#I wish I could be just like a normal adult office worker who was able to socialize properly and went to the gym | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jarofstyles · 4 years ago

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Teacher’s Pet

A/N: As requested, here is the first part of our professor!harry series. As usual, this we put our little twist on things and we hope that you enjoy! - n+d

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pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warning: smut, mutual masturbation, use of sex toys

word count: 6.2k

While Harry tried not to show favoritism in his courses, it was hard not to be caring towards the students that showed effort but struggled. That was the case with little Y/N. She was young, pretty, had a bit of an edge to her. From what he had noticed she was kind and often let people borrow pens and once gave a diabetic classmate her muffin when she saw he was a bit pale and taking his blood sugar.

He wasn’t everyone’s favorite professor. He was a tough grader, had a bit of a resting ‘bitch’ face, and he wasn’t necessarily warm and fuzzy. It wasn’t what Harry wanted at all— but it had to be done so that the students wouldn’t just see him as a peer. He had learned that early in. He had to be strict and get respect or he would be stuck with slackers or people who thought he would ‘do them a solid’ as one student had tried to ask with a fist bump. But when it came to sweet students with dyed hair, a devastated little pout, and even watery eyes, he knew he would have to say something.

‘If you would like some help, please come to my office any time after 4. I would be happy to assist in figuring out the material.’

It was written next to a poor grade. He could tell that she had potential— she just wasn’t getting it. He also worried about her word usage. If what he thought of was correct, it would make sense why she was struggling.

School was never one of Y/N’s strong suits. From the beginning of her school career she struggled with getting the hang of concepts and her teachers grew a distaste for her because they thought she wasn’t trying. Y/N was a hard worker though, she did genuinely try, but her best was never enough. A few teachers pointed out that she might have a learning disability, but her parents denied that ever being a case. Her other siblings, both older and younger, were able to grasp concepts easily and were all incredible book smart in addition to being talented outside of school. It seemed that Y/N was just the bad apple of the bunch. Her parents would joke, but of course it hurt. She didn’t even want to go to college originally, but her parents forced her to at least try and get a degree so she wouldn’t be a low life. Y/N only agreed because they said they’d keep paying for her band. Of course, you can only really go to college if you pass though and Y/N wasn’t doing too well.

Professor Styles had always intimidated her, but he just took his job seriously. She could tell by the way he talked about everything that he was passionate about making sure people understood the deeper meaning behind these books and Y/N could appreciate that. It was just a shame that she struggled so much in his class. There were students that excelled in his classes and he was always giving them praise, little surprised smiles and nods, a small ‘good job’ or ‘correct, yes’ here and there. Y/N found herself wanting to try harder in his classes just to get a praise out of him, but she was too nervous to raise her hand even when she did know the answer. This was her third time getting a not so passing grade in this class and Y/N was growing more and more frustrated. She understood the material, or she felt like she did, but whenever it came to reading and remembering, she found herself getting stuck. Little frustrated tears formed in her eyes but she blinked them away, thinking she wasn’t going to muster up the courage to see him today.

But she did.

He had a soft spot for the students that he helped. It was human nature to care for those you spent time with. It wasn’t like how he thought about Y/N though. Okay— he knew it was bad. But he was intrigued by her. Why? He wasn’t able to pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe her edgy look, maybe it was because she was seemingly submissive and every time he caught her eye she looked like a deer in headlights. She stares at him a lot, he could notice that. But he likes it. So he was pleasantly surprised when she came to his office, looking skittish but also curious. She needed help and he would offer it to her.

“Y/N, it’s nice to see you.” Harry adjusted his glasses and sat up straighter, putting the final mark on a test before looking back up at her with a gentle smile. He had to approach with caution, she already looked like she was going to shit herself. “I’m glad you got my note and weren’t offended. But I was wondering if you’d like some help.” He didn’t say what because he wanted her to tell him what exactly she was struggling with.

Y/N was very nervous, mostly because she didn’t like asking for help from anyone. She didn’t like to seem unintelligent in front of men, especially when they were as attractive as Professor Styles. All the girls on campus talked about how hot he was, how his dominance was a turn on and how none of them were properly able to focus in class. At least they were getting passing grades.

“Hi, professor...” Y/N said softly and closed the door behind her before taking a seat. “I, um... I’m not really good with asking for help.” She explained, pushing a few pieces of hair behind her ear before fixing her septum piercing. Y/N was playing with the hem of her skirt, one of her fingers playing with the fishnet stockings she had on. “I feel like I understand when you’re explaining it and then I go and take the test and it’s like I can’t remember anything you said. But I’m not good at academics anyway so...” Y/N let out a sad chuckle. Her self confidence was pretty low in all aspects, it was a shame because she was a pretty girl. She didn’t seem to think so, hence why she dressed up. At least her clothes she could control.

“Now, don’t say that.” Harry tutted. “I’m sure that’s not true. I bet you just have a different way of learning. If you understand verbally, but freeze when it’s written, that may be the case.” He hummed, flipping through the last work she had handed in. “My question is... it isn’t meant to offend you at all. But do you find difficulty in reading itself?” He approached it gently. You’d be surprised how many adults realize later on in life that they have dyslexia. They were labeled as not the smartest but he was because it took so long for them to understand because the words and numbers get jumbled up. “I’m asking because I notice in your writings, you spell things in a unique way. Or it seems the letters are flipped. This isn’t to embarrass you so please don’t be upset— we just need to figure out why it is that you struggle with the tests.” He leaned forward on his desk, licking over his bottom lip. She was beautiful. In that way when women didn’t know they were beautiful. He wished he could see more of her body— fuck, not going there. Absolutely not. Even though technically it wasn’t like he would be fired, seeing as half the damn staff fucks students. It was always that forbidden element. Either way, he was far too much for this sweet thing to handle. “I would like to help you if you would let me do so.”

Y/N felt really anxious, bouncing her leg to try and keep her composure. She didn’t think she was smart. She wasn’t good at math, wasn’t good at science, she was decent at English but even that seemed to be difficult now that she was reading classics that were barely in modern English. She just decided that learning wasn’t for her.

“I’m not a reader, no.” She shook her head, Y/N found herself having trouble focusing for a long time and when it came to reading words get jumbled up and she struggled a lot. Especially when she started thinking about it too much. Of course Y/N was embarrassed even though he said he wasn’t trying to embarrass her. It was more just her feeling incompetent. She didn’t like making eye contact with him for too long because she felt like he was staring straight into her soul. She was a bit shy and timid when it came to new people. She appreciated that he wasn’t judging her though. “I don’t know what you could do to help, but if you’d like to try we can? I—I don’t want to waste your time.”

“There’s no wasting time if it helps improve your learning, yeah? Please don’t think of yourself like that. You are an important person, just as important as my other students. I want you to succeed.” Harry promised. It kind of broke his heart that she was so sure that her time with him would be wasted. It made him sad that she felt that way. Why? “How about we set up a time... let’s say two days a week? I have time around now, so 4:15 to 5 where I can help you.” He normally wouldn’t do it for most but he wasn’t going to let her suffer. A passion project, so to speak. “I don’t know your schedule but I would be here during that time normally. I basically live in this office anyways.” He smiled in a joking way. “We can work on understanding first what was wrong and then we can have time to work on the new material.”

Y/N nodded her head in agreement, but it did make her worry. Of course she could only try her best but she was so used to failing that she wasn’t sure how much harder she could try. She was barely passing her other classes and frankly she was thinking about dropping out all together. Maybe she was the lowlife her parents made her out to be?

“Can do... Monday’s and Thursday’s..” Y/N told him, “if that’s okay, I have band practice on Wednesday’s.” She wasn’t sure why’s she told him but part of it was to show that she wasn’t just a stupid girl that she did have some talent or at least she thought she did. “It’s um... it’s really nice of you to do this, thank you.” She told him genuinely, though she was terrified of letting him down. He seemed so cool. He wasn’t like this in his classes, he seemed much more approachable this way. Maybe in another life they could have been friends or more than that... no, he probably wasn’t into girls like her. She needed a cigarette.

“Of course. You have my email if you need to reschedule.” But he could see right through her. Of course he could. “But... if you’re nervous, tell me. I can soothe the worries. I’ll be awfully disappointed if you don’t show up and don’t let me know.” He knew she was skittish. He didn’t want her to back out and not take the time to try at the very least. “Let’s just work on it a day at a time. I hope to see you soon.”

When she walked out, he was ashamed to say he was entranced by her ass. He was such a bastard for thinking about a student like that. So bad. But it didn’t stop him from seeing her eyes when he fucked his fist later that night.

----

The next couple of days left Y/N worried. Coming out of professor Styles’ office had left her feeling on edge, wondering if it was even worth trying. She felt like nothing would save her at this point but this was going to be her last attempt. If it didn’t work out she’d just drop out and couch surf. But she didn’t want to have to do that, her kitty Jinx would have to find a new home and that was something she certainly didn’t want. It was Monday and Y/N didn’t go to her classes today, feeling like it was justified because she was meeting with Professor Styles today.

If she was going to work on herself she wanted to be in the best shape possible, so she smoked some weed in the morning to get her day off right and got her things together before getting her skateboard and making her way to his office.

Harry was pleased when she actually showed up at his office. He was half expecting her to drop his class with how terrified she had seemed the past time, and he was curious to see how she had thought about what her grades and his revisions on her test. He had worn a dark red button up today with suspenders, his blazer off and hair a tiny bit messy. His glasses hung off the end of his nose while he looked up at her with surprise, before a smile came on his face.

“Y/N! I’m very glad to see you’ve come.” He hummed, sitting up and leaning back in his chair. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the couch. Would you like a water?” He had a mini fridge in his office. Without listening to an answer, he pulled one out anyways and handed it to her, rounding the desk so he seemed less scary. The desk was a position of power. One he loved, but also didn’t want to take advantage of when Y/N obviously was terrified of it. “Alright. So... you’ve seen my revisions?” He sat on the other arm chair across from the couch, glasses pushed up now with his copy of her paper. “Good. What do you think about your mistakes? Were they because you didn’t understand the material, or didn’t know what to say in paper?”

Y/N gave him a small smile, setting her skate board up against the side wall before taking a seat on the couch. No amount of weed could have calmed her down, she wasn’t even that high anymore it was just the residual feeling. Right now, she was more concerned about having to tell him what was going on inside her mind when she was working on assignments.

“I—I um... both?” She felt a blush creeping in on her cheeks. “I tried to like... watch videos about it, cause whenever I try to read I just get frustrated.” Y/N explained fiddling with the paper. She didn’t like this feeling, it was obvious that it was something that made her emotional which was why she didn’t really talk about it. She let out a breath, looking over what she wrote and seeing all the red pen. It made her want to crawl up into a ball despite how nice he was being. He was trying and so she would also try her best to keep it together. “I find it really hard to focus..”

“I don’t doubt that you do, Y/N. I’m thinking that maybe this isn’t something to do with your focus, but maybe it’s with your reading? You could learn differently than other people and that's absolutely alright.” Harry felt poorly that she was so sad and embarrassed about it. “Look at me.” When she didn’t respond he was trying a different tactic. Soft but very obviously meaning business. “There we are. Now, this doesn’t mean you’re stupid or unable to learn or do well in my class. You just may need to learn differently.” He stood up and grabbed a book from his shelf. “So this book— I got it online. It has some illustrations in it, and I find they’re pretty self explanatory. Maybe this will help you understand it better. Having an image opposed to words in your mind.” He handed it to her. She didn’t need to know he had bought it himself.

Y/N glanced up at him as he told her to look at him, seeing his face go much softer but his eyes still held that same intensity. She followed his with her eyes as he went to get the book. It was much thicker than the others due to all the illustrations but of course it made her feel like a little kid again. She just wished she could be normal.

“Okay...” She said softly, willing to try anything at this point. Of course she was nervous about going forward with his class seeing as she knew things would only get more difficult. Y/N gave him a small thank you as she looked through the book but part of her felt like it wasn’t going to work. No one was determined in helping her learn, they never have been. She’d always gotten very poor, passing grades because she assumed teachers felt bad for her or knew her siblings and assumed maybe she was just the rebellious one. “Sometimes I feel like I do better on the essays, cause I feel like I get it... but I end up getting better grades on the tests than the essays and it’s... disheartening.” She explained with a small frown, “cause I guess on the tests a lot of the time.”

He furrowed his brows, listening to what Y/N had to say. It made sense if she had dyslexia that she would be frustrated and upset with learning altogether but it was important to her and him as well, that she was able to do what she was meant to do. Whatever it was she had wanted.

“I think you should outline your essays more. Each body paragraph, with reasoning and thought. Come up with 4 to 6 reasons for each, word them how it makes sense to you, and write it that way. The structure taught isn’t the only way to do it.” He explained. Writing down on a piece of notebook paper an example of how she could do it. “I know it must be very frustrating— especially if it’s been years that you’ve had to deal with this. I understand. But I do have faith that you’re able to do this. You are intelligent, Y/N. You just have to figure out the right way to show it.”

Y/N let out a sigh, swallowing thickly as he gave her some advice on how to structure her essays in a way that would make more sense. She would try her best, especially with knowing that he was going to be grading things knowing what her situation was. Y/N was going to try her best to sound smart or collected, but she will admit she hadn’t been paying attention for years.

She pulled out a folder of her English work, pulled out the notes she had taken and the lay out for her essays and bit the inside of her lip. Y/N handed it to him and immediately went to pay with her own fingers. Observing him as he looked through what she had done previously.

“I—I try my best, I really do.. but anytime I get the courage to try it just gets worse and I go back to not trying at all because at least then I know I’m failing cause I’m doing it on purpose and not cause I’m stupid.” Y/N was trying to share her feelings to try and make him understand. “‘s really intimidating being in class with people who pick up information easily and I end up just tuning out cause it’s too fast for me to follow... and I don’t want to be that one girl that holds up the whole class with a stupid question.”

“You aren’t. If you have a question that you aren’t comfortable asking in front of everyone, you are always welcome to email me or come to my office at any time I’m here.” Harry promised. Poor girl. Jesus, what happened to her to make her self esteem like this? “You are very capable. Very much a smart girl. You need to tap into different areas of your brain. I promise, we can get your grade up together, alright?” He felt softness and fondness because he knew that sometimes professors weren’t the most understanding. Granted, he was only like this towards students that came for help— and oddly, even more so towards her, but still. “You don’t have to stop trying. You just need a different approach and we can help you find the right one. Do you like movies?” He suddenly remembered that. At her confused look, he continued. “Movies are scripts. Books. Visual. Do you find it easy to follow along with movies?”

She found it hard to believe him because no one really called her smart, ever. Y/N gave him a small smile and nodded her head, pushing pieces of hair away from her face before nodding and realizing she reversed the work she’d just done. He was a very nice man, it was clear that he was committed to helping her and it was definitely appreciated. She just didn’t know why he believed in her so much when no one else did?

“Well yeah... I can follow conversation and stuff.” Y/N let out a small chuckle, sniffling a bit before she continued. “I think another problem is I get too confused about things like.. the deeper meaning stuff in books. Like the themes and whatever you call it. Cause in my head I know what I think it means but then it’s meant to mean something else and then I think I just didn’t understand correctly.” Y/N was definitely more of a creative. She didn’t like following set rules, she liked going with the flow and following her own thing. It worked when it came to her music, she was able to focus then. But she taught herself guitar.

“I think that you need to first take the book at face value. Don’t look for the hidden meanings the first time you read because it will confuse you more.” Harry cleared his throat. She smelled really good. Like peaches and citrus. He wondered if her bed smelled like that, but stronger.

“Tell me some things you like.” He leaned back into the seat. “Things you think we can connect to projects. You said you’re in a band? Have a band?” He remembered that from last time. At her nod he continued. “You can find a song or make a playlist of songs that connect your head to the book. Say... Romeo and Juliet. Hmm.. check yes Juliet, We The Kings. If you’ve heard of that. You can find songs that help you remember.”

“Yeah, I’m in a band.” Y/N nodded her head a bit at him, “it’s like a indie punk thing...” She wasn’t sure what kind of music he listened to but he seemed young enough to think that indie music was good. Who knows, maybe he was one of those jazz guys with all the sweaters he wears. Y/N wasn’t one to judge though. The check yes Juliet reference made her chuckle, remembering middle school and highschool momentarily. He couldn’t be that much older then. “Yeah, I know that song.” She giggled and shook her head, “but yeah, I understand.” She spoke and took note of that in her mind. Y/N didn’t know how she was meant to explain to him that she spent the rest of her free time doing drugs. Tripping and writing music, hanging out with her kitty. That’s about it. Skating, going out in nature. Fucking. She definitely was a bit of a nympho. She assumed it was because of her need for attention.

“Okay. That’s good then. Use that to try and correlate.” He had felt weird watching her leave the room, seemingly in a better mood than she had been before but still nervous. It didn’t help that he hadn’t gotten laid and didn’t really want to have sex with someone else right now. God, if only he could spread her open and dip his cock into her soft cunt. That’s something he was dreaming of.

He thought about it the next night too. So, with his bored and needy thoughts, he went home and did his chores he needed to do, before he went to lay in his bed with his laptop. To be honest. Most porn didn’t do it for him. He much preferred erotic writing or even more so, cam girls. Sex workers deserved support and he always tipped well, though rarely talking in any of them. He was scrolling down the alternative tab when he found what he was looking for. Tattoos and plump lips, tits for a profile photo and a tongue sticking out. Interesting— and she was live.

He just never expected the exact woman in his head to be placed on the screen, smoke coming from her mouth.

Fuck.

Y/N wasn’t exactly sure how she thought about starting camming but it all sort of just fell into place. She started off just selling her nudes and videos for attention and money but then she realized that people would pay really good money to watch live stuff. It’s a good thing too because Y/N loved being watched. Her cams were usually regularly scheduled, but other times they were spontaneous because she was really horny. bbybunnie was her username, most people just called her pet names though, never by her actual name for obvious security reasons. She had quite the following too. People seemed to love her content. She was fun and bubbly and she felt like she put in a great show both literally and physically. Y/N had just done a bong rip, having her windows open to let the smoke out. She didn’t like smoking around Jinx so she’d let her in once she was properly stoned. She was dressed in a black crop top that said princess on it in gothic font, fishnets, and little black panties.

“Been really stressed lately with college and stuff...” Y/N answered a previous question as to what she’d been up to. “Working on assignments in stuff but it gets hard.” She pouted, turning her head when she heard Jinx scratching at the door. “One second.” She giggled and went to grab Jinx, leaving the door open so she could roam. “Here she is, say hi to everyone.” Y/N cooed in a baby voice. It was quite the sight. An alternative girl all soft with her cat, just starting the broadcast. Her vibrator was clearly in frame, already plugged in. A subscriber bought a heavy duty one for her.

And Harry should have clicked off. Right away, he should have exited the screen and said ‘gotta go’ because this was his student. His student he tutored and had fucking come on here to jerk off to a look alike. But he couldn’t. Not finally getting a look at her body. Soft and curved and delicious. Her tits strained the tank top and little tiny panties, some fishnets. Jesus fucking Christ. He let out an audible moan as he watched her sit back on the bed, talking back and forth with some of the comments.

He wasn’t sure what made him comment.

DaddyH: you look beautiful. I love the fishnets.

She did. And he loved them. A lot of the comments were dirtier but not to the point he could see it turning a woman on. He didn’t get an associates in sexology for nothing.

Y/N was pretty good with responding to comments, they were paying after all, but a lot of them were much nicer than most would think. Her community was used to her streams taking a bit to get going because she liked to get super horny, so once she was properly high she usually talked with her comments about things she’s been fantasizing about and what they’d like to see her do.

DaddyH. He was new.

“Hi daddyh, thank you! You’re new aren’t you?” Y/N said with an excited smile, she liked newcomers. It meant someone was interested in her. “Well we’ve got a special show on our hands then.” Her viewers loved when new people came because the shows were always better. She was visibly hornier. She shifted a little bit so she was leaning farther back on her pillows, bringing her legs up and out so she was spreading like a little butterfly. Of course the panties kept things covered but not much. Y/N pulled them up so they were tight on her, “Gotta get me real wet first, yeah?” She hummed, “love knowing you’re watching me... love when you tell me what you like...” It was strategic to talk dirty as if she was talking to one specific person.

Fuck shit motherfucker. Fuck.

Harry didn’t even see her pussy fully yet and he was nearly drooling. What the fuck had he done in what past life to get this type of luck? He wasn’t sure but he did know that whatever he did, he was thankful. He got a good look at her, her lusty eyes. He was a dirty talker. He loved to sex— fuck the English teacher in him. He loved making women a mess of whines and slick and speaking their darkest fantasies into their ears as the writhe underneath him. Y/N would be a fun one to play with. For sure.

DaddyH: you could play over the panties. They’re cute.

He had a thing for panties and fishnets, and she was going right to his kinks.

“But that’s no fun.” Y/N pouted at the comment, wiggling her panties a little bit so she could rub against her clit some. She let out a tiny moan and hummed, letting her hands move up her body to squeeze her tits through her shirt. She was properly eye fucking the camera too, teasing as she started to pull up her shirt. “I’m frustrated, daddy...” Usually she waited till she got a certain number of tips before she took her clothes off, but she was only a few dollars away so she pulled off her shirt revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The tightness of the tank top kept them up, but these men seemed to love natural tits. Her hand slipped down to start rubbing over her clit over top her panties, letting out little breathy moans of pleasure. “Really want to be fucked...” She explained, “Wanna be full...” Y/N pouted and quickened her pace.

“Bent over a desk.”

Harry had a big oak desk he could bend her over and absolutely destroy her. If that’s something she would want. Harry would wreck her. His hand palmed Over his cock as he took her in and looked at her tits. He was an everything man but tits? He could happily suck on hers for an hour and make marks all over, just to listen to her mewl and feel her on his tongue. He squeezed over his sweatpants, feeling himself heat up as he watched her. She was topless, his student. His student was topless and rubbing her clit over tiny little panties, giving a pout and looking at the camera too fucking similar to the way she looked at him in his office today. And while his rational mind knew he wouldn’t be able to look at her the same— he would want to fuck her even more than he had— he couldn’t stop watching.

It was clear that Y/N’s interactions with Harry had spilt over into her mind while she was getting into it. It was that intense stare that he had, his ringed hands, of course there was also the tone of his voice. How he asked her to look at him that one time. She could only imagine him asking her much rougher and in a deeper voice.

“Daddy...” She whimpered out, teasing her own self over her panties as she read over the comments. Y/N giggled are some, loving he praise if men calling her cute and telling her she was pretty and her moans were turning them on. She went and took off her panties cause she really couldn’t take it anymore, revealing her fishnet covered cunt. “Want a better view, hmm?” Y/N smirked, moving to rip them right over the crotch so everyone could see. “I’m so fuck wet for you... look..” She said all excited, pulling her fingers back to show the strings of wetness on her fingers.

Harry was in heaven. Truly. Or hell, because he wasn’t able to be the one ripping the fishnets up and fucking her in them. Her thighs looked soft and delicate and probably so easily bruised. He could do some incredible work down there.

DaddyH: Lick it clean, sweetheart. I know it’s sweet.

There was no way she wasn’t so sweet that his teeth would fill with cavities. No way. He wanted her taste all over his tongue. He was a very giving dom, very much eager to make his lovers cum again and again and again so long as they complied with his soft rules. It wasn’t difficult.

Y/N’s stomach filled with warmth as she read over the comment, bringing her fingers to her mouth and sucking on them properly as if they were a cock. She was starting to like the Daddyh character. He was so sweet and polite in his choice of words, paid well. What was there not to like? She removed her fingers from her mouth giggling a little bit as she decided to show off some more. Y/N pushed the laptop back a bit, turning so they could see her ass and how she arched her back for them relieving that she’d had a butt plug in the whole time. Sleek and black with a little gem at the end. A lot of the things she had were gifts from subscribers. She had an Amazon wishlist specifically set up for them as well as a regular P.O. Box that then routed to her home. She had tons of back up fishnets, some used ones she sold online as well. Lots of other things. She quite enjoyed it.

When did she put that in? Harry needed to know. Was she wearing that when she was sat on his fucking couch? He would surely lose his goddamn mind if that was the case.

He tipped her $50, asking the question he needed the answer to.

DaddyH: Have you been wearing that all day, pretty girl?

The idea of her squirming in class occurred to him. And then the idea of a little vibrator inside of her that he had the remote to, pressing it on to see her reactions. He would buy her one, fuck. He would buy this girl anything if it meant getting to see her squirm and hear her beg him to let her cum.

