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Many people new to the world of essential and aromatic oils are curious about the different methods of diffusing these oils in their home or business. Two of the most popular ways of diffusing essential oils are by using a reed diffuser or an electric oil diffuser. While both types of diffusers get the job done, they also each have their distinct pros and cons. That’s why we wanted to write a full guide to the benefits and drawbacks of each scenting method.
By the end of this article, you’ll be able to decide whether a reed diffuser or an electric oil diffuser is the best fit for scenting your home or business. Before we get started though, let’s make sure we’re clear on the key differences between reed diffusers and electric oil diffusers.
WHAT IS A REED DIFFUSER?
Reed diffusers feature a fragrance oil and base solution mixed together inside of a glass bottle with a narrow neck. Rattan reeds or sticks are then inserted to the liquid, and left sticking out from the bottle. These reeds absorb the fragrant liquid from inside the bottle and diffuse it into the air of the room. A reed diffuser continues to release scent throughout the lifespan of the reeds and fragrance oil in the bottle.
WHAT IS AN ELECTRIC OIL DIFFUSER?
As the name implies, electric oil diffusers still diffuse essential oils into the air, but don’t feature any reeds, and are instead powered by electricity. Unlike reed diffusers, there are several different types of electric oil diffusers on the market.
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Customer Service
Word Count: 721 Summary: "Flirting on the job? Really?" Pairing: Diner workers Riki X Fem Reader
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The diner buzzed with chaos on a typical Friday night. The sound of sizzling grills, clinking dishes, and the hum of conversation filled the air. She weaved expertly between tables, balancing a tray of burgers and fries while delivering her signature snark to a table of frat boys who were trying—unsuccessfully—to flirt with her.
"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said with a smirk, "how about you serve me a smile with that burger?"
Without missing a beat, she plunked the plate down in front of him. "Sure thing, here’s a smile," she said, flashing him a sarcastic grin. "It’s $5.99 extra. Want me to put it on your tab?"
The table erupted in laughter, though the frat boy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. She turned and caught Riki watching her from behind the counter, trying to stifle a laugh. He leaned casually against the milkshake machine, his messy hair flopping into his eyes, and his grin as bright as the diner’s neon sign.
"Need help out there, babe?" he called, flipping a towel over his shoulder.
She shot him a mock glare. "What I need is for you to stop standing there looking pretty and start bussing tables before I strangle you with that towel."
"Yikes, you sound scary," Riki teased, grabbing a tray of empty dishes from the counter. He breezed past her, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as he went.
"Flirting on the job? Really?" she said, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at her lips.
It wasn’t easy working together. The diner was a pressure cooker of rude customers, understaffed shifts, and an ever-demanding manager. But somehow, she and Riki made it work—or at least, they tried.
Riki had endless energy, bouncing from one task to the next with an enthusiasm that could’ve been annoying if it weren’t so endearing. He charmed customers effortlessly, especially the older regulars, who loved his boyish grin and sunny demeanor.
On the other hand, she was the glue holding everything together. She had a knack for diffusing tense situations and keeping the kitchen staff from losing their minds. But she was also quick to call people out when they stepped out of line—whether it was a customer snapping their fingers at her or the manager cutting her break short.
The two of them had their rhythm: She kept things efficient and under control, while Riki brought the lightheartedness that made even the worst shifts bearable.
One night, after a particularly grueling dinner rush, the two of them collapsed into a booth at the back of the diner. It was nearly midnight, and the place had finally quieted down.
Riki slumped against the seat, his apron streaked with ketchup and grease. "I swear, if I have to smile at one more customer tonight, my face is gonna fall off."
She snorted, sliding a plate of leftover pie toward him. "You mean your charm has limits? Shocking."
Riki grabbed a fork and took a bite of the pie, grinning. "I’ll have you know I’m charming 24/7. That’s why you’re dating me, isn’t it?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Please, I’m dating you because I lost a bet."
"Ouch," Riki said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That’s cold, Babe. Real cold."
They laughed together, the kind of laughter that came from knowing you were both in the same boat, rowing through the chaos side by side.
As the clock neared 1 a.m., they cleaned up the last of the tables and locked up the diner. Outside, the neon sign flickered, casting a pinkish glow on the empty parking lot.
Riki grabbed Y/N’s hand as they walked to her beat-up old car. "Hey," he said, his voice softer now, "thanks for putting up with me tonight. I know I probably drive you crazy sometimes."
She looked at him, her sarcastic edge softening. "You do drive me crazy," she admitted. "But you also make this place a little less miserable. So... thanks for that."
He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Anytime, babe."
