filled you with so much warmth and new confidence, you felt like you could conquer the entire world in the spare hours that were still left of the night. Perhaps, Taeyong’s smile that he directed at you also played a part in it. You wanted him to remain proud of you.

“Leader, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The familiar sound of one of your group members made you both turn around and Taeyong let go of your hand, but the energy that he had elicited stayed. In front of you stood all five remaining members of the group, even the oldest one.

“We’re ready to continue,” the youngest member spoke and everyone nodded along.

“Even if we have to sleep in the practice room again?” You stood up, approaching them. “Because right now, it looks like it. We’re nowhere where we have to be and the comeback is not far away anymore. I need you all in this, we all together, a hundred percent. I don’t want them to watch our process tomorrow and tell us we’re not good enough for the comeback yet, because I know for certain that we are, and we’re going to show them.”

Silence. And then, another member shrugged. “We can use our jackets as pillows again. We’re all in this together, leader.”

Your stern gaze met the convinced expressions of your group, and even the oldest member nodded along, her features soft and welcoming. You didn’t know what had happened for them to realize the seriousness of the situation, but you knew that both parties had needed this short break from one another to fall back together and to act in concert again.

“Okay, then let’s go.”

From the corner of your eyes, you perceived Taeyong lifting his hand and giving you a thumbs up. You bit down an obvious smile.

#taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong imagines #taeyong scenarios #taeyong fluff #taeyong x you #taeyong x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct x you #nct x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop x you #kpop x reader #requests

207 notes · View notes

dragonmuse · 1 year

Note

When I first read it, Izzy's "turns out that's called clinical depression" line hit me so hard because it was way too relatable (in More to the Story, was mentioned by anon a few asks back). If you'd like, could we see more moments of realisation/ healing/ recovery for Izzy? <3

(you got it! Also inspired by the weather here today. I've never stated it outright, but Izzy does wind up taking antidepressants and that's what this one hinges on. If you were looking for something different, let me know, happy to take another peak in his windows on this as well! This takes place the winter following Laugh with the Sinners)

The morning dawned gray, a threat of snow hanging in the air. Izzy didn’t get out of bed right away. Sweeney was tucked in beside him and was happy to accept a methodical head scratch that he stretched into, purring with gusto. His ragged ear twitched until Izzy took it between his fingertips and rubbed it in tender circles, while the purr intensified until the sound filled the room.

“You’re ridiculous,” Izzy informed him and Sweeney’s eyes slid closed.

Without witnesses, Izzy didn’t even feel particularly weird about pressing a kiss to the soft fur between the cat’s ears, catching the faint smell of his fur. Then he rolled out of bed and made it to the bathroom before Sweeney came charging after in his daily attempt to murder Izzy’s feet.

It was an off day for the gym, but he got in his run, going over his plan for the day. Oatmeal for breakfast, a tablespoon of strawberry jelly stirred through it. Shower, shave and then in a new step in his morning ritual, he shook out one round white pill from the bottle and dry swallowed it.

Who knew if it was doing anything? Donna had warned him it would take some time. It had been about two months and so far all he’d noticed was that he needed a refill. But fine. He’d promised he’d try it. He hadn’t actually told Lucius, figured he’d wait to see if it was doing anything or if there were side effects. So far, nothing in both accounts and it was pretty far out. He should mention it, probably.

Thinking about him though, reminded Izzy that Lucius would get here before him tonight. He pulled out a pad of legal paper and scrawled,

if you want to get started on dinner, set the oven to 350 and put the pyrex that’s foil-wrapped on the second shelf. 15 minutes should do it. Should be home by 6, will text. Cat has been fed, ignore him.

-I

He paused and then with a small smile, added a doodle. He hadn’t doodled much since he was a kid, but he knew Lucius would appreciate the effort even if his skills fell well short of his boyfriend’s. He put in a little stove, heat waves rising from it and stick figure cat with wide eyes and a thought bubble that said ‘I’m a filthy liar’ above it.

After a moment’s hesitation, ink bleeding into the paper, he made a very small heart between the note and his initial.

He forced himself to leave it, not scratching it out.

The leather jacket settled over his shoulders, and then he was out the door. He met Jim at the office and then it was down to business. It started to snow halfway through the morning, the flakes small and infrequent, but definitely present.

“First one of the winter,” Jim noted, gravitating to the window.

“You a fan?”

“Not really,” they watched it with a slight frown. “Prefer it warm. You?”

He turned and watched the flutter of flakes. For years, snow had been an annoyance to schedule around. It made flights late, killed visibility and made footing treacherous. What was to like about it?

The flakes didn’t stick to the windows. They fluttered down like soft cotton.

“When I was a kid,” he said, molasses slow, “I used to live for it. If we got let out of school early, Jonah would come and get me. Ma and Da would be working, you know? We would kick up so much shit.”

“You just ran around the city?” Jim pressed fingertips to the window. Their breath ghosted vapor onto the glass.

“Yeah. Freeze our asses off. Get home and we’d sit next to the radiator to warm up. Thing was a million fucking degrees.”

“Guess we weren’t too different,” Jim stared blankly out. “Don't really remember."

They both watched the flakes get fatter, a serious attempt at sticking being made.

“Come on,” he decided, getting to his feet. “Soup kind of day.”

“You’re eating out?”

“The deli on the corner is into all that hippie organic shit. I grilled the kid at the counter the other day until he shit himself, it’s clear.”

It was still too cold to be pleasant outside, but the snow was intent on falling in a picturesque way. Jim’s hat kept it off their face, but halfway there, they tipped back their head and caught a single flake on their tongue.

They ate matzo ball soup, thick with vegetables and dill. The deli was nearly empty, the chill keeping people home. They both got cups of coffee for the walk back, steam raising from the holes in the lids.

Their afternoon client was exacting, but between the two of them, they got through it. Jim had notes on hand, Izzy the photos. The man was anxious and fretful, wanting additional information for every thought. It was enough to drive someone to violence, but Izzy felt for him a little. The guy didn’t want to believe his long time business partner was robbing him blind, who would? So he sat, patient as he could, letting Jim take over when his calm ran out.

All in all, they wound down almost to the minute Izzy thought they would.

“You want a ride home?” Izzy checked, looking out the window again. Jim followed his gaze. The snow hadn’t intensified, but the wind was gusting now.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

It was a little out of his way, but this way Jim went from warm building to warm car to warm building with only a gasp of cool air in between. Wasn’t like they would do him much good if they came down with something in this weather. Anyway, what was a few minutes to him?

He was still back home just after six, watching the elevator tick through floors until it released him. The hallway smelled like tomato sauce, so Lucius had likely followed his instructions. That was good, he was getting hungry.

Opening the door intensified the smell and gave him the sight of Lucius leaning against the island, watching the stove like it might explode. He was wearing a thick sweater that Izzy hadn’t seen before, a tightly ribbed thing in a rust color. He had pulled it down over his hands a little. There was water dotting through his hair, evidence of the walk from the subway to the building.

Izzy didn’t bother saying hello, just stepped in close so he could slid his hand over the sweater, the ridges pleasing against his fingertips though not nearly as much as the solid warmth beneath. Lucius folded his arms around him with a pleased hum. Izzy leaned into him, closing his eyes briefly.

“Should be ready soon,” Lucius said. “I liked the note.”

“Mm,” Izzy pulled back enough to press a kiss to Lucius’ jaw. “Want a towel for your hair?”

“Yeah.”

Izzy kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket, then went to the bathroom and got a hand towel. He went back to the kitchen, suppressing a smile when Lucius just ducked his head expectantly. Lazy thing. Izzy ran the towel over his hair, flinging icy droplets around.

The timer went off and they busied themselves with plates and forks for a while. Lucius told him about his day, describing a back and forth with a gallery owner that left Izzy laughing.

“What about you?”

“Eh, Roberts this afternoon.”

“Bummer,” Lucius sighed. “How’d he take it?”

“Badly. Don’t know if he’s going to believe us no matter what we show him, but he has it and he’s paying, so can’t ask much more than that.”

“Still,” Lucius wrinkled his nose. “I can’t imagine going through all that evidence and just deciding to ignore it.”

“He wants to believe his partner.”

“Yeah. Geez. Hard to hate on that. Anything else?”

“Nah, quiet morning. Want to put something on?”

“Yeah okay.”

Izzy turned over the morning’s passing thought as the television flickered color over them. When the show ended, he hit pause.

“Listen, I figured I should tell you that I started taking something.”

“Hm?” Lucius blinked, then tuned into him, the sudden force of his regard something Izzy could feel on his skin.

“Donna recommended I try it. Just some antidepressants. Started them seven weeks ago.”

“Oh, huh, thanks for telling me,” Luicus said neutrally. “You going to stay on them?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t noticed a change.”

“No?”

Izzy frowned, turned to face him more fully, “You have?”

“I mean I didn’t know there was a reason, but...yeah. A little.”

“How?”

Lucius pulled one leg up onto the couch, so he could face him more fully. “Okay...I think you’ve been less irritable. Like not in a pod person way or anything, but like noticeably chiller.”

“I have?”

“Yeah, I mean, last week when we had to change our plans, you didn’t complain even a little.”

“Well, it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” he frowned, but turned that over. “What else?”

“Just seem...dunno. Little more open, maybe? Willing? Hard to say. But it doesn’t matter what I think. You have to like it, goblin. If it’s not working for you, then you stop.”

He thought about the snow. How it meant driving more slowly and getting his socks wet. How he’d had to change his route to get Jim home. How it had always made his life harder.

“I think I’ll keep up with it for now,” he decided. “See how I go.”

“Mmkay,” Lucuis took his hand in his, rubbing his thumb over Izzy’s knuckles. “Want to head to bed?”

And that was the easiest choice he’d made all day.

Later though, as Luicus snored lightly behind him, Izzy couldn’t quite fall asleep. He slipped out of bed and went to the window. It was really coming down now, blanketing the world. He leaned his forehead against the glass.

He could easily imagine two boys, no hats, red ears, darting through the snow. Headed home eventually, but for now alone in the peace of cold and no one yelling after them. It had been a giddy feeling, cut loose and soaring.

Later, there was Faith in heavy boots, trying to get up on her tiptoes to draw circles in white powder, her pink earmuffs dense with caught flakes.

And he could just catch the memory of Eddy, beard heavy and white, eyelashes dotted like pearls and their breath coming out in raw pants as they charged down a street in some windblown country. When she realized what she looked like, she had thrown her head back and laughed, that wild sound that reached into Izzy and scrambled him around.

Maybe he'd liked winter. Izzy ghosted his breath of the window, watched the fog build and retreat. Maybe he'd loved it all along. Even with a memory like his, you were bound to forget things, he figured. When he fell asleep at last that night, he dreamed of ice on a clear wide lake and the echoes of laughter in the air.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #goblin king and the pup #izzy hands #lucius black

47 notes · View notes

butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway · 1 year

Text

Wifey comes home today and the dogs don't know it so they officially hit peak wretched baby behavior yesterday and have slumped into depressed baby behavior today. I do have work today but it's my short day so I'm thinking after I'm done with work and before I head to the airport with doggos to pick up wifey, I'll wash dishes and dogs.