Y/N wiggled her bum a bit, turning on her back again with a hum. “I’ve been wearing it all day...” She nodded, reaching over for her vibrator because she really couldn’t wait anymore. Everyone who streamed her knew she was impatient, sometimes if they paid a good amount she’d wait and tease herself first but she was needy today. She just kept thinking about professor Styles. “‘m so needy... been so horny lately, might be on for a while.” Y/N blushed, “or I’ll film some special requests on my onlyfans...” She smirked because she knew she would get lots of money for men begging her to stay but loads for custom content too. Y/N turned the vibrator on it’s lowest setting, starting to move it down on to her cunt where she let out a pleaser sigh. “I wanna cum so bad... just wanna cum.” She pleaded, reading to see what everyone was saying. Y/N turned it up a few notches, letting out a content sigh as she moved it over a specific spot. The feeling was indescribable and the noises that left her just showed how relieved she was.

Harry nearly fell over. Her ass was stuffed when she sat on his couch— and it wasn’t from his cock. Harry particularly loved anal, it was a very hot thing to him and the fact she hadn’t been warming his cock like that was near criminal. Truly.

“Sweet Jesus.” He breathed, finally taking himself out of his pants. Spitting thick on to the head, he spread it over his cock and waited for her to continue. She had an onlyfans? He would be subscribing and buying content. He didn’t give a fuck. He wanted it and it would be the best way to keep her close but far. He was watching how her legs trembled and her mouth fell open at the feeling, her body arching into the buzzing of the vibrator. Oh, how he would hold it against her and finger her until she squirted all over the bed and make her clean it up with her tongue. He was a sexual man but kinky more than anything. The idea of it all... it was so hot and wrong and taboo and it was even better in his cock’s mind that she was a no go zone. Made it hotter.

DaddyH: you’ve got such a pretty pussy. How many times can you cum?

Y/N read his comment and let out a whine, turning up the vibrator a few settings higher once again so she could get even closer to her brink of orgasm. “Let’s find out.” She breathed out and continued to crank up the settings. The closer she got the more she thrashed and bucked her hips both up and away from the vibrator. She was very enjoyable to watch she’s been told, specifically because she just couldn’t keep her mouth shut and that she was willing to take a lot. Y/N must have sat there for a few hours just making herself cum over and over again, both with the vibrator and the dildo she had. Once she was all fucked out, 5 orgasms deep, she just laid there and watched the comments roll in. She giggled at a few, breathing heavily as she slowly walked herself down from the blissful headspace she was in. “Thank you, I’m feeling so much better...” Y/N cooed, giving them a smile. “Have a good day or night!” And with that she’d logged off, happy that she had made a new regular.

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

[part 2]

A/N: bet you weren’t expecting that huh? 😈 and yes!! punk!y/n - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #professor!harry #professor!h #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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jenomark · 4 years ago

Text

PART 3: XIAOJUN, THE EATER

➔Pairing: Lucas x Reader (Female) | Xiaojun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Hendery ➔Genre: Smut (+ angst, + fluff, + plot) ➔Warnings: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for people with eating disorders or food issues. Food is mentioned a lot in this one, as food is Xiaojun’s kink. If that makes you uncomfortable, I would suggest skipping this part. Oral (female). Angst. Obsessive behavior. Honestly, I realize how uncomfortable this series is to read because it touches on a lot of serious issues involved around sex. Read with caution. ➔Word count: 4,656

➔Summary: You don’t know what you do. You don’t even know who you are. Some would call you a whore. Some would refer to you as a sex worker. All of your clients would say you’re damn good at your job.

MASTERLIST

“Yeah, right there...that’s good...keep going..yeah, right there.”

You set the couch down on your side with a thud. Lucas set his side down softly and stood back to get a good look at his new purchase. Well, it wasn’t just his purchase, but yours, too. To him, it was the family couch, the very thing that would bind the two of you together into holy matrimony land.

“It looks perfect in here,” he said. “Really ties the room together.”

You were on the verge of sniggering- and it was too late for you to retract any trace of amusement -when Lucas looked up and asked what you found so funny. He looked disappointed, which made you feel a twinge of guilt.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.” you said, letting the humor slide from your face. “It’s just....Lucas, you never care about how the room looks. We’ve always made fun of people like that.”

“I do care.” he said. “Every time you walk into a room, suddenly, everything looks more beautiful.”

“Okay. That was really cheesy.”

Lucas laughed, dissolving any of the guilt you would have let fester. His smile was wide, his eyes twinkling and bright. “You’re right. I don’t know what has gotten into me.”

He had The Look in his eye. Before he could suggest that you break the couch in with a hot round of sex, you told him you were on your period. His face fell, and for just a moment, you began to feel bad again. The lies were getting easier lately, but there was something about this particular one that felt traitorous. He wasn’t the type of guy to root through the trash to find tampon wrappers as evidence. He was doing his part as the idiot boyfriend, but you, you were going to push things too far.

Fuck him on the couch, you tried to convince yourself. He’s your maybe fiance. Maybe.

An awkward silence passed. Lucas spun around and took a careful seat on the new couch. His big body sunk into the cushions in a way that hugged him better than you could. He groaned happily and looked so smug that he had made a good choice. Good job. Good girlfriend. Good couch. He patted the seat next to him and waited for you to join him.

“I should actually get going.” you said, wishing desperately that you sounded apologetic.

Expecting it, Lucas stood up. “I’ll drive you.”

His quick movements startled you. He stepped forward, as if it was already decided. You wouldn’t be able to convince him that you didn’t need a ride, which is how you ended up sitting in his passenger seat, your knees knocked together, and your bag clutched tightly to your chest. So, he wasn’t the type to root through the trash, but it seemed like he was looking through you, instead.

“Where am I driving to today?” he asked. He stuck his key in the ignition. He opened the window and inhaled the air, like it was the first time he was breathing. “I’m free. You could ditch your friends and drive around with me, like we used to.”

You smiled to yourself when all the memories resurfaced. Whenever you and Lucas got into arguments, you didn’t let it draw on for hours. He suggested you take a car ride together. He would drive, and you would sit in silence until he made you laugh like clockwork. You always wound up somewhere secluded, you sitting on the hood of his car and him apologizing for whatever he did. On the rare occasion, you were the one apologizing, offering him your body on whatever surface was publicly available.

“But we’re not arguing.” you said. “Why else would we need to take a ride?”

Lucas looked over at you. You could see all of the questions in his eyes, the way he turned his head so he wouldn’t have to ask them. “Right. I guess there is no need, then.”

He took your hand and held it between you and him. You thought of the couch being wedged between you, and now the console. If Lucas was able to read minds, he would read all of the things you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize for. About the job. About the ring. About all the walls you were building around yourself to keep him out.

Lucas dropped you off in front of a bakery. You said you were meeting an old friend, which was true, but it was the only truth.

You walked a few blocks away from where Lucas dropped you off. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You kept looking over your shoulder, peering into windows of passing cars to make sure Lucas wasn’t in one of them. You probably looked as crazy as you felt.

As you arrived at your destination, you got a text message from Lucas. You looked around one more time before diving into your phone.

Lucas: Text me before you come home. I’d like to clean up the place before you get in. Love you so much.

You: Love you.

You stowed your phone back into your bag and looked up at the restaurant you had stopped in front of. The sign hanging from an iron hook was hard to read, but you had been coming there for a long time, and you didn’t need a sign to know you were at the right place. The door swung open, a little tinkling bell alerting everyone in the near vicinity that a customer had left. The person held the door open for you, so you did a little jog to get inside.

You didn’t normally like buffets, and you definitely didn’t like little hipster buffets nestled between chic coffee houses and insurance agencies. On the outside, it looked a bit like a cafe; it was so nondescript. On the inside, it was anything but. Besides the unsettling minimalism on the walls, everything else was chaotic. The first room, the dining room, was full of mismatched chairs: bean bags, beach chairs, stools of various sizes, and the random childs tricycle seat. Each table looked like it had been thrifted from different cafes and upscale restaurants. If you were a tourist looking for a place to eat and you had walked in, you would surely walk right back out.

“Is he here?” you asked the hostess waiting at the front. She stood at a podium made of discarded cutlery.

“Punctual as always,” she said. “Talking to the servers, no doubt scaring away the customers. You know how he is.”

You thanked her and glided through the dining room, avoiding the eyes of the people eating. It was rude to stare as someone ate, and if he saw you staring, it would turn him off. He was all about manners of every kind.

You found him at the serving station, standing between each table talking to the man who owned the place. His back was turned to you, his small frame handsome, even from behind. You gandered at the food on display. There were so many options gathered in one place; a taste of the city, if the city ate with childrens cutlery shaped like zoo animals.

You stood and waited for him to stop speaking. You looked down at your heels, the patent leather shiny and new. The dress you wore was skin tight and left very little to the imagination. Tan, so as not to hurt his sensitive eyes. You thought you looked like a cheap whore trying to look expensive, but it was always less about the clothes, and more about being able to see every curve of your body. With him, unlike with Lucas, nothing was hidden from sight.

You were surprised Lucas hadn’t asked who you were dressing up for, but he was so oblivious to fashion, that he probably assumed you and your friends were trying to out-pretty eachother. As long as you didn’t leave the house wearing designer clothes, your boyfriend would hardly notice a thing. Even if he did, you knew he’d never say anything about it.

As if feeling you standing near him, he stopped speaking and turned toward you. He searched your eyes, his lips wondering whether or not they should pull up into a smile.

“You’re late.” he mouthed.

You smiled apologetically, meaning it.

Xiaojun. If happiness was a face, it belonged to him. He was always smiling, always making friends wherever he went. Everyone loved him, and it was a genuine love. You started to believe that he collected people like one would collect hats, and that maybe you were one of those lucky people. He told you once that he had to smile and talk to everybody, or they would talk about him first.

Xiaojun excused himself and made his way across the room. You gave him your cheek, bending down a little because he was shorter than you, and he kissed it. Xiaojun didn’t love public displays of affection. He took your hand and started introducing you to the new foods the restaurant was bringing into their daily mix. For Xiaojun, it would be the highlight of his day.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

You nodded excitedly, but your insides felt like knotting up. You had purposely not eaten for this moment, knowing what was required of you. Yet, your appetite was anything but big.

“Good,” he said. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I’ll whip you up a plate, love.”

You went and found a table surrounded by child-sized chairs someone would find in a doctors office. Xiaojun would find it funny to see your larger, adult body in a chair too small for you. You sat, checked your teeth in a mirror and pulled out your phone to check your messages. When you were with other clients, you would never dare check your phone, but Hendery’s texts were coming in so frequently that you didn’t have a choice.

Hendery: I miss you.

Hendery: I’m bored.

Hendery: Can we fuck later?

Hendery: I saw this program earlier and it reminded me of you.

Hendery: So, I was thinking.....

You put your phone away as Xiaojun turned the corner. He had three plates of food: one plate in each hand, and another balancing on his forearm. Like a pro, he set them down on your side of the table without spilling anything.

“Good choice of seats.” he said, sitting down.

There wasn’t any food in front of him. You looked down at the food in front of you and felt the knots in your stomach tightening. Xiaojun didn’t let any of the food touch, but the plates were still full of steak, fish, potatoes and rice. You took a napkin off the table and folded it over your lap.

“You look pretty today.” he said.

“Thank you.” you said, careful to keep your manners up to par.

You picked up your plastic shark fork and started eating. Rice first, veggies next. You ate slowly, chewing thoughtfully, looking up at Xiaojun after swallowing each bite. His head was leaning on his hand, and he had a dreamy look in his eyes.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, smiling. “Is it me? Have I done something?”

“No!” you were quick to say. You took a sip of water to wash the food down. “I have some things going on in my personal life.”

“Ah, it’s like that.”

“Yeah,” you said. “But this food is really good, and I can’t imagine sharing my company with anyone else in the world.”

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

You shoveled more rice into your mouth, closing your mouth to mind your manners. You didn’t speak until it was all chewed and swallowed. “ I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Xiaojun, you know you’re my favorite.”

He didn’t believe it and neither did you, but it was the fantasy that kept you going. Xiaojun leaned back in his chair and watched you devour two full plates. As you got to your third, you could see the lust in his eyes. You turned to the side so he could see how bloated your belly was.

“Still hungry?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“Yes, very.” you said. “I’m famished.”

You finished the third plate of food. Xiaojun went up to get you a plate of dessert, which meant that you didn’t have to pretend much anymore. You felt like vomiting from all the consumption. You sat back in your chair as much as you could and kicked your legs out until you were almost laying horizontal.

Eating. It was Xiaojun’s thing. He never ate himself, and in the beginning, you wondered if food was an issue for him. He opened up on the second date, eating a morsel for himself before feeding you the rest of what he had ordered. For Xiaojun, it was more about the care. If he fed you, he cared about you. He loved nothing more than to get you food (always paying for it, of course) and watch you pig out. Seeing you so stuffed turned him on, and if your belly was a little swollen, he would get an instant hard-on.

You never knew about certain kinks until you were welcomed into the sex industry. Someone like Xiaojun might have scared you off if you were still green, but meeting him as an experienced worker helped the both of you. Xiaojun became a client, as well as a friend. And your relationship was even better, because it was him who had introduced you to people like Ten. Deep down, you also liked to care for others.

Xiaojun came back with a chocolate lava cake made special by the kitchen. He set it down in front of you like he had set down a solid bar of gold. You looked at the cake like he might as well had. Xiaojun paid very well, so it was easy to keep acting.

“I didn’t think you were that hungry,” he said. “One is enough. I don’t want you bursting at the seams, love.”

He sat down in his seat. He clapped his hands excitedly and picked up a utensil with a dolphin on the end. He would be feeding you for the grand finale. Xiaojun picked up a chunk and watched the chocolate dribble out onto the plate. In other scenarios, you would have wiped your finger in the pooling chocolate and brought it straight to your lips, but he wouldn’t have liked that. You opened your mouth and kept your hands by your side. Xiaojun stuck the utensil in your mouth. You chewed the piece, the chocolate too rich for you to truly enjoy.

When he saw that you had a chocolate morsel hanging from the corner of your lip, Xiaojun got out of his chair and kissed you clean. It was the only instance where public displays of affection and good manners were completely forgotten.

You felt so full of food as you left the restaurant. You wobbled a little in your heels as you walked. Xiaojun had his hand on your back, and he was checking on you to make sure you were okay. He kept looking at the bloat in your stomach, which meant that he was ready for sex. A car couldn’t come fast enough for him.

“I know I ask too much of you,” he said. “But we should do this more often. I really like spending time with you.”

“I like spending time with you, too.”

You leaned down to kiss him. No tongue, just a peck. When you pulled away, Xiaojun had hearts in his eyes. You’ve always wanted to ask him why he didn’t just get a girlfriend who he could feed and fuck. He was a very attractive man, with a heart of gold. He didn’t have to be alone. You never got around to asking him because you began to understand why someone would live like that. What you and him did was an escape, and that escape was untouchable. Inviting anyone else in would change everything, and change is what you hated most.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Thank you.” you said, feeling bashful.

You looked at your feet before looking down the street for the car. It should have been there by now. You inspected the area. People were going in and out of cars, some rushing to get inside buildings and out of the heat of the sun. No one was stopping to watch life, no one caring about anything other than their own busy lives. You kept searching and searching for some sign that life could slow down, and that’s when you saw him: Hendery.

“What the fuck.” you whispered.

Hendery was standing across the street. He was watching you with Xiaojun. He looked like his heart was being torn in two in real time, the agony on his face displayed for all of the pedestrians.. Before you could make a move, he was leaving the area.

You turned to Xiaojun. “Stay right here. I’ll be back. Please don’t leave without me.”

“Is everything okay?” Xiaojun asked.

“Yeah,” you said, walking. “Everything is just great.”

You didn’t know why leaving Xiaojun and chasing down Hendery seemed like the best idea. He looked so upset, which really shouldn’t have been your problem. Outside of the bedroom, Hendery was not your responsibility. But you had told him your whole life story, and you didn’t know how capable he was of tracking down a vet assistant named Lucas, and telling him all about you like he was some scorned lover.

“Hendery!” you called.

You could see him up ahead. You crossed the street. Once you hit the sidewalk, you started running as much as your heels allowed. Your feet hurt like hell, but you had to reach him before he did anything hasty.

“Will you just stop,” you yelled, coming up behind him. He was ignoring you. “You’re not making this easy for me, Hendery.”

Hendery stopped so suddenly that you almost collided with him. You turned to see if Xiaojun was watching, but thankfully, he wasn’t.

“Do you love him?” Hendery asked, spitting out the word love like it was dirty.

“What?” you asked. “Are you playing the part of the jealous lover now? I’m at work, Hendery. You know what I do for a living. You’ve hired me before, remember? ”

“You’re right,” Hendery said. “I’m sorry”

He started walking again. You followed behind, turning the corner with him. You didn’t have time to react before he was kissing you and pushing you up against the wall of a bank. His hands were all over your body. You pushed them out from going underneath your dress. You covered the bloat of your stomach.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “When I see you, I just…”

“It’s fine.” you said, trying to regain the upper hand.

A year or two ago there was a client who had fallen so deeply in love with you that he kept following you everywhere. He would show up when you were out with Lucas, which really made things complicated. You didn’t want to get the police involved, but Lucas insisted that no weirdo could keep harassing his girlfriend. Lucas never found out why the client did what he did, or that you had led him on for the sake of money.

“I think I should stop seeing you,” Hendery said. “You’re all I think about and it’s not healthy.”

Since taking his virginity, you saw Hendery multiple times. You never went back to your real home, but instead found hotels to fuck in. His sexual prowess had improved through practice. He was easily making you come twice a night when you were with him. It wasn’t the sex that had done it for him, though. You had started to relax your friendship with him, choosing to keep things business-only. As you did that, he started trying to get you to come a little closer again. The more you resisted, the more obsessed Hendery became.

“Sleep on the decision,” you said. “If you still feel the same way I-”

You didn’t know what else to say. There was part of you that didn’t want to lose the extra income that Hendery gave you. He was also easier to deal with when his emotions weren’t involved, and you really saw a future as friends with him.

“I don’t think I should talk to you again.” he said, his eyes avoiding yours. “I’ll never stop falling for you, and I should have known that everything you said was a lie.”

You thought about defending yourself, but Xiaojun had turned the corner and his eyes were going from you, to Hendery.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.” Hendery said. “Take this.” He dug around in his pockets and pulled out a few bills. He stuck them in the collar of your dress, which made you feel lower than you had felt in awhile.

You were in Xiaojuns bed, and he was in between your legs eating you out. He was good at it, but your mind was too far away and you couldn’t appreciate how tender he was being. You reached down to touch his hair as he sucked on your clit. You blinked away your thoughts and moaned on command. Oral sex was all you and Xiaojun ever did together, so he was bound to realize something was awry.

“Is it the boy?” Xiaojun asked, coming up for air. He kissed your inner thigh. “The one in front of the bank? The one that treated you rudely?”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m sorry I’m not responsive. If you want your money back, I’ll understand.”

Xiaojun set his chin on your lower tummy. Your legs were over his shoulder, and your body was propped up by a pillow so you could see everything he was doing. He said, “Watching you stuff yourself was more than enough for me, love.”

You were thankful when Xiaojun got up and handed you your panties. You slid them on and sat on his bed, your dress still sitting like a tight ring around your waist. No client had ever gotten to you so much that they affected another.

“He caught feelings?” Xiaojun asked. He looked down at his cock. He was still hard. “Not hard to do with you.”

“Something like that.” you said, feeling sorry for Hendery. For Xiaojun. For Lucas. For yourself.

“Don’t take it personally,” Xiaojun said. “He just likes the idea of you. You probably fucked him better than any of his girlfriends ever did.”

“He was a virgin.”

Xiaojun sighed. “That explains it. He’ll move on. You’ll see.”

But will I move on? You thought. You didn’t have feelings for Hendery, but in the shortest amount of time, he was so ingrained in your life that it was hard to let him go. Normally, when clients moved on, you counted your lucky stars. This time, you didn’t know which part to mourn first.

“He gave me money for talking to me, like I’m some whore,” you said. “I think that’s what hurts the most.”

“People do crazy things when they’re hurt.” Xiaojun said.

You laid back on Xiaojuns bed. He laid back with you, his face angled towards yours. His breath was sweet. You thought about kissing him then and there, but he didn’t feel like a paying client, and you didn’t want to make the moment any more weird than it was.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat me out some more?” you asked. “Or I can fuck your face? You always like it when I fuck your face.”

Xiaojun laughed. “That, I do.”

Before going back to Lucas, you stopped at your apartment and changed clothes. You had finally found Ten’s blanket hidden in the hordes of laundry you still had to do. After putting on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, you walked around the apartment, thinking about how you should make it more inhabitable and finally move in, once and for all. You could cut one place out and make room in your crazy life for something else.

There wasn’t much distance between your faux apartment and Lucas’. You could walk there, which is exactly what you decided to do. Since it wasn’t that far, there was no reason you couldn’t make the lie more believable. Besides, you were getting tired of going to so many places at once.

You pulled out your phone and pulled up Lucas’ name. You took a deep breath before you texted him.

You: on my way home..it’s a beautiful night for a walk.

Lucas: You’re walking? I’ll come get you. Let me know where you are.

You: NO....clean like you wanted..knowing you, the place is a mess ; )

Lucas: Okay, but be careful. There are a lot of crazy people out there. A lot of freaks.

You walked the way home thinking about all your little freaks. Each one fit into your life in a box, stored away in your messy closet of a mind. Eventually, you figured they would either sort themselves out, or you’d be around long enough to watch every box tumble down to the floor, their contents spilling out for the world to see.

You hadn’t seen Ten since the last time. He mentioned how he had gotten a partner, said he would call you when they both wanted you around for a little fun.

Hendery texted you one last “I’m sorry.” after you left Xiaojun for the night. You stared at the screen for far too long, trying to think of something to say. Instead, you just deleted the message and kept it moving.

Xiaojun was so sweet after you left. He gave you the biggest hug and told you everything would work out if you let it. It all had to start with you. You wanted to believe it.

You made it to Lucas’ apartment in ten minutes, out of shape and out of breath. You stood on the steps, just listening to the life of the city, before going inside. You trudged up the steps to the sound of music coming from inside of the apartment. You opened the door and were met with candles and a record player, and Lucas on one knee.

“I know what this looks like,” he said. “It’s not what you think.”

“It looks like a proposal.” you said, your heart beating fast in your chest.

Lucas smiled. “Would you want to marry me?”

You didn’t answer because you didn’t know what to say. Lucas looked down at the little box he held in his hands. He got off his knees and stood up, his body casting shadows on the walls.

“I’ll take that as a no.” he said.

“We’re too young,” you said. “But I do love you, Lucas.”

You expected him to put the box away and break up with you. After all, what girlfriend rejects a proposal before it even happens. But Lucas just smiled and shook his head, as if your reaction was totally expected. He held the box out to you and opened it. Instead of a ring, inside was a silver key.

“I want you to move in with me,” he said.” And then, when you feel like we’re old enough, I’d like to make you an honest woman.”

Honest woman? How apt, you thought.

You looked down at the key. There were so many questions swimming in your mind: A key? Where is the ring I saw? What the fuck is going on? But they were all swept away with the tide when you nodded, a single agreement sealing everything. Lucas came and lifted you off your feet.

“Now,” he said. “Let's make passionate love on our new couch. I don’t care if you’re on your period.”

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onelastbreath-writes · 4 years ago

Text

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic. It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

#triple frontier #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x you #Pedro Pascal #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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bitterbetterbun · 4 years ago

Text

I had the strangest dream last night:

I love this world, this realm. I smile to myself because it feels so nice to walk amongst the theaters I so love. Even though there are no performances right now. I meet up with some friends and we take a train to the Dark City. I'm excited to start a new job I just landed.

Some of my family members work in the Dark City so it'll be nice to know some people. Maybe we'll be in the same division! Superstition keeps a lot of people out of the Dark City but the benefits and wages are really tough to compete with. And yet, they are always hiring! Great for a young adult like myself trying to save.

On my first day, during orientation, my friends and I are interrupted at lunch. Two figures dressed in black demand I come with them. I do so and oh boy, how I wish I hadn't. They take me to him. To Hades. I'd never met the keeper of the city but the rumors got it wrong. He isn't menacing. He's fucking rude. I cannot tell him enough during our first meeting that my name is not Persephone. I understand I have a connection to her, yes, past lives and such. But that does not make her "written fate" the same as mine. I leave.