As they climbed into the car and drove off into the night, the diner faded into the background, but their laughter echoed, carrying them forward into whatever chaos tomorrow’s shift would bring.
#enhypen au#enhypen scenarios#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#enhypen fluff#enha scenarios#enha x reader#enha imagines#enha fluff#nishimura riki x reader#riki fluff#riki imagines#riki x reader#niki fluff#niki scenarios#niki enhypen#niki x reader
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Daily Spanish Vocabulary
ser = to be (description/permanent things/identification) el ser = a being un ser viviente = a living being los seres queridos = "loved ones" [lit. "dear beings" or "cherished beings"]
cundir = to spread [the more common words are difundir or propagar but this verb is special - by far the most common use of this is cundir el pánico which is "for panic to spread" - you're almost always going to see this as que no cunda el pánico "don't panic" which is "don't spread panic" in a subjunctive sense........ you will also see the humorous que no panda el cúnico which is from a sketch show but it caught on; the joke is the guy is panicking so much that he mixes up the words, so sarcastically you can say que no panda el cúnico like "alright nobody panic!"]
la contabilidad = accounting, bookkeeping/financial records el/la contable = accountant [almost always used in finances; related directly to contar "to count" or la cuenta "account"]
el hueco = (empty) slot, an opening / a gap / elevator shaft / a hollow hueco/a = hollow
la nariz = nose
el hocico = snout (of an animal; or a sarcastic/mean way of saying la nariz "nose" for a person)
la máquina = machine
el codo = elbow [also another word for the end piece of bread in some countries - there are a handful of these words] codo a codo = "shoulder to shoulder", "side by side" [lit. "elbow to elbow"]
el codazo = a nudge (with the elbow), a strike with the elbow, "an elbow (blow)"
la mancha = stain
sonar = to sound, to make a sound / to ring (phones) / to seem, to sound like sonar(le) = "to ring a bell" [me suena for example can be "it's familiar to me" or "it rings a bell"]
difundir = to spread, "to spread the word" difundir(se) = (for gas) to diffuse
untar = to spread (food) / to slather / to smear (something onto something) [untar is the word used for food - this is the word for spreading butter, jam, jelly, cream cheese, etc onto something, and it usually gets used with something food-related...... or oil, grease, mud or something slick]
según = according to [used like según mi amigo "according to my friend" or según mi abuela "according to my grandmother", or según el libro "according to the book" - very handy to know]
la manzana = apple [or in some contexts means "city block"] el manzano = apple tree el manzanar = apple orchard
el truco = trick, ruse
invertir = to invest / to invert, to reverse, to turn upside down / inside out
la inversión = investment / inversion, reversal
la vaca = cow
el vaquero, la vaquera = cowboy, cowgirl / cowherder los vaqueros = "jeans" [in Spain; because cowboy pants were denim]
el juzgado = courtroom, tribunal [from juzgar " to judge" - you might know this word from cowboy lingo, it's "hoosegow" which is a transliteration of juzgado from people in the southwest of the US near the Mexican border; it meant something like "jail" or "police station" - same general idea of a place where the Law is]
la cárcel = jail
encarcelar = to jail, to incarcerat
la magia = magic
el hechizo (mágico) = (magic) spell
el hechicero, la hechicera = sorcerer
la hechicería = sorcery
el brujo, la bruja = "warlock" [male], "witch" [female] [brujo/a is also the term for "warlock" in DND settings while mago/a is "wizard" and hechicero/a is "sorcerer" - fitting because brujos/brujas were said to make pacts with the devil]
la brujería = witchcraft
el sortilegio = magic, spells/spellcraft [a fancier term for hechizo]
el bosque = woods / forest
la selva = forest / jungle [la selva is also used for la jungla "jungle", but in general you can usually use el bosque or la selva for a regular forest interchangeably... but la selva gets used for terms like la Selva Amazónica "Amazon Rainforest"]
el avestruz = ostrich
el/la atleta = athlete [always atleta with the A]
(la) prisa = hurry, haste, rush dar prisa = to hurry, to rush con prisa = "hastily", rushing a toda prisa = "as fast as (someone) can", "with all haste"
el conejo = rabbit, bunny la liebre = hare (large rabbit)
la cobaya / el conejillo de Indias = guinea pig [used exactly like English; both the animal and "test subject" meaning... la cobaya is the shorter one so it is sometimes preferred, el conejillo de Indias means "the little rabbit from the Indies"; you'll also see el cuy in some countries - it's from Quechua so you can assume South America, primarily Peru, Bolivia, Ecuador etc.]