That way wifey doesn't feel like the house is exactly as she left it you know? I definitely know it's not in worse shape I was very careful to always clean up my presence, but I want her to not have to clean up things that were here a week ago when she left either cuz that sucks and just because I was busy and had a hard time getting around to them shouldn't make them her problem. Most things like that aren't a big deal, or are things we specifically planned for (e.g. she emptied the litterbox right before she left and it's self cleaning so it only needs to be done once a week) but the dishes were a fluke that snuck by us in the last couple days before she left and then I literally never once had the spoons to get to them (heh) while Wifey was gone. Which I expected! I kinda figured that I would either do them all on Friday or maybe if I was very lucky do 1 round a dayon the others. So at least I'm on schedule lol.

Anyway, I did also clean the tub this week, and pick up the laundry in the bathroom, so I figure I might also do a quick wipe down in bathroom (sink, toilet, tub, sweep floors, take out trask) since it usually only takes 15 minutes and would make the whole room look really nice at this point. That plus shiny dishes and dogs is bound to make wifey happy coming home.

Anyway, my morning plans are as follows:

throw chili in the crock pot for dinner tonight

maintenance clean of bathroom

first round of dishes

take out the bedroom and bathroom trashes

refill pet water fountains

Extra Credit: unpack the monthly grocery grocery delivery and confirm their allergen listings

So far I'm over 100% on my tasks today and feeling great about it!

In the next hour I've got some work tasks to do, a little documentation stuff to prep for the day basically, and then it's off the the races for my short day with clients, my one on one, and then me getting the dogs ready for the evening!

Managed to finish all of my work prep stuff even the thing I was sure I wouldn't manage! So yay to that! We're still at "all essential AND all extra credit tasks completed" for each phase of my day so far, though obviously I'm not gonna elaborate on the work stuff for privacy reasons.

Feeling good about the day, feeling good about my ability to get shit down now that I've been back on my meds for a week, feeling pretty good overall! I do think I might be headed for a no show today but I'm fine with that because it'll just give me an extra 45 min for dishes and one less note to write before I switch over to household tasks this afternoon.

I am contemplating doing an extra credit task of throwing on new sheets and remaking the bed fresh and clean for wifey since Jaxxine crunched her yams all over this one all week on top of chewing on the fitted sheet like a pacifier to calm herself lol. But we'll see how that goes.

I've managed to get both blankets into the wash, and the quilt is already in the dryer, so I figure I'm definitely remaking the bed now. I'm most of the way through the tough jobs and then all that's left is the easy or fun ones. I do have to leave in about 3 hours tho, so I'm definitely running low on time. Gotta prioritize a bit and wittle down my remaining tasks. Dinner's all set but for some rice if we decide to make it. I may just empty the dish rack and not worry about washing a 3rd load unless I finish everything else in time. Jaxx definitely needs a bath next, then the tub a wipe down, the pets fed, and me a shower. At that point we're likely to be ok the edge of time so I'm thinking remake the bed and then kitty fun den and then prep the dogs for our trip.

After work plans are as follows:

2-3 more rounds of dishes 1 more round of dishes

bathe the lassie (START WITH THE LAD)

Feed the dogs dinner

bathe self

wipe down tub

build kitty fun den with dinner and treats

pick up wifey from her trip

Extra Credit: wash the blankets dry the blankets

Extra Credit: remake the bed with fresh sheets and blankets

14 notes · View notes

mcfiddlestan · 1 year

Text

Y’all can ignore this post. I’m kind of just purging thoughts.

So I finally got my insurance/doctor situation managed. I saw a doctor in late February and, ofc, they ordered a bunch of other appts for me bc I haven’t been checked out by a doctor — aside from injuries — for more than a decade. So I have/had appts scheduled for a Pap smear (my first, so that was a yikes day), mammogram (not looking forward to this), an EKG to check where my heart murmur is at and if I still need to medicate before seeing the dentist. I had to do this when I was a kid. Six pills of whatever meds before and four more after. Bc apparently whatever they use at the dentist, even for a regular cleaning, can kill me bc of my heart murmur (I was born with a small hole in my heart.) And after the Pap smear, I now have a pelvic ultrasound scheduled bc I have super painful cramps on one side that the NP wants to check out.

Anyway, part of the first exam was a mental health check, and I guess some of my answers sent up a red flag. Right away that day, the doc prescribed me anxiety meds. A month’s worth. When I had a week’s amount left, I called for a refill but I have to have a follow up before I can get it. (After this I can get refills with no issues.) I also started weekly sessions with a therapist which have been AMAZING. Just getting out of the house for a couple hours (I’m a stay at home caregiver for my dad — and my mom before she passed) and talking to someone who’s putting my needs and mental health first is kind of awesome. Anyway, I ran out of my meds a week and a half ago and don’t have the follow up until the 19th. Last week I was fine. Didn’t feel any different. This week tho… hoo boy. 😮‍💨

On Monday my sister gifted me and my brother a gorgeous 5x7 frame of a collage of family pix. So I look at that whenever I miss my Mom. But it seemed to trigger something in me. Stressed and on edge the next couple days it hit me bad on Thursday. Tv shows with storylines featuring a lost parent kept setting me off. I sobbed like four times off and on all day. When I recalled my day to my sister that night, my dad was just sitting there and snickering here and there. I ignored him bc it’s something he’s done a lot. Today, he and I didn’t interact all day, until dinner time. And he copped an attitude right away — he did it again like ten minutes later with my brother and a yelling match ensued. Immediately I was on edge. Then a stupid thing set me off and I had to leave the dinner table. I’ve been in my bedroom for almost an hour sobbing.

All this word vomit to say, my anxiety meds have worked wonders and I need the 19th to hurry up and come.

#personal #la’s ramblings #mental health #anxiety #probably depression #grief #caregiver burnout #I hate crying like this

8 notes · View notes

jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

Text

snakes & bets | part 4.

Summary: Social outcast suddenly makes friends? And those friends are Hogwarts’ most notorious pranksters? Despite being entirely suspicious, Y/N doesn’t question any motives. The world can’t possibly come crashing down around her…

Warnings: This whole story is angsty, hurt/comfort, smut, will end in fluff but goes through all the other stuff first.

Pairing: Marauders x black!reader, eventual Sirius Black x black!reader

Word Count: 4.0k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

Sirius woke up first, followed by Peter then James. Remus always took the longest after Moony Night. The others got dressed and brushed their teeth while they waited for their friend to slowly come to life. Sirius spotted the food first. He picked up a piece of bacon.

“No one’s ever brought up food before. That’s nice.”

“Who do you think did it?” Peter asked as he grabbed some breakfast for himself.

The boys all shrugged. They went through their list of friends, contemplating which one was nice enough to do something like that for them. James came downstairs with a bread roll still in his hand, the other marauders not far behind him. They felt pretty confident in their conclusion when they came to one. The plate of food was decorated with flowers, a lily resting on top of the bread roll mountain. They thought it was fairly obvious. James held up the little limp flower.

“Lily,” he called into the common room, making the redhead turn around. “Thanks for the breakfast.”

“Don’t thank me, thank your puppy.”

The four of them frowned for a moment. They rolled their eyes before heading to class. Not sharing most classes with you was a blessing. They only had Charms, Astronomy, and Muggle Studies. They also realized that they actually did share Transfiguration with you— it was just that you always sat at the very front in the corner so they never noticed.

But Transfiguration was second to last that day. So, they only had to see you at the end of the day for that class as well as Charms. Their day was a blissful one without you. Peter suggested eating lunch outside since the weather would soon be way too cold to do so. The other three agreed with him, grabbing their food and making their way out of the Great Hall.

You were laying down near one of the big trees, body completely hidden by it. You were waiting on a parcel from your parents with a refill of your contact lenses so you were in your glasses. The school’s garden gnomes were outlining your body with a bunch of wild flowers, occasionally stopping to hold out their little grubby hands for a piece of the bread that you were eating.

The marauders noticed you too late to turn around. You called out their name with excitement and they trudged over to you. They sat a distance away from you to the point that it almost looked like they weren’t even sitting with you. You shooed away the gnomes so you seemed less strange. The boys watched the gnomes run off wearing tiny pink hats that you clearly made for them. You sat up and scooted closer to them.

They didn’t say anything but kept eating. Sirius leaned away when you tried to stick a flower in his hair, Peter doing the same when you turned to him. You ended up picking the flowers out of your hair. Normally, you kept them in but everyone tended to point and talk about them. You didn’t really get it because flower crowns were in but apparently random flowers didn’t seem to be a trend.

“We missed the last game but my cousin said they’re playing again on Thursday.”

“What?” Peter asked.

“Last week,” you reminded him. “Our family has box seats whenever the Holyhead Harpies play at home. Mary thought we were coming to the last game but I told her something came up. She said they’re playing home again which is awesome because they didn’t have another home match scheduled for a month.”

James choked on his drink. “Box seats? Box seats at a Holyhead Harpies game?”

“Yeah, she said she needed to know now so she could write to Slughorn and McGona—”

“Oh, we’re going!” James declared.

You smiled. “Yeah? Awesome, we have to leave before lunch but we can eat with the team. Ooh, you can wear the sweatshirts!”

“Sweatsh— uh, yeah, yeah, of course.” James quickly covered his own tracks.

You reached into your bag to check your pocket watch. The marauders watched you get up quickly, saying you were going to be late to Potions. You ran off, tripping over your own two feet but managing to stay upright. They snorted as you hit the wall by accident. James turned to the group.

“What fucking sweatshirts?”

Peter shrugged. “Just say we got them dirty or something, didn’t have time to wash them.”

“Sounds good.”

That was the exact excuse they gave you when you met them at the front entrance of the school. You didn’t mind because that meant they wore your present enough to have to wash them. The marauders looked in surprise when a carriage showed up. They were used to James being the richest person they knew. You just shrugged as you ushered them inside.

The Zabini family probably had more money than the Potters even after splitting the inheritance amongst siblings. Your dad wouldn’t have even made it into the family coming from an average muggle-born background if it wasn’t for the fact that he was brilliant at Charms. But thanks to the Zabinis, your parents worked because they wanted to not because they had to.

The carriage sped away with the five of you in it. You jumped out when you got to the stadium, yelling for your cousin. Mary— along with the rest of the team— turned around. You gave her the biggest hug, having not seen her since summer. All of the Zabini cousins were extremely close and they all watched over you since you were the baby of the family.

“You made it,” Mary said, cheerfully.

You nodded like a bobblehead before running over to where the marauders awkwardly stood. Sirius and James flinched when you went to reach for their hands until they remembered that there was company. You pulled them along, Peter and Remus following, so they were standing in front of the team.

“These are my friends,” you said. “James, Peter, Remus, and Sirius.”

Mary shook everyone’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

The team led you all to your seats. The boys were surrounded by Mary’s teammates while she walked ahead with you. Mary threw her arm around your shoulder.

“I’m glad you made friends.”

“Me too. We went to the Halloween dance together.”

“You went to a dance?”

You nodded. “I had fun.”

“Did you go to an afterparty? I remember Ravenclaw used to throw the best ones.”

“We went to their dorm.”