Though I return to the Dark City the next day with my friends. Despite his annoying confrontation, I need this job. And yet, he needs an answer other than "hell no." I find that I am weaving through out crowds to avoid the people he sends to persuade me to meet with him again. I am constantly avoiding him. I mean constantly. I even run into him a few times at the Tower elevators and I yell "leave me alone!" as I run in the opposite direction, middle fingers up. What kind of weirdo wears a fucking black cape in today's day and age anyways?

One of my friends already working in the Tower sees me avoiding Hades' men and says "maybe you should think about it." I stop and turn to watch her mop and she shrugs and laughs, "That's all I'm sayin'."

A few days proceed and I'm finally done with training! My next shift, I'll be on the clock! To celebrate, I am relaxing with my friends and family at a park in the Dark City. I ask my Dad what he thinks of the whole ordeal. He tells me to do what makes him happy. This annoys me but I love him. I spend the night at a friend's house mulling over how hard my family is working...and them too... If we all had the proper support in a society like this, maybe we wouldn't all have to work so damn hard all the time...

The next day, I set my things down on the Tower's top floor and go to greet Hades' men. They take me to him. He is in his office, "Have you decided to stop being petulant?"

"Have you decided to learn to act like a gentleman?"

He stands, "Your answer?"

"I will consider...marriage."

I swore I heard a small sigh of relief but I can't say for sure. He approaches me and says "come with me." I follow him down the hall. As if everyone had been prepared for this, some of Hades' staff adorn me with a white cape that matches his black. I think it looks silly because I'm wearing...normal clothes but everyone else seems to approve. I let it slip even though I hadn't given a full "yes."

Hades tells me I must accompany him for the day "as is tradition." I start to deny the offer because this is my first day of work! But he declines my decline and says we will continue our conversation after the work day.

The day creeps by, me boredly pacing behind Hades as he visits different parts of the Tower in the Dark City. I stop to talk to all of my friends that I see. And Hades does not hesitate to voice his annoyance with me holding up his busy busy schedule. I retort with some insult and continue to say hi to everyone. I'm sure I've halved his tasks for the day with the amount of times I stop to chat excitedly with family. I run into one of my moms and talk a bit about whether I am making the best decision. (We are out of earshot btw). She takes a puff of her blunt and says, "Does he have money?" And I say, "He's one of the three kings! Of course he has money!" And she laughs and nods in approval.

Hades asks me why I'm huffing when I return to his side and I tell him to fuck off. To which he responded about how I have no manners, some other things I'm not paying attention to. Near the end of the work day, he's stopped by a worker about something and tells me to "move freely" about the Tower as he finishes up something by himself. I take the very welcome opportunity to go say hello to my friends on the factory floor. It's 2:57pm, three minutes to close. Everyone looks exhausted but I am just happy to see their faces. I start to think about my decision.

Man. Six months here and six months out, huh? I mean, there is the Dark City, which allows me to see my friends and family outside of the Underworld at any time of year. So long as they come. But I still cannot leave. I want to save up to move somewhere sunny... I am grateful for the opportunities that the creation of the Dark City has given people that want to work for fair wages. "A deal with the devil" was a joke before but now, the Dark City brought that metaphor to life with it's sparkling benefits and high pay rates. You couldn't expect any less from a city bred from the Underworld itself.

Even so, even though Dark City was in the human realm.... I won't be able to travel away from it for six months every year.

My thoughts have me wandering to the elevators. I don't want to be in the Tower during close. I don't want to see my friends tired faces. I wonder if I could maybe leave before Hades and meet him when he's done. I'm certain one of his workers can escort me to his home. As I approach an elevator, I am surprised when I run into him. He doesn't speak on my obvious discomfort.

"I will collect my things from the lower floor and then we can leave together."

I enter the elevator with him and of course, there's no one around because it's closing time and everyone is busy wrapping up the day. "I left my things on the top floor," I say after Hades presses the bottom floor button. "I need to stick them in a locker, at least."

He sighs and says "very well" before pressing the top floor as well. The ride is long and quiet as we descend to his destination first. I feel...overwhelmed and exhausted and have no idea how I'm going to get through the evening. I plop onto the floor in the far corner of the elevator.

Hades looks at me and my crumpled cape for a few seconds and then, to my sudden surprise, he sighs and lowers himself in the corner furthest from me. He looks...awkward and uncomfortable from his crouched position on the floor. But it makes me smile inwardly. He is looking at the numbers on the elevator go down and starts saying them softly. "137...136...135...134..."

The trip passes like this, him hushing after speaking twenty or so floors aloud. By the time we reach the bottom, we are both on our feet. He steps out, expecting me to stay put but I follow him off. He is walking fast but I catch up because I have to ask him something...something important that can't wait. "Wh.." I catch my breath as I skip next to him. Him and his stupid long legs. "Why do you even want to marry me, huh?"

He stops. I continue.

"Is it cuz I'm 'Persephone' or because you think that you love me?"

He lets out an exasperated sigh and leans down in my face, "Let me assure you, I love you to bits. But I do not like you." He snarls the last bit and I am left angry and speechless as he swiftly walks away.

Back on the top floor, I collect my things and find a worker to help me get assigned a new locker. An older gay couple I met during training finds me and they rush to give me a hug. They explain they didn't wanna leave without saying goodbye and ask how the day went with "you know who."

I shrug and start to say something insulting... but then I remember the stress from the past week with being chased down. I recall Hades smart remarks and our arguments as I try to avoid him. And I recall him sitting across from me on the elevator floor, his boots wrinkling his black cape at the effort. I recall his "I love you to bits" and such...

"It went alright, actually." I look up at the couple, rubbing my stomach from the jitters that have made a home there because it's dawned on me that in less than an hour, I will be within Hades home making the biggest decision of my life. "Fuck."

One of the men in the couple adjusts his coat and looks at me with concern, "What's wrong, love?"

"I think I have a crush on him."

And then I woke up.

#mine #writings #writing #my writing #Hades #Dark City #The Dark City #Persephone

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conceptuaiizing · 4 years ago

Text

I did EAs job for them and created a hypothetical teen-centered game pack. (Complete with jobs, aspirations, and events!)

All of the credit for this goes to this amazing person: @silent-spirits The original post can be found on Reddit. THIS IS AMAZING.

Teens need more in-game. They basically are just adults who don't work and it's really sad. I think teens could be one of the best life stages to play but there as of now just isn't enough for them to do. So I tried to brainstorm some ideas for a game pack based on them. Would love to hear your thoughts! If you have more ideas please tell me!

I wanted the main selling point for this pack to be an all-new group of teen-only aspirations, jobs, events, and interactions. This focuses more on the gameplay between teens than it does their interactions with adults such as parenthood.

I realize I've put more in this game pack idea than most expansion packs but listen I'm desperate for teen content and I ain't stingy the more the merrier.

Also, I know a lot of this would be cool as a free update but I decided to still put it here because it fits the theme okay.

New School Option:

Private vs Public School

When your sim becomes a teen the guardian will choose to send them to either a private or a public school. I think its ridiculous a family making $1,000s a day each sends their kids to the exact same school as families pushing $1,000 max all together. Obviously it happens in some cases but not too often.

Sims going to private schools have to pay money to do so and wear uniforms. They also have higher chance of getting scouted by universities cause that's life ya know.

Sims going to public schools don't have to pay or wear a uniform. They have a lower chance of being scouted but as a result, have a higher chance of getting a full-ride when they are because they have lower incomes typically.

Sims from the two become rivals and will play each other in games and other events like in University

Teen Only Aspirations:

Valedictorian

Reward Trait: Overachiever

Must not only have an A in high school along with high mental skill but also must be involved in some social activity. This would boost mental and social skills as a teen and once they get the trait they get two benefits. First, they have a higher chance of getting into a distinguished degree program in discover university if you have it. Otherwise, it allows adult sims to choose the socialize option while at work and still gain not lose promotion progress as an overachiever would have mastered the balance of work and socializing.

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Prom Queen/King

Reward Trait: Social Royalty

Focuses on mostly social but also creative skills. Sims must be friends with at least 7 teens and introduce themselves to at least 15. They also have to gain skills specifically in painting and charisma because they would be campaigning as a Prom Queen/King to other teens. Allows them to create posters to put up around venues with the teen hangout trait and they have a new school interaction to "gather support" for their campaign. Ties into the new prom event and allows sims to ask a teen to be the person they run with.

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Mr / Miss Evans

Reward Trait: Sole Lead

Your sim better be ready to bop til they drop with this creative aspiration. This focuses on sims who wish to go into acting, comedy, or music careers. Basically anything involving the big stage. Your sim will need to gain skills in the social categories as well as acting and dancing. Ties into the new school rabbit hole play event where sims can try out after school as they need to get one lead role at least to complete the drama route. They must choose to either be in the play (drama), be in band (music), or being in an improv club (comedy). This allows teen sims to have various interactions with other teens like "discourage from trying out" or "bost about being the lead." Sims who specifically wish to pursue music can join the after school band event which will be at stadiums for performances. Sims with the Sole Lead trait having higher success in stage-related careers, getting into the distinguished drama degree, and can mentor sims in related skills as long as they are a higher level (they don't have to be maxed out)

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Mandatory Participant

Reward Trait: Fighter of the System

For sims who are only at school because its a legal requirement. Sims boost all skill categories in this aspiration but the main focus is mischief and athletism (as they need to escape and play pranks). Sims in this aspiration will skip school with friends, crash prom, and skip their graduation ceremony. They also can't have more than a B in their class and must have a part-time job. This is for sims who believe they don't need school and are able to learn everything themselves. Sims focus on learning skills from books and mentors as well as a part-time career. Sims with the Fighter of the System trait earn higher for freelance, plopsy, and programming jobs as they don't want to work for the man. They also will have a harder time befriending those in the politician and education careers.

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Future 1%

Reward Trait: Big Brain

These teens aspire to be like Elon Musk or Jeff Besos aka the top of the top. Focusing on mental and social skills sims must reach the highest rank of a part-time job in either office assistant, tech intern, or tutor. Sims must also max out at least one skill by the time they become a young adult. Sims who get the Big Brain trait will have a boost to career/degrees related to the law, engineering, technology, and business careers. They also earn a new interaction to "destroy a sim with facts and logic" in the mean category.

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Advisors Pet

Reward Trait: Flexible

These are for the teens who have absolutely zero idea about what they want to do in life. Sims in this aspiration will need to quit at least one part-time job for another, have 7+ in at last 3 skills, and need to have a best friend. Sims will also need to do interactions such as "ponder about future" and "ask sim future plans" to get ideas. Sims with the Flexible trait will not get upset if they switch careers/degrees and have the ability to switch their degree mid-semester, unlike other sims.

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Future "Influencer"

Reward Trait: Attention Wench

For your classic insufferable teens dead set on being the next biggest youtuber, steamer, or simstagram model. Social media is fully opened up to all teen-elders (you don't have to be in the social media career to get all the options) and teens will have to grind for the numbers. Sims also can do interactions such as "ask for shoutouts," "invite to be in video," or "ask if photoshop looks real." These sims don't care about school much and focus on building up social skills. Due to their constant social media grind, they often will annoy other sims and if they annoy another influencer they can get in a social media drama. If they complete the aspiration they get the Attention Wench trait which makes them less embarrassed, gives a bonus to social media success, and makes them more successful at apologizing because they simply made a serious and severe lapse in their judgment.

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Teen-Only Careers:

Office Assistant

Gain experience in social and mental skills by working in a local office. Levels include paperboy/girl, secretary, intern, and future hire. Sims who make it to the future hire level will get offered to join the business career and gain promotions easier immediately when they grow up which will start them 2 levels ahead. However, they lose this opportunity if they goto University.

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Tech Intern

Sims must have at least 3 levels in programming to apply for this job. Gain experience in programming and logic. There aren't any levels (just bonuses) and the higher the bonus the higher signing bonus they will get if they immediately join the programming career. Like the OA they lose the opportunity if they choose to go to Uni instead of being hired by the company.

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Tutor

Sims must have 5 levels in at least 3 skills to be eligible to become a tutor. Sims gain skills in charisma, research and debate, and writing while working. They also will befriend the student they are tutoring. Becoming a tutor will give sims a bonus to the Valedvitorian aspiration and will also boost them in applying for distinguished degrees.

Note

I wanted to add more careers but I felt there are so many that shouldn't be locked purely behind a teen age. So I figured id stick to careers that actually hold benefits for teens in the future than simple pocket money ones.

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Events:

Prom

-Prom is an event that takes place at a lounge venue during a teen's lifespan much to the nature of the talent show event. Your sim will get notified when Prom begins and they can choose between three options, skip prom, attend, or show up late to crash it. When your sim travels to the venue for Prom they will change into formal gear (unless they showed up later to crash it then they'd be in normal clothes or a special outfit your choice) and have goals like any other event. Other teens that your sim know will be there and the venue will only have teens minus any workers at the venue or chaperons.

-Sims can dance with their date (who they must ask out before prom), try and steal someone else's date (and risk a fight), dance with friends (in case they went alone), take pictures together, and a prom king and queen/king announcement will be made.

-If your sims there to crash it they can mess with the music, steal the food, and even get up on stage to crash the prom royalty announcement. If you go as far as crashing the announcement you will have a little timer that pops up which is your time to escape the venue before the chaperons get you. If you successfully leave without getting got you will have a crown in your inventory and will receive a confident moodlet. If you get caught you get no crown and your guardian is called giving the teen an embarrassed moodlet and the guardian an angry one. Both however result in getting suspended for one day (they stay home) as well as a drop in school performance.

-The day after prom your sim will get texts from their friends regarding prom. If your sim went it will be about what happened there or someone asking since they didn't go. If your sim chooses to crash it they will either get congratulated by their friends for having the guts to do it or the prom queen/king will text them angrily. If your sim didn't go the others will inform them about what happened.

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Graduation

Graduation is much like the one in University where you only get it if you get at least a C and it is a rabbit hole. Your sim can choose to go or skip both results in getting a high school diploma either way. If your sim goes they will show up to the stadium in their uniform with their family if they choose to and will disappear. During the graduation a few things will pop up asking for a choice such as "your friend's name has been called do you A) Scream loudly or B) Act natural" or "your walking to receive your diploma do you A) Do something crazy or B) Act natural." Afterward, your sim will have a confident/happy moodlet and so will whoever attends. They will have time to mingle with the other teens and their families before being asked if they wish to bring their friends over to their house for a party.

Venues

Stadium

-Where sims go for graduation and athletic careers

-Allows sims outside University to go to sports games

-Includes NPCs that are food vendors, players, etc.

-Can be large football stadiums or a small town local one

-If a game or graduation is not occurring sims can play soccer, football, lacrosse, etc with each other on the felid

-Band kids will go here for performances

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After School Activities

Plays

-Anyone can try out for the play (as an actor, tech, or designer) and it happens twice in a teen sims lifespan. If your sim is high enough in acting to get a call back they will be able to choose a specific role to try out for and have the chance of being an understudy if they are beat out. Sims who choose to apply for a tech role will get it instantly. Sims who apply for a designer must have at least a level 3 in painting to receive it.

-If a sim is in production, no matter what aspect they will have to go to practice daily. They also must practice on their own and can do so with others. During practice, they will meet other teens and improve on skills related to what they chose. Sims can also ask others to go watch the play.

-After the play, you will find out how well your sim did relating to how much they practiced/the level. Sims who did great will get a moodlet bonus while sims who didn't will get a negative moodlet. Sims who did poorly also have consequences. If they acted badly they cant apply for the lead in the next play, if their tech or design they won't be allowed to participate next play.

-The night of the play sims and whoever they invited will travel to it as a rabbit hole.

-Allows for sims in the acting branch to get scouted by a college scout and will receive a college scholarship potentially.

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Sports

-Sims can apply for a sports team in various sports.

-All are rabbit hole except for soccer, football, and lacrosse which can be played at the stadium for practice

-Adds more variety of sports equipment that can be used by child-elders (which should also be a free update js)

-Sims on the sports team use the same system as the soccer team from DU

-Like the plays, sims have the ability to get scouted and they can either get a scholarship or if they decide to pursue an athletic-related degree a full ride

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Band

-Adds more instruments (which should be a free update)

-Sims must audition to be in the band and whether they practice or not will mean whether or not their position in the band increases

-Perform in their own rabbit hole events and at sports games for the highschool

-Can also get scouted which can result in scholarships

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Clubs

-Sims can also join various rabbit hole clubs such as anime club, chess club, social related issues clubs, cooking club, d&d club, etc you get the point

-Clubs happen after school but do not occur every single day some might be once a week while other might be three times which allows teens to either join multiple clubs or have time to do a job or simply their homework

-Clubs do not result in possible scholarships but they do increase skills and allow sims to meet friends

-Some clubs will have special weekend events like bake sales or trips

-Being an active club member will increase your sims chances of getting into a distinguished degree as they will look better to the schools

School Trips

-Teens will come home some days and be notified there is a school trip occurring the next day which can either be educational (a museum for example) or for fun (the beach, park, etc)

-If your sims grades are lower than a B they will not be allowed to go

-Sims must have a signed permission slip to attend the trip. When they get home they can ask their guardian to sign it (if you have parenthood and your sims not the best kid their guardian will be more likely to refuse) or if their mischief is high enough they can forge it

-Sims who forge a signature can get caught, sent home, and lose school performance while causing their guardian to get an angry moodlet

-If you have a vacation park (Jungle Adventure or Outdoor Retreat) and your sim has an A they will get the option for an overnight school trip

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silveraccent · 4 years ago

Text

Break The Ice || Grace & Kaden, ft. Regan

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @chasseurdeloup & @kadavernagh SUMMARY: Grace finally meets her boss’s boyfriend and asks a few questions. Regan overhears and breaks up their party.

It wasn’t often that Grace found herself bored while at work. She could hear Regan’s voice, if you’re bored, I’ll find something for you to do. Though, she had to admit, she was perfectly fine sitting at her desk doing nothing. If she voiced that, though, she was sure there would be problems. Though, it certainly helped when there were no autopsies scheduled. For once, she felt like the morgue was slow moving. For that, she was thankful. The sound of the front door opening had Grace perking up. She moved to her office door and opened it, expecting to see either Regan or Cece. Instead, she was met face to face with Kaden, Regan’s boyfriend. She wondered how Regan would feel about her meeting him, but she decided she didn’t care much to hide away in her office. “Hello,” Grace greeted him as she rolled her chair into her doorway. “You’re R- Dr. Kavanagh’s boyfriend, right?” She asked with a tilt of her head. It wasn’t usually her method, being nosy about somebody’s personal life, but because Regan was so rigid, and because she actually had one outside of work (a shocker to Grace when she first found out), she wanted to know a little more about this mysterious mouse saving, mime-hating man.

Kaden knew that if he was bringing Regan a coffee, he had to go straight past the suite and to her office. Rules and what not. He knew they were there with good reason and considering it was meant to be a nice gesture, it helped if it was done in a way that didn’t actively piss her off. He’d let her know he was swinging by on his break but he knew full well it was a 50-50 shot if she’d see the message in time to meet him at her office door there or if she even planned on pausing from her work for the moment. It never bothered him, seeing her briefly was just a bonus. It was strange that the other staff, receptionist, janitor on occasion, seemingly recognized him. Security always waved him through. Putain, did he really come by that often? It sounded like she was actually on her way so he sat there outside of her office, sipping his own coffee, waiting. His brow furrowed as Grace wheeled on by. “Hi,” he said, blinking at the woman he didn’t quite recognize. Was she new? Had to be. Intern? She seemed young enough. Did Regan take those? Would she dare? “Uh, I usually go by Kaden, but yeah, I am.” Weird. He was used to calling Regan his girlfriend by now but he was certainly not used to the idea of people only knowing him as her significant other. “Sorry if I’m interrupting, just waiting to meet her. She said she was on her way.” He tapped his foot a moment, thinking she might go back to whatever she was doing before. Apparently not. “So who are you? I know Cece but you must be newer.”

Grace had been surprised to hear that Regan had allowed herself to have a boyfriend. Distractions. That’s what Grace would’ve considered her to approach them as. Though, she really didn’t know Regan that well-- just what was told to her by Cece, and what she experienced from her own interactions. Was it rude to assume? Maybe. Though, the plants that she had brought Regan seemed to be an opening into something more familiar, despite Grace having originally stated that she saw no use in co-worker relationships. She and Cece had quickly become friends despite their working relationship. Grace didn’t think that the same would go for Regan, but maybe it would. She seemed to be growing softer. Then again, it could’ve just been Grace’s wishful thinking. Did she really desire to be liked? Grace blinked up at Kaden and smiled at him, sliding out of her chair. She rolled it back with her foot and it hit against her filing cabinet. “You’re not interrupting.” She doesn’t tell him she wasn’t doing anything, doesn’t want it to get back to Regan. “She might be in the lab, I think she had to discuss something with Cece.” Grace leaned against her door frame. “I’m newer, yeah.” Grace gave him a smile. “I’m Grace, I’m Dr Kavanagh’s technician.” She approached him and held out a hand, “you helped answer my questions about the mice, remember?” Maybe Grace was a little hurt that he didn’t remember her. Then again, being afraid of mimes, it must’ve taken up quite a lot of his time. “The girl with the mime break in, remember?”

“Well glad I’m not interrupting,” Kaden said, nodding awkwardly, not sure how these sorts of things were supposed to go. Normally he was in and out and didn’t see anyone for very long. The most he got was some light teasing from Cece. “I’m sort of used to waiting for her, don’t worry.” He half expected that to be it, for her to walk away, go back to work before Regan came in and caught her slacking. But she didn’t. And he was starting to realize how glad he was that Regan wasn’t his boss. “Ah, Huang. Nice to know you have a first name, too.” He took her hand and gave it a shake. And planned to go back to sitting and waiting quietly. Only she was clearly not planning on that. Great. “So that was you with the mice. Did you ever catch it and set it free? Or are you roommates now?” The problem with online interactions and meetings. Didn’t always know when he ran into them in person. “I’m more concerned about the mime break in, to be honest. You haven’t seen another, have you?” As much as he wanted to just wait for Regan in silence, curiosity got the better of him. “They’re dangerous, you should be careful.” Maybe he could ward off the building from mimes. Was that possible? Could he get Cece to do something? Maybe he’d grab her on his way out.

It was clear that Kaden wanted to be left alone, she could feel it. Literally. Though, she didn’t have much else to do, and she wasn’t sure when she’d get the opportunity to talk to Regan’s boyfriend again, especially in person. It wasn’t as if they had a reason to run in the same circles. Grace shook his hand, hers tiny in his. “I do, yeah.” Grace crossed her arms over her chest after she dropped her hand from his. “I think they’re gone. I think Blanche scared them off.” She glanced towards the hallway that led the way to the autopsy suite and wondered when Regan would be here to collect Kaden. She wondered, too, if she’d be chastised for not doing her work. For once, she decided she didn’t care. “No, there haven’t been any others. After it happened though, they dropped off a new phone and a wad of cash and a new toaster. That doesn’t sound familiar to your experiences, does it?” Grace was still perplexed at what had happened, but she would be pressed to admit that the grand didn’t help her in more ways than one. The new phone, too. She had had her SE for years. “I’ll make sure to, you know, not get involved with anymore mimes.” Grace eyed him for a moment. Why was he so tall? He had at least 8 inches on her. “There weren’t any cookies, so I think I’ll be fine.” Grace dropped her arms to her side. She hated how formal everybody but Cece had been so far, but she supposed they were a match made in heaven. “You seem a lot more talkative online.” Grace mused with a smile as she turned back towards her office at the sound of her email chiming.

Kaden’s brow furrowed a moment. He heard of a lot of ways to get rid of mice but this was new. “Blanche? So you know Pipsqueak, huh?” Right. Of course she did. Most people in town seemed to run into Blanche one way or another. He should have expected as much. “Good to hear you’re mime free, th-- I’m sorry, what? The mime left you a phone, money, and a toaster?” He stood there, blinking at her a moment, trying to piece together what the hell any of that could mean. Isabelle had sent him some odd gifts but this was almost nice. Too nice. He’d have to investigate it. Somehow. “Yeah that’s a little fucking different than what happened to me. I think you might have gotten lucky.” In a moment of sheer paranoia, Kaden paused and tried to use his hunter senses, see if he could feel anything odd around him. Nothing. No chills down his spine, no crawling sensation at the back of his neck. No wolves and no mimes nearby. He supposed that was good. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asked. It sounded like an insult. It probably wasn’t. But he was going to take it that way regardless. “Well sorry I didn’t come down here expecting to entertain the autopsy technician. Don’t you have a dead body you’re supposed to be attending or something?”