el vendaval = strong wind, gale
la borrasca = squall / wind and rainstorm
el ladrón, la ladrona = thief, burglar
el caco = thief, burglar [the standard word is ladrón or ladrona - el caco is a reference to Greek mythology, Cacus stole cattle from Hercules in Hercules's labors, so now calling someone a caco is calling them a thief]
cuanto antes = as soon as possible lo antes posible = as soon as possible
de antemano = beforehand
veloz = fast, swift
mordaz = sharp-tongued, cutting, biting, scathing [lit - from morder "to bite", said of remarks or criticisms etc]
feroz = ferocious
el polvo = dust
el moho = mold
borroso/a = blurry / smudged (writing) / fuzzy (memory) [or un recuerdo borroso is "a hazy memory / vague recollection (of something)" - it's the same idea, of vague or indistinct, but English says "fuzzy" for memories - the general word for "fuzzy" like texture is peludo/a or velloso/a which are related to fur/fuzz]
la estrella = star la estrella fugaz = shooting star
la ceniza = ash
la ira = wrath, rage, anger
el cambio = a change a cambio (de) = in exchange for, in return for
el trueno = thunder
el rayo = bolt of lightning
los escombros = debris, wreckage [often used in plural, but el escombro does exist]
el estrago, los estragos = "chaos", "havoc", devastation causar / hacer estragos = to wreak havoc, to ravage, to run amok [usually hacer estragos but causar is fine too]
la torre = tower
el daltonismo = color blindness daltónico/a = colorblind
el imperio = empire el imperio otomano = Ottoman Empire el imperio Inca / el imperio incaíco = Inca Empire el imperio español = Spanish Empire el Sacro Imperio Romano = Holy Roman Empire
la somnambulancia = sleepwalking
somnoliento/a = drowsy [somnoliento/a can be "sleepy" but it usually implies a sleep-inducing effect, so you normally see somnoliento used in the context of medicine or alcohol, things that "cause drowsiness" so it's not the same as being cansado/a "tired"]
el somnífero = sleeping pill, a sleep inducing drug [somnífero/a as an adjective means "sleep-inducing" or "soporific", from somn- related to "sleep" and "dreams", and the suffix is like "causing" or "carrying"]
fuerte = strong / loud (music) ["loud" is the one that will throw you off - más fuerte can be "stronger" or "louder", so la música fuerte means "loud music"]
la carnicería = butcher's shop / carnage [just like the root of "carnage", carnicero/a or "butcher" comes from la carne "meat" - a carnicería is a place where "meat is sold", but also means "carnage" or "bloodshed"]
matricular(se) = to sign up, to enroll, to register (school, vehicles, etc.)
la beca = scholarship, grant
el pelo = hair [all hair]
el cabello = hair [specifically for the head]
el moco = snot, booger no ser moco de pavo = "nothing to sneeze at", "no mean feat" [more common in Spain as far as I know, here el moco de pavo refers to a turkey "wattle" or "snood" - that red part of the turkey, in Spanish they call it moco which is "snot" so it makes more sense in Spanish imo]
mocoso/a = snotty el mocoso, la mocosa = "brat" [something you'd call a little kid, "brat" or "snot-nosed brat" etc.]
ciego/a = blind
sordo/a = deaf
mudo/a = mute, quiet
la ola = wave [water-related or something with more physical motion] la ola de calor = heatwave el oleaje = surf, a swell, the motion of waves
la onda = wave [radiation, soundwaves, "vibes" etc. - think el microondas which is "the microwave"]
la hormiga = ant el hormiguero = anthill
el hormigueo = "pins and needles", "tingling sensation" [el hormigueo is sometimes understood as "prickly sensation" but it's like what we'd call "pins and needles" - as you can see by this list, it's related to la hormiga "ant"; the best way to explain it is that this feeling is likened to having ants crawling on you]
sencillo/a = simple, easy
crujiente = crunchy
la canícula = midsummer heat, the hottest days of summer [lit. canícula refers to the star Canis Major or the star Sirius - the "dog star", and this is related to "canine"... the star is the most visible during the hottest months in Europe, so la canícula came to mean "the hottest days when the star Sirius appears" - it does mean "the dog days of summer" in English for the same reason; some countries use la canícula as "drought" related to heat or a dry season]
la sequía = drought
la estación = season (of the year) / station (as in a train station or police station etc.)