Mary paused and looked at you. “See, when someone says they skipped an afterparty to go to someone’s dorm that usually means…”

You nodded, making your cousin gasp. She looked behind her at the four boys and playfully shoved your shoulder.

“(Y/N)! Which one?”

“All of them,” you whispered.

Mary pulled you ahead even more to gossip before reaching your seats. You told her that you were just friends with them but she was still excited. Like with your parents, the fact that you were starting to make connections at Hogwarts was more exciting to her than you. She left the five of you after making sure everyone was comfortable.

While everyone was enjoying the game, no one was as into it as you and James. Every now and then, Sirius kept looking at you cheer for the Holyhead Harpies. You had a nice smile. He abruptly went back to looking at the game after thinking that. Sirius felt like he was going to be sick even thinking such a thing. He refused to make eye contact with you for the rest of the game and on the way back to Hogwarts.

For once, the marauders gave you a genuine thank you before leaving to head back to their dorm. You awkwardly stood at the bottom of the stairs for a moment. You kind of thought that you were going to go with them and hang out after the game but they said they were tired. The boys wanted to add to their map. They were almost completely done with it, just a few corridors left.

“Did you guys see where I put the Invisibility Cloak?” James asked, head buried in his trunk.

Remus chuckled. “Mate, I told you to fold it up and put it in your trunk.”

“Okay, well I was tired, Moony. Don’t be an ass and help me look or we can’t go.”

All four of them began searching their entire dorm. Sirius got down on the floor to look under the beds. He saw the patterned cloth under Peter’s bed, pulling it out and throwing it in James’ direction. He was about to get up when he saw a bundle of bright red fabric. Sirius grabbed it. He dropped the fabrics on his bed. Remus came over and picked one of them up.

“I guess these were the jumpers she was talking about? When did she even do this?”

Peter and James walked over to look at their own sweatshirts. They poked and prodded at them, tracing over their embroidered names.

“Your last game,” Sirius mentioned. “I guess she already finished them… they’re kind of nice.”

Peter laughed. “Well, they better be. All she does is play with yarn all damn day.”

They left the sweatshirts and began to explore the grounds. The marauders barely said hello to you at breakfast the next day. Remus had done the calculations. They earned enough money based off of the bets they did that they didn’t feel the need to go for the little stuff. Now, they were trying to get you to leave them alone. After the quidditch match and the bets, you were useless to them. Even your family being rich didn’t matter when they had the Potters. They figured if they started to ignore you, you would probably leave them by Christmas break. After the New Year, they’d be free of you.

You mimicked their quietness at breakfast. They almost didn’t notice you were there once again as you kept silent and just followed them around. None of them attempted to speak to you either. Even in Astronomy they asked other people if they needed help instead of asking you despite the fact that you were right next to them.

Your hands felt heavy holding up your telescope. This was just one of those days that you couldn’t stay up to watch the stars. Letting your eyes close, your head dropped onto Peter’s shoulder. He pushed your head off of him. You were too tired to notice, staying asleep but now on the floor of the Astronomy Tower. The professor dismissed the class with passes since Astronomy got out two hours after curfew. Everyone left. The marauders got into their beds when Remus looked around.

“Shit, I left my jacket up at the tower.”

Sirius chuckled. “Why do you even bring one if you don’t need it?”

“If I don’t, someone might figure it out.”

“Moons, no one’s going to think you’re a werewolf cause you don’t bring a jacket to Astronomy. Just go to bed, I’ll get it for you before breakfast.”

“Thanks.”

“You can thank me by doing my Charms essay.”

Remus rolled his eyes, knowing his friend was joking. Sirius slipped out before curfew ended right at the break of dawn. The house elves would start cleaning soon and he didn’t feel like tracking them all down to find Remus’ jacket. He climbed the tower steps two at a time. He tugged on his own robe, shivering as he got higher up.

Sirius stopped when he saw you curled up on the floor. He could hear your teeth chattering. Spotting Remus’ jacket, he stepped over you to grab it. Sirius looked down at you once more. He bent down and shook your shoulder, roughly. You woke up, wiping at your face as you sat up.

“How much of the lesson did I miss?” you asked in mild panic.

The raven-haired boy blinked. “Did you sleep here all night?”

“All ni— oh, it’s morning. I guess I did.” You sneezed. “And someone took my blanket.”

“Blanket?”

“Yeah, I get cold easily. The jacket isn’t enough.” You sneezed again. “I should probably go to Madame Pomfrey before I get too sick.”

You got up, shivering at the cold morning air. Sirius surprised himself by following you to the Hospital Wing. He listened to Madame Pomfrey scold you for continuing to take Astronomy when you constantly got sick in the winter from being left in the tower after class if you accidentally fell asleep.

The marauder frowned a bit. He didn’t think it was necessary for someone to steal your blanket. One day, you might actually freeze to death if it kept happening. Maybe they also could have paid enough attention to at least wake you up. He left when Madame Pomfrey kicked him out, stating that you’d be there all day.

Sirius shook his head when he left the Hospital Wing. He wasn’t even sure why he went down with you. That was a lie. He knew exactly why and it made him a mix of scared and disgusted. There was no way he was developing a crush on you. He was going to need to find Marlene like he did the last time those thoughts popped up. The other marauders looked at him as he handed Remus his jacket before sitting down for breakfast.

“What took you so long?” Peter asked.

“(Y/N) w—”

“Talked you to death about crochet in the corridor?”

“No, she was in the tower. Everyone left her.”

They all laughed except Sirius. He stabbed his fork into his eggs.

“It’s not that funny.”

“What?” James looked at his friend.

“I don’t know, I don’t think her freezing to death is funny.”

“You fuck the little freak twice and now you feel like you need to defend her?”

“I just think we could back off of her a bit.”

James blinked, realizing that Sirius wasn’t joking. He held up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, not funny… is this about her falling asleep or her in general?”

Sirius sighed, throwing his fork down. “I think I like the little freak.”

Whatever conversation that the marauders were having was abandoned. They were completely focused on Sirius, trying to figure out when he started being into you. The more they talked, the more Sirius kept finding little reasons to be into you. James huffed out a laugh.

“Well, glad we finished what we wanted to with the bet.”

Remus nodded. “I don’t think fucking Pads’ girl would end very well, you’re really territorial.”

Sirius glared at him. “She’s not my girl.”

“Please, you ask her out and she’s saying yes in a heartbeat.”

“I’m not asking her out. I don’t want to date her.”

The other three boys nodded in mock understanding. “Ah, yes, you just like her and want to shag her up and down the corridors.”

He scoffed. “She barely turns me on, this’ll go away in a minute.”

“Barely?” James asked. “That sounds like a step up from not at all, doesn’t it, Wormtail?”

“Sure does. Moony, didn’t he say last time that she didn’t get him hard at all?”

“Yep, you barely wanted to touch her. Was it because she’s weird or because you were ready to tear her clothes off?”

They laughed as their friend growled at them before getting up, tugging on Marlene’s wrist to take her with him. Sirius was determined to get over you. It worked momentarily. The minute Marlene left and you came out of the Hospital Wing, he was right back to square one.

He put himself in between you and James when it was time for Astronomy. Despite the class being only two days out of the week because of how late the class was, you only managed to stay up half the time. With a stuffy nose and a slight headache, you just couldn’t keep up this week. Sirius suddenly felt the weight of your head on his shoulder.

James, Remus, and Peter waited to see what he would do. He poked at your cheek. He poked a little harder when you didn’t stir. Sirius didn’t want to push you off of him but couldn’t take this. You woke up, eyes fluttering open. The other three marauders kept pushing each other as they tried not to laugh at the tinge of pink that suddenly appeared on Sirius’ cheeks when you looked up at him, still with your head on his shoulder.

“You fell asleep,” he said, eyes flicking down towards your lips for a moment.

“Thank you,” you said.

Sirius’ breath hitched in his throat. It was the same sleepy, whiny voice you had when they hooked up with you. He shook his head and went back to paying attention to the lesson.

Every now and then, Sirius looked over to make sure you were still awake. He was aware that he was slowly giving up. James, Peter, and Remus already came to that conclusion earlier. What the hell Padfoot saw in you? They weren’t sure. Sure, Sirius said that all those little acts of kindness worked away at him. They could understand him not finding you annoying. But nice deeds didn’t make someone hot. Did he not see you with the glasses?

When they got back to their room after class, Remus had gladly risked being punched in the face to make the joke that your pussy must have had some type of grip to make Sirius infatuated with you. Instead of punching him, Sirius chucked a pillow at his friend’s face. He fell asleep with a scowl and woke up the same way. The marauders howled in laughter when he confessed that you were in one of his dreams.

Sirius left early with James for his quidditch match so he wouldn’t have to run into you. Usually, you showed up at their dorm a few minutes before the game to walk with them. He couldn’t see you right now. If he did, he would lose all resolve completely. Part of him wanted to yell at you, make you cry so you would leave them alone and he could get over whatever weird crush he felt. He knew that he never would.

It started with the stupid sweatshirts and then the food then the Harpies’ game. You did little things for people just because you thought it would make them happy. Even when it wasn’t reciprocated. Deep down he found that kind of sweet. It was after seeing you half-frozen in the Astronomy Tower that he let his feelings come to the surface. He knew what it was like to feel abandoned by his family at a really vulnerable time in his life. It really stung him that he— and everyone else— did the same to you.

What made it worse was you still saw a good in people that he had long abandoned. He would never be so friendly with people that he didn’t know very well. But you thought you were friends with them and in a matter of days began to do little things for them.

He laughed at himself as he sat down in the stands. He liked you. He liked you and decided that there was nothing wrong with that. Sirius actively made a small space for you to sit next to him when you eventually show up with the others to the game.

You waited till after all the students started heading to the quidditch pitch to leave your room. With the quidditch game between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, you had the boys’ dorm to yourself. You were going to go support James in a minute but you wanted to do something first. Normally, you wouldn’t go behind anyone’s back but this felt sensitive in the way that Remus’ werewolf night felt sensitive. They wouldn’t notice if you nicked their map for half a day.

You just wanted to use it to see if there was a way to sneak to Hogsmeade without Filch noticing. If anyone knew, it would be the marauders. You would simply take the map, go to Hogsmeade as a trial while everyone was distracted, come back and return it. No one had to know you borrowed the map and you never had to worry about Filch catching you attempting to leave campus in the middle of the week again. All the good threads were always gone when the weekend came and new shipments came in on Wednesday.

You carefully crept into the boys’ room in case they were still there. Finding it empty, you strolled in. Last time you saw the map you were pretty sure it was in James’ trunk. You found a lot of things that weren’t the map. Moving on, you closed James’ trunk and went to another one. Four trunks later and the map was nowhere to be found. You pursed your lips in thought. Maybe they were doing something with it earlier? It was probably in someone’s bag.

You sat next to Sirius’ bag on his bed and went through it as gently as possible. You finally found some folded up parchment. Opening it up, you got comfortable so you could memorize the map. You frowned when a bunch of words greeted you instead of a diagram of the castle grounds. Your name caught your eye before you were about to fold up the parchment and put it back.

“Talk to (Y/N) for ten minutes,” you read. “One sickle.”