“She lives in the same building as me,” Grace explained. She wondered if her friend knew what kinds of nicknames the adults around town had for her. Grace decided that she would let Blanche know later. “I think I got lucky too, I mean--” She let out a laugh, “I was able to pay off some of my student loan, so.” Grace got back into her chair and shimmied her way to her computer using the heels of her feet to do so. She clicked around on her desktop for a moment before calling back to him, “It means that you’re more talkative online. I said what I said.” Maybe she was getting too mouthy with him-- maybe it was the most she’d ever gotten with anyone. Maybe Cece was rubbing off on her. Regan certainly wouldn't like that. She couldn’t sense anything intense coming off of him, but there was certainly something that was mixed with confusion. She wondered why, but kept her own questions to herself. “If I had a dead body to attend to, I’d be there, but sadly there are no dead people gracing our tables today.” Grace wondered if this conversation would get back to Regan. If it did, she’d expect a stern talking to. “Honestly though, I’m finishing up paperwork. My job isn’t all dea-- decedents. It’s sometimes their shoe size, too.”

“Of course she does.” Now he really needed to make sure that the building was warded from mimes. Blanche, Grace, and Ariana were all there. Kaden wasn’t about to let them be attacked by-- Putain, was he really planning on hunting mimes? How far he’d fallen. He sighed to himself. “Try not to get into too much trouble over there. I don’t know if you met Ariana at all, too, but Blanche is a bit of a trouble magnet. Wouldn’t want to see any of you hurt or shit like that.” Not that he cared that much. Well, alright, he might have to admit Blanche was like the little sister he never wanted someday, and he didn’t want his friend’s sister to get hurt, and there was no need for Regan’s autopsy tech to get swept up in any of the shit that came with this town. “Sure, if you say so.” He rolled his eyes a little as he walked over towards her office and leaned in the doorframe. “Ah, god old paperwork. My least favorite part of my job. I make Gary do most of mine. Guess you get a lot of it being the technician.” He had plenty of paperwork waiting for him later in the day after he left here. Maybe it wasn’t too terrible that Regan was taking her time getting here. “So tell me, what was this decedent's shoe size? I’m just dying to know.”

“Ariana?” She shouldn’t be surprised-- the town wasn’t that large, and with the online system, it was possible that everyone knew everyone. “I met her the day she got her keys, she’s nice.” What kind of trouble Kaden was talking about, Grace figured she already knew. Between Blanche busting into her apartment with a gun and ending up in the hospital, and what with the cats in front of her building with Ariana.. Grace simply gave him a curt nod, “I’ll make sure not to get into any trouble.” Not like she could help it if she did. It was proving difficult for her to stay out of things already. “I’ll make sure they stay out of trouble.” Surface level, it seemed as though she was the most sensible out of the three, although, she didn’t know Ariana all that well to assume anything quite yet, but based on the way that Kaden was speaking to her, Grace let her imagination fly with his words. “I don’t mind it, it gives me time to chill.” She flicked her gaze up to the radio that sat in the corner of her room on the filing cabinet. “I just listen to a lot of music, usually, it makes the time go by fast.” Grace leaned back in her chair once she was satisfied with her response to the email. She looked up at Kaden, “That’s a good joke, but that’s divulging evidence about a decedent, and I think Dr Kavanagh would have my head.” She gave him a smile before swiveling her chair. “Though, I’d say they’re bigger than my feet.” She lifted her leg up as if to show him and plopped it back down against the ground. “What is it you do again?” Grace had recalled Regan telling her he was a cop, but she had thought him to be animal control. “I’d like to set the record straight. I don’t want to call you if I need mouse help, you know.”

She’s also a werewolf, Kaden thought as Grace called Ari nice. He never knew if he should warn people to be careful around Ari or not. He still couldn’t suss out what his own feelings on her really were. Usually he just ignored any complications or questions. It served him better, made it easier. “Good luck with that,” he said, huffing out a laugh and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Of course she wasn’t going to tell him shit. “You’re right, it would be. But as far as you know I’m asking for a case. I am a cop, after all,” he said like it meant something in this context. It hardly did. He wasn’t a detective, there was no relevant case that he was aware of and he didn’t even know the decedent’s name let alone anything else. Still, he had to give her a hard time. Even if it was clear Regan taught her well. “Plus, not sure shoe size with no other context is exactly divulging shit.” He tilted his head to get a better look at her foot as she raised it up. Damn, that was small. Granted, she was over a half a foot shorter than him. “I think that’s most feet. Doesn’t exactly narrow it down.” His brow furrowed at her question. She asked him about the mice, he knew he told her what his job was. “What do you mean what do I do? I told you, I’m animal control.” He let out a sigh when he realized what the actual confusion was. The one he explained so fucking often it was getting silly. “Right, I’m not pest control. Animal control is a department of the WCPD. Which is why I can just walk on in here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge, showing it to her. “It’s not just because I’m dating your boss.”

“I would like to think that shoe size could insinuate a lot.” Grace blinked up at him before she turned back to her computer, “somebody’s shoe size could solve an entire case, right?” She clicked around on her desktop before she pulled up an unread email. “You just said you’re a cop. Are you a cop, or are you animal control?” Grace clicked off of her email and set her computer to sleep. “Or are they the same thing here?” Grace swiveled in her chair again. She wasn’t sure where her sudden bout of confidence was coming from. Maybe it was the slight arrogance rolling off of him, though, could she be sure that’s what it was? Maybe she just enjoyed sizing herself up to men over seven inches taller than her, especially if they were dating her boss. “Does animal control deal with dead bodies regularly?” She asked as he explained himself. It made sense now, and she wondered why he had let her talk to him about mice for so long without cutting her off. Maybe he wasn’t arrogant, maybe he just knew what he was talking about. “I don’t really visit the WCPD, but I guess I don’t have a reason. You guys always come over here. We have what you want.” Grace pushed up from her chair and turned to her mini fridge, grabbing a can of pear juice. She cracked it open and took a sip, holding the small can in both of her hands. “Do you like where you work?” She asked, “it doesn’t get boring answering questions about mice? Do you get called out to weird situations? Are you why Dr Kavanagh always has fox skulls?”

“It could. But it would need context. And I have none,” Kaden said with a shrug. “Yeah, I’m both. Same thing. You call me paw patrol, I’ll find a way to make sure Regan gives you more work. Or have you stay late or some shit like that.” Alright, he probably wouldn't do that. But it sounded nice. There were days he wished he had a way to trump Styder like that. Alas, didn’t work that way. He was outranked. “Unfortunately, yeah we deal with a decent number. Lots of people in this town are killed by aggressive animals. But most of my job deals with the living. Educating people on animal laws and keeping people safe, relocating wild animals, getting strays to the shelter and finding them homes, reuniting lost pets.” He always wished those last few were more frequent than the other parts of the job, but the world didn’t work that way. It didn’t take away from those moments, though. And he wouldn’t give them up for the bad. Even then, he always felt like he was helping in whatever way he could manage. “I love it. Even if it means I have to put up with the paperwork. Granted, I’d rather be out in the field any day of the week but it’s fine.” Paperwork was Gary’s problem anyway. “And no, I never get tired of talking about animals. But yeah this whole town is nothing but weird situations. I’m almost shocked when it’s a stray dog that’s honest to god just a stray dog,” he said with a small shrug. He was still almost shocked at how much he enjoyed being a cop some days, but he did. “Yeah the animal skulls are mostly for me. Anyway, how do you like working for Regan? I know you don’t hate paperwork so that’s good. I’m sure she’s a stickler in doing it right down to dotting the last i.”

“I--” Grace stared at him for a moment and let out a laugh, “has somebody called you Paw Patrol? That’s a good one, but I would never.” It wasn’t her place to wonder, but a part of Grace did wonder how Regan and Kaden hit it off so well. Though, she had to admit, they were both funny without trying. She had found an appreciation in ill timed jokes. “That’s... actually pretty interesting,” She admitted, “I figured it was like, I don’t know-- getting birds out of vents and stuff, but I guess living in a town with a lot of wildlife, things are bound to get a little more complicated.” Grace hadn’t personally come across any rabid animals as of yet, aside from the mouse in her apartment, but she could hardly call that rabid. “It sounds like an important job, nothing like the Paw Patrol.” She wanted to ask him why he knew what the Paw Patrol was, but she bit her tongue. “I think every job comes with paperwork these days.” Truthfully, Grace didn’t mind it so much, it made the day go by faster. Then again, so did sticking her hands deep into somebody’s sternum, but depending on the day, she preferred one over the other. With both Cece and Regan in the same room, things tended to get loud. There was an intensity about Kaden, and it was loud, too, but not in the way that would’ve given her a headache. “What else is it supposed to be if not a stray dog?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her. She wasn’t sure if she truly wanted to know. “She’s a great boss, really. She’s taught me a lot so far, I’m grateful to have landed this job.” Grace smiled before she looked away from Kaden, “I think that we work well together. Has she said anything about me? Or is that a breach in… what, relationship lines?” She laughed before taking a sip of her drink.

“Half the fucking detectives and Blanche, that’s who,” Kaden grumbled. Whatever, it was a lot better than half the shit he got called otherwise. “Yeah, there’s some of that still, but this town is the definition of complicated.” He really wished the whole place came with a warning for people who just didn’t know any better. Then again, he supposed the death rate should have indicated that much. “Aggressive wild animal. There are some weird, uh, species in this town. I guess you could say. So if you can’t recognize an animal or what type it might be, just be careful. A lot of them are dangerous in this town.” It seemed pretty clear she wasn’t aware of the supernatural. Great. Two people in the morgue who didn’t know what was really happening in this town. At least there was Cece. “That’s good to hear. She’s really passionate about her job so doesn’t surprise me that she’s teaching you everything she can.” His brow shot up a moment. “I don’t know, has she?” he retorted, a small smirk on his face. “I mostly hear about Rickers, to be honest. And the beard hairs. The rest of you don’t get anywhere near the amount of comments, sorry to say.” He paused a moment and something struck him. “Wait, you knew I was her boyfriend before I even said a word. She talks about me? To co-workers? Not that I-- I just figured, you know, her strict work and personal life lines. And things.” Exhibit A, the fact that he didn’t know Grace’s first name until a few minutes ago. “What did she say about me?”

It seemed as though Grace was constantly warned against the town and what it had to offer. She was told to be careful more times than she could count, even by people who she didn’t know the name of. It didn’t seem as though Kaden were kidding, and why would he? Why would he lie to her? Grace simply nodded at his words, not having much else to provide, because could she argue against dangerous animals? Grace took another sip of her drink before setting it down onto her desk. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched as he lit up with interest. He wanted Regan to talk about him, or maybe he was surprised, Grace couldn’t tell. “That’s disappointing,” Grace said in response to there being little to nothing being said about either her or Cece. At least Cece had been around longer, so if Regan hadn’t been talking about her, then maybe it was a compliment. “She may have let it slip.” Grace had remembered an interaction with Regan about her boyfriend, but couldn’t get much out of her, save for putting two and two together. “Do you want her to talk about you?” Grace asked with a laugh, “she hasn’t said anything, not really. Just…” Grace wondered what she should say, she wasn’t typically the type to stir up something, however the more comfortable she got in her new surroundings, the more she felt at ease with making jokes. Maybe it was Kaden’s interest that really made Grace want to make up something completely ridiculous, or maybe it was all of her time spent with Nell that was making it easier to crack jokes at the drop of a hat. “Just that you’re tall, kind of bony. Or maybe she was talking about a skeleton? I’m not sure, she said something…” Grace tapped her chin before turning back to her chair, dropping into it. “I could be wrong.”

“Hey if she’s not complaining about you, I’d call it a good thing,” Kaden added with a shrug. “Not to mention the way she talks about Bishop you wouldn’t always know she was talking about Cece. So maybe she has showered you with compliments to me and I just don’t know about it. I guess you’ll have to wait and find out from her yourself how she feels about you.” Grace’s next question hit him like a wave slapping him in the face. He, uh, he didn’t know. “No. Yes. I mean--” His words dropped with a strained breath and he rubbed the back of his neck while trying to pick them up again. “I don’t know. I just didn’t expect her to say too much. Maybe.” Nope, not much better. He could navigate a hunt without any issue but his whole long term relationship thing always got weird to him in the context of other people. It made the whole not caring about what people thought of him thing complicated. And possibly untrue. Yeah, he hated that thought. His mouth pulled into a thin line as he struggled to figure out whether he’d rather Regan did or didn't talk about him at work when Grace elaborated. “Bony? She called me bony like a--” His brow creased as he tried to piece all of this together. “Wait, did she really-- Come on, there’s no way.” Then again, she did like bones a lot. And sometimes said things in the most awkward way possible. Like her description of his hair. Maybe it was actually a compliment. “You know what, don’t tell me. If she thinks I’m a tall bony skeleton with dead rabbit pelt hair and a big fan of fries with gravy and cheese curds, she can tell me herself when she gets he--” Out of the corner of his eye, Kaden spotted movement and turned to see Regan. How long had she been standing there? “Hey. Uh, brought coffee. And met your technician.”

There were voices in the hall -- a tangle of conversation, as Regan emerged from the lab. She recognized both voices at once. Kaden and his French accent; he was either here for information about a decedent or just visiting, and Huang, who should have been in her office looking through some medical histories, doing literally anything else. The thought of wasted time made her temper flare, but more importantly, her stomach sank as she realized that they were likely meeting for the first time. She never wanted to blend her personal and professional lives, did everything she possibly could to avoid that outcome, but right now, that seemed unavoidable. Maybe this could be salvaged. What were they talking about? If it was just a decedent, then all wasn’t lost. Bony? She was torn, for a moment. She didn’t like the two parts of her life meeting like an estuary in the morgue. Not saying anything to Kaden would be morally wrong -- it would lead to hurt feelings from both parties. Responding to him with anything more than a cool hello would change how Grace thought of her. Not for the first time, Regan’s jealousy toward Dr. Rickers spiked; he didn’t have to concern himself with such matters. Everyone respected an older male pathologist.

Kaden, of course, caught sight of her. “Oh, um, hello. I can see that.” Regan nodded, her eyes trained on her autopsy technician for a moment, before softening, just slightly, on Kaden. “You’re not bony, Kaden. I mean, you are in the sense that you have a skeleton inside of you. Or more accurately, you are a skeleton. Well, really a brain within a-- never mind. I’m aware that you loathe poutine.” She huffed a breath of air from her mouth and clapped her gloved hands together. “Okay,” she said, “Huang, would you like to tell me what you’re doing out here? This sounded like a lengthy conversation. Don’t you think that, instead, you should be conversing with the hospital to collect the histories that we need?” She crossed her arms, looking evenly at Huang. “You know, instead of calling my--” Why did boyfriend sound so juvenile? Dr. Rickers would never use the word girlfriend. She wished for an alternative, but couldn’t think of one. “Instead of harassing Kaden. I take it you’ve realized that we’re in a relationship. That information should be of no concern to you.” She read something like hope in Kaden’s expression, but didn’t quite understand what it meant. Was he glad that Huang knew about them? She didn’t try to hide her relationship, exactly, but discussion surrounding it had no place in a working environment. But… if she wasn’t trying to hide it, then why was she so hesitant to greet him the way she normally would? The realization tumbled through her like guilt, and she decided that one small dent in Huang’s perception of her was worth it. She shot Huang a look, then turned to Kaden, slipping a gloved hand into his, and collecting the coffee with her other. “They’re clean, don’t worry.” Regan pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Kaden. This was sweet. The beetles are polishing off a chipmunk for you.” One look back at her autopsy technician, and she raised a brow. “Now, what did I say about you calling the hospital?”

Grace had always been curious about what Regan truly thought of her. Maybe it was because she was new, or because she was young-- most people around her didn’t think of her as anything special, or smart. She had to work for a lot of what she had accomplished, and she believed that to be true of Regan. She respected Regan and didn’t hide that fact. Maybe it was due to their position as employee and boss… Grace was sure that was it, but still, a part of Grace wanted some kind of confirmation that she wasn’t entirely despised. Kaden wasn’t going to give that to her, however, so Grace dropped it. His sudden interest in her words was palpable. She could cut through it with a knife, and she couldn’t help but smile at the sudden bout of worry in his words-- or, what was that? Grace’s eyebrows furrowed, “is that what you think she thinks of you, or is that what you think of your--” Grace was cut off by the sudden appearance of Regan. Grace felt her face redden and so she quickly carded her fingers through her hair, disheveling some of her hair into her face. Despite how numb it was, Grace could feel the discomfort in the air. Hell, even if she hadn’t been an Empath, she was sure that she would be able to feel the way that Regan clearly was not comfortable with the way that she and Kaden were meeting. She wondered if it was a her issue, or a Regan issue.

She looked between Regan and Kaden with interest. When Regan addressed her and why she hadn’t gotten her work done, Grace smiled in response, “I already did that. I actually emailed you the information before Kaden showed up.” She wasn’t stupid enough to have started a conversation prior to getting her work done, especially with the risk of Regan showing up to ask why it hadn’t gotten done in the first place. Still, Grace felt guilty. There was something hanging in the air that Grace couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was a whisper of… Grace wasn’t sure if it was her own sudden guilt, or something else. She could barely get a trace on it before Regan was interrupting her thoughts with more affection than Grace had ever seen her display in her short time of knowing her. Grace looked away as if she were seeing something she shouldn’t be seeing and busied herself with picking her drink back up off of her desk. Grace realized then, maybe Regan hadn’t gotten all of the information she wanted, and maybe Grace really did have more work to do. She cleared her throat and nodded, “I’ll go and do that then. Kaden, it was nice to meet you. I’ll be sure to steer clear of any mimes, and you know, stay out of trouble.” She looked at Regan, “I’ll email you the remainder of the information once I’ve got it.” She turned back towards her office and closed her door, embarrassment colliding with her almost immediately.

A smile found it’s way to Kaden’s face as Regan awkwardly rambled her way through an explanation. It was about what he expected to happen and still just as cute. He almost forgot that Grace was right there across from them until she turned to address her employee, the dopey smile falling from his face. Right, should he try and be professional and not react or should he-- He didn’t know. He didn’t care too much what Grace thought of him or if she saw anything, but he had a feeling Regan might. Maybe? This was entirely new territory. Cece was different, he’d met her before he knew Regan outside of the context of the morgue. Instead, he was standing by as she talked to her technician about work. It was odd. He knew she took her job seriously and respected the hell out of that but he never saw her interacting with her co-workers in a work setting. Likely out of design. Granted, she was just as stern and serious about all of it as he’d guessed. “I was asking her questions, too, so don’t go too hard on her. I’m really only here to distract morgue employees. It’s a talent,” he offered with a smile, still a bit unsure if he should jump in or not. It wasn’t a lie though, so it seemed alright enough.

“Don’t mention it. And if they weren't, it wouldn’t be the grossest thing I’ve come in contact with today,” Kaden said. Had to admit, he was a little shocked when she took his hand in hers, cold even through the glove, and planted a kiss on his cheek like normal. He figured with Grace there, she’d wait until she’d close the door to her office. Not that he minded either way. Still, had to suppress a laugh at how quickly the technician scuttled away, her focus back on her desk. It was tempting to force the situation to be more uncomfortable for the sake of another laugh but then again, he wasn’t the one who had to work there. He’d let it lie. “Nice to meet you too, Grace. And if you do end up in trouble with any animals in town, don’t hesitate to call,” he told her before turning back to Regan. Maybe if they were lucky, this would be the worst situation they met in. Somehow, in this town, he doubted it.

#chatzy #para: break the ice #para: regan #para: kaden

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ishkah · 4 years ago

Text

Early Beginnings...

My 22 year old self spinning 15 year old diary entries into something or other…

One of my earliest memories is sitting by a river bend after school just sitting and thinking, being, remembering family togetherness building dams on the river, playing poo sticks. I wanted that deeply, I was aware I couldn’t be seen directly, playing with the other kids, but I also liked the idea that the adults would have to take time and think to know where I was.

With this came an identity, I heard a pride in my mum’s voice when she told the other mums where she found me, a deep nature boy that one.

I knew she would because whenever there was bedlam at home I would always take myself off outside. I knew how important it was that I didn’t see her cry because I saw it once, or get upset or argue but more than anything, she didn’t want me involved in the drama; to become something I didn’t understand.

My brother was a resistance fighter, in the trenches telling both parents what they were doing wrong, living the trauma, with two sunburn creased lines between his eyebrows to prove it.

I was a dreamer I liked this new state of being, I distrusted and held onto my words because I saw them used by other people like daggers or simply to pull on heartstrings. I must have thought a lot about how words are only used to hurt each other and get one over each other because by the time I was in secondary school I’d been given another personality story to hold onto.

I was like my great granddad I told people, he was a quite honorable man, would say hardly a word, but he always knew when something was at odds, so when he did speak his words had a profound impact on people. I became the listener and solver.

I thought about how small I was in this incomprehensible beautiful universe that I read in stories, I didn’t try much to understand it just admire it. I wanted to mimic its uniqueness, I wanted to be compassionate. I probably started labelling a lot of things, good and bad, normal and extraordinary. I went vegan with this people gave me the identity pacifist.

It wasn’t till the army came to school that I had a chance to practice what I’d learnt. Reading back over my diary at the time I felt a huge responsibility to my friends that they wouldn’t go off and get killed for no good reason. I’ve tried to stay as real to the 15 year old kid who’s newly forming ideas were shaped through the experience of what follows.

I spread my ideas militantly, if they were going to advertise the killing of innocents in my school, me and my young cronies were going to disrupt it. I wrote up a petition, confronted every kid in school with this reality. I made a ruckus because I was doing something radical that had never been tried before in the school’s history.

I must have got three quarters of the whole school to sign my little clipboard chart, not least because of the rumours that were spread, some of the kids straight out of primary learning about conscription in history class cued up to sign it, expressing a tangible fear.

My betrayal came suddenly, the teacher who invited the army to school flipped out at me, saying I was trying to limit other student’s access to knowledge about the army. I walked away furious, even more committed to stopping them, I schemed with friends how we could lock doors and sit on stage. I thought how an institution committed to educating, expanding minds could let someone go off and kill others halfway across the world.

I stubbornly asked all the head of staff each day when the army would be coming to school, all of them told me it hadn’t been scheduled but they’d tell me when they knew, not for a while…

When I walked into the school the next day to find everyone at assembly with teachers keeping a close eye on their forms in rows, I was pissed. I walked in from one side of the hall and surveyed the scene with contemptuous hilarity, down the hall, past the class sitting quietly transfixed on me, ignoring my form teacher’s calls to come sit down, and out the other end.

I sat outside with 4 girls fuming, a teacher came round to ask us back in, I glared back but 3 of us slinked back in. So this was the great resistance effort the 2 of us crumpled down to the floor.

We started talking about how depressing it all was, how powerless the teachers had made everyone feel, people had been scratching their name off the petition for fear of getting punished. We hated everything that was in that room and we threw in a few choice words of our conversation into the hall.

BULLSHIT!

The teachers guarding the doors peered through the curtains at us, they were afraid of us! Aha so they should be! Our beings and ideas were powerful!

The talk ended, the army officer came out and I felt an anger welling up in me, but I had nothing to say to him, the head of department came next, I had a maths lesson with him next but he’d lied to me only yesterday, I had no interest in hearing what he had to teach me. He encouraged me to move, saying it’s finished now, I laughed a laugh that came from the pit of my being, it was just the opposite of how I was feeling, a dramatic change in my being, nothing had come and gone, only feelings inside of me had grown a 1000 fold.

He threatened me with truancy, I learned the best way to get on an adult’s nerves was never to rise to them, never give them any ammunition. I just looked at him. None of the politics needed words, we weren’t going to get one over on each other, we were simply diametrically opposed and I wished the opposite of wanting to be understood by him by engaging him in conversation. I just watched him walk away.

The rest of the day I sat exactly where I was and made paper cranes for peace and talked to anyone and everyone. I was committed to public resistance. Resistance is emotional, beautiful even and I’d crossed a treasonous line with characteristic style. Action would from now and forever be how I wrote my story.

The next few weeks I was in and out of full-time detention where I wasn’t even allowed to go to class, I had to be watched carefully to curb my disruptive ways.