la temporada = time period / season / "season (for a TV show)"
la estación de lluvias = rainy season la temporada de lluvias = rainy season
tragar = to swallow / "to eat fast", "to inhale food"
tragón, tragona = "big eater", "glutton"
el enjambre = swarm (of insects)
el muérdago = mistletoe
a sabiendas = "knowing full well", "knowingly"
esconder = to hide
a escondidas = "secretly", "in secret" escuchar a escondidas = "to eavesdrop" [lit. "to listen secretly" or "to listen in secretly"]
la misericordia = mercy
la fe = faith
el escudo = shield
fallecer(se) = to pass away [a more polite way to say morir "to die"]
fallecido/a = deceased
nonato/a = unborn [sometimes also the term used for someone born by Cesarean/C-section]
muerto/a = dead estar muerto/a = to be dead
vivo/a = alive estar vivo/a = to be alive
(el) muerto viviente, (los) muertos vivientes = (the) undead
ejemplar = exemplary el ejemplar = a prototype, the original el ejemplar = copy of a book
el bigote = mustache / whiskers (like on a cat)
la calabaza = pumpkin el calabacín = zucchini, courgette / squash, gourd [lit. "little pumpkin", so any kind of gourd is calabacín ... other regional variations include la calabacita which is another diminutive, and in some countries the word is el zapallo or el zapallito... same words, "pumpkin" and "gourd" - just that zapallo comes from Quechua, so it's more commonly used in South America than anywhere else]
el calabozo = "cells", holding cells / dungeon [a place where prisoners are kept and guarded - the other word for a "dungeon" usually in the fantasy sense is la mazmorra... basically, el calabozo is a place you'd find in a police station, and la mazmorra is now what you'd use for fantasy, castles, or dungeons in video games]
el lunar = birthmark (tela) a lunares = polkadot, spotted [lit. "(fabric) with dots"... related to luna "moon" as you'd expect, but a lunares is a typical pattern or design to see for clothes and accessories]
la tierra = dirt, earth, soil la Tierra = Earth (the planet)
al revés = upside down [lit. "to the reverse", but used literally and euphemistically the way English uses "upside down"... meaning you could literally turn something upside down, or it could mean "everything's crazy now" or "topsy turvy"]
la semilla = seed
el hoyuelo = dimple [diminutive of el hoyo "hole"]
la coraza = breastplate, cuirass / "shielding"
el acorazado = dreadnought [warship] acorazado/a = covered in armor la cámara acorazada = vault [lit. "armored chamber/vault" - this is something like a bank vault, but it can also be "safe" like caja fuerte, though to me cámara implies a larger room or "vault" rather than caja fuerte which means "strong box"]
el/la cambiaformas = shapeshifter [lit. "changes-form"]
la amapola = poppy
el grano = a grain (of something) / pimple (ir) al grano = "(to get) to the point", "to cut to the chase"
el barro / el fango / el lodo = mud [all three words are okay to use - they can also mean "slime" or "sludge", the idea is something that is basically dirt and water, or a goopy mixture of something]
don nadie / doña nadie = "a nobody", no one of importance [literally "Sir/Mr. Nobody" and "Lady/Mrs. Nobody" - don/doña used to be a more polite term of address for someone of noble blood; today it's like "sir" or "ma'am" when you have in front of someone's name.... but for the purposes of this don/doña nadie is a sarcastic way of calling someone a nobody or saying they're completely unremarkable, or to say someone is unknown]
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4th request is Pumpernickel with salami, cobalt jack, nut butter and onion rings.
Of course I need to send you a tattoo shop au 🤭
Three Months
lt. derrick “mac” macdonald x fem!reader
word count: 5.6k+
summary: Sandwich Shop Request from RobinBuckleyWife | Three months have passed since you met Mac at Middle of the Map. Three months of texts, phone calls, voice notes, and endless facetimes. Three months and Mac’s finally coming to visit you.
warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Mentions of Tattoo Cleaning Protocol, Jokes about sex, Smut, PIV, Unprotected Sex
notes: Order up for Julia! I hope you love them, because every time someone wants to hear more about Mac and his tattoo artist gf, an angel gains their wings. I had to substitute a few things in this to fit their storyline; (no make up sex and no second chance at love: but, they are getting together again after being apart for a long period of time! So maybe that’s their second chance?) Big thanks to @getaapologist for reading this over for me and to @peachyproserpina for editing!
The sound of a machine buzzing low and steady fills your ears. It’s a familiar undercurrent of white noise as you wipe down your station for the third time that day. You’re not even really sure if it actually needs another pass, but your hands are restless. Your brain is already halfway to the airport, picturing a pair of broad shoulders in a worn olive green hoodie stepping through the terminal and into your arms again.
You bite back a grin.