Your stomach twisted when you saw a little check mark and your roommates’ names next to the task. Half of your brain screamed at you to put the paper back while another half said to keep reading. Your eyes glazed over as you read the list. A lot of different names were on there, along with prices.

You felt stupid as you kept reading. You didn’t suddenly make friends like you and McGonagall talked about. You were a game. For some reason this year they decided to make a spectacle of you for their twisted entertainment. The marauders’ names were written down more than once. You sniffled as you shoved the list back where you found it.

It was beyond humiliating that they were all in on the joke but you. You didn’t know who made it and didn’t really care. They could have left you alone. You would have preferred that rather than being turned into a bet. You weren’t even sure why they would do such a thing. Would they even give you a reason when you asked? You weren’t sure if you wanted a reason. Not if it was going to make you feel worse than you already did.

There was nothing that killed self esteem more than learning that your friends only slept with you because it earned them five galleons. More technically but you didn’t want to add up the money on each individual act. Your feet began to move towards the quidditch pitch even though you wanted to go hide in your room. You had friends. Your heart kept screaming at you that you had friends. Even if they were fake, they were friends and you didn’t want them to leave you because you knew the truth. So you were going to go to the quidditch game and support James like you planned.

You sat down next to Sirius. He immediately split his pumpkin pasty in half and offered you some. He told himself that whatever he felt like doing with you, he was going to. When you shook your head, he gave the other half to Peter. He looked at you again to see some tear stains on your face. Without a second thought, his thumb traced gently over your cheek as he wondered if you were late to the game because you were crying.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head. “My… my mom just wrote to tell me one of our garden gnomes died.”

“Oh.” Sirius nodded even though he had no clue why that was upsetting but he was trying to understand you better. “Well I’m sure he lived a good life that… pesky gnome…yeah.”

“Mmm hmm,” you muttered and turned to the game.

(Part 5)

#marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x black!reader

27 notes · View notes

lessthanpure · 8 months

Text

Making the Best of it Chapter 3

Fandom: Baseball RPF

Pairing: Pete Alonso/OFC

Others: Jeff McNeil

Summary: Dating

Word count: 3539 (also a very good number)

AO3 link

Notes: So I honestly forgot I had a blog, sorry y’all. I’ve been posting solely to AO3, though not under any schedule. I’ll try to remember to cross post here.

The day rolls around and Pete agonizes over what he's going to wear. He'd narrowed down the choices over the past couple days for something simple and comfortable but still impressive. He eventually settles on a dark red button down and black slacks. He showers, puts on cologne, and dresses. He grabs everything he needs and heads to the restaurant.

Sloane debates between a yellow, flow-y dress and a blue slightly-more-fitted one, but settles on the yellow sundress. She takes the train into the city, then uses the subway to get as close to the restaurant as she can. She puts her pink cat in her fingers the second she's up the steps, paranoid. But with her experience, she figures she has a right to be paranoid. She walks into the restaurant with a small grateful sigh. She puts the keys into her purse. She walks to the desk. "Hi. Reservation for two under Pete, please," she says to the man behind it. He looks through the book.

"Ah, yes. Your dining companion for the evening isn't here yet, miss. Feel free to have a drink at the bar until he arrives."

"Thank you so much." She goes to the bar and gets her ID checked. She'll be staying sober tonight, so she orders a Shirley Temple. She lets Pete know she's there and slowly sips.

Pete arrives and looks at the bar to find Sloane. He exhales when he sees her. The yellow is so pretty against her tan skin, and her hair is styled in loose waves over her back with a small clip holding two thin strands against the back of her head. "Hi. Two for Pete, please," he says to the host. "The second person in my party is already here."

"Your table is ready, sir. If you'd please get her and then follow me."

"Of course."

Pete walks to Sloane. "Hi," he smiles at her.

"Hi," she smiles back.

"Our table's ready," he says.

She nods and gets off the stool and puts some cash on the bar. Thankfully not a lot- she wasn't waiting long. Sloane follows him, her half-full drink in her hand. The host leads them to a booth set into a wall of them near the back of the main dining room. When they're both inside and the host had put the menus down, Pete unties the rope holding the curtain to his side and lets it drop, shielding them from the restaurant at large.

"Nice. A little cloak and dagger," Sloane laughs lightly.

"Mark said this was the best way," Pete says. He folds his hands on the table and looks at her. She's gorgeous. "You look nice."

"Thank you. So do you." Pete smiles.

Sloane picks up her menu and he does the same. They're silent as they read. "Appetizers," he asks.

"Sure."

"What are you thinking?"

He waits while she reads. "Do you like shrimp?"

"Yes."

"Want to do that?"

"Sure."

There's a gentle knock on the wood beside the curtain. Pete pushes the curtain aside, revealing a smiling man in a dress shirt, tie, and half apron. "My name is Jeremy, I'll be your server tonight," he introduces himself. "Can I get you two anything besides water to drink?"

"I'll have a regular Budweiser," Pete says. "And could we have the shrimp appetizer, please?"

"Of course," Jeremy says as he writes. "Would you like a refill, miss," he asks Sloane.

"Not yet, thank you."

"Alright. Your beer should be right out," he directs to Pete.

"Thank you."

"You're very welcome." Jeremy leaves and Pete pulls the curtain closed.

"You said you like to do metal and woodwork, but you never showed me any pictures," Sloane says.

"I didn't? Oh man, I meant to. Here," he says, getting his phone out.

"Can I come sit next to you," Sloane asks. Pete nods and moves over. The booth is pretty small, so he can't get far. Sloane sits next to him. Their sides touch, and she's warm. He opens his photos and his gallery of pieces. He angles his phone so they can both see. She leans in and looks at his screen. She smells like vanilla, like he knows. She must be wearing some kind of coconut perfume or maybe a hair product. The scents mingle pleasantly in Pete's nose. "Oh, wow," Sloane breathes. Pete's face warms. It's nice when someone appreciates something you put time in. "That's incredible." Sloane examines the wood, seemingly taking in every piece of it. "Can I see another?" Pete flicks his thumb.

Sloane examines each piece carefully, in awe. They seem light- the lines in them are airy. They're all abstract. She wishes she could work in anything other than 2D. Drawings are nice, but having a physical piece to show for your effort must be incredible.

"That's all of them," Pete says.

"You do beautiful work," Sloane smiles as she straightens. Pete's cheeks are dusted red. She'd been smelling his sandalwood the whole time they'd been sitting next to each other, and it has a sweet note under it. He's also wearing some kind of product that has an undercurrent of leather. The scent is masculine, but not overpoweringly so. It's not in your face, more subtle. It suits him. "You should be proud."

"I am," Pete nods, smiling softly.

Sloane gets up and moves back to her side. She's almost cold without his body heat. "What do you like about working with those mediums," she asks.

"I don't know," Pete admits. "They're so different, you know? Wood was my first thing," he shrugs. "It seemed...accessible. And pretty useful. I started out making picture frames and cutting boards. Then branched into simple furniture. Until I started making art. And then metal just seemed interesting. It's fun, being creative."

"It is," Sloane smiles. She's about to say something else when someone knocks on the wood besides Pete. Pete moves the curtain aside and a man sets their appetizer in between them and puts a small plate in front of each of them.

"Enjoy," the man says.

"Thank you," they say together. The man walks away and Pete lets the curtain drop. Pete lets Sloane take a few shrimp before he takes any.

"Your drawings are amazing, too," Pete says. He's always been impressed with people who can draw. Before he started working with wood and metal, he didn't think he could draw anything other than stick figures. That's why he sticks with abstract. As he draws his ideas out, he got better. Sloane does beautiful work of landscapes and figures, scenes with dynamic poses.

"Thanks," Sloane smiles. Her vanilla sings in his head as she blushes. They eat, stopping often to talk. Pete is amazed at how easy it is.

They order entrees- a burger for him and salmon for her. Pete makes her laugh a few times and his heart races every time he does it. Her laughter is nice- bubbly and inviting.

At the end of the meal, he takes the check but Sloane insists on leaving the tip in cash. They walk out of the restaurant. "Do you need me to call you a car," Pete asks.

"I took the subway," Sloane tells him.

"Do you want me to walk you to the stop?"

"You don't have to, Pete."

"I want to," Pete says gently.

Sloane smiles at Pete's thoughtfulness. "Thank you. Let's go."

They walk slowly, enjoying each other's company and talking. They arrive at the subway way too soon for Sloane's liking. "I had a really good time tonight," she says, facing him.

"So did I. Let me know when you get home so I know you're safe," he asks.

Sloane gets on her toes and he leans down. She kisses him gently on the cheek. "I will. Thanks." She walks down the stairs, not seeing Pete's wide grin. He takes a car home.

He leans against his door when he gets in, head back against it with a smile on his face. 'I'm home,' he texts her.

'I'll let you know when I am, too.'

Pete keeps his phone near him as he gets ready for bed. He stays up to do a few dishes. She texts him when he's finished. 'Home safe. Thanks, Pete.'

He smiles at his phone. 'Good. Talk to you later.'

'Talk later.'

Pete goes to bed with a smile on his face. "She kissed me," he whispers to the dark. He rolls onto his side and goes to sleep.

Sloane gets home and texts Pete, letting him know she's safe. After they finish up their conversation, Sloane texts Kensie. 'Just got home from the date with Pete.'

'Can I call,' Kensie asks.

'Go for it.'

Kensie does. "Hey," Sloane says.

"How was it," Kensie prods.

"Amazing," Sloane admits, putting her phone on speaker and unclipping her hair. "He was a complete gentleman. Walked me to the stop after I declined his offer to call me a car."

"That's awesome, Sloane. Did you kiss him?"

"On the cheek. We have time."

"Yes, you do. Night, girl."

"Night."

Sloane hangs up and gets ready for bed. She smiles as she curls up.

Pete texts Jeff the next morning as he has his coffee. 'The date went great.'

'Awesome, Pete. Did you have fun?'

'Loads.'

'That's great.'

Pete and Jeff get together with a few of their other teammates, including Canha. "I checked out Wehner's a few days ago. It was awesome," Pete tells him.

"I really liked that place," Mark grins.

"Did you take anyone special," Nimmo asks.

"You said you wouldn't tell them," Pete accuses Jeff.

"He didn't," Nimmo says. "You just have the look. So- did you?"

"Yes," Pete admits. "It's brand new, I don't want to jinx it," he cuts them off at the pass.

"Are they good-looking," Lindor asks.

"She's stunning."

The others rib him mercilessly.

Sloane picks out the next date- a diner in the city with retro decorations and has the servers dress up like they're in the 50s. Pete had assured her it was ok if he was recognized, but he isn't. He walks her to the stop again.

Sloane pauses and then gets on her toes. Pete leans down and she braces her hands on his shoulders and kisses him softly on the lips. She pulls away after just a second and he doesn't try to push for more.

"Goodnight," Sloane says.

"Goodnight. Text me when you get home."

"I will."

Pete grins all the way home now that he knows what Sloane's lips feel like against his. They're even softer than he had dreamed.

Pete is between Sloane's thighs, and he grins sexily up at her. He dips his head and licks her out, keeping eye contact until her eyes roll back in her head. His mouth is amazing, and his beard tickles her thighs pleasantly. She reaches down and rakes her fingers through his hair. He inches forward and licks deeper, making her whimper.