I raged against the teachers that had lied to me, but when I was in detention I got my first whiff of privilege, the kids I was in with admired my rage but with a sense of novelty.

I thought they’d understand more than anyone why I was fighting them, but they didn’t, they believed in the system more than anyone, they just got angry sometimes and needed to lash out and so were seen as unpredictable.

For most of them a care worker or teacher were the only people that would believe in them, show them the rails. I knew where the rails were but I wanted to derail them and set a new course.

But I began to hate the idea that I could afford to step off and be an example only to later intelligently articulate a political reason to excuse myself.

Even more entitled than that I had a co-conspirator mother who used her knowledge of childcare regulations to stop me from being expelled and afford me an easier sentence than my new friends who earned their detention by setting off alarms by setting fire to bits of paper and smoking in toilets

I came out of school feeling a strong sense of purpose, that words weren’t necessary in finding my-self, which validated my search for a spiritual interconnectedness based on compassion. Also the people telling you what you should or shouldn’t do can be the worst amoral shits on the planet.

I grew up as an outsider, the scouser transplanted into a tiny village in a valley in Wales. This moment was the activation of an identity I only knew through the biker friends of my mum and the stories they would tell together that I looked up to. An identity known only to myself that no one could take away from me, and I felt my internal world growing stronger, I felt a sense of purpose, the more active I felt fighting oppression, the more alive I felt. Now I have the privilege of being able to jump into so many struggles without getting burnt out or losing face.

My only limits are when I am being asked to conform to a situation I don’t agree with, in this way I need to stay spontaneous, my inner strength comes from the efficiency by which I can throw myself into a struggle and make gains, I am learning now to transform that into a circular routine of building my bases.

My outer self is a culmination of novelty stories of struggling through hardship and pushing through in pursuit of truth and finding pockets of hope. I need people around me to be open, allow me to tell my story slowly and not restrict my image to something that suits them.

When I’m on the road I’m still that little kid who disassociates, but the game of living with strangers allows me to feel creative. I feel like I need to make connections more strongly; because mutual aid is so important, the entire journey is dependent on other people. When I look at my life I see the journey, my life is about the means by which we make change not the end.

#youth activism #anti imperialism #personal essay #socialist #socialism #anarchist #anarchism #nomad #school #hierarchy #education #anti colonialism

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tsunflowers · 5 years ago

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anime featuring adult women

there are a lot of great female characters in anime, but sometimes it feels like they’re all supporting characters in shows about men or they haven’t graduated high school yet. I wanted to compile a list of some anime with adult women front and center

kidou keisatsu patlabor on tv:

in the sci-fi future as imagined in 1988, human-piloted robots called labors are used regularly by all kinds of people, including criminals. to combat labor crime, the police develop a special unit of patrol labors—patlabor. instead of following the prestigious division one, we follow a cast of quirky characters in second-string division two, as they solve cases ranging from mundane to dangerous to paranormal

izumi noa, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly strong-willed and stubborn. she’ll stand up to anyone. she’s obsessed with labors, not just piloting them herself but repairing them and learning about new developments in the field. even though division two is primarily men and there is the “men at work” vibe of so much military and police fiction, noa fits in easily with the guys and no one excludes her. the few times people do question her skills bc of her gender, they’re immediately shut down

other women in the cast:

nagumo shinobu, the captain of division one. we never actually see her or her unit at work, but they have a great reputation. I just love her bc she’s very funny always shutting down the captain of division two and I like that in-universe there are women in leadership roles like this

kanuka clancy, a visiting cop from new york. her relationship with noa is very strong, definitely shippable. she’s adept with a gun, a sword, and a giant robot. she’s the serious member of the team who yells at the others for being dumb but there are still times where she goes completely off the rails and ignores the law to do what she knows is right

wotakoi: love is hard for otaku:

momose narumi is an office worker and a fujoshi. she wants to keep the fujoshi part a secret this time around because things went south for her at her last job once people found out she was an otaku, but it turns out several of her new coworkers are fellow nerds. most importantly, her game-loving childhood friend hirotaka works at the same company, and the two of them reconnect as friends… and soon more than friends. it’s a romance drama involving only nerds

momose narumi, and why I love her:

she’s a lot like your standard high school girl protagonist who runs out of the house because she’s late for school, but this time she’s late for work. she’s really funny and straightforward, except she thinks she has to hide that side of her at her job. she and hirotaka have a great childhood friends to lovers relationship. she’s kind of rude to him but he adores her (though he’s kind of bad at showing it). I love a cheerful girl/serious guy romance that’s done well and I think this one really is

other women in the cast:

koyanagi hanako, narumi’s new coworker who’s a fellow fujoshi. she’s also a cosplayer, specifically a crossplayer who specializes in cosplaying as handsome guys. she and narumi only met each other under their fandom nicknames before, but they were big fans of each other and hit it off instantly when they meet at work. they’re cute friends even if they always argue about who tops in their ships

psycho-pass:

in a futuristic society, people’s mental health is constantly measured by “psycho-pass” readings which track their emotional state and judge the likelihood that they will commit a crime. naive rookie cop tsunemori akane leads a team of enforcers, people who are considered “latent criminals” too dangerous to live in normal society but who are still useful to the police. akane develops a close relationship with enforcer kougami shinya in particular, but kougami has his own intense relationship with the elusive criminal makishima shogo. as the team of detectives investigate him, they uncover secrets about the system they never wanted to learn and their fates become entwined with makishima’s

psycho-pass is written by urobuchi gen (madoka magica, fate/zero) and if you’re familiar with him you know what to expect. the show is pretty grim and gory. content warnings for rape, violence, gore, body horror, police violence, the predatory lesbian trope, forced institutionalization, and probably a lot of other things I can’t remember. not a light watch, is what I’m saying

tsunemori akane, and why I love her:

she’s incredibly principled. she sticks to what she believes is right despite immense pressure. it’s precisely because she’s naive and doesn’t understand the system that she is able to fight against it. she grows a huge amount over the course of the series but she never loses her compassion or her sense of right and wrong. she’s pretty badass too

other women in the cast:

karanomori shion, a lab analyst at the public safety bureau. she’s your typical sexy and flirtatious anime character but I think her position within the setting is interesting. although she’s categorized as a “latent criminal” unfit for society, she seems to be valued more than the enforcers. she’s also bisexual and dating a woman, though she plays into the “bisexuals can’t settle down” trope a little. she is not actually the best character or peak representation but I’m pretty attached to her and a certain type of woman will be too

kunizuka yayoi, a lesbian former musician and the only female enforcer. she’s shion’s girlfriend. there is a predatory lesbian character in this series, but it’s not kunizuka. I think her being a lesbian is handled pretty well. she has romantic and sexual relationships with women that are important to her, but she doesn’t hate men or flirt with every woman she meets (traits I hate to see in lesbian characters written by men). she’s really serious and calm but still cute and I love to see her growing respect for akane over the course of the show

death parade:

two people wake up in a strange bar with no memory of how they got there. a mysterious man with white hair named decim and his assistant, a woman known only as “the black haired woman,” ask them to play a game. the games are both absurd and dangerous, and as the contestants play them dark sides of themselves are revealed. decim’s job is to judge them based on their behavior while playing the games, but the black haired woman’s influence causes him to wonder if he’s doing the right thing

like it says in the title, the anime deals with the topic of death, and death by suicide comes up as well. I don’t remember everyone’s backstories but I think violence and abuse come up several times. there are also mannequins that move around on marionette strings which is kind of freaky

the black haired woman, and why I love her:

it might be wrong to say that she’s the main character when she isn’t introduced until the end of the first episode and her name isn’t revealed for half the show but listen. she’s the emotional core of the show and the person who sets the events in motion. she’s a very emotional person and that’s her strength. her relationship with decim is the classic “woman teaches cold-hearted man to feel” trope but I think it’s an outstanding example bc it centers her emotional experience and the two of them are not explicitly in a romantic relationship. I’ve been trying to avoid spoilers but for her it’s almost unavoidable. I love the way that her story is slowly revealed over the course of the show culminating in an incredible sequence in episode 11. I think her depression is handled so well too. it’s heartbreaking

other women in the cast:

nona, the boss of the arbiters. she’s a schemer who knows a whole lot of things she’s keeping from everyone else. I really like her outfit above all else. baggy pants with suspenders… a great look

mayu, a high school girl who is a contestant in one of the games. she tries to be cutesy but is prone to anger and makes incredible faces. I like that she’s an obsessive fangirl character who’s played for humor but is also shown as being noble and sympathetic

sakura quest:

koharu yoshino is a woman who moved to tokyo to find a job but has no luck. when she finally gets a job offer, it’s to become “queen for a day” of rural manoyama village. upon arriving in manoyama, she learns that she was only hired because they thought she was someone else but they still want her to work there for an entire year. now she lives in a small town and is tasked with both revitalizing the citizens and drawing tourists in, along with the help of four friends. it may not sound funny and heartwarming but it really is. it’s a good story about connecting and reconnecting and also the head of the tourism board wears a chupacabra mask sometimes

the main characters, and why I love them:

koharu yoshino, queen of manoyama. her struggle in the job market is unfortunately relatable to many people today and I love that she wishes she could have a job as a queen. she’s great and she really comes to love the town despite everything

shiori shinomiya, a very sweet manoyama native. she’s almost too nice but it makes it all the funnier when she gets intense

maki midorikawa, an aspiring actor who is famous among manoyama citizens for a small role she played in the past. she’s serious about acting but her family wishes she would get a more stable job. she can be kind of rude but she does love her friends and her town

sanae kouzuki, a web developer who moved to manoyama to escape the intensity of city life and the negative effects it had on her mental health. the problem is she hates rural life and is afraid of bugs but is too proud to admit it on her blog. the only true city girl among the five

ririko oribe, my favorite of the five. she’s shy but loves cryptids and the occult. it’s very easy to read her as autistic and the other characters affirm her interests and behavior. her love of cryptids even helps the town out when Spanish tourists come in search of a local legend. her relationship with her grandma is really good as well, with the two coming to understand and love each other over the course of the show

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nefariouscryptid · 4 years ago

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Hello there (that was Obi Wan voice). Your gallery is a recent find of mine. Ohohoho, I hope you are willing to talk about relationships of fictional characters 'cause yours have poked my gears! So... What kind of relatioships Peter has with his subordinates/close pals? Type, likes/hates about them and vica versa, stories of them, why they are a team etc,etc. Not just shallow stuff, hit me with the deets! Apologies if I'm being invasive, oblige as much as you feel comfortable (if at all LOL).

Peter isn’t really close with anyone. But anyone he has a past connection to he consideres an associate, and not a employee.

Peter and Anahii: Peter and Anahii met during highschool when she was a freshman and Peter was a sophomore. They had immediately hit it off after seeing Anahii nearly kill a girl in a school fight. At the time Peter had great respect for her. This bitch is crazy! I love her! But as time went on that began to fade, and he became more and more drained and annoyed being around her. While they were still dating, he proposed to her because in the end he’s never going to get with who he actually does, and he needs to get married. She felt the same way, although she actually liked him a lot longer then he did. As adults, married for however long they were, they both constantly fought and hit each other, Anahii using him for his money and Peter using her for sex only. He just saw her as an object, something that gave him title of a husband and made him look better and more capable of people liking him. She was a trophy wife to him. Anahii was miserable in the relationship but at least she was rich, and at least she had protections. Well she thought so. There was still a part of her that wishes he’d just love her.

Peter and Jason: Peter and Jason met either in elementary or middle school, they couldn’t tell you. But they didn’t become friends until late 8th grade- freshman year of highschool. Much like Anahii, Peter instantly hit it off with Jason. They quickly became best friends. They were each other’s ride or die, if someone got into trouble, the other was “shit guess I’m going down too”. Peter hasn’t met anyone in his life that had been willing to put themselves on the line for him. He became obsessed and infatuated with Jason. He was everything he could ever want. It was at this point Peter realized he was bi, but he didn’t even care at this point. He could defend himself, people ain’t got shit on him. Both he and Jason did football together, Jason being quarterback and Perer wide receiver. Peter got kicked off the team after foul play and was took it as he was shit at playing, but Jason was just as good as he was! How fucking dare they?! He became somewhat jealous of Jason, that he could keep his cool and get people to bow for him easily. So he observed, and by the next school year he had adopted the same charm as Jason. As adults they’re still each other’s ride or dies, Peter being tired and finally trying to make moves on Jason, and one thing led to another and now they’re dating, and are now an affair. The relationship wasn’t healthy, Peter being extremely possessive, but it’s better then what he and Anahii had. He truly loved him and was happy. Couldn’t wait to raise his son with this man.

Peter and Cooper: the only type of past connections they could of had was they went to the same highschool, but even then Peter had already graduated by the time Cooper got in. During a failed encounter with some potential buyers of weapons, Cooper had found Peter half dead on the ground. His face was sliced open, blood pooling out of his cheek and eye, and with quick thinking Cooper picked him up and raced him out of the building, defending the both of them, throwing him into the back of the military truck they had, and zipped off. At the time he didn’t even know that was his boss, he just saw someone who most likely worked with him half dead. Peter, grateful, ended up giving Cooper multiple promotions, healthcare benefits, loads of loans and money, and benefits for his family. It was also the last time Peter ever showed up to a deal or a confrontation. Cooper became his main guy to send if Jason was out.

Peter and Plethora: after the incident with Cooper, he began to look more into his family. An odd one at that. While Cooper was married to Cassandra, it appeared they had a shared pseudo husband as well. And this guy can shoot! He has never seen a man able to snipe 20 men all in one shot, not even Jason. He called him down to his office one day and promoted him, giving him the opportunity to assassinate higher ups, like government officials. While a great idea at the time, this led to Peters greatest mistake and his downfall.

Peter and Cassandra: Like Cooper and Plethora, she had gone to his old highschool. However also unlike her husbands, she didn’t seem to have a job. Looking more into her profiling he saw that she was great with numbers, stocks, and even hacking. So he called her down, proposed her a job, to which she took instantly, and had monitored her progress over time. Her working in the stock market had opened up a new branch to the organization, while they were already dealing with stocks he had never seen anyone change numbers so quickly and so drastically, and when she stroad into his office one day with files on their threats, background information no one knew, he knew he had made the right choice.

Peter and Michelle: highschool flings. He had promised her money, promised her everything she could ever want, healthcare, the best education at the greatest university, anything she could have ever wanted. She was desperate. And now she’s trapped. He sees her as the perfect soldier. So easily manipulated and now stone cold, yet still easily controlled. He has no further opinion on her, she means little to him, but she hates him with a passion. He lied to her, and now she’s stuck doing something so horrific. She’s betraying everyone she knows, the people she grew up around. And she’s going to get him back.

Peter and Gwen: Gwen was... an experiment. Bother her and her sister Aj. They wanted to see how manipulated young kids from the lowest of income families could be, if they could take them from their families, cover up the crime scene or label them as runaways or the media’s favorite excuse, a suicide, and turn them into their workers, like their soldiers. The experiment was proven to be a semi success, it turns out the younger they are the harder it is. The older they are the easier, because they have a concept of morality, and are forced to comply in fears of dying. Gwen was an acception however, her being 3 when kidnapped. She shows extreme potential and loyalty. She’s ruthless, while also charming and showing a youthful aura. Peter had felt fond over her, while seeing her as mainly a weapon, he enjoyed aiding in her teaching and saw her almost as a daughter. She was eager to comply in what he wanted, although began to question everything as time went on. Began to rebel. What ever happened to her mom and dad? Why is Aj so angry at the association all the time? ...why am I here?

Peter and Aj: constant gaslighting. Peter plays himself as the good guy and that Aj is just the angry teenage girl. Aj knows what they did, at least she has an idea. She doesn’t like being a soldier and she doesn’t like being forced to kill people. She hates her life, she hates Peter, and she just wants her sister to live normally. But Aj doesn’t even know what normal is. At least she has food, constant shelter, access to the best technology... this is normal. This is normal.

Peter and Ivan: were at a constant truce until Peter had sent Plethora to assassinate someone very important to Ivan, later on revealed to be his wife. Then their relationship turned into a dangerous rivalry where everything would soon fall apart.

#alex banters #my ocs #peter durante #jason byrne #cooper valentino #plethora valentino #cassandra valentino #ivanoff frikoski #gwen richman #aj richman #anahii durante #michelle wilson #asks

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dcnativegal · 5 years ago

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Day 55 of Pandemic, & I’m sick

Monday, May 4, 2020. Day 55 of the global pandemic (declared by World Health Organization on March 11th.) We as a planet hit 3,500,000 cases today, and 250,000 deaths. There are many more than that, but the planet doesn’t have enough tests. But then, there was this announcement:

So obviously we’re in good hands. [Sarcasm alert.]

The entire planet has slowed down, such that seismologists can detect the quieting of the earth: less shuddering of industry, cars, construction. Check out the drop in electricity usage:

Here’s a bit of perspective from Instagram:

The Lesbians of Paisley have been fertile ground for viruses. Valerie is nearly recovered from the viral pneumonia she was diagnosed with on March 26 at the emergency room at Lake District Hospital. She’d begun to feel feverish and achy, with violent coughing on March 15th, 2 days after what turned into my last day in my office at the hospital’s primary care clinic, and a day and a half after we’d dined with our friends Toni, Al, Bonnie and Bruce in person, sans masks. We began 100% isolation from the outside world the minute she felt sick. She recounted the ER adventure to a friend thusly: We drove in and they have organized a system that resembles getting on a [military] base after 9-11. We sat in the pickup at the checkpoint until a somebody in protective attire had taken my temp and saturation levels and asked a bunch of questions. Then they slapped a red sticker on the dash, told us to park in the ER lot and "don't get out of the pickup." Five hours later I had donated blood and been CAT scanned. I had two pneumonia shots that were current and two flu shots, also current. They checked the blood against 14 different virus strains and came up blank. The chest showed white lungs and my saturation levels were iffy. So they used one of the tests they had been sent, gave me antibiotics (just in case) and sent me home. Took me three days to sleep off all that fun.”

Me and Griffey the poodle waited in the pickup for her. At every sound, he got up from the passenger’s seat and looked at the ER entrance where she’d disappeared. No Valerie? Back to sleep. I walked him 3 times. Hope, her RN daughter, told us that her flow through the ER was great practice in maintaining distance and perfect hygienic process through the CT scan, taking blood, even pushing her food on a tray to her. Lake Health District Hospital is prepared, and still, technically speaking, zero cases in the county.

I was so anxious about her health, her ability to breathe, that I gave up all thought of working from home. I listened to her breathing and coughing, brought her tea, and finally, asked her to write out her last will and testament. She did, and put it away. I figured, her kids are wonderful and won’t fight about stuff but, better for her to express her wishes, even if the paper wouldn’t be legally binding.

Apparently, I get the FrankenDodge (the pickup which has hit one too many deer and who’s grill is sewn together by wire). I’ll take it but I’d much rather have her.

We waited 10 days for the nasal swab results. While we waited, she got better. Never had that cytokine storm, nor that respiratory crash. Storms and crashes; pretty apt words for the medical horror of end stage COVID-19. Once her test came back negative, despite the warning of her PCP who says that nasal swabs miss between 30 and 47% of positive cases, I was able to go to town on the 10th of April, get some software downloaded onto the computer so I could work from home, and hit Safeway while wearing a mask. I also dropped off one of Valerie’s homemade masks to a friend, along with some toilet paper illustrated with Trump’s kissy face. The moment of levity was greatly appreciated.

I started feeling lousy six days after my jaunt to Lakeview (April 16th). Cough and release of gook high up in my chest. Headache. No fever. Who knows if I have COVID-19. We listen to a British gentleman, Dr. Campbell, daily, as he reviews what’s going on globally, and he interviewed a woman who had exactly my illness course, before she moved on to fever and gastrointestinal symptoms. She never got tested. Too much hassle. Which is so ridiculous, criminal really, and in the USA, a direct result of American hubris and incompetence. Fine. Anyone with any symptoms of any illness is isolated until we have a vaccine and treatment, is my prediction. I’m still feeling shitty, though better. Started taking antibiotics just in case and in the hopes of recovering SOMEDAY.

My son Jonah and his girlfriend June escaped just in time the terrible plight of New York’s COVID19 deluge of infections and hospitalizations. They’ve been in Baltimore at June’s mother’s beautiful home. He spent his 26th birthday in the basement because they were still in quarantine. See adorable picture, below. Now they’re allowed upstairs, enjoying the quiet. Apparently, writing and directing music videos is not an essential service during a pandemic, but he’s writing pitches and living off the most recent lucrative gig with Kesha, thank goodness.

One of the most moving things that is happening in the USA during this time is the 7pm clapping ritual for medical workers and first responders in New York City, in all the boroughs:

There’s a firefighter in DC who’s going to hospitals and nursing homes to play the bagpipe.

That’s where my daughter Clara lives, in DC, but right now she’s staying with a friend in Laurel, MD, since her group house dynamics are stressful and had a symptomatic guest at last report. She’s working from home to make sure the Latinx school children are getting the tutoring they need now more than ever. We worry about her husband Jose and his country, Guatemala, since there are COVID-19 cases down there, and refugees seeking asylum are being dumped there, with and without the virus. Over 700 cases in Guatemala as of today. We hope he will get to the USA this year. However, Trump referred to it as a shithole country, which doesn’t bode well.

My sister and her husband are well, thankfully. They work fulltime from home in the company of Pepper the cat and Darcy the chocolate lab. Yuuki, 25, stays there, too, mostly in their room; they are out of work and applying for unemployment. Kohji, age 28, works from home in DC and makes more money as a web designer than I ever will after 34 years as a social worker, but who’s counting. (I remember well the admonition of a field instructor back in 1987: don’t go into social work for Power, Pay or Prestige.) His girlfriend is probably out of work; she works for a nonprofit that plants trees in DC. Probably not essential work right this very minute. Makoto, 23, is out of quarantine and looking for something to do; he’ll be a senior at the University of Delaware this fall. As far as I hear on Facebook and email, the rest of the folks with whom I share DNA are well. So that’s good. I worry about my Aunt Mary Lee who is 87. But she says not to: she’s fine and her ritzy retirement community in McLean, VA is on “lockdown.”

Psychologically, in the experience of quarantine and ‘social distancing’, there’s me, and then there are my clients.

My moods go up and down, but a little further down than usual. The terror that Valerie might die of COVID-19 has passed, but I figure I will always need therapy. I have “Facebook messenger” video chats with my therapist, Darcy of Bend, every other week now, which helps. Having ‘Generalized Anxiety Disorder’ and a tendency toward major depression, I find therapy to be a corrective. A bimonthly tune up. Without it, I naturally veer toward negativity and neurosis, and a hypervigilance that served me well when I was a child, but is exhausting, overwrought and over-thought as an adult.

Psychologically, Valerie is always fine. Seriously. She was once told as a young woman by a therapist who’d tested her with the MMPI (the Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory) that she was outrageously and puzzlingly normal. Now that she’s feeling mostly well again from the pneumonia, she’s been tearing up the joint, fixing the sump pump that apparently keeps this little house from drifting down main street on the wetlands it’s built on. Digging out the leaves from our irrigation ditch, chopping and clearing the wood from our front yard.

The BEFORE picture:

The AFTER Picture.

And this happened one morning in March. Just a cattle drive past our front door.

Valerie’s planning a garden at her daughter’s place, which has a deer-proof fence and lots of sun up on the hill above us. A delivery of horse manure is scheduled, and the garden bed has been rototilled. Val’s granddaughter Jessica and her husband Alan are living up there now, working from home for their Portland-based gigs. They’re almost finished the 14-day quarantine since they moved down here. The new normal: anytime anyone leaves one locale for another, they disappear into strictest quarantine, not to leave their abode. Groceries are delivered to the doorstep. A recent day turned out to be Jess’ 25th birthday: I’d bought a canvas bag with a picture of a pug on it, like her dog Archie, and Valerie found something gluten free flour mix with fresh jam to give her. Birthday gatherings are suspect at the moment.

Here’s a lovely idea for quarantined birthday celebrations:

What a kind and generous offer.

Even in isolation, Val and I do socialize, on zoom. The one pictured below is church.

We ‘visit’ with our fellow parishioners from St. Luke’s on Sunday evenings. Then we say Compline together, from the Book of Common Prayer. My favorite prayer of all time is this one from that service.

Yes, shield the joyous. Because joy is fleeting.

Our writers’ group, Easy Writers, ‘meets’ on zoom every Monday now. I wrote this bit about my yarn for the prompt, ‘write something in your home that means a lot to you.’