It’s late in the afternoon at The Silver Eel. The sunlight slanting in through the front windows and pooling around the plants and on the polished floors. The scent of green soap and latex lingers in the air, it’s mixed with the faintest trace of Harper’s peppermint oil diffuser. She swears “keeps the vibes good.” You know it’s mostly for the clients, but secretly, you like it too.
Harper’s working in her booth. She’s leaning over her client with her usual half-scowl of concentration. Her tattoo machine hums in confident little bursts while she shades a design you can’t quite see from where you’re standing. All you can see is her boots, one kicked out behind her, and her long braid, tucked under a carhartt beanie, swinging side to side slightly every time she tilts her head.
“So,” you call out, unable to keep the secret to yourself any longer. You let the word hang with as much casual cool as you can muster, and your poker face is failing, “Mac’s flying in tonight.”
There’s a pause in the sound of machine against skin— just for a second, signaling she had pulled her needle away— before she looks up with a smirk that’s way too pleased with itself.
“Well, finally,” she says with a laugh, like she’s been rooting for this plotline to move forward for weeks (She had. Anything to make her friend happy!). “I was starting to think you hallucinated him.”
You ball-up a clean paper towel from your station and toss it at her. It misses her by a solid two feet and lands somewhere near her trash can, but she ducks anyway like you were a real threat, and she’s laughing as she goes back to work.
“Three months of FaceTime calls and voice notes I’ve had to sit in on, and the giggling like a teenager at your station,” she adds, loud enough for the whole shop to hear as she shakes her head, “and you’re just now getting laid again? Girl. That’s restraint I simply do not possess.”
Your face feels hot almost instantly. You glance toward her client, only to spot a very relaxed and heavily tattooed man reclining in the chair. His headphones are slung around his neck and he’s chewing on the lip ring snuggly tucked against his bottom lip. It was Harper’s brother.
“Oh my god, Harper! Could you not talk about my sex life when your brother is right fucking there?”
“He doesn’t care,” she says, shrugging her shoulders without looking up. “Do you care, Wyatt?”
Wyatt doesn’t even blink, just carries on like this is a normal conversation. “I care deeply. I’d prefer not to be reminded that you, my little sister, has sex. Let alone that you speak so freely about your friend’s sexcapades.”
Harper snorts and shakes her head, going back to tattooing. “You’re not even listening, shut up.”
You roll your eyes with mock annoyance and go back to cleaning your station, but the grin tugging at your lips betrays you. Harper’s always been like this— she’s relentless, unapologetic, and occasionally a little too nosey about who you’re doing the horizontal dance in your sheets with— She had even become your closest friend over the past few years and you wouldn’t trade her for anything. Especially not when she’s the only one who knows just how much you’ve been looking forward to this visit. She was the one who sat with you the night after Middle of the Map. You both huddled up in your hotel bed, feeding yourselves greasy takeout, as she tried to tease the dreamy look off your face. She was the one who watched you fall for a man who lived a thousand miles away from you and she never once made you feel like it was stupid.
Still, she doesn’t let up. Not for a single second
“You shave your legs this morning?” she asks casually, her eyes flicking up to yours for just a moment, as if she’s inquiring about the weather.
You don’t answer fast enough, which is apparently enough of an answer itself to Harper.
“Oh-ho shit,” she cackles, her grin spreading ear to ear. “You did. You’re gonna get railed within five minutes of him walking through the door. I just know it.”
“Harper.”
“What? You think I didn’t plan a whole fucking wax appointment the first time Ben came back from that mountain trip? I swear the man didn’t even set his bag down. We didn’t make it past the entryway.”
Wyatt groans, his head falling back against her chair. “I truly hate it here.”
You sit back on your stool, your hands settling on your hips, and tilt your chin to level a look at her. “You say one more word and I’m going to start loudly describing how Mac kisses, again. In detail. With sound effects and everything.”
That gets her. She shudders dramatically and mimes zipping her mouth shut without actually touching her face with her glove, but the shit-eating grin she wears doesn’t fade in the slightest.
You really try to focus on your cleanup again— organizing your ink bottles, wiping down the stool legs, your usual end-of-day routine— but your hands are more than restless. There’s a buzz humming softly just beneath your skin. Part of it’s your nerves, part of it’s the want that’s been building for the last three months. And you’d never say it out loud (not with Harper listening at least), but there’s something deeper growing beneath the anticipation of seeing him again. You have never missed someone like this before. Never wanted someone like this before— every version of him. You were falling for the funny version who sends you blurry pictures of his dogs in their Halloween costumes, the tired version who calls you after late drills just to hear your voice before he crashes out for the night, and the quiet version who answers your FaceTime calls and looks at you like you’re the first breath of air he’s had after a long dive.