Sloane wakes up blushing and wet. She touches herself to the memory of Pete's talented tongue. She whimpers and cums.

Pete gets home from a long night out and rolls his shoulders as he gets in his apartment. He yawns widely and barely bothers to take off his shirt and pants before he collapses into bed. He goes right to sleep.

Sloane is sitting on the foot of his bed and wearing one of his white dress shirts. She's absolutely swimming in it, and it would be hilarious if he wasn't hard, imagining having it smell like her. The shirt is unbuttoned to show a lovely amount of skin, enough to tell she isn't wearing a bra. As if the shadows of her nipples through the material wasn't enough of a clue. Pete growls and approaches her, putting his nose to her neck and inhaling. She smells deeply of him already from the shirt, and he gets harder. He puts his hands on her sides and spreads his fingers. Sloane tilts her head back and hums, smiling. "Thought you might like this," she says smugly.

Pete presses her to the bed, not worrying about talking. He lets his actions speak for him. He nuzzles into her throat, inhaling. Sloane strokes his jaw, fingers dragging. He shudders. She pulls him up and kisses him deeply. He licks into her mouth and she whimpers beautifully.

"I wanna knot you," he growls when he pulls away to let her breathe. Sloane chirps and puts her head back. Pete takes the invitation, biting gently and then soothing with his tongue to mark her. Everyone who sees her will know she's his. "Can I," he asks against her skin.

"Yes, Alpha." She wants to take his cock, he can smell her slick.

Pete hums, smiling. He pulls back enough to see what he's doing and pulls his shirt up over her black panties. He touches her soft stomach and thighs. She's soft and smooth and just his size. She gasps at every touch. "Pete, please," she whines. Pete chuckles and scents her again. He's going to make sure she's dripping with his scent. He leaves his shirt on her and Sloane helps him undress. He grabs her hip and rolls onto his back, propping her up above him. Sloane whines. "Pete?"

"Want to see you ride me," Pete says, voice thick with lust. Sloane nods, blushing, and takes him in hand, directing him to her hole. He groans when he feels how wet she is. She sinks onto him slowly, mewling. He has to fight not to thrust into her. He wants her to take her time- he's not exactly small. But she accepts him easily into her wet heat, clinging to him without being tight. By the time he's completely sheathed in her body, they're both trembling. "How does that feel," Pete manages to smirk.

"Perfect," Sloane moans. "Like you were made for me."

Pete groans at the idea and touches her waist with his right hand, the other on her hip. She gets her knees under herself and lifts herself half up before dropping down. He sits up, supporting her, and kisses her. She sucks on his tongue, which makes him growl. They get into a rhythm, and he helps her sink onto his cock. She's wetter than anyone he's ever had- so much so that it makes obscene and arousing noises every time their hips meet- and it thrills him that she wants him so much. He gives a harder thrust than he means to, and she makes a high noise. He's about to apologize when she whimpers and grinds her hips against him. She pants. "Talk to me, baby," he coaxes.

"Fuck, love your cock," Sloane moans. "Gonna want it in me every day." She takes a gasping breath and releases it in a moan. "Want you to fill me and knot me up, Pete. Want to feel you dripping out of me." Pete snarls, imagining filling her with his cum. "Alpha, Alpha, Alpha, please," she begs. He slides his hand from her hip to her clit and rubs gently. She whimpers and cums. He has to grit his teeth to hold himself back, feeling her clench and flutter. Sloane leans forward when she's come down. She bites his jaw gently, her small fangs scraping against his stubble. "Don't hold back, Pete," she murmurs. "I want you."

"Not yet." Before she asks, he flips them. She hums and wraps her legs around his hips.

"Fuck me."

Pete obeys, making her cum twice more on his cock before he lets himself knot her. He cums into her, shaking. She moans at the sensation. He tries not to just collapse onto her- he's heavy. He gently lowers himself instead. He pants, tasting their combines scents and bringing them into his lungs. They taste perfect together.

Sloane licks his jaw, soothing him. He rolls them onto their sides. Sloane runs her finger gently down his nose and he smiles. They both laugh lightly.

"Thank you," Sloane whispers. She stretches, presenting. Alpha pride washes over him. She's almost asleep, he fucked her so well. He noses into her neck gently. "That was great," she says. She reaches down to where they're joined, and he's so hard that the light pressure of her trailing fingers makes him whine. Sloane makes an apologetic noise and takes her hand back. "Sorry, sorry," she whispers. She licks his jaw. "Just wanted to feel you." He hums, blushing. "I love how you feel inside me."

"You feel amazing," he replies quietly. She hums, pleased. Pete noses into her neck.

"Night, Pete," she mumbles. He pulls back slightly and watches her fall asleep, long eyelashes fanned against her cheeks. He goes to sleep still inside of her.

Pete wakes up hard and leaking. He checks the time, hoping he has time. It's time to wake up and he cancels his alarm before he gets out of bed, wincing and grumbling. He jerks off in the shower and gets ready for the day.

At the end of their next date, Sloane kisses him a lot longer than she has so far. She rubs his jaw with her thumb and slightly opens her mouth. He takes the invitation, sliding his tongue on. He holds her close and savors the kiss. She pulls away from his mouth. "I have to go home," she says, and he hears the regret in her voice. Pete nods and drags his hands off of her. She makes a tiny whimper when he's completely let go. Pete almost growls at the sound but reigns himself in. His jaw tingles pleasantly from the memory of her finger the whole night.

Sloane's mom calls her the next day. "Hey, Mom," Sloane says, taking off her shoes.

"Hi, sweetheart. Listen, your siblings asked if we could have a family dinner."

"Sounds good. When?"

"In two weeks, on Saturday. You can bring Pete if you want." She stills.

"Mom, it's still pretty early. We're not in the 'meeting the parents' stage."

"It can't hurt to ask. Besides, we never thanked him for saving you."

Sloane sighs. Her mother won't be swayed. "Fine. I'll ask on a couple of conditions. One- no one brings up the word 'saved.' It embarrasses him. Two- no one asks for a picture or autograph. Three- no one asks him questions about the team or what it's like to play baseball."

"Deal."

"Bye, Mom."

"Bye, sweetheart."

Sloane hangs up. She debates and then texts Pete. 'Hey. No pressure- and you can totally say no- but my family wants to meet you.' She bites her lip and sends it.

Pete looks at his phone and his heart stutters. 'Are you sure you want me to meet them,' he asks, nervous. It's been a while since he's been at that point in a relationship.

'Of course. But like I said- no pressure and you can say no.'

'I'd love to meet your family, Sloane,' he smiles as he types.

'Sweet! I'll send you the details once i have them.'

'Ok.'

A few days later, everything is finalized and she sends them to Pete. He confirms them.

The day of, Pete might actually be more nervous than he was when he was preparing for their first date. 'What should I wear,' he desperately texts Sloane.

Sloane looks at her phone and smiles. Pete is adorable. 'My family's pretty chill. I'm wearing a t-shirt and jeans.'

Pete relaxes. 'I'll do the same.'

Pete drives to Sloane's mom's house. When he gets there, he sits in the car for a second to steady himself. Then he picks up the flowers and wine he had gotten and approaches the door. The inner door is open, leaving the outer glass one open and he can see inside. He hears slightly muffled music and laughter. He knocks on the glass. Sloane comes to the door and smiles widely. His heart beats harder and he smiles softly back.

Sloane opens the door. "Come in, we're almost done cooking."

Pete follows her to the kitchen. There's a woman at the stove who looks like just like Sloane. "Mom," Sloane calls, and she turns. "This is Pete."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barnette. These are for you." He hands over the flowers and wine. She smiles and takes them.

"That's so thoughtful, Pete. Thank you. Call me Blaire."

"Sure."

Sloane takes his hand and introduces him to her dad. "Sir," Pete extends his hand to the man who has Sloane's eyes.

"Call me Tony," he says with a smile and shakes his hand.

Pete also meets Sloane's siblings- her older sister Christine and her brother Max. Pete easily falls into a rhythm with them. It's as easy with them as it is with Sloane. The food is delicious when it's ready.

At the end of the night, Pete is worried about showing affection in front of her family, but she reels him down and kisses him softly. Her brother whoops and she flips him off without looking at him. "Text me when you get home," Sloane says.

"I will. As long as you do the same."

"Deal."

Pete steals another kiss and then leaves, smiling.

#pete alonso imagine #alpha beta omega dynamics #fanfiction #reader insert

2 notes · View notes

autumnalwalker · 11 months

Text

Empty Names - 16 - Mall Rats

Author's Note: Checking back in on Sullivan as we wrap up this set of POV cycling. A shorter chapter again to balance out the last couple. That said, I'll be taking a brief hiatus from the chapter update schedule for the next month or so to refill my chapter buffer queue and take care of some IRL stuff. See the tags for more spoiler-y commentary in the tags. Word Count: 4,730 Content Warnings: Dead bodies. Blood. Brief mention of the injuries that made those bodies. A fight scene. Mild body horror.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

The young man staggers backwards, eyes wild with fear. His shoulders bump into the glass door and he scrambles blindly for the handle, finds it, slides the door open, slams it behind him, and runs.

He makes it all of five meters before reaching the edge of the penthouse’s balcony. The lights of a city he was never allowed to learn the name of swirl far below.

“If you’re going to jump,” says his pursuer in the same awful, chipper voice he’s used all throughout the night’s deeds, “at least take this with you first. I do believe it belongs to you.”

The young man turns around to find Sullivan Bridgewood nearly within arm’s reach and holding out the limp, hollow, feathered skin of a crane. His skin.

“That’s -“ the young man stammers, “But you - you - All of them - How did you - Why?”

Sullivan takes a step closer and the young man flinches. He rolls his eyes and places the crane skin on the ground.

“Yes, it is. Yes, I did. With lots of practice. Because my friend asked me to help you and because I enjoyed it. Now then, do what you will with yourself if you like, but my job here is done.”

With that, Sullivan spins around on his heel and saunters back inside. He doesn’t bother to look up from opening the speed dial on his phone at the flap of wings behind them. The phone on the other end only rings twice before picking up.

“The last one’s just been set free,” Sullivan says without preamble. It’s a lie by implication. This had been the last of the bound and sold magical beings on the list he had extracted from Logos, but he’d had to skip over one along the way. The sorcerer had amnesticized himself following the sale as part of one of his early deals and all that Sullivan could recover was that Logos had suspected he was going through a third-party intermediary, so no lead to follow there. But his friend doesn’t need that failure on their conscience.

“Thanks,” his friend’s voice says tiredly, “that’s a load off my mind.”

Sullivan slides into a bunyip-leather upholstered chair and begins rifling through the private desk of a very-recently-ex CFO of a Backstage pharmaceutical company.

“You’re welcome. Maybe you can get some sleep now.”

He pries open the false bottom of a draw with a knife, revealing a phone and a tablet. He picks them up and puts them away to peruse their late owner’s secrets at his leisure later.

“Maybe. Eris finally talked Lacuna into going home to do the same a few hours ago and Ashan’s resting again, so I suppose I could spare an hour or three before they’re all back to run the analysis on that tattoo of Ashan’s in the morning.” The unspoken “but…” lingers in the electronic airways between devices.