I am doing a great deal of crochet and a little knitting.

Yarn is my comfort and my joy. It is the raw material I create blankets and scarves and hats with. My tools are hooks and needles made from wood and plastic and metal. My fingers are also my tools.

Some of the yarn is like cotton candy: spun mohair from a goat is said to have a ‘halo’ or ‘aura’ because of the gentle cloud of color you can see an inch or two away from the spun thread. Some yarn is like twine: you can see every string of ply. My favorite is merino wool and single ply. A unity of color that will not split. All for one and one for all, the fuzzy stuff is twisted and bound into a single string of strength…

My clients are stressed out. The pandemic adds a layer to the stress they were already experiencing. I listen and knit, from within the cocoon of the yarn room which my folks can see behind me. One of my clients wanders about with her phone in her hand while I get slightly dizzy. I like this kind of counseling since I get a glimpse of my clients’ homes. Reminds me a little bit of being a geriatric care manager. You can tell a lot about a person from their home. From my home you can tell that I have a lot of yarn, and I work multiple projects at a time because there are piles of them alongside my recliner.

One of the sad weights of being present for my clients is their level of estrangement for most if not all social connections, especially people with whom they share DNA. And every single one has what is called in the mental health world “complex PTSD” from multiple traumatic experiences. I sit with them, on the phone or via video. I hope to model for them what Carl Rogers called ‘unconditional positive regard.’ I breathe deeply to release my own distress at their sadness. We explore one tiny step toward reducing their isolation, the sense of trust. All during a pandemic where other people could be carrying a potentially deadly virus.

It’s no wonder I’m pawing mohair out of screen for my own comfort.

Sometimes I email clients links or articles on how to keep their spirits up, or about good things that are happening instead of the dire predictions they’re listening to or watching. There is much to share that is hopeful. I sent one to a client on creative ways to care for everyone and she shot back:

“I believe this is Liberal rhetoric.

Esp the paragraph below:

This current emergency provides the possibility for a new emergence—the birthing of a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people and the living Earth. “

Oh well. We can’t have a truly civil civilization dedicated to the well-being of all people, now can we?

Sigh.

Brilliant writing is being penned right now, since the entire planet’s human inhabitants are barely one degree of separation away from this virus, which is apparently ‘barely alive’ and therefore hard to kill, as it spreads onward to make millions miserable and hundreds of thousands die.

I’m saving articles from The Atlantic, The NY Times, and the Washington Post, and following a historian named Heather Cox Richardson who writes a daily blog called Letters from an American. In a recent post she writes:

“The big news … has been the ‘protests’ of state governors’ stay-at-home orders and mandatory business closings to try to contain the novel coronavirus …These protests are a classic example of trying to control politics by controlling the national narrative. The protests are backed by the same conservative groups that are working for Trump’s reelection. …These are not spontaneous, grassroots protests. They are political operations designed to divert attention from the Trump administration’s poor response to the pandemic. Even more, though, they are designed to keep the American public divided so that we do not protest the extraordinary economic inequality the pandemic has highlighted.

These protests have diverted the national conversation by turning a national crisis into partisan division along the lines the Republican Party has developed since the 1980s... The change of subject protects not just Trump but also the ideology at the heart of his Republican Party. Since 1981, Republicans have argued that the economy depends on wealthy businessmen who know best how to arrange the economy—the makers-- and that it is vital to protect their interests. Under their policies, wealth in America has moved upward. The pandemic has highlighted how these policies have removed economic security for ordinary people. They cannot pay their bills, and they might well turn against an ideology that uses our tax dollars to bail out corporations while they must risk their lives to pay their rent.” [Emphasis mine]

I am so glad someone smarter than me can reveal the interconnections of what’s going on politically.

There is food for thought on Facebook and Instagram: in the guise of a rewrite of Mary Oliver’s Wild Geese, this poem.

Mary Oliver for Corona Times (after Wild Geese)

by Adrie Kusserow

You do not have to become totally zen, You do not have to use this isolation to make your marriage better, your body slimmer, your children more creative. You do not have to “maximize its benefits” By using this time to work even more, write the bestselling Corona Diaries, Or preach the gospel of ZOOM. You only have to let the soft animal of your body unlearn everything capitalism has taught you, (That you are nothing if not productive, That consumption equals happiness, That the most important unit is the single self. That you are at your best when you resemble an efficient machine). Tell me about your fictions, the ones you’ve been sold, the ones you sheepishly sell others, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world as we know it is crumbling. Meanwhile the virus is moving over the hills, suburbs, cities, farms and trailer parks. Meanwhile The News barks at you, harsh and addicting, Until the push of the remote leaves a dead quiet behind, a loneliness that hums as the heart anchors. Meanwhile a new paradigm is composing itself in our minds, Could birth at any moment if we clear some space From the same tired hegemonies. Remember, you are allowed to be still as the white birch, Stunned by what you see, Uselessly shedding your coils of paper skins Because it gives you something to do. Meanwhile, on top of everything else you are facing, Do not let capitalism coopt this moment, laying its whistles and train tracks across your weary heart. Even if your life looks nothing like the Sabbath, Your stress boa-constricting your chest. Know that your antsy kids, your terror, your shifting moods, are no less sacred than a yoga class. Whoever you are, no matter how broken, the world still has a place for you, calls to you over and over announcing your place as legit, as forgiven, even if you fail and fail and fail again. remind yourself over and over, all the swells and storms that run through your long tired body all have their place here, now in this world. It is your birthright you be held deeply, warmly, in the family of things, not one cell left in the cold.

-Adrie Kusserow

Not one cell left out in the cold. Yes.

There is so much to be grateful for. I have a place to live, and even while paying off my bankruptcy debt, I have plenty. Enough that I can make small donations here and there. Here’s one cause I found: supporting foster children who were in college and now have no place to go. (Terrible visuals for the logo: it’s “Together We Rise.”)

Soon, the nights of below freezing temperatures will pass, and both Lesbians of Paisley will be healthy at the same time. Perhaps I’ll get my Tricycle-for-Grownups serviced and toodle around for exercise. Perhaps the Stitch & Bitch knitting/crochet gatherings will resume, maybe in a park for physical distance and social connection.

And maybe I’ve already had Covid-19, and so has Valerie. Looks like 50-70% of all the people on the planet, not quite 8 billion humans so maybe 4 to 6 billion people, need to catch this thing in order to give our species herd immunity. Or WILL catch it because we have no way to stop it, only to slow the infections so that health care is not overwhelmed. We live and Love in the Time of Coronavirus, to paraphrase Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I maybe a libtard, a snowflake, a lily-livered liberal, who’s heart bleeds. But I agree with this sentiment, found on Facebook, our American ‘commons’:

Love absurdly and abundantly, my people. And wash your hands.

#covidー19

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ekcportfolio · 5 years ago

Photo

I really debated a lot whether or not to make this, but in the end I decided to. I don’t think I’ve ever been so impacted by a game or even a villain until playing the end game portion of Shadowbringers. I just felt like I needed to make a wallpaper of him and I really wanted one for my computer, so I made one.

I was not expecting to love Emet-Selch so much, and truthfully up until we got to Amaurot I arguably still hated him and was ultra suspicious. I was shocked and appalled that he apparently set up a residency for me there in his makeshift town of shadows, and slowly as things unraveled I began to feel sorry for him. I had doubts lingering still through Hythlodaeus’ discussion with us, but then as soon as I unlocked the Amaurot dungeon I was internally just ruined and moved. I legit just felt sorry for him and wished we could have found another way. I know ultimately we couldn’t because our positions are fundamentally opposed and one can’t exist with the other, so I was just sad and in the end I loved him as a character and have been thinking and re-watching the ending cut scenes repeatedly for weeks. I was curious and trying to find just more about him, and his home, and just everything. Ultimately, I don’t think the path he chose was right, but there’s a huge question of how much of those decisions were his own will. What is certain is his pain and depression, that resonated so strongly with me. On my personal normal tumblr I have a bunch of long rants and thoughts thinking about the whole thing and examining grief and bereavement and the symptoms and even remembering how I was when I was mourning my Dad. I just don’t have the words to describe it succinctly, but such an amazing story with this expansion.

The image of him is official art from the official Twitter by Yusuke Mogi. Screenshot of Amaurot is one of the many screenshots around because it’s kind of a pain in the butt for me to capture and transfer from my PS4 at the moment, so I just used an online one and did some light filtering. I kind of like how the official art he looks a tad crazy, and well he kind of is in his grief. He recreated his home expansively and with excessive detail with shades of people he remembered. He even put a functioning aetheryte and *stores*. Who are these stores selling to? The shades aren’t really buying it, but you as a player can. That’s some kind of obsession right there to recreate your long lost home, fill it with shades of the dead, and make functioning facilities that no one except you and coincidental passerbys will ever use. That is some level of dedication and madness. But everything seems to go together for me.

I think I might want to find more or better script fonts because I feel like I couldn’t find the one I wanted exactly, but the one I went with is close enough. He’s kind of a fancy, dandy man, so something really classy script-y seemed fitting for him. I also thought he’d probably sign more from his office title as well, so it worked. I think if I find a good pic or shot of him in his Ascian attire I’ll make a Hades one, but dang I really needed to make something to try to funnel the thoughts spinning my head out.

I’m working into getting back into drawing. I was okay at it as a kid, but abandoned it because I thought I wasn’t that good and now as an adult my co-workers comment that actually I can draw. But now it’s like I don’t really have a lot of training or practice, so I have to slowly try to get into practicing along with the million other things I want to do with my life. Maybe one day I’ll be able to draw my own too so I can make the perfect pose and such, but that day is not today.

#ffxiv #shadowbringers #emet-selch #shadowbringers spoilers #wallpaper #hades

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years ago

Text

A Christmas Date

Summary: When Minhyuk finally convinced you to see his band play this Christmas, you were hesitant to allow your heart to be swayed any more than it already had been.

Pairing: Kang Minhyuk x reader (ft. CNBLUE)

Genre: Christmas au / fluff / co-workers to lovers au

A/N: Welcome to Christmas in July! This mini collab with @this-song-thats-only-for-you has been so much fun to create! Since Minhyuk’s birthday was the same day as Daehyun’s, I chose to write for him now. And I hope @noona-clock doesn’t mind, whenever I think of Jungshin/CNBLUE, I naturally think of her story Something’s Brewing and so a couple of details in this stem from that world. I highly recommend you go read that story if you haven’t some time!

Word count: 3754

“You’ll be there, right?”

Glancing up to meet Minhyuk’s expectant gaze, you smiled weakly. “Christmas in the Park? Listen, Minhyuk, I-”

“You’re not going to ditch me again, are you?” he intervened, shooting you a pout. Oh god, not the pout. He then grinned and your heart began to thump noisily in your chest.

You were doomed.

Working with Kang Minhyuk was a blessing and a curse. You hadn’t expected when the tall man walked into your florist one day with a resume under his arm that you would be struggling this much six months later. He was capable in every way, and whilst that meant you could trust him to ensure that business went well whenever you weren’t in the shop, it also made you aware of all his little mannerisms. How his smiles were able to make everyone who walked into the store feel a little weak at the knee, his arrangement skills impressing even the most sceptical of people that flowers could be more than just beautiful. He was polite yet playful, generous with his skills and his time, and incredibly thoughtful.

How such a man existed, you weren’t sure, and knowing that he had other talents in life seemed completely unfathomable. It was highly unfair that Minhyuk was able to do so much, remain humble and be utterly gorgeous on top of all of that.

And that was why you had a hard time accepting doing anything with him outside of work.

“Y/N,” he called, the slight whine in his voice making you wish for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, and yet you wanted to relish in the sound for the rest of your life as well. It was ridiculous the effect Minhyuk had over you, and as his boss, you struggled with maintaining the incredibly fine line between being professional and falling at his feet.

“I don’t do well in crowds,” you mumbled feebly and whilst it was the truth, it was an excuse and he knew it.

“You’ll have fun, I promise. I’ll make sure that you’re with Jungshin’s girlfriend, Becky, the whole time. She’ll look after you; she’s a seasoned pro at coming to our gigs and at avoiding being stuck in sticky crowd situations. Plus you promised me. This is a huge deal for me and I want you there!”

Staring up at Minhyuk, you could tell you were blushing at that last sentence. Why did he want you there? You knew if you went it would be game over for your heart. He was passionate about his music, that much you could already tell. And with how much you had already fallen for Minhyuk within this garden bed of roses, you knew if you stepped outside with him, away from what you knew, that it would be impossible to maintain your working relationship. Seeing Minhyuk out of this florist could make it harder for you to see him in it the next time. And with it being so close to Christmas, well, you needed him. Orders were only going peak over the next week, and he really did the best arrangements.

“It’s Christmas time, where’s your generous spirit, huh?” You huffed at his question and he chuckled, knowing he was getting under your skin. “I’m not going to let you get out of this, Y/N. You told me that you’d come to see us perform before the end of the year.”

“I have no choice?” you asked and Minhyuk nodded firmly. “What will you do if you make me come and I don’t enjoy your music?” He was genuinely surprised by your statement though he recovered quickly, laughing as he nudged you playfully. “What will you do if you love it?”

You would die, you were certain of it. But you couldn’t tell him that, smiling softly to yourself instead. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“So you’ll come?!”

Ignoring the puppy-like excitement now filling his features, you nodded once, confirming your attendance.

Though you were truly worried about what you had gotten yourself into.

The day of the event, you had attempted to get out of going. Your bedroom looked like a riot had gone off within it; clothing was strewn across your bed from countless deliberation of what to wear. You didn’t know how to dress for such an outing and since this would be your first time appearing in Minhyuk’s world not as his boss and fellow colleague, you were conflicted further. What if you wore something that he would tease you about on Monday? You were so used to wearing blouses and dress pants or dresses in his company that you almost opted for one of your work attires just to ease some of your anxiety. Yet, Christmas in the Park was an outdoor music event, and you would be spending quite a number of hours out in the cool wintry air.

That left you with not a lot of fashionable pieces to extenuate and to opt for comfort over style. You still wanted to look good, however, scolding yourself for wanting to make a good impression on not only Minhyuk but his friends too. This wasn’t a date, and yet your brain was convincing you otherwise. Settling on your favourite pair of jeans, a woollen jumper, your dress coat and a pair of boots, you fumbled your way through your makeup, picking up your phone and writing multiple renditions of plausible excuses to Minhyuk along the way. You felt uneasy as you did your hair, worrying that you would look clearly older than him and his friends. What would they think of you as his boss? It was nerve-wracking and when your phone suddenly went off in your hand as you thought over how to word being sick in a believable way for the umpteenth time, you shrieked. Managing to only drop the device into your lap and not onto the floor, you retrieved it and opened up the message you had received.

1:13pm Minhyuk: You better not think of a single excuse to send me. I’ll see you at three!

Groaning at his innate ability to read you even this far apart, you sent him back a can’t wait response and stared at your reflection before letting out a big sigh.

You could do this.

Arriving at the park that the event was being held at, you were pleasantly surprised by the atmosphere. It was your first time attending the event, normally opting to remain indoors when it was this cold. Despite the crowds that were already forming, it seemed more welcoming than you expected. Families were setting up their designated spots and fuelling their children with hot food and drinks from their packed bags, and wrapping blankets over their legs. Teens gathered together by the edge of the stage gossiping about the hottest bands that would be attending tonight. Adults like yourself seemed to be relieved for a break from the office and to socialise with ease among their peers, and even elders were set up in camping chairs, discussing how many years they had been attending the event. You eased somewhat until you heard your name being called.

You turned, Minhyuk jogging over to your side with a grin plastered over his face. You mirrored his expression, blinking a couple of times as you took in his attire. Without thinking too much about it, you reached out for his bare arms and chastised him. “Where’s your jacket, aren’t you cold?”

“Oh, I left it backstage, we just had rehearsal before and I got a little hot,” he explained, his gaze on your hand. You slipped it back and he dug his hands deep into his jeans pockets, his skin now flushed. You assumed it was due to the cold and his sudden approach toward you and wrapped your hand around your other wrist, rocking back on the small heel of your boot. Minhyuk cleared his throat and grinned again. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

“I was expecting some kind of excuse about being too sick to get out of bed,” he continued and you snapped your gaze up to his, shaking your head profusely, hoping you didn’t let on that was exactly what you had been attempting to do.

“Of course not, you told me to have some Christmas spirit, so here I am. Though, are you just performing Christmas songs tonight?”

Minhyuk chuckled, shaking his head. “There will be some groups that do, and at the end of the show there’s a big Christmas medley happening, but most people are just singing their own songs.”

“Oh, so I’ll get to hear what CNBLUE is all about?”

“You will,” Minhyuk assured, his smile ever-present. And then he seemed to process a thought, launching forward to grab your hand and pulled you towards backstage. Focusing on remaining upright and not on how warm his hand was on yours despite the low temperature outside, you were shuffled past various people and tasks going on in the bustling atmosphere backstage until you came to a stop in a waiting area that was for Minhyuk’s group. Immediately you were greeted by a great voice, your movement stilling as you listened to the way the man sang.

“Yonghwa, Y/N’s here,” Minhyuk mentioned and the man you had just been in awe over stopped singing, turning to see you there. He grinned, coming over to shake your hand enthusiastically. And that was how your greetings with Minhyuk’s friends went. Yonghwa was loud and vivacious, much like his voice was. Jonghyun greeted you with a smile and Jungshin teased Minhyuk for bringing his boss to his work for the night. It was then that you met Becky, who not only reminded her boyfriend of where they once met before dating and then came over to your side and shyly reached out to befriend you. Her reaction eased you immediately and you relaxed into the new company, soon forgetting all about your worries of coming tonight.

“We’ll go out and get a spot by the stage,” Becky announced and you waved the men off, following Becky back out and finding a spot that had a great view of the stage without being too close.

Becky then smiled at you and you returned the gesture. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“It’s no problem. I remember the first gig I went to, though it was in a small bar. They’ve come a long way to do stages like this.”

“So they’re really good then?”

Becky blinked. “You haven’t heard their music yet? They have albums out.”

“Uh, no, this will be my first time.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat. They’re really talented,” Becky grinned. “Oh, and I’m not saying that even though I have the opportunity to be biased. All four members are amazing at what they do. Their music is the kind that gets right into your soul and makes you addicted.”

“Ah,” you said with a nod of your head, hopeful that you would be able to agree with her evaluation when the night was over.

Becky looked at you for a moment and then smiled again when you caught her eye. “You know, this is the first time Minhyuk’s invited anyone to see him play.”

“Really?”

“He talks about you too. You must be a really good friend to him.”

You contemplated her assumption, wrestling with disbelief. You eventually shook your head. “I’m just his boss.”

“I doubt that,” Becky refuted and then pointed to the stage. “Oh, here they come!”

Much like the attitude backstage, Yonghwa was vibrant and hooked the crowd immediately. And when Minhyuk held up his drumsticks before dropping them to start the beat, you were a goner.

Becky was right; you didn’t know who you were by the time the first song was over. Although you didn’t remember the names of the songs, you attempted to take in every detail, whilst your eyes frequently soaked in Minhyuk in his element. This was unlike in the florist. On stage, he seemed to shine brightly, his smiles as effortless as his skills were. You gasped when he started singing the backups as he continued to drum away and you glanced at Becky, her energetic nod telling you that she understood.

CNBLUE was definitely addictive.

When their set finished, you felt as if your body had become heavy. You were rooted to the spot, the ringing of the last part of the set replaying within your mind. It was Becky who nudged you out of your stupor, tugging you along with her to go find the members backstage. You needed more time, more air, maybe a drink of water to sober up, but before you knew it, you were in front of the four men, Becky leaving your side to hug Jungshin affectionately.

“So, what did you think?” Yonghwa asked and Jonghyun chuckled.

“Give her a chance to process it.”

“Why does she need time? Y/N either liked it or disliked it,” Yonghwa continued, turning back to face you. Smiling gently, you nodded a couple of times.

“I liked it.”

“Liked what, which part?” Yonghwa pulled you to sit down and eagerly waited for your response which was hard to formulate.

“Let her breathe,” Jungshin instructed and nudged Minhyuk pointedly.

You watched as the man you knew the most retreated. You had expected him to be like Yonghwa, after all these weeks of asking you to come see him play. It seemed surreal to see him hesitate, reserved with his approach. His usual smile was missing and you stared at him a little longer before turning back to Yonghwa and answering his questions as best as you could.

The night was still young, and yet you were wondering more about Minhyuk’s thoughts right up until the time you eventually crawled into bed.

You hoped he would share them with you when you next saw him.

Monday morning arrived and you were a mixture of emotions to see Minhyuk again. He had texted you the day before, thanking you for coming to the concert and spending your night with Becky and the members. It seemed odd that his reaction was so formal when you had been laughing and enjoying yourself within his friends’ company until you had gone home. And yesterday you had followed all their social media accounts, grinning when everyone followed you back. You had downloaded the content that you could purchase online, and spent the day cleaning your home and bopping along to CNBLUE. Even on your way to work, you were singing along to Between Us, having played the song so much you could almost sing it word for word.

But now that you were in your usual setting, your mood seemed to resolve, resuming back to the quiet and polite version of yourself. You greeted your supplier gently, carrying in boxes of fresh flowers one after the other until on your final run; they were taken out of your arms.

You blinked. “Minhyuk.”

“Good morning,” he greeted softly, carrying the carton into the back room and opening them up to see what needed to go in which floral cooler.

You stood at the edge of the bench, wondering what to say.

“What did you do yesterday?”

Minhyuk didn’t look up. “Mostly just relaxed.”

“I downloaded your music,” you blurted out and he paused in shifting a box of lilies into the cooler. You took it as a sign to continue. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you?” you retorted, staring at him as he stood back to his full height. Neither of you spoke and yet you could tell he had a lot to say.

“Hello, is your store open yet?” a voice called out and broke the spell, Minhyuk stepping around you and going out to serve the customer.

It was like that for the rest of the morning, both edging around what happened on Saturday, yet neither coming out with anything productive to say. It was driving you mad and by the time Minhyuk had gone to take his lunch break, you were completely frustrated.

“Why invite me out if he’s going to be this awkward with me?” you scoffed, arranging a Christmas themed bouquet with a little more vigour than usual. “I should have made an excuse after all. Hanging out with his boss clearly was a bad choice on his behalf.”

You grumbled for a few more minutes, your frustration shifting towards despair. It was hard not to feel a sense of rejection. Although you had been invited out as a friend, you had hoped for some kind of reaction from Minhyuk to understand why he had asked you to come. Did he want to be more than just co-workers? Or was he just proud of his achievements and wanted to show you? None of it made sense and as you unravelled some ribbon, you thought of the worst.

“Did I embarrass him? Did I say something wrong to his friends?”

“You did nothing wrong.”

You squeaked at the sudden reappearance of Minhyuk, snipping the ribbon blindly and catching your finger in the process. Your hand was immediately within his and Minhyuk led you out the back, right over to the sink and ran the water over the wound.

“Keep it under the water whilst I prepare the band-aid.”

“It’s not that bad,” you mentioned but the look he gave you made you push your hand back under the flowing water. Minhyuk then reached for your hand and wrapped a towel around it to gently pat it dry.

As he dealt with the wound, you sighed. “Why did you invite me to the event if you were going to be like this with me?”

“I didn’t know I would struggle either.”

“You’re struggling?” you asked and the vulnerable emotion within his eyes was quickly removed much like the backing of the band-aid was. “With what?”

Focusing on his handiwork now that the band-aid was over your wound, Minhyuk continued to hold your hand. You went to pull away but he gripped on. “With how much I like you.”

“Me?” you echoed and Minhyuk nodded. “You like me? Me?”

A small smile played upon his lips. “Should I not?”

“No… well yes. I mean, why would you like me?” you babbled and Minhyuk laughed softly, capturing your attention. You stared up at him, your confusion softening. “You like me? Since when?”

“Since I first met you.”

“But wait, that was…”

“Seven months ago.”

You frowned. “I hired you six months ago.”

“I know but we met before then.” You didn’t respond and Minhyuk smiled. “I was a customer before I chose to try my luck and get a job here. I did need a new job. Working with Jungshin at the coffee shop wasn’t really working out for me when I would have to go to band practice after work too. And I genuinely do like working with flowers too.”

“You came here pointedly?” you breathed and Minhyuk nodded. “Because of me?”

He nodded again. “You mean, I’ve spent all this time trying to avoid how I felt when you’ve been here because of me?”