You catch your reflection in the glass jewelry case near the register— your eyes are wide, flyaways working their way out of your ponytail, everything felt so hot. Yeah. You’re a fucking goner.
Harper’s voice floats over to you again, it’s still teasing but much gentler now. Maybe even an edge of concern. “Hey... You nervous?”
You glance at her, taking a breath in. She’s still working, but you can feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. You nod once, hoping she’d see it. And then add, just in case. “Yeah. A little.”
She hums, nodding herself as her wrist flicks. “It’s the second time you’re seeing him in person. First time doesn’t count. You were running on adrenaline and elevator Stockholm syndrome. Surprised you even lasted the three days before bangin’ him.”
You huff a laugh, your chest getting tight at her words. “I… yeah. Thanks for the support.”
“I’m just saying,” she adds, pulling her machine back and finally looking over at you, “this is where the real stuff kicks in, you know? Des Moines was fun and all, but you’re gonna be in your own space. There’s no hotel walls or flight times to hide behind. It’s just you and him and, you know… your weird little kitchen table.”
You roll your eyes at the mention. It is a weird little table. You had found it at a garage sale when you’d gotten the apartment, it had scratches in the top, mismatched chairs, and one leg is definitely shorter than the rest.
“I think it’ll be good for you,” Harper says after a few moments, a little more serious now. “You look really happy. A little horny. But mostly happy.”
You smile, turning away from her for just a moment as you collect your bearings. The nerves are still there deep down, but it helps— having someone who knows exactly how to needle you and exactly when to stop. Who’ll make the jokes about your sex life but still check in and make sure you’re alright. Who won’t let you get too in your head about any of it, especially this. You turn and toss your gloves in the trash, sighing out as you stretch your arms over your head. “All right, well... I’m heading out before you start asking about my underwear.”
Harper raises an eyebrow, turning in her stool to look at you. “Are you wearing underwear?”
Wyatt chimes in again, dry as ever, rolling his eyes, “Oh my god, Harper.”
You flip them both off with a laugh, making your way out the door. Your phone buzzes in your back pocket just as you hit the sidewalk outside of the shop, and when you check it, there plain as day is a text from Mac.
Just boarded. See you in a few hours, baby.
You stare at the screen for a moment longer than you really mean to. It’s a little more than a few hours. You’d heard the itinerary so many times at this point you know better. Then you type back a quick response. One that would surely have Harper rolling her eyes if she’d seen.
Hurry up. I missed you.
And you swear you can already feel his smile from here.
-*-
You stand at baggage claim with your hoodie sleeves tugged over your fingers, practically vibrating in place. Your lip is tugged between your teeth as you wait, bouncing on the balls of your toes. He texted you twenty minutes ago and your heart was still thudding hard against your chest.
Landed. Plane smelled like dirty diapers. I’m alive, though. Thought you should know.
And then a minute after that, another text lights up your screen.
Didn’t get cavity searched. Disappointed, honestly.
You haven’t stopped grinning since you’d gotten them. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him— Middle of the Map still plays on an endless loop in your head like the earworm your favorite song brings— but this is different. This is your real life. This isn’t some convention fling. You had brought him home. He’s flown across the country just for you. Because of you.
You look around you, rocking on your heels. Before you’re turning your attention to the stream of passengers filtering toward the escalator. And then, like something from a movie, he’s right there.
Mac.
His hair is messy from the flight, that olive green hoodie thrown on, his backpack was even slung over one shoulder like he had wrestled it into submission from the overhead compartment. He looks exhausted, like he’d hardly slept this week. He looks incredible in person, even better than you remembered. His eyes catch yours and he grins, and suddenly you don’t care that you’re in the middle of a crowded airport or that your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics.
“Look who it is,” he calls out as he walks down the last few escalator steps and toward you. “The hottest woman on the eastern seaboard! Have mercy.”
You laugh, shaking your head as embarrassment starts to creep up your spine. You bite your bottom lip, watching as the last step causes him to skip a bit, and hop to catch his footing. “That’s not what the gate lady said when she gave me the directions over here.”
He stops in front of you, breathing a little harder than he should be. You attribute it to nerves. For a second you both just look at one another, unsure of what your next move will be. There’s a flicker in his eyes— something you aren’t quite sure how to place. Then he says, with the prettiest smile you think you’ve ever seen, “Permission to kiss you? And probably cry a little while doing it?”
“Permission granted,” your voice barely above a whisper.
He cups your face in one hand like it’s the first time he’s touched anything soft in months and pulls you into him like the world might end right there. It’s not a perfect kiss, nothing like the movies— you bump noses and your teeth click against each other’s just a little— but his hand is trembling just slightly, and when he pulls back, nuzzling his nose along your cheek, he lets out a happy sigh.