Sullivan stands and strolls out of the study, admiring the futile handiwork on the walls of now-silent guns to keep his voice casual.

“Would you like me to come back for the night?” he offers.

“No, I’ll manage. I should let you get back to the Lachlan case. You said you thought you were closing in on him?”

Sullivan flips over the body of one of the hired thugs now leaking much-needed color into the painfully modern white carpet and plucks the business card from its wallet. Smartdream Security. Interesting. He’ll need to look up what other corporate ties they’ve got later and figure out how they’d gotten word he was coming. Sure, he’d just spent the past twenty six hours dealing with other high-profile targets dotted around the globe before getting around to this particular rich asshole, but to put together the pattern and deploy security in that time is still impressive. Ultimately futile, but impressive.

“Yes indeed,” he replies. “Credit where it’s due, our alchemical acquaintance was able to give quite the invigorating runaround with all his proxy portals and diversionary world hops thanks to that headstart of his, but the trail goes through Echo Plaza and there’s only one person there he could have gone to see.”

“Echo Plaza? I thought that place would have faded out and dispersed by now.”

Sullivan steps around and over another pair of cooling corpses to see if there are any books on the shelf or art pieces on the wall worth taking back with him that aren’t blood-stained or bullet-riddled.

“It came close but the vaporwave and mallcore booms a while back - it’s a music thing, ask the techie about it - gave it one last gasp and the hardcore regulars are doing what they can to preserve their petty slices of the cosmos.”

“I see. I’ll leave you to it then. Just try not to rough anyone up too badly while you’re there.”

“Of course not.” Unlike with this job, Sullivan had given his friend his word about certain aspects of his conduct ahead of time. It had been long indeed since the last time his friend had simply explained a situation and left with no implication other than that they wouldn’t ask questions about what Sullivan chose to do with the information. It was certainly one way to keep their conscience clean. “Sleep tight,” he adds.

“I’ll try. See you later.”

The line goes silent but there’s no click of a hangup.

Sullivan moves to the kitchen, checks the freezer, and finds it surprisingly boring. No stashed electronics, frozen potions, or preserved body parts. He grabs a carton of ice cream, kicks another body out of the way so that its partially-crushed head won’t hold the door open anymore, and closes the freezer.

Returning to the balcony, he leans over the railing, balances the carton on it and begins scooping out ice cream with a knife. Much like the city vista below, it’s night black and speckled with glazed bits that reflect the glowing veins of light that run through it. At least the penthouse’s late owner had good taste in something.

He glances back over his shoulder and blinks through his filters. No significant signatures other than the already-ransacked saferoom. He returns his gaze to the view, eats his looted ice cream and waits with his phone still up to his ear.

“Su?” his friend’s expected voice finally whispers.

“Yeah?”

“Am I a bad leader?”

“Of course not, everyone loves you. They’d follow you anywhere.”

“But should they?”

“Hey, what brought this on?”

“This is twice now that Eris and Ashan have come back in bad shape, and every quest so far we all wind up separated.”

“That’s just a new team going through the growing pains of getting used to working together. The point is they came back and it’s not been anything they couldn’t recover from, and you’ve been able to help everyone you’ve tried to help. That sounds like a resounding success to me, especially for the early stages.”

Silence.

Consideration.

Waiting.

“Has this happened before?”

“Do you want me to answer that?”

“No. I don’t think I do. It’s just…”

Sullivan’s grip on his phone tightens.

“Just what?”

“I’ve been thinking about the gaps more than I should lately.”

“And?” They should barely be able to think about them at all.

“The list of reasons I’d want to leave them empty is pretty short, isn’t it?”

The ice cream carton tumbles down to the streets far enough below to be another world.

“You trust me?”

“For happily ever after.”

How bitter the old joke between them is.

“This isn’t going to be another gap. I would have tried harder to talk you out of it if I thought there was a chance of that.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Now get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

“I’ll try not to dream.”

*******

Sullivan’s footsteps echo throughout the empty shopping mall and mix with the slow, distorted music playing from unseen speakers.

Echo Plaza, a place that becomes more aptly named with each passing year.

A mere three decades ago this place would have been teaming wall to wall with shoppers from Backstage and beyond. Wide-eyed newbies who mistakenly thought it would be a good place to ease themselves into things. Paratech hobbyists looking for the newest offworld imports to reverse engineer. Teenage witch covens staking out corners of spellbookstores and food courts. Offworld travelers taking advantage of their multi-day anchor world hub layover to go sightseeing. Fairies playing tricks from the cover of palm fronds and aerial shrubbery. Naiads presiding over the grand fountains and granting small blessings in exchange for the coins thrown in. The list went on.

Back then, when the ideal of the shopping mall as cultural centers of commerce and socialization occupying a prominent place in the collective consciousness brought Echo Plaza into being and sustained it and its occupants with an effervescent zest for life, vendors would kill for a storefront on the young pocket dimension's main concourse. Quite literally, as Sullivan knows from personal experience and paychecks. In those days just being here would make everything feel exciting and wondrous. In these window displays the kitsch became cool and the mildly uncommon became alluringly exotic.

Now there are more marble statues than people. The grand fountains are all long dry. Food court menu screens proclaim cryptic messages over blue error backgrounds. Shadowy suggestions of mannequins linger in gutted boutiques at the edge of a flickering neon haze.

The golden age of the shopping mall has passed, and even the subcultural revival of the concept is inextricably intertwined with emptiness and signal decay. None but the most stubborn of holdouts are willing to invest property in a pocket dimension on its last legs before dissolution. Only the most dedicated seekers of aesthetic and pursuers of the niche bother to put up with the permeating air of nostalgia and melancholy.

Ironic then how the recent fad for so-called liminal spaces has made the place easier to access than ever for those few who care to look. And for those desperate to disappear.

The first sign that someone who thinks they’re being stealthy is following Sullivan comes in the form of a blurred oil slick of color at the edge of his peripheral vision flitting from empty store to abandoned kiosk to dry fountainhead. The rapid muffled footsteps from the second-floor walkway above give away the second stalker. When he reaches the bridge connecting the two sides of the second floor and smells the third mall ninja hiding in the shadows beneath, he waves to his would-be-ambusher and calls out.

“Nice job kiddos, real sneaky. Now run along and find someone else to mug before you do something stupid.”

“You are quite observant stranger,” says the twenty-something in a blank trenchcoat and fedora who steps out of the bridge’s shadow, “but that alone will not be enough to save you now that you have trespassed on our holy training grounds.” He pulls open the flaps of his trenchcoat to reveal dozens of the tackiest knives Sullivan has ever seen holstered in loops sewn into the garment’s inner lining. “As you can see, I am well armed and have no intention of letting you go further.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, do you?” Sullivan says.

“An intruder who’s about to become a training dummy for my blades,” knife jacket retorts.

“You stand in the presence of Sullivan Bridgewood.”

“Who?”

“Sullivan Prince perhaps? No? How about the Golden Death? The Xanthous Reaper? The Assassin in Yellow?”

“Is that supposed to impress me? All I see is a scared little man trying to bluff his way out of a fight with made up titles.”

Sullivan touches his fingers to his face and shakes his head in exasperation. “Void Without, what ever is Anthony teaching you kids these days? For shame. If you’re going to go into a profession, at least make the effort of learning the historical greats in your field.”

“That’s Master Antimatter Bloodflame Drips Down The Katana That Cleaves The Horizon to you!”

“That’s one of his names, yes. He’s also Swordmaster Death Annihilator, xXx_AnimePantySlasher_69_xXx, and Anthony Lewinski the weeblord.”

“You would slander our master so? I may have been willing to let you walk away but now you force my hand with this dishonor. Ready yourself for I will not hold back.” Declaration made, knife jacket tips his fedora then draws a knife with a dragon-shaped hilt and flame-shaped blade in with hand and a two-pronged dagger with a glass eye in the crossguard and a grim reaper for a handle in the other. The reaper’s scythe looks poised to stab its own wielder's wrist the moment he twists it wrong.

Sullivan rolls his eyes. “Kid, you couldn’t stop me from walking away if your life depended on it. Lucky for you and your two friends trying to hide behind me however, I already promised I wouldn’t kill anyone else this week so you all get to walk away from this lesson alive.”

“What lesson?”

“Where my names come from.”

The single step Sullivan takes forward moves him out of the path of the neochrome shuriken that misses his head and embeds itself in a marble Venus statue’s neck. A glance back over his shoulder spots another young man, this one dressed in oil slick spandex under neochrome body armor and running at Sullivan with his arms sticking out behind him like airplane wings. The exposed blades strapped to those arms are the same pink-and-blue swirl as the rest of him.

From above, the third assailant shouts “Sneak attack!” and leaps down from the bridge. Sullivan sidesteps and a pair of sharpened black paddles crash into the floor. Painted in white on one paddle is “S3X-007.” The other reads “L0V-R34.” Dressed in all black, this one might almost pass for a proper ninja if it weren’t for the baseball cap brim sticking out from under his cowl and the prominent brand logos on his gloves, socks, and sandals. And of course, the yaoi paddles.

Knife jacket and oil slick reach Sullivan at the same time. They quite nearly cut down one another when he bends backwards and limbos beneath their outstretched arms. While those two recover, yaoi paddles takes another go at him, rectangular blades swinging fast and wide, propelled forward by far too many spins, flips and verbal sound effects. Overall, the spectacle reminds Sullivan of a helicopter failing to take off. Silly as it looks to him, he supposes that against any normal opponent the plethora of openings would be covered by the sheer speed of the attacks.

Sullivan toys with the trio for a little while more, luring strikes into walls and scattered statuary, catching and dropping thrown knives and shuriken, and all around letting it sink in just how little any of them can do to touch him. Carnette had given him a whole rambling lecture once on how metaphysically interesting she found the combat style back when Anthony first developed it. At the end of the day it all came down to believing you were cool so hard that some combination of the Autogenesis Principle and a mage’s reality warping activates, causing poorly designed weapons to become deadly and laughably bad technique to become terrifyingly effective. Easy to underestimate and horrifically embarrassing to lose to.

Of course, it carries the glaring weakness of utterly falling apart the moment the practitioner’s confidence in his own hype is shaken.

Knife jacket’s next jab with the grim reaper tuning fork is blocked by a plain and functional stiletto catching it between the prongs.

“Now this,” Sullivan lilts, “is a real knife.”

A mere flick of the wrist is all it takes to snap the twin cheap metal blades and force the reaper’s ornamental scythe into knife jacket’s forearm just above the wrist. The mall ninja falls to the floor, shouting in pain and clutching the puncture wound.

“Oh spare me the tears, I didn’t even nick an artery with that one.”

That which is beneath Sullivan’s skin begins to ripple and writhe before the shout behind him of “Sneak attack!” even sounds. By the time the square blades of “S3X-007” and “L0V-R34” swipe through empty air he’s already perched on top of the second floor bridge’s railing. The stiletto is replaced by a curved dagger carved from bone. Sullivan makes a show of licking the blade with a tongue suddenly grown green and forked. He leans forward to tumble down from his perch, leaving a pair of rainbow shuriken to clatter and bounce off the railing he leaves behind.