“To be fair, I wanted to get to know you first. Sure, I could have asked you out on a date as a customer,” Minhyuk mused and then grinned at your still startled expression. “But with how hard it’s been to actually get you to come out with me, I doubt you would have accepted my request from that position.”

“I’m still back at the part where you came here with the intention of getting to know me.”

Minhyuk finally let go of your hand and you blinked away from your reverie, a slight ache within your hand now that he wasn’t holding it.

Logically, that was probably due to the injury you had sustained.

“Seeing you out of the florist was overwhelming for me. And then how easily you fitted in with my friends, I could see this becoming something regular. I wasn’t prepared to cope with how much I felt on Saturday. That’s why I was quieter.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated and sighed. “Just oh?”

“You’re the one announcing you have feelings for me, how am I meant to react?”

Minhyuk was thoughtful for a moment and then leaned down into your face, smiling brightly. You blinked repeatedly, unsure if you should step back or grip onto him with how giddy you suddenly felt. “Will you come out with me again if I ask you, Y/N?”

“Where to? I thought that was the last performance you had scheduled for the year.”

He nodded.

“Then?”

“On a date, just you and me this time. They say that dating around Christmas time is much more magical than any other time of the year.”

You eyed him carefully, the smile on your lips forming slowly. “Really, why’s that?”

“Because it’s the season where dreams come true.”

“That’s really cheesy,” you told him with a giggle and Minhyuk pulled you into an embrace, your laughter startled into hiccups.

“I know, but you seem like the type to enjoy cliché romance like this.”

“Where the girl gets the really attractive guy that everyone fawns over?”

Minhyuk chuckled within the embrace. “Not everyone fawns over me.”

“Oh really? Have you seen how our clients react when you start smiling and pointing out flowers? I’m sure half of them would prefer to purchase you then the bouquets they walk out of here with!”

“Are you jealous?” he wondered with a smirk and you tried to slip out of the embrace Minhyuk held you within, your answer evident by your actions. “There’s only one person who I have eyes for, and it’s definitely not a client.”

“One date?” you surmised and Minhyuk gaped at you.

“I’m holding you in my arms; do you think we’re only going on one date?”

“Two dates?”

“If you’re trying to protect yourself from thinking I’ll suddenly change my mind, might I remind you I got this job because I liked you. I haven’t changed my mind since.”

“You’re blinded by the beauty of this place,” you complained and Minhyuk nodded softly.

“Because you’re here.”

You wondered if dating Minhyuk would be a blessing and a curse as well. But admittedly, you were hopeful that the Christmas spirit would help you out a little with that magic. Because you wanted this dream to remain a reality for a long time.

_________________

[Seasonal or Collabs Masterlist] | [CNBLUE Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

Christmas In July: New Traditions // A Christmas Date // Cliche Christmas // With A Bow On Top

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Sir

Ok, so this is me taking responsibility for starting a round of fiction on an NSFW prompt (smut off). Each participant got the same prompt “Mitsuhide is the Boss has fun with his employee” it could be interpreted anyway they wanted as long as Mitsuhide was the guy in charge.

@colivara @xathia-89 @jennacat84 @notsafefortum-blr @tarralin sorry if I missed tagging someone in this.

Warnings: Seriously it’s NSFW and set in the workplace. Read responsibly. Adult situation 18+ stuff.

Masterlist

---

Sir

The clatter of desktop paraphernalia hitting to floor punctuated the hungry, needy sounds filling the quiet office space. How had it come to this? He was usually so in control of his own self but right now in this instant, he was lost in a wave of immorality.

---

2 weeks ago…

Mitsuhide had not enjoyed that summoning to HR as much as he thought he would. He couldn’t tease and relish in the reactions of Hideyoshi who had called in the CEO. Nobunaga had been calling the shots from the second he had arrived until the decision had been made to give Mitsuhide a new secretary.

It had become well known in the company that secretaries sent to the sales department did not survive long. They more often than not ran from there in tears or with a look of total muted terror. Hideyoshi had not given up in attempting to assign someone to the position but he was becoming a little more hesitant as he didn’t wish to deal with more paperwork and the string of “broken” female secretary staff.

Hideyoshi had thought to place males in the position for a time but the results were the same as before. He had no idea what Mitsuhide actually did to his staff as none of them really wished to divulge details but it was clear whatever it was meant this was a difficult job to find replacements for.

---

That was how she had arrived at the department, Nobunaga’s chosen female. Mitsuhide always arrived early but she was already placed at her desk quietly typing away on her computer before he entered the office.

Casually ignoring her presence, he walked past her desk to open his own office door. A crisp fresh scent tickled his nose causing him to follow its direction and make eye contact with the unlucky female.

“Good Morning Sir. Would you prefer Tea or coffee?” She asked brightly with a polite poker face.

“Coffee.”

“I’ll prepare it directly.” She slipped away from her desk, the citrus scent trailing behind her in her wake as she went to the small kitchenette and began to prepare the beverage. He chose to follow her, slight curiosity blooming in him as he watched her move around the small space as if she was part of the history of the place.

“You didn’t ask how I would like it.” He spoke to her from the doorway as he leaned against it watching her progress.

“Strong, not totally black. You prefer it with a dash of cream that is just enough to colour the drink but not enough to affect the main flavour of it. If you were entertaining clients the night before you ask for a little sugar and to turn it Irish. If not then you ask for nothing else. Am I right?” Her voice had an edge to it that he noted was similar to his when he was playing games with others. She was good.

“Hideyoshi briefed you in great detail I see.”

“Not just that. I noticed the small bottle of brandy you had stashed in your office. It was about half full and there was a receipt for it in the waste paper basket in your room. You gave orders not to have the normal cleaning staff clean your room which makes it part of my duties to perform and given the date on the receipt and the amount used I can easily connect that to client meetings from the appointment schedule. Mr Toyotomi only gave me direction on your usual drink of choice so I am assuming he has no clue that you add brandy to your drinks.” She was speaking as if everything she was saying in some way was totally obvious and of very little interest to her. Not everyone could make connections to minor points of interest as she had done. She was observant and smart that at least should be enough to hold his interest for a time.

“Haha. It would seem I have been given a rather interesting new toy.”

“Secretary Mr Akechi.” She was at his side before he knew it placing his coffee in his hands. “Now you have no morning meetings scheduled but there were some less standard emails that I could not send adequate replies too and the latest report of that new facility linked to the expansion project that you have a meeting for this afternoon is waiting for you on your desk.” She motioned towards his office with her manicured hands and he noted she was indeed a very well put together office worker. She almost looked exactly like the models used in those presentations Hideyoshi forced them all to attend on appropriate conduct and office attire in the workplace. Something that thankfully hadn’t happened recently, touch wood since Masamune had managed to get a steady partner.

“How efficient.”

“Thank you. I try my best. Now if there are no other tasks for me at the moment, I shall excuse myself and go to the stock room to get some more ink and paper for the printer as we appear to be out of it.” If she had seen the blend of awe and mild shock on his face as she left, she didn’t make a comment on it. Mitsuhide retreated to his office finding it clean and organised just as he preferred it.

“I wonder how long it has been since I had a challenge quite so interesting?”

---

Frustration. That was pretty much the main overriding sensation she was feeling right now and it was beginning to show. She had been warned before taking the position by several of the other department bosses that this was not going to be easy and after a few weeks, she had seen what they had all meant.

Extra work was piling up in the department for her to deal with as her boss decided yet again that he would vanish and be out of communication with the office. The increased work she had to deal with and the enquires she was taking from Mr Toyotomi were all serving to make her feel as if she was some sort of accomplice. One more day another call from HR. “I’m terribly sorry Mr Toyotomi Mr Akechi has just stepped out to visit a client at the minute can I take a message?”

She couldn’t deny it was a little thrilling to play mind games with a man who was as frustratingly intelligent as he was attractive. The small rush she got from landing a verbal blow to him that caused him to stall momentarily in his perverse attacks was exhilarating.

They had attended several meetings with clients that had taken them out of the office. Each meeting was in a private room in a bar with a relaxed atmosphere. The alcohol flowed with the conversation but the only people who seemed affected by the refreshments were the clients. Mr Akechi was somehow able to maintain the calm composed exterior he was known for regardless of how much had drunk at a meeting.

Whilst that was certainly something, she couldn’t help but admire about the man she had not taken kindly to his attempt to rattle her. Sitting next to him the client happily chattering away on the other side of the table, his hand kept “accidentally” brushing against her thigh. He would drop his pen and she could feel his breath travel up the bare calve of her leg from her ankle as he retrieved it.

There was no doubt his little game was becoming more dangerous as the days passed and he realised his words weren’t having the reactions he was wanting. Mr Akechi was a very smart capable man who also had the ability to make suggestive remarks that could easily be explained away as misunderstandings that left the other person feeling as if they were the one who’s mind was living in a gutter.

Thankfully for all his little comments and moments where she had felt a little flustered, she had managed somehow to remain calm and composed enough to deliver a few frustrating blows of her own to him in return. Turn about is fair game after all and if he wanted to play “tease the secretary” then she was more than capable of playing that game as well. There was, after all, a reason Nobunaga had chosen her for this job.

A soft long sigh escaped her lips as she replaced the receiver of the phone. It was late, most of the building was probably empty by now but she still had a stack of papers that needed to be sorted and arranged.

“That was a big sigh.” The sudden appearance of a voice by her ear caused her to jolt in her seat. “I’m sorry did I make you jump?”

“You aren’t sorry at all!” She spun around glaring at her boss who was simply smiling obviously enjoying himself.

“Your words wound me, my dear.”

“Liar.” She spat back. It was unprofessional and something she would not normally do at all but this was hardly a normal situation. She had never had such a difficult superior to answer to in all of her secretarial career.

“My my. It would seem that during my absence you have learnt to speak up. How very amusing.” The smile on his face had turned into an infuriating smirk. She had been right he was enjoying this as part of his on-going little game.

“There is nothing amusing about it. I have just been pushed to the point where my professionalism has snapped. And who’s fault do you suppose that is?” At this point, she had no idea if she wished to smack that smirk off his face or attempt to cover it up with kisses.

---

He had caught glimpses of the woman under that impossibly perfect mask she donned for work. She was practically perfect, smart, efficient in her work. Naturally observant and able to pre-emptively judge with sometimes alarming accuracy his next move. It was frustrating but tantalising. He had found himself lost in his own thoughts more often than he cared to admit thanks to her.

The notion that if Hideyoshi had known the extent to which his little diverting fantasies had progressed he would have seen the man explode, whilst forcing him to attend one of those dreaded seminars on acceptable conduct in the workplace amused him. But here, right now, in front of him was the same composed female from before. Her mask had slipped, her patience of a saint had failed her and she was glorious.

“Quite right my dear. I must apologise.” He leaned close enough to trail his fingertips up the exposed length of her arm. He could feel her shudder at his touch drawing him in closer. “Now however should I take responsibility for sure heinous acts?”

He was more than aware that his voice had taken on a deeper tone, and that his eyes were almost certainly reflecting the same level of darkening lust that he saw in hers. This was where he failed. This was where his intent to tease had merged with all those lewd little daydreams and his mask finally crumbled.

It was, in fact, her that made the first move. Grabbing his jacket lapel in her small fist and dragging him to her. Their lips connected in a hard, passionate kiss that could have started a fire with its intensity. A low growl escaped his throat mixing with one of hers as they finally parted.

Flashes of realisation flickered across her face and before she could collect her rational long enough to reject what was happening, he had dragged her towards him trapping her with one hand around her waist and a firm grip in the hair behind her head. He nipped at her lower lip gaining enough space to push his tongue into her mouth. Tracing the ridges of her palate with the very tip of his tongue she released a rather undignified moan that only spurred him on to push her further.

A desire grew inside him to see this woman become so completely undone. To see her fall so entirely apart at his touch that she failed to function.

---

Momentary shock ran through her mind as she realised what she had done. She had lost her composure and actually kissed her boss. She was used to his teasing taunts and suggestive little gestures so why had she given into to it all now? She wasn’t allowed to process anything further than that as he claimed her mouth with his. There was a hunger in that kiss that was amplified by the tugging she felt on her hair as he deepened the kiss and ran his tongue around her own.

Conscious enough to remember their surroundings she placed her hand on his broad chest and gave it a firm shove. Reluctantly he pulled back. His eyes that were once clear as yellow crystal were melting pools of liquid gold.

“We can’t do this.” Her already swollen lips felt like they were pulsating after his kiss.

“If you really wish not to then…” He pulled back giving her a little space as his eyes wavered.

“No Sir. I mean we can’t do this here.” She quickly grabbed the cuff of his sleeve anxious to alleviate the obvious misunderstanding.

If you had asked her this morning, or at any other point prior to right now if she would do this kind of thing her answer would have been a resounding no. Right now, however, in the heat of the moment. Her pulse was rising, her scent was mingling with his. All of that with the amorous look in his eyes that were screaming pure hunger meant she just knew she couldn’t turn back.

“And to think I once had you pegged for a good girl?” He chuckled as he removed his jacket draping it over the back of her desk chair.

“Even the Devil was an Angel once.” She flashed him a playful smile happy to see him make good on all those little teases he had subjected her too so far.

Scooping her up in his arms he quickly made his way into his own office. He didn’t so much as put her on the floor before he had her back pressed against the now closed door. Her hand running through his white hair as he trailed kisses along her jaw and nape, balancing her with one arm in mid-air as he fumbled with the lock with the other.

---

He had thought she was rejecting him. He was used to that but he had forgotten that this was the woman who had successfully managed to go toe to toe with him over the past few weeks, not only meeting his pace but matched it perfectly. Just knowing that they were so compatible in that regard was enough to get his blood racing wondering how compatible they were going to be in other areas.

His senses were flooded with her scent and voice. He was own thoughts were becoming blurred as he explored her creamy flesh with his mouth. His teeth grazing over the lobe of her ear making her twitch in his hold. He bought his hand to rest on the buttons of her blouse popping them free one by one. His fingertips brushing against her as he moved.

Her legs suddenly gripped him tighter dragging his hips closer to her and she freed her head from his grasp enough to whisper in his ear.

“You terrible tease.”

“Terrible as I may be my dear.” He pulled back to look at the now slightly panting female in his arms. “I have no intention at stopping at just teasing tonight.”

The helpful support of the door gone from her back had her adjusting her grip around his body in a hurry. Taking several larger than normal strides to his desk he placed her on it and unceremoniously swept most of it clear with his arm as he pushed her gently backwards. She gasped as her back touched the cold surface and realised he had already unclasped her bra. He traced the soft mounds of her under the delicate lace.

“To think you were wearing something so salacious to work.” The accusatory tone of his voice did little to mask the arousal he felt when he saw such a sight. He had imagined her in many different styles of lingerie over the past few weeks but actually seeing it, how it hugged her curves and coloured her skin that was something reality made better.

“I can’t believe you only just noticed.”

“Is that an invitation?” He chuckled at her taunt as he pulled his neck free of his tie and hurriedly undid the shirt buttons with one hand continuing to play with her lace covered breasts with the other.

“We are in this position and that is what you decide to ask? I thought you weren’t teasing me tonight?”

He chuckled as he watched her back arch to his touch. Pinching one peaked nipple before drawing a line up her exposed throat with his tongue to her ear.

“As you wish my dear. Just don’t expect me to be gentle.”

He slipped his hand under the hemline of her skirt pushing it higher until it revealed her exposed thigh above her stocking tops. If he had a bit more control, he would have stopped to appreciate the view before him but he was being led by a more basic driving force. Lust and desire were consuming him from the inside out setting his body and its usually cool temperature into a blazing inferno.

---

His chilled hands felt sensational against her increasingly flushed skin. Her heart was pounding so fast it was becoming an effort just reminding herself to breathe. To think she would be here right now doing this…

Mitsuhide yanked her blouse free from her body and tossed it to the ground with his own shirt. He always looked slender but there was no way to have guessed he would be so toned and muscular. The defined lines on his torso clearly mapped out the sections of his abdomen that put marble sculptures to shame. The strength he had was also tender as he worked his magic on her.

Every time he touched her a small sigh or moan escaped her. In an effort, to try to stop herself from feeling like she might be carried away, she placed her hands on his shoulders. He glanced up at her contact and she stole a kiss from him. His lips twitched into a smile as he pulled her tighter to him, she could feel his heart beating like a drum against his chest echoing her own heart.

Laboured breathing, panting and moans of pleasure were filling the office space as fingers glided over her sides leaving smouldering heat lingering after his touch moved to another location. His mouth claiming hers in a frenzy that left her light-headed. That tongue of his that so often spun those teasing and cutting remarks was playing its own game as it crept lower along the expanse of her body towards the apex of her thighs.

---

She whimpered as he removed himself from her. A feral grin spread over his face as he looked down at the beautifully dishevelled woman spread out on his desk like a feast at a banquet. God, how often had he wondered what she would look like? If his own wandering imaginings were close to reality? They weren’t, the reality was a lot more alluring.

He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his back as it ran in small trickling rivers down his flesh. His hand was already reaching for his belt and with a swift motion, he had released the clasp removing it from his trousers with a swooshing crack. The soft leather sat happily in the palm of his hand as he briefly contemplated his next move. Looping it over her wrists binding them both together above her head, faster than she could react to pull away. Her face was the perfect picture of shocked amusement.

“Forgive me my dear but I really won’t be allowing you to leave just yet.”

“As if I would. I had no idea you were into this kind of thing.”

“Oh? Everyone has a few kinks, my dear. Keep playing games with me, I’m sure we can discover some of yours.”

He placed his hands on her hips dragging them higher pushing the thin fabric covering her to one side and entered her in one swift stroke. The heat of her wrapped around him. The way it undulated and stretched to accommodate him had his mouth going dry. She cried out and arched her back which caused her to clench her muscles and grip him harder then he was expecting. It was like she had been perfectly designed to be his undoing.

---

With each rocking motion he made she could feel him edging deeper inside her core. An uncontrollable fire was ablaze under her skin and she could feel its prickling heat causing the skin all over her body to become slick with sweat. He was like a machine of precision reading ever movement and reaction of her body no matter how slight with accuracy she had never witnessed before.

They were passionately entwined on the desk moving fiercely in sync with each other pushing, nudging themselves to the edge of blissful oblivion. It was a display of almost total desperation but there were still shockingly elements of tenderness in their touches. Items on the desktop not previously cast aside now tumbled to the ground as the tremors of their actions caused the desk to shift in position.

This was beyond anything she could have dreamt up in her most dizzying daydreams. She knew she had been attracted to the man, and she knew she had had fun with their little game but never had she imagined they would be this compatible. Everything their bodies did felt like an act of instinct. Every slight shift targeting their partner's main points of pleasure.

Small stinging sensations crept into the back of her mind as she closed her eyes knowing he was putting his mark on her and not caring in the slightest. When the first wave hit her, it was like she had been electrocuted, the second had her almost believing she was witnessing a supernova from up close. The third time was when he joined her, his movements becoming less fluid. His hips rutting against her as he pushed himself through their combined climax.

---

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greenninjagal-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Nine Nails in a Coffin (ch4)

Summary: Logan is an assassin. He does his best work at the from a distance where there’s no chance for icky conversation. Unfortunately, his last chance to get paid for the murder of Patton Hart requires him to join him for lunch.

Word count: 6306

Pairings: Eventual Logicality and Prinxiety

Multichapter fic say whattttt

Read on AO3 || Ch1 Ch3

Quick taglist: @dierotenixe @fhaky @growingupisscary @icequeenoriginal @jemthebookworm @just-another-rainbowblog @levy-the-b00kw0rm @no-no-no-no-6 @sandersfandersblog @satanblessi @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @felicianoromano

(lmk if you want to be added/ i missed someone)

Roman’s preferred sandwich shop was not ideal for an assassination. It was a small store front, with more tables than there should have been in such a small space. There was not enough room for people to be sitting in the chairs, and there was a odor in the air that Logan couldn’t quite put a name too but he didn’t like it anyway. The storefront was facing a busy street, and the foot traffic was heavy as it was near the commercial part of town. He counted three street cameras whose angles would have caught anyone fleeing the sandwich shop.

He checked his watch, letting out a click of his tongue at the sight of the date underneath the rhythmic moving hands the clock face. He had been given one week to orchestrate Patton Hart’s death, and between his previous three attempts he had dried up six of the seven days. Today was his last day to get paid for the assassination.

Logan thought that maybe he wouldn’t care if he didn’t get paid as long as he got to kill the preschool teacher in the end. His reputation was taking a hit for this mess, and it set Logan’s teeth on edge when he thought about the rumors that might pop up from this. He was even less excited by the phone call he’d surely get when his parents noticed the lack of transferred funds in their offshore account.

It would take at least four quick, merciless assassinations to reverse the trouble that Patton and Virgil had put him through with this. In addition to killing the two of course.

He stared down at the sandwich shop from the roof of the next door building--a business office place he had managed to walk himself into with nothing more than a disgruntled scowl and a business suit. After getting past the receptionist and a few other grumpy business workers, getting on the roof had been a breeze. Logan had his scope out and focused down below, watching the crowd for the three that would be meeting up there.

Logan almost felt bad for Roman Prince. The man had no idea that he was about to sit down at a meeting with two walking corpses.

(Although, the reporter himself was somewhat of a mystery. Logan had spent three cups of coffee and most of the morning trying to figure out why any reporter would be interested in Patton and Virgil at all. All of Roman’s past stories had been little more than glorified celebrity gossip, not individual citizens near death experiences.)

He spotted Roman on the street approximately thirty minutes before the time of the meet up. Logan thought he was overdressed for it: a black suit, American style that flattered his strangely well built form and a red tie that acted like a neon flashing beacon of “please shoot me!” He slipped off a pair of sunglasses as he neared the shop, stopping to talk to one of the men smoking outside it.

Logan watched Roman laugh and the man offered him a cigarette. Roman took it.

Logan slipped into his shooting position, his arms leveling his rifle in to the familiar crook of his body. Spying through the scope, Logan could imagine himself pulling the trigger and cutting off Roman mid word. There would be nothing stopping him, nothing getting in his way, and really who would miss a nosy reporter like him?

A clean sweep of all witnesses who had seen him.

He felt it, deep in his bones. A strange sort of urge he hadn’t felt in a long while. Even with a bustling crowd he was sure he could make the shot, and why shouldn’t he?

Logan blinked. Exhaled. His own breath whistled between his soft lips. The edges of a smile creeped up on him, and he lowered the scope. With his free hand he gently pressed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

He knew why he shouldn’t. Because it would bring the police to the area, investigators into the mix, possibly the FBI if Patton and Virgil started talking. Logan had twelve hours to silence Patton Hart and get rid of Virgil Storm. He simply didn’t have the time to make a detailed plan that would account for anything the reporter would come up with.

Beyond that, Roman Prince’s death would be meaningless. It was an unnecessary slaughter, a waste of Logan’s materials, and would create more problems than clear them up. Besides, there was a high probability that Roman would write and publish about his experience of almost dying, and with his creative imagination he could probably make Logan into something scarier than he truly was. In the best scenario, the number of employers looking for him by name would increase, which meant Logan could raise his prices, which meant more to please his parents with.

Logan disassembled the gun and put it away efficiently, although not quickly. His mother probably would have been irritated at the extra time he spent adjusting the positioning to the parts in his bag. But then again, his mother had never needed to use a gun. She was very adept with a knife, very adept at hiding it in her pretty words.

Logan didn’t admire her for much, but he lamented the idea that he had never quite spent time masquerading in a personality that might be more fit for a reporter than Logan Codex actually was.

He left the building ten minutes before their time to meet was. By that time Roman had finished his smoke and disappeared inside. Logan could see him talking up the man behind the counter with a smile, and the sunlight glistening through the dusty windows made him appear to be sparkling. He was unfairly good looking in any light and Logan wished desperately that he could even distantly relate. Maybe if he got down on his hands and knees and begged to know the secret of Roman’s beauty, Roman might grace him with that charming smile just once mor--

Ow! Hey! Doesn’t this count as Police Brutality?!

Fine, Fine.

Logan leaned against the wall across the street, checking his watch for the time. People strolled up and down the road, talking on phones, pulling young children along, carrying briefcases and hurried eating an assortment of food trunk delicacies from the lot around the corner. Logan couldn’t quite remember the last time he had eaten a hot dog, but he could honestly say he didn’t feel the rise to do it any time soon, as he watched a man inhale the sandwich in two bites.