You turn slightly and rest your forehead against his. Your hands are sliding up his arms to rest at his shoulders, and then back down again, squeezing just above his elbows. The fabric of his hoodie is a bit scratchy against your skin. He’s got a bit of stubble growing in, his mustache isn’t nearly as neatly trimmed as it had been on your call earlier that week. But he’s here. He’s real. You can only manage to whisper a small, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he breathes back with a little laugh and then he kisses you again. “God, you’re real. You have legs again. Holy shit. I missed your legs.”
You snort, feeling warmth start to bloom from deep in your belly. “My legs missed you, too.”
He pulls back then, just enough to look at you properly. He’s still cradling your face, his thumb brushing against your jaw. “You look so good. Like unfair levels of good, baby. Like if I didn’t already like you, I’d be real mad about it.”
“You’re jet-lagged and running on airplane trail mix.”
“Exactly,” he says with a shrug. “So if I pass out, just roll me to your place and lie next to me forever. That’s all I ask. Don’t even have to tell anyone. They’ll already know.”
You take his backpack and tug it up onto your back, despite his protests (he insists he’s a marine. He’s strong and capable of carrying his own carryon— you remind him he’s so tired he’s not even standing up straight), and together you navigate the parking garage back to the little black lincoln beater you’ve come to love. Mac keeps bumping into you on purpose. Shoulder to shoulder. Fingers brushing yours. He talks the whole way— about the guy who snored through the entire flight, the baby who kept blowing out his diapers, about the fact that his seatmate watched Twilight almost four times in a row.
“Did you know vampires sparkle?” he says as you unlock your car, leaning against it. “Like, glittery sparkles. You’ve been holding out on me with that knowledge.”
“You’ve never seen Twilight? Hasn’t everyone seen Twilight?”
“I’m a grown man, babe,” he says softly, slinging his arm around your shoulders. He starts to walk around the car, guiding you to the driver’s side like you absolutely might get lost without him touching you. “I only watch real shit like… Top Gun and videos of dogs doing agility courses.”
“Both very… on brand.”
He leans down to kiss your temple, lingering for a moment as his eyes flick down to your lips. “You’re very on brand.”
You roll your eyes at the bad attempt of a joke, but your chest aches in the best way.
Now, back at your apartment, you barely are able to get the door closed before he exhales loud and sharp. Then he drops his bag right there in the middle of your entryway.
“God,” he says softly, taking a few steps in until he’s spinning slowly in your tiny living room. His hands on his hips, a smile taking up his entire face. “This is so… you.” He eyes a few framed flash sheets he sees with Harper’s name scribbled across them. There’s a blanket covered with little bats draped over the couch. “It smells like you in here. Like your shampoo and fabric softener.” He does well just to remember the faint scent for as long as he had. “I’m gonna start licking the walls. See if they taste like you too.”
“Please don’t.” you laugh softly, shaking your head as you twist the deadbolt shut.
“No promises.”
You lift his bag out of the middle of the floor and set it down by the couch as he takes a slow lap around your place, like it’s a museum exhibit called The Girl I’m Lowkey Obsessed With And Wanting to Marry One Day. He stops to inspect a spider plant that you’ve definitely almost killed. He stares at a photo of you and Harper on the end table for a solid ten seconds. Then he looks over and spots your little crooked kitchen table through the arch and says, “That’s literally the ugliest thing I’ve ever loved.”
“Be nice, Derrick. It can hear you and It’s sensitive.”
He laughs and then turns to you. He’s quieter now, really taking in everything around him. “You let me into your space, babe… Your home.” he says softly, his lips tugging up into a gentle smile. “That means a lot to me. That’s— fuck, baby. It’s a huge deal.”
You walk over to where he stood and slide your arms around his waist. You tilt your head up to look at him, resting your chin against his chest. “Yeah, well... I like you. Kind of a lot.”
He wraps you up tight in his own arms, nudging your head a bit as he tucks his chin into your shoulder. He’s decided he never wants to let go. His voice is muffled when he says, “I kind of like you a whole lot too.” He mumbles, pressing a kiss against that little sliver of skin he can see at the collar of your shirt. He knows he feels a lot more than “like” but was it too early?
You laugh in response, and he leans back to kiss you— it’s gentle this time. He’s slower with it, more deliberate. It’s the kind of kiss that promises a hundred more laced deep within it. The kind of kiss that says, Hey, I missed you. I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.
“You hungry?” you ask as you pull away. You’re breathless, your face flush and your mouth still slick from kissing him.