Space twists for him again mid fall, landing him on his feet half a dozen meters from where he ought to have fallen on his face. He reaches an arm over oil slick’s neochrome-plated shoulder from behind and rests the tip of the bone blade on the boy’s neck.

“Remind me,” Sullivan chimes, “what’s that phrase the youth today like to say in situations like this?”

“Nothing -” oil slick stammers, “nothing personal, kid.”

“Oh, but it is,” Sullivan croons.

A prick of venom and oil slick’s eyes roll back in his head as he convulses, falls to the floor and goes still. With a tilt of his head, Sullivan gives yaoi paddles a sidelong glance.

“I do believe it is your turn.”

The last mall ninja standing lets out a high-pitched battle cry and takes a running leap toward Sullivan, giving his best impersonation of a helicopter yet. Sullivan takes a step toward the oncoming spiral of blades and slams a palm into his chest mid spin, causing him to crumple and send the paddles skidding across the floor in opposite directions. One of them upsets a plinth and topples a marble bust. The black-clad youth recovers, gasps, and extends a hidden blade from his wrist. He rears his arm back to stab at Sullivan’s and then shouts as the fingers gripping his chest dig in and sharpen into teeth. The fingers multiply and Sullivan’s palm wraps around them, becoming a lamprey’s jawless circular mouth attached to a shiny black and boneless arm. Eyes open where there were once knuckles and wings unfurl from where there was one a wrist as rings of teeth tear through fabric to find flesh and blood.

The shouts and struggles from Sullivan’s victim grow weaker as the few spots of exposed skin go paler. He begins to whimper and beg.

“You really ought to consider cutting back on the salt in your diet,” Sullivan responds with a smirk. “Your electrolyte levels are simply atrocious. Ruins the taste.”

The bang of the gunshot is loud enough that the echoes continue for the several seconds that Sullivan subsequently spends staring at knife jacket in disapproval. He’s managed to stagger to his feet and is now aiming a pistol engraved and painted with flaming skulls at Sullivan in a shaky one-handed grip. Sullivan tsks.

“Don’t you know it’s poor form to bring a gun to a knife fight? I’ve half a mind to have a word with Anthony about his students’ etiquette after the rest of my business here is done.” He lowers his victim down to the ground and a bullet bites into his shoulder. “Rude,” he says flatly.

His arm is human again upon standing up. He takes a step toward knife jacket. The next bullet breaks the glass in an empty storefront behind him. Knife jacket begins backing away, eyes wide. Another step. This bullet hits just below the knee, tearing a hole in Sullivan’s slacks. He does not stumble, and no blood leaks from the wound that is presumably hidden by the fabric. Another step.

“Get back monster!” knife jacket shouts.

One of the next four bullets manages to clip Sullivan’s shoulder near where the first one hit. Another step

“ ‘Get back monster?’ Is that really the best you can come up with?”

Another step. Between the ripped fabric of ripped puffy white shirtsleeve the wound is visible. Something dark and not blood emerges and pulls the skin shut and seamless. That which was glimpsed beneath the skin ripples and writhes.

Another step and the meters between them are crossed in a singular motion. Skin settles, a foot hooks around an ankle and pulls, a body falls, a hand grabs a wrist, and a forehead presses itself to the hot barrel of a gun. Sullivan’s other hand drops three bullets and a roll of bandages into knife jacket’s lap.

He leans down closer still and says in a chipper voice just above a whisper, “Patch yourself and yaoi paddles over there up before the two of you bleed out.” He moves his other hand to cup over the finger still on the trigger. “And when you see Anthony later, tell him that he owes Sullivan Bridgewood new clothes.”

The hand begins to squeeze.

*******

“I tell you Eustace,” Sullivan says over the chiming of a store bell, “kids these days have no respect for their elders.”

“Maybe if you tried looking your age it would go better for you,” chuckles the balding, liver-spotted man behind the converted boutique’s counter. “How have you been my man? I haven’t seen you since the wedding.”

“Oh, you know how it is Eustace; several years of marital bliss all too soon followed by heartrending bereavement.”

For a lingering moment the boutique is silent save for the muffled music leaking in from the mall outside and the hum of stark white fluorescent lights doing their best to remove every shadow from every surface of every grey-and-white chequered floor, wall, and item of decor.

“Gods,” Eustace snorts, “I see your sense of humor is as wretched as ever. So what is it this time? Tried partying the bereavement away too hard and woke up in bed with a mob boss’s spouse again? Kill an offworld prince on vacation? Or is tax evasion and fraud more your game these days?”

Sullivan clasps a hand over his heart should be with an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me, Eustace. I’ll have you know I remain steadfast in my loyalty to my dearly departed wife, no matter how many old flings dream otherwise. Can’t a man simply drop by to see how an old acquaintance is doing?”

The old man gives a short, hard, single syllable of a laugh. “The day you make a friendly visit without an ulterior motive is the day the Veil falls. So what’ll be, eh? I figure you can afford the full deluxe suite with your dead wife’s money. Soulbound pocket dimension, with luxury accommodations, self-sustaining fishery and gardens, complete with constructs to wait on you hand and foot while you wait for trouble to blow over.”

“Still trying to resell that one, are you Eustace?” Sullivan shakes his head. “No, I’m afraid I’m not in the market for that kind of purchase today, if you take my meaning.”

“No. I don’t think I do. And I don’t think I care to.”

“Oh come now, Eustace. Surely you must remember. Lachlan Whelan? Little gnomish looking man about yay tall? Hunched back? Technically human but autogenesis did a number on him, the poor sod. Twitchy and smelling of ammonia and bromine? Probably in fear for his life? Would have been in the last couple weeks.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Eustace, Eustace, Eustace,” Sullivan purrs as he leans on the counter, “I thought we had an understanding.” Face-to-face this close, the waxy sheen on the safehouse broker’s skin is far more apparent. As is the fact he never blinks.

“Being a repeat customer and referring my services does not entitle you to information on my other clients.” Eustace says sharply. “If anything, you’re the one who owes me by this point.”

“Not even just this once, Eustace?”

“No! Half my business is staked on my reputation for discretion. If I lose that I lose everything.” The creeping anger in his voice is at odds with the calm expression still on his face. Sullivan hums with amusement at that.

“Oh, I know that quite well. Like I said, we have an understanding, don’t we Eustace?” Sullivan leans in closer. “And understanding like that goes both ways now, does it not? I know how your profession works, and you know how mine works.”

“Threats now?” Eustace scoffs. “If you understood me half as well as you say you do you’d realize that this isn’t even my real body. There’s nothing you can do here that can hurt me in a way that matters.”

“That’s quite the interesting theory you have there,” Sullivan lilts. “I’m sure my dearly departed wife would have quite a few things to say about that. Eh, Eusta-”

“Enough!” Eustace slams the counter, failing to make Sullivan flinch. “Yes, that’s my bloody name, you don’t have to keep saying it over and over. Do you think you’re being endearing? Gods! I swear you get creepier every time you darken my doorstep. Now get out.. of… my… shop…” His voice goes low as the words trail off in dawning realization.

Sullivan’s ever-present smirk grows a degree wider.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Eustace stammers, “What they say she did to you.”

The smirk shows teeth. Even through the wax figure proxy body, Eustace shivers.

“Who was it? A hex witch? A contract demon? Some poor fairy that just wanted a Name of its own?”

A tongue slithers out from between the teeth and traces the smirk’s outline.

“Just a scumbag sorcerer with a passing fair grasp of nominal magic,” Sullivan answers, “the sort that no one will mourn his passing and at least a few will celebrate. I’d say I even did a good deed removing him, but the truth is I was just handed the leftovers after associates of mine had thoroughly dealt with him.”

“And I thought you were a soulless snake before. Fine!” Eustace retrieves a notepad from a drawer, slaps it on the countertop and begins scratching it hard enough with a pen to be audible. “The location of the safehouse I sold Lachlan Whelan,” he says as he rips off the top page, flips it face down, and slides it over. “It’ll burn as soon as you read it, so memorize it the first time. Now get out of my shop and don’t come back!”

Sullivan takes the paper, holds it up, and catches the ashes in a handkerchief that he subsequently pockets.

“A pleasure doing business with you, as always,” he says, pushing off of the counter. Halfway to the door he spins around on his heel and adds “By the by, if it eases your conscience any I’m actually going to save dear mister Whelan’s life. This is one of my friend’s jobs, not one of mine.”

“It’s for Road?”

“Have I ever been known to have another?”

“Seven hells, man! You could have just opened with that and I would have handed the damn address over.”

“Oh, I know.”

“Then why the wheedling and the threats?”

Sullivan shrugs theatrically. “I wanted to see if I could still get a rise out of you. You should have seen your face, even through the proxy dummy. The real thing must have been just priceless. Did you really think that I - what? - ate people and stole their magic? Ooohhh, out of all the wild rumors to come out of my marriage and that’s the one you jump to? And did you really think I’d be fool enough to seriously threaten so useful a contact?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Don’t ever change Eustace.”

The exhale of relief comes through the wax proxy better than Sullivan would have expected. When Eustace speaks, the anger is still there, but it’s duller now. “Let the door hit you on the way out.”

Sullivan gives a flourishing bow and walks out the boutique backwards, making a show of bumping into the door to open it.

A bit of showing off in front of the youth to keep his name out there, a most entertaining spot of catching up with an old contact, and directions to what should be the last step of his hunt. All in all, not a bad trip to the mall. Perhaps he’ll swing by the food court on his way out to see if anyone’s still selling anything esoteric or aesthetic enough to be worth eating.

<-Previous Chapter Masterpost Next Chapter->

#Implying that Sullivan may or may not eat people continues to be one of my favorite things to do with him.#At the very least he “ate” one of the lamprey creatures from back in Chapter 9.#writing #original fiction #urban fantasy #web novel #WIP #Writeblr #Empty Names #serial fiction #writing practice #writers on tumblr #creative writing #literature #prose #writers #novel #fantasy #fiction #my writing #emptynameswriting #Late night browsing of the /r/mallninjashit subreddit was a large part of the inspiration for this chapter.#The rectangular “S3X-007” sword is a real thing I found on there.#Meanwhile the grim reaper tuning fork dagger is based on a Halloween prop I picked up at Target a long time ago.#I think this is the first time we've actually gotten to see Sullivan in a fight scene. A very one-sided fight but a fight all the same.#Eustace has no idea how little “what they say she did to you” narrows it down.#Wanting a cooperative mad science test subject was like 70% of the reason Carnette married Sullivan.