Honestly, it was a bit repulsive. Logan hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon (and no, his endless cups of coffee did not count. He wasn’t that pathetic), but he still didn’t feel like there was a reason to stuff his face in such a manner. The world was not ending. At least not yet anyway.

Five minutes until they were supposed to meet, Logan caught sight of Patton bubbling his way down the street. He looked like he had stepped straight out of a Good Homes Magazine: a blue polo, khakis, and grey socks that fit snugly into his sandals. His normal glasses must have been broken in the incident yesterday, so he was wearing thick lenses that made his eyes look two times larger than before. A grey cardigan was tied off around his neck like a child’s cape. With his smile alone he seemed to brighten the entire street.

Whatever he brightened, however, immediately was overshadowed by the aura of darkness Virgil was emitting. He was dressed in the usual: heavy purple sweatshirt, black ripped skinny jeans, an dark combat boots that laced one third of the way up his calf. He was hunched over, and clearly seething, probably only a few words away from frothing at the mouth. Clearly, any and all of his attempts to stop the meeting had been overruled.

Logan wondered once again why Virgil had decided not to tell Patton the truth. Surely, once Patton found out that he was being targeted he would have refused to have any interaction with anyone outside of the police. Unless the purple clad young adult thought that he could protect Patton better by having him by his side, which was almost laughable.

Virgil might have survived an assassination at Logan’s hand once before, but the chances of it happening again were miniscule. And for him to be so bold to assume he could stand between Logan and his prey? Unparalleled. Unexcusable. It made Logan want to make Virgil watch Patton die.

Not that Logan would of course. It would be a waste of time and energy. It would be better to make it short and sweet than draw it out and risk corrupting the plan.

(Logan would also have to have a plan for this to work, for anything to work.)

He was frustrated that he couldn’t get a good shot from the roof. It meant his plan was useless, and the four after that were useless too. He scratched all of them off his mental list. He had another dose of ketamine in his supplies, but he only had enough for one person and he doubted that Virgil would allow him to get that close to Patton. He might be able to drug Patton’s drink, but there was also the presence of Roman that he had to be wary of. So drugging was out of the question. The shop was so tight and ill spaced, a stabbing would be easy to perform but an escape would be near impossible.

Logan waited at the crosswalk as cars zipped along the street. Several teenagers with skateboards hovered nearby talking in spanish. An older woman with a dog in her purse came to a pause on his other side, followed by a young woman with white cane who was arm in arm with a young man talking adminately about an experience or other.

Subconsciously, Logan kept an eye on how close all of them were to him. They weren’t pressing against one another, but if Logan wanted to...he could reach out and give a bump, a tap, a shove. There wouldn’t be anyone able to stop him, and he could be gone long before anyone realized that his victim had been pushed and hadn’t just fallen. If they ever realized it.

Of course he’d have to time it right: The assisting car would have to have enough speed, enough force to end Patton completely, even if the driver slammed the brakes. He would have to have positioned himself near enough to Patton to have pushed, but far enough that Virgil wouldn’t be suspicious, nor fast enough to catch him after the fact. Roman, of course, wouldn’t know what hit him. As long as Patton was dead by the end of the day, Logan would get paid. Although he would lose his chance to remove Virgil with this plan, Logan could make him a passion project, a side hunt. Virgil could run, but Logan would find him again and finish the job he had gotten paid for a year ago.

Logan just had to convince the three of them to come with him outside on the street.

Well, Logan rationalized, he really only had to convince Roman to come outside on the street. Perhaps to visit one of the food trucks around the corner. If Roman wanted something from there, Patton wouldn’t hesitate to insist that they go, and Virgil wouldn’t have a choice but to follow.

All Logan had to do was make it through a conversation.

He could do that.

He had to do that.

At exactly twelve thirty exactly, Logan pushed open the door to the sandwich shop. In one hand he kept his duffle bag close, careful not to bump the table directly next to the door where several middle aged men were discussing a sports game. The shop smelled like lunch meat and spicy mustard-- neither of which made Logan particularly pleased to be there. The floor looked grimy: pale yellowed marble tiles that appeared as if they should have been white but hadn’t been mopped in too long. Logan could just imagine all the dirt and filth that were in this place: how many hands touched each of the chairs, how poorly the store appeared to handle the cleaning, the likelihood of rodents having made their homes in the supply closet back behind the counter.

Logan picked at the skin on his wrist, gritting his teeth as he looked around for the three he was supposed to be meeting. He felt boxed in, a feeling he hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing in a very long time. Like his second years of assassination training when his mother shut him in a kid sized coffin and told him to figure a way out by himself, very long time. He hadn’t liked that lesson: it was the only one he hadn’t been able to perform, the only one that Logan had panicked during and nearly killed himself from hyperventilating. His mother had to unbury him and let him out, then a day later she stuffed him back in and told him she wouldn’t dig him up again.

Logan still wasn’t a fan of small spaces, but in a profession and signature like his, it hardly mattered. He was never in a tight spot like this. He never would be again, Logan swore to himself. He still had his cabin in the woods to get to, after all.

Finding the three of them was not hard: between Virgil’s threatening aura, Roman’s loud and boisterous personality, and Patton’s clear obliviousness to the odds the two were already at, they made up most of the noise in the tiny building. Roman had chosen a table close to the windows, but Virgil was not having any of it.

“I don’t want to sit near the window!”

“Why, does the sun ruin your aesthetic, Tall, Dark, and Emo?”

Virgil grit his teeth, his shoulders hunched almost to his ears. He looked ready to say anything just to get Roman to relent. Logan was almost amused by it, by the way Virgil was constantly checking the outside window and the roofs of the surrounding buildings like Logan would have allowed him to catch a glimpse of himself in hiding.

Logan squeezed his hands into fists. The handle of his duffel bag sliced at his palm, but it was more grounding than painful. He could do this. It was just lunch with a couple of targets.

“If it is truly that distressing to him, perhaps we can find another table?” Logan offered, and pretended he didn’t notice the way Virgil jumped, and Roman physically flinched with surprise. “Surely there are enough tables in here for that.”

Patton was the only one who appeared thrilled to see him. His dimples showed in his grin, the dash of freckles nearly glowing in the combined light of the shop and the sunlight. The only sign that he had been in any sort of accident was in the way his arms were wrapped over his chest protectively, and the wilted corners of his lips, that was barely hiding a frown.

“Oh! I thought it was you!” Patton said happily, “We just seem to keep bumping into each other!”

Like it was a coincidence. For someone like Logan who lived in such a dangerous world, the idea of seeing someone more than twice in the span of three days was never a coincidence. It was someone watching him, someone who most likely had bad ideas, someone who was planning a hit on a target.

Becoming the best assassin had its ups and downs. But no one had come close to killing Logan yet.

“Yes,” He said, “It seems that we do.”

“I’m Patton! Patton Hart!” The man said and untangled both his hands to reach out. It took him a moment to realize that Patton had every intention of hugging him--

“Patton!” Virgil shrieked, jolting out of his statuesque silence. He lunged forward to pull the other back, at the same time Logan had been retreating as far as he could get (which was barely more than a step and a half before his duffel bag bumped a table occupied by a lovely couple arguing in what sounded like Russian. Patton’s expression twisted, and he folded his arms again, over those still tender ribs.

Logan could feel his pulse in his throat. He was pretty sure his hands were shaking. For a moment he was certain that there was a physical hand on his throat, and another brushing his right hand burning and slicing with precision. There was nothing there though. It was Logan’s imagination.

“You can’t just hug people!” Virgil said, “Not like--” He made a noise in the back of his throat and waved his hands between Logan and Patton. “You can’t!”

“You good, Fam?” Roman said, in that sultry, silky voice of his. Logan shot him a withering gaze, swallowing hard.

“Pardon?” He asked, his voice deceptively calm compared to the panic that was ebbing away at his focus.

“Are you good?” Roman repeated, “You looked ready to run. I don’t know but you strike me as a fight kind of guy. Not a flight.” He smiled again, like they were sharing a private joke. If they were, Logan wasn’t privy to it.

“Perfectly functioning,” Logan said. He brushed his unoccupied hand against his thigh, drying the clamminess. “Might we sit down?”

Roman laughed although Logan didn’t think he had said anything remotely funny. He made a grand gesture towards the table he had picked out. “Only the finest of dining tables in this establishment for you, my dear fellow!”

“This entire place is a dump,” Virgil muttered. Patton gasped and batted the others arm.

“Don’t listen to him Roman!” He plopped into a chair next to the window, so that the sun through the grimy windows made him look speckled. He winced at the movement though, cradling his chest. “This place-- ow-- this place is cozy!”

Cozy was not the word Logan would have used. Claustrophobic, maybe. Impractical or--Logan thought as he surveyed the yellowing tables and brushed a scrap of lettuce from the previous diners from the seat onto the floor-- disgusting. Had he mentioned his longing for his cabin in the woods recently? He really wanted to be at that cabin in the woods.

Virgil threw himself in the chair next to Patton while Roman took up the seat across from the Preschool teacher and Logan carefully balanced himself next to the reporter. His duffel bag slid easily under his feet, out of the way, but easy to grab and go should something go askew.

Not that he thought something was askew. His eyes drifted between Virgil and Roman. A known and an unknown.

“I didn’t order for you guys,” Roman started off with a grand gesture, “But you guys can put it on my tab. I’m pretty famous here.”

As if waiting for that, a woman from behind the counter started hollering in a dialect of Spanish Logan didn’t quite know. It was fast, and oddly pleasing to hear, the way the syllables rolled off her tongue with no hesitation or grievance. Whatever she may have said left Roman flushed, and he shouted back a three word phrase with a hand gesture that nearly took Logan's head off.

“Lo Siento,” Roman huffed, “She's joking, I swear!”

“None of us know what she said,” Virgil deadpanned.

“Good! Great!” Roman said, and placed his hands on the table.

It appeared as if none of them exactly knew what to say next. Patton was smiling with all sunshine and rainbows and fiddling with the sleeves of his cardigan tied over his neck. Roman’s mouth kept opening and shutting as he tapped his foot on the leg of the plastic table enough so that Logan could feel it shaking. Virgil crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat, folding his legs in a way that suggested he wasn’t in the mood to be getting up anytime soon.

“So,” Roman said, “Are you guys... hungry?”

“No.” Virgil said shortly.

Logan had never particularly ever thought of a conversation being like pulling teeth, however he could understand the ludacris metaphor now.

“How about you start with why you wanted to talk to us?” Virgil said, “So we can get this whole thing over with and I can go back to sleep.”

“You actually sleep? Sorry, I couldn’t tell from the bags under your eyes.”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.” Virgil’s tone was even, but Logan caught the way his nails bit into his arm and the dangerous flit of his eyes.

“Let’s not fight!” Patton jumped in, “This is a fun lunch! Between friends!”

The phrase sounded wrong, which Logan recognized because it was wrong. Even Patton’s blind optimism couldn’t blur out the hostility between Roman and Virgil, nor could it obscure the way that Virgil glared at Logan. The only friends at this table were Virgil and Patton but even that seemed inherently wrong: perhaps Virgil gave off more of a bodyguard aura that Logan was picking up on. But then again, Logan didn’t know a single thing about what being friends entailed. He’d never had one before.

Regardless, any dining party that consisted of one member actively biding time until he could murder another two, was not considered a “fun lunch, between friends”. Logan knew that much.

“Maybe we shoulder restart!” Patton suggested when no one else said anything. “Hi! I’m Patton!” He turned to face Virgil.

The boy in purple huffed and lasted exactly three more seconds before relenting, “Virgil.”

They all looked towards Logan. He found himself wishing he had a drink or something to encircle his hands around, rather than just leave them in his lap. He should give them a fake name, a name he could discard after the meeting, a name that would keep the uncrossable distance between him and the other three and the future police investigating the mysterious death.

He offered a rusted smile and looked Patton straight in the eyes. His mouth moved of it own accord, “Logan.”

Patton clapped excitedly, and winced again. Logan found it curious how quickly he seemed to forget that his excitable motions would cause him significant pain.

“Logan! That’s such a nice name!” He said.

“What about Roman? That’s a nice name, too!” Roman cried. “It happens to be mine!”

“Is your need to be the center of attention learned or are you just a dick?” Virgil asked.

“Learned, actually, from the proud institute of You’re-Just-Jealous. I graduated in the top ten percent.”

“Jealous? Of an ego that size? I’m surprised you fit in that chair.”

“I have to say it was taxing, but I knew I must, because if I had remained standing, you would have been distracted by my glorious culo again.” Roman grinned rather smugly at the other man, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you looking last night. And five minutes ago. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are, Dark Romeo.”

Based on the peaks of pink underneath the foundation on his face, Virgil was blushing. Logan found that increasingly interesting. Logan hadn’t stuck around after the agreed time and place had been established, and he hadn’t thought he had missed much. Was Virgil blushing because he found Roman attractive?

Objectively, Logan could admire the passionate gaze the other held, and his build was pleasing to admire. But Logan didn’t think there was anything else about him that he could consider “attractive” least of all his butt, as suggested. He was loud and pompous in a way that clashed with Logan’s own deadly, calculated silence.

It seemed only reasonable that Virgil would also find those traits irritating, or would at least put them aside in response to the threat of Logan being so close. And yet he was still sitting there, eyes widened, and his mouth tripping over fractions of syllables while Roman smiled at him like he was winning some type of game the two were playing.

“Oh! Logan!” Patton said suddenly, “How is your book?”

“Book?” Logan repeated, while he processed exactly what his target meant.

“Yeah! The one you were reading yesterday at Valerie's cafe! The cover looked so cool!” Patton said, cheerfully. Perhaps too cheerfully for someone's whose apartment blew up and dog may have died yesterday. Logan wondered if he was still on some type of medication, or if he was blissfully unaware of implications of such an explosion.

Perhaps Logan was thinking too much, but it made him wonder once again why someone wanted Patton dead. Over the past week Logan had gotten the impression that Patton was harmless. It wasn’t his place to ask for the “why” in this line of work, but Logan was a curious type of fellow. He could take a look at Patton’s financials and do another depth research of Patton’s character later on the plane trip out of the state.

“Of course,” Logan said, “I have to admit it is a rather unstimulating. I have already forgotten the main character’s name.”

Patton’s smile dipped into a sympathetic frown, “Oh, that’s upsetting! It looked really good. I was going to check if the library had it today and read it while I’m recovering.” He pressed a hand to his chest again, with a twisted expression. “It was The Space Between the Stars, right?”

Logan didn’t have a single clue if that was the title or not. He nodded anyway.

Roman’s sandwich was delivered by a girl in a jeans and a T-shirt that had the shop name in English and then in smaller font, Spanish. She blushed when Roman thanked her.

“Can I get the rest of you anything?” She asked, staring at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the shop.

“No.” Virgil said again shortly.

“Oooh!” Patton leaned forward, pressing his hands on the table, “Everything looks so good here! Do you guys have bananas?”

The girl peeked up at him and nodded.

“Awesome! Can I have a banana and mayo sandwich?”

Logan choked on his own saliva. He was pretty sure Roman fell out of his chair beside him, but Logan was all too focused on Patton’s beaming face. There was no way he had actually said that.

“Pardon?” Logan coughed, “You want what on a sandwich?”

Virgil rubbed his temples, “Just accept it.”

“That’s an abomination,” Logan said.

“It’s really good!” Patton argued, and Logan thought just for a second he could see why someone would want him dead.

Banana and Mayo. The very thought made shivers run down Logan’s spine. He had tasted both items separately and could vividly remember both, separately. But together? He pressed a hand to his mouth.

“I gonna be sick,” Roman said, quietly.

Patton giggled, “Sorry!”

“Can I just… a coffee?” Logan asked the poor girl at their table. “You have coffee right?”

The waitress rushed back to the front counter like the store was on fire. She didn’t even ask if he need creamer of sugar or anything, which Logan found himself unnecessarily annoyed about. He liked his coffee black, but it still would have been nice if she had asked him. But at the same time, Logan thought he’d try to leave as soon as possible if he were her too.

Virgil was watching him again. Logan glanced at his watch, slightly disappointed to see it had been a mere six minutes and thirty- one, two, three seconds since they had sat down.

“So Roman!” Patton said to the reporter, who immediately washed the look of distress from his face, “How many languages do you speak? I know Virge speaks Latin--”

“Latin?” Roman interrupted, side eying the purple clad man, “Isn’t that a dead language?”

“Aren’t you a dead language?”

“See! I knew it! You’re really just a couple third graders in an oversized hoodie.”

“Shut up.” Virgil made a face and rolled his eyes so hard he ended up looking across the store as the workers put together Patton’s sandwich and Logan’s coffee.

Roman folded his arms on the table, ignoring his own sandwich in the plastic red basket. It looked like flank steak with melted cheese, but Logan wasn’t sure. It smelled good at least. “Well,” He said, “I know Spanish pretty well, Quechua, and enough of Aymara and French to get by. I also know certain German words from this gorgeous, delicious traveler from--”

“He asked for the languages, Tamaki Suoh.” Virgil cut in, “Not your sex life.”

Roman grinned at him, “Aw, but then how else would you know that I’m very gay and very available? Will you be my Haruhi?”

“Ciao,” Virgil said standing up, but before he got more halfway out of his seat, Patton placed a hand on his arm. Virgil flopped back in the seat.

“Italian,” Logan noted, somewhat interested.

“I spent some time that way,” Virgil said in a clipped tone. Which only served to interest Logan further because the assassin had at one point looked into Virgil’s credit history and never once had Virgil Storm left the country.

“What about you, Logan?” Patton turned the conversation again.

“Me?” Logan repeated. He didn’t see the harm in being truthful. “I grew up speaking Korean, and learned French, Arabic, and German at a young age. I can converse in Mandarin, but not read it, and I can read Spanish but hardly speak it.”

“Damn,” Roman said, “And I thought I got to see the world.” He picked up half of his sandwich, “What type of prep school taught you German and Arabic?”

“I’m rather interested in what business you had in Peru,” Logan said, “Seeing as Aymara and Quechua are most prominently spoken in there.”

Roman’s eyes widened a fraction, just enough for Logan to note. Then that smile came back, full of genuine happiness and thrill. Logan didn’t think that expression had ever been directed at him before. It was strange to see.

“Oh look your coffee,” He said instead of answering.

The waitress was back with a to-go cup of coffee and a red basket of that she set down in front of Patton. Logan took a sip of the coffee she handed to him, frowning, as Patton dug into his sandwich. Even Virgil seemed unable to resist a grimace at the sight. They really put mayo on two slices of bread and cut up a banana to put in the middle. And Patton really was eating it.

Logan quenched the need to vomit with bitter coffee.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Roman asked him.

Logan tapped the side of the cup, “I was going to grab something from the food trucks down the block instead. Would you like to come?” He stared at Patton when he asked the question. The freckled man beamed.

Roman beat him to answering, “That sounds marvelo--”

“Do you need something?” Virgil said suddenly. Logan had several responses ready to roll of his tongue to combat the sharpness of the other’s question. They all died in his throat when he realized that Virgil was in fact, not talking to him at all.

The waitress was still standing at their table, hovering, nervously.

“I, uh,” She fumbled around in her pockets, “There was a man here. He asked me to give this to you--where is it, uh!”

At the same time Logan felt a vibration in his back pocket. An incessant vibration-- not just a text message from his parents or a news notification. Logan kept one hand on his coffee and the other pulled out his phone to check the number.

It was unknown.

“Hello?” Logan said, standing up just a little bit away-- as far as he could get while dodging the waitress and the other tables. There was more noise suddenly in the store, too much for him to hear a soft spoken caller.

“I’m looking for Logan Codex,” The voice said.

“This is he,” Logan said, glancing at the table. The waitress pulled out a small piece of folded paper finally and handed it over to an extremely skeptical Virgil.

“Excellent, I was afraid that I had received the wrong number after all this.” The voice entertained. Logan couldn’t really hear over the background chatter of the shop itself, but in comparison he couldn’t hear anything on the other side. Distance car noises? But that could have easily been on Logan’s side.

“I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage then,” Logan said, “Might I inquire who you are and how you received this number? Only three people know--”

“Two.”

“Pardon?”

“Only two now, Logan Codex.” The voice said.”Besides me, of course. Your handler was very chatty when he knew he might die, you know? So much for future jobs.”

That pulled Logan’s attention away from the scene of Virgil unfolding the paper. Roman’s eyes danced between the two of them, and Patton leaned over Virgil’s shoulder to read the note.

“What are you talking about?” Logan asked.

“How attached are you to Patton Hart’s bounty?”

“What?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to share. 70-30, to me of course, which is more than enough to live comfortably with. Especially a man like yourself living with only the bare minimum. What do you say?”

“I--what?” Logan repeated, because he couldn’t believe the nerve of this man-- it was most likely a man in his mid twenties, probably only a few years younger than Logan himself. Share the bounty? And he was suggesting that Logan wouldn’t even get the most of it! Logan squeezed the coffee in his hand. “Absolutely not!”

Virgil crumpled the note, in his hand and stood up, “We’re going. Now!” He grabbed Patton’s arm and hoisted him to his feet, ignoring the pained gasp from the other.

“Wait what?” Roman exclaimed. “We just--”

“Virg--il!” Patton whimpered, “Vee!”

“Now!” Virgil shouted. He dragged Patton between the tables. Roman, without anything else to do got up to follow them. And Logan was not about to let this moment get away from him. He grabbed his duffel bag from under his chair and charged after them, barely aware of the caller still speaking to him.

“They say you’re the best, Logan.” The unknown voice said, “But I’m not convinced. I’ve been killing people a lot longer than you have. And I’m much better at it than you. They didn’t even know I existed until now after all.”

Logan caught up to Roman outside the store on the sidewalk. Virgil and Patton were only a little bit ahead of them and moving fast. Logan goes after them without much of a thought. Patton was being towed closer to the sidewalk. If Logan was quick enough he could shove him the rest of the way off the side and it be goodbye to him forever.

“I don’t like losing,” the caller said faintly in Logan’s ear, almost absentmindedly, like he was busy doing something else with his focus and rambling in the meantime. “And being number two is definitely losing. I’m going to fix that. Then I’ll finish up killing Hart for you.”

“Wait, what?” Logan said.

“Did you enjoy your last coffee ever, Logan? I made it with love.”

Logan had just enough time to look at his coffee, the to-go cup that the waitress gave him, enough time to see his own name written in a ridiculous loopy writing, enough time to see someone replaced the “o” with a skull.

Then there was four gunshots: two fires and two echoes through the buzz of the the phone in his hand.

Logan lunged forward. His coffee hit the ground. His forearm slammed Patton’s back.

And then pain exploded in Logan’s shoulder. Red hot and violent and so suddenly jarring that Logan didn’t even feel himself hitting the ground. The noise swelled until he couldn’t hear any of it: screaming, yelling, someone-- distantly crying, and Logan only knew that none of it was him. Because he was lying there on the sidewalk dumbly staring at the wound on his arm, like he was seven years old again and his father was playing with knives and not in the mood to see Logan.

Distantly he knew he needed to move, to save himself, to get out of there before the caller finished the job.

Instead his eyes rolled up in his head and Logan’s vision went dark and the noise cut to an eternally ringing silence.

****

“What?” The Detective asks, “No witty comment?”

“A man just got shot, Detective,” Roman responds, “Show some sympathy.”

“He’s a known murderer. Have a dose of reality, Mr. Prince. Any suffering he went through was well deserved.”

“You don’t know that.”

The Detective taps his papers on the table: pictures of the scene from that night, pictures of Logan from around the world, pictures of Patton, Roman’s written account of what happened that night.

“So, Logan Codex's fourth attempt to kill Patton Hart fails, he accidentally takes a bullet for him, and Hart decides to take him home? Like some sort of thank you?”

Roman laughs coldly, “Logan blew up their home, Detective. Virgil would never allow a known assassin where he was sleeping, certainly not the hotel they had booked a room in.”

“So what happened? He didn’t go to the hospital.” The man stops and looks at Roman. “Wait--”

“Don’t look so surprised, Detective.” Roman says, “You’ve seen my record. I know exactly how to take care of a bullet wound.”

“You knew he was an assassin!”

“He was a guy in pain who just nearly died.” Roman corrected. “And that was the least of his problems.”

#nine nails au #assassin!logan #lucky!Patton #reporter!Roman #guns #gunshots #really bad sandwiches #claustrophobic #sanders sides #logan sanders #deceit sanders #although he hasn't been given name yet #whoops spoilers #but really could it have been anyone else #virgil sanders #attempted murder

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