2 notes · View notes

whentherewerebicycles · 2 years

Text

well this week i am experiencing my first taste of PNW winter aka very foggy drizzly mornings (although luckily the fog is still burning off by late morning and the afternoons are gorgeous). i do think this climate is going to be a bit of an adjustment after having basically 365 days of all-day sunshine for ten years!! but i have my little lightbox set up lol and once we get into actual winter i'm going to try to structure my workday so i can walk the dogs outside in the middle of the day while it's still light out.

mmm some other assorted life updates:

i was worried about the paint color yesterday but i am obsessed with it now. it dried so beautifully and i loveeee how it shifts over the course of the day. i'm definitely going to need better lighting in here and i still need to figure out how i want to put this room together but i love the color!!!

i did end up buying that gorgeous rich hunter green paint last night lol. just a quart of it!! i'm going to paint my little library nook because it'll be quick and easy to do and i think it'll make the white bookshelves really pop. but after this: no more painting for a while.

i have spent so much money in the last 6-8 weeks it does not bear thinking about aaaaaaaaaa. but i should be getting a check for unused vacation from my old job soonish and at least a partial security deposit back from my old landlord and SOMEDAY i will hopefully get my stolen tax return (although i just got another letter from the IRS saying they need to investigate further). all of that should pay off my credit card and at least partially replenish my savings. i took this job so i could spend a lot of money on the move without stressing about it!! it's okay!! and most of the money i am spending is on replacing furniture, appliances, etc i've been using for 7-10 years lol so it's fine it's not like i'm going to continue spending at these levels forever.

my friend is arriving tomorrow evening and that will be fun. i feel like i have gotten just enough solitary time to be ready to host again for a few days. but oh man it will be soooo nice to be able to actually fully settle into my new life next week and start figuring out what my routines will look like in this new place.

i also have one million small life tasks to check off my list today and tomorrow aaaaaaaa. ok let's see. i have meetings from 9:30-11, then after those meetings i'll have a half hour break where i'll try to finish this presentation before my 11:30-12 meeting. after that i want to block off 12-1ish to leave feedback on a student's grad school materials. then i want to do the following things:

finish presentation and send to AS

complete security clearance paperwork

find MC keys and put in an envelope to mail

call CP to schedule telehealth appt for med refill

email NK back

email SO back

email AU back with meeting times

pay TX tolls x 2

submit insurance cancellation paperwork

email HR about vacation days

I have many more little things to do but i think that's about what i can handle today

#daily processing

8 notes · View notes

nagasakidivision · 2 years

Text

Leap of Faith 1-3

Part 3! Cleverly cut off so that I don't have to finish editing the rap battle. Usual formatting applies, I'll try to finish editing the fourth and final part within the next week or so. :>

(The clank of plates against each other, the sound of percolating coffee, and assorted background noises. Shirou takes a sip of coffee, then sighs.)

[Shirou]: Well, I’m not sure why I expected either of them to operate on any kind of reasonable schedule…

[Waitstaff]: Oh, Shirou! Are you waiting for Hirabayashi-kun to show up?

[Shirou]: Him and another…friend of ours, yes. I even came here five minutes late.

[Waitstaff]: Ah, that’s just like him. I’ll tell you what, you can get free refills until he finally shows.

[Shirou]: Oh, that’s not necessary, Mx. Orihara. I wouldn’t want to impose.

[Waitstaff]: No, no. I insist. It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for our family. And you can call me Izumi. We’ve known each other for years.

[Shirou]: If you insist, er…Mx. Izumi.

[Izumi]: Close enough. And stay for a bit while you’re at it. This is the first time I’ve seen you actually sit down in a week. You’re going to wear yourself down to nothing one of these days.

[Shirou]: I prefer to stay busy while I’m still young. But thank you for the concern.

[Izumi]: Oh, don’t say that. I guess that’s one advantage to being friends with someone who moves at his own pace like Hirabayashi-kun. He gets you to actually slow down once in a while!

[Shirou]: Aha….something like that.

(A creak of a door opening, then a jingle as the door bell rings.)

[Shirou]: Ah. Mister Damien, Haruto. Right on schedule. Meaning, fifteen minutes late. Did you get lost again?

[Haruto]: Hey! Not this time, I was being a good citizen. And I met your contact on the way.

[Damien]: ‘Sup? Not to cause any undue panic but there's like a five-ish percent chance we got tailed.

[Shirou]: I beg your pardon?

(Timeskip for explanation)

[Damien]: And that's what went down.

[Shirou]: I see. Being followed shouldn’t be a problem, the café owners know me and they’ll send anyone on their way. But…thank you, Haruto. This would have gone a lot worse if you hadn't stepped in.

[Haruto]: Don't sweat it. It was the right thing to do.

[Damien]: Still, pretty crazy we ran into each other.

[Shirou]: Yes, well, I assume that means I don't have to explain what you're both here for, then.

[Damien]: Yeah. I'm pretty sure I've got proof they were actively using their patients as test subjects for something bad and lying about it. Sorry, I know this is a lot of shit to go through, but…

(A binder hits the table with a loud thud. The papers inside rustle.)

[Damien]: I’d start with the financial records for Solaris Biomedical first. I’m not a forensic accountant so I don’t know what to make of it but nothing gives you more leads than a money trail. Some of the names that come up are worrying.

[Shirou]: Well, I’m not an expert, but I’ll see what I can do.

(More rustling as he flips through the papers. There’s a soft, raspy bark.)

[Haruto]: …Oh. Right. Lucia, huh?

(Another bark, then a skittering noise as she hops up onto his lap.)

[Haruto]: Ow! God, someone needs to cut your claws.

(Ignoring him, she settles in.)

[Damien]: Oh, hey, she actually likes you! Normally she’s not that friendly with people she just met.

[Haruto]: I’m as surprised as you are. Dogs don’t usually like me.

[Damien]: Aww, I bet she knows you’re here to help. Like I said, she’s a smart dog. The smartest.

[Haruto]: …Sure? I guess that’s possible. They say dogs have a better ability to recognize human emotions than other primates and since they’re pack animals they have a good understanding of social dynamics.

(Pause)

[Haruto]: Actually, I did one of my papers on whether or not we can place humans on a higher intellectual level than other animals. So the usual stance is that metacognition is what makes humans unique but—

[Shirou, clearing his throat]: Not to interrupt but I think I can draw some conclusions. Mister Damien, are these the original copies?

[Damien]: Do you think I’m an idiot? No, this is my third backup copy. First one’s in my safehouse, second’s in a dead drop box, had the coordinates set to send to you if I couldn't meet up with you in our intended time frame, originals are…well, they’re secure. Not accounting for digital copies.

[Shirou]: Thorough. Good to know I can take notes on this.

(His pen scratches against paper.)

[Shirou]: This, this, this, and this. I recognize these names. They’re shell companies that Party of Words officials have used for shuffling around dark money. And the funds went in right when Solaris started developing Neuropax.

[Haruto]: So…they’re fronts. Governments can invest money in curing diseases, that’s not unusual, but the fact they’re trying to hide it is. If it’d panned out it’d be something to brag about, after all.

[Shirou]: Exactly. They were the sole investors, too. So this was likely something they wanted specifically.

[Damien]: Yeah. Well, trust me, it gets worse. Hold on. Shirou, how’s your neurology?

[Shirou]: I’ve had to learn a good bit by proxy.

[Damien]: Great. That was my worst subject, so I need you to confirm something here. I’ve got the research abstracts for Neuropax. Give it a run through for me.

(A long pause as Shirou flips through the pages—slowly at first, then faster, more frantic.)

[Shirou]: This…isn’t good.

[Haruto]: What?

[Shirou]: The frontal lobe degeneration wasn’t a side effect. It was intentional. Neuropax was never designed as a cure for Huntingdon’s.

[Damien]: That’s what I thought.

[Shirou]: It’s…disturbing. You could argue that it’s the seat of the soul. People who have their frontal lobe damaged lose their sense of self.

[Haruto]: Well, you’re the medical expert. Any ideas what they were going for?

[Shirou]: I’d rather not say yet, we don’t have enough information. And I don’t want to sound like a conspiracy theorist.

[Damien]: We’re already in conspiracy theory territory, dude. Go for it.

[Shirou]: …Brainwashing. That would be the most practical outcome of this. They’re trying to create people who would be blank slates. It just worked too well.

(A long pause as the implications sink in.)

[Haruto]: What if they were targeting people with neurodegenerative illnesses on purpose? They just…assumed nobody would look deeper. Everyone expects them to die.

[Haruto, sounding shaky]: God damn it.

[Damien]: Honestly, that would track. They picked out the perfect victims.

[Haruto]: ...So they were just using my grandpa as a lab experiment?

(He takes a few moments to compose himself.)

[Haruto]: So…this is it, right? This is the silver bullet. We can get the case reopened now.

[Shirou]: …No. Actually, I think this makes things harder. If they’ve got the capital at their back, given how bad this story looks for them, they’ll do anything to keep it under wraps.

[Damien]: Yeah, uh, I did paint a target on my back by getting this stuff. Like, it was worth it, but I’m just saying. You guys need to be careful about when and how you’re releasing this.

[Shirou]: And that’s without going into the fact we’re already discredited in courts after losing. This does confirm our suspicions but it might not be enough.

[Haruto]: So what the hell else do we need to prove it?

[Damien]: Testing logs would be a start. Raw samples of Neuropax to do an independent chemical analysis of them…assuming we can find anyone to do it who isn’t in the pocket of the Central Ward or Solaris. Basically stuff that’d be under lock, key, armed guards, and in a concrete bunker if it hasn’t been destroyed.

[Haruto]: And, hypothetically speaking, where would the concrete bunkers be?

[Damien]: I mean, just from what I know? Probably a vault in one of their headq—

[Shirou]: No. The Central Ward itself. They wouldn’t leave it anywhere out in the open. I’d bet my life on it.

[Damien]: Oh! Yeah, you’re right, that’s definitely worse for us, so it’s probably true.

[Haruto]: …Wait. If we were able to get information out of the capital itself…I just need to know I can trust them with a mic. They say it's powered by your convictions. I think Shirou would do fine, but...

[Haruto]: …Hey. I— look, I’ve got a question. Let’s say a man comes to you with evidence of a government conspiracy that resulted in the deaths of several people. The problem is now he’s got the government after him, and they’re right behind him. You can either turn him over or shelter him and risk sharing the same fate as him for supporting him, and you have to make the choice on the spot. What do you do?

[Shirou]: A moral dilemma. So is this for a school assignment?

[Haruto]: I’m going somewhere with it. Just bear with me.

[Damien]: Well, obviously you help him out. Relativism might say otherwise but there’s universal principles that nearly every society agrees on. Be kind, be brave, don’t hurt other people, those sort of things. Following those things usually makes people happier and better, even if there’s some temporary suffering involved. And we have to assume on principle that the guy who uncovered the conspiracy is working towards that same goal. He’s trying to bring the truth out and part of doing what’s right is respecting his decision as a moral actor to do that. And if you both work together, you’re bringing yourself more to that apex of humanity.

[Shirou]: I…disagree. Not with the action but with the principle. You aren’t doing absolute good acts, you’re still falling short of the virtues you’re talking about by having to lie. I wouldn’t say I agree with any concept of original sin, but from the moment we’re born in this world we create suffering. Each act of survival takes resources to and the creation or destruction of those resources requires someone else to toil and suffer for you. It’s unavoidable that we cause pain simply through living. The best thing someone can do is to mitigate that through lifting up other people.

[Haruto]: Yeah. I think they’re the real deal.

[Haruto]: I’m not saying this is a smart idea but I might have an in with Chuouku.

#hypnosis mic #hypmic #hypnosis mic oc #hypmic oc #fan division #nagasaki division

7 notes · View notes