“Starving.” He chuckles softly, watching as your eyes flutter up to his.
“For food, or…?”
Mac lets his hands fall to the curve of your ass and he squeezes through your jeans. “Yes.”
You swat his hands away, laughing as you start to pull away. Making your way through the archway that separates your kitchen and living room. You start to reach over to open your pantry door, grab him something to eat after the long flight he’d been on. He’s grinning as he follows you, close on your heels. And he catches your wrist as you pass, pulling you up short with that mock-innocent smirk that never seems to mean anything good. “Wait— Baby, come here.”
You let him pull you in. Of course you do.
He hooks one arm around your waist and brings you flush against him. And then he dips his head down, kissing you like it’s the only thing that’s keeping him alive. He’s messier about it this time— he’s fucking greedy. He’s had months of late-night calls and one-handed video chats and whispered soon, baby, soon’s and it’s all crashing together in the heat of his mouth against yours. You moan into it and feel him groan in return. The sound low in his throat as his fingers grip your lower back just a bit tighter.
“Go ahead and keep kissin’ me like that, babe,” he rasps softly, nuzzling his nose along your jaw, “and I’m gonna end up fuckin’ you right here on that weird-ass kitchen table.”
The words knock the breath out of your chest. It’s not because they’re that dirty, not really— FaceTime had seen its share of filthy nights over the last few months— but because it’s Mac. Saying it in person, right here in front of you. Because he’s standing in your apartment with his hands all over you like he’s starving and you’re the last goddamn meal he’ll ever have.
You blink, trying to find the right words to say when you feel as flustered as you did. “It’s not stable enough for that.”
“Neither am I, baby.”
You snort, but it dies high in your throat when he starts walking you backward until your back is flush against the frame of the archway. He’s kissing across your jaw, down your throat. He’s taking his time, like he needs to relearn the shape of you after spending so much time apart. He sucks at the base of your neck until your knees nearly give out and you’re sure there’ll be a dark bruise there the next day. His hands are dropping from your waist, gripping your ass and dragging you flush against him like he can’t stand the space between you.
“Jesus, Mac…” you breathe out softly, your lips are brushing his, your hands gently curled around the fabric at the chest of his hoodie. You can feel every breath he takes, every subtle shift in him as he presses closer, closer, to you. He’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And you can’t seem to get enough. Your hand splays wide as it slides up to his shoulder, around to the nape of his neck— toying with the hair there.
“You feel that?” he hums, grinding against your hip. He’s hard, has been for a while now and he’s not subtle about it at all. “Been like this since I saw you at the damn baggage claim. Swear, I was two seconds from getting cuffed for indecent exposure.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“I’m desperate. There’s a difference.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his brown eyes wide and glassy with want. “You think I was jerkin’ off to those fucking voice notes for fun, baby? I damn near got myself banned from the base.”
Your face burns hot and runs deep into your belly. “Mac...”
He grins. It’s flushed and absolutely shameless. He’s so stupidly beautiful, it has your chest tight. “Told you I missed your legs. The vision of your thighs around my ears has been stuck in my head for three damn months. Rent-free, baby. Fucking haunting me.”
He places one more kiss to your neck, his eyes glancing over your shoulder into the hall. Your bedroom door is open and he can see the bed from where he’s stood. His arm snakes around your waist and then you’re moving— you’re stumbling, he’s tugging. You’re kissing and touching each other like neither of you can believe this is real. Clothes get ditched in your dance down the hallway.
First, he pauses at the end of the hall to tug your shirt over your head so slowly you think you might combust. His fingers trail against the skin of your tummy, his head dipping down to watch how he reveals a new piece of your flesh with every move upward.
Then your fingers are sliding under his hoodie, taking that up and his t-shirt underneath. You’re moving just as slow, leaning in to press a kiss against his collarbone when you tug it up and over his head, letting the articles fall into a pile beside you. Mac’s chest heaves as your eyes meet, there’s a smile playing on his lips and there’s a badly done smiley face tattoo right over his heart.
Your jeans get shucked off at your bedroom door and tossed in the direction of your hamper before someone trips over them. He nearly knocks over the lamp at the end of the hall trying to get them off of you. You shove him into the bedroom wall haphazardly. There’s laughter shared, swearing, and so much more kissing.
By the time your back hits the soft plane of your mattress, you’re almost bare, panting, aching. Lying there under his gaze in just your panties and bra. Every inch of you is flushed, breathing heavy, and alive like you’ve never felt before.
His gaze lingers on you as he huffs out a quiet, breathless laugh. “You really wore a matching set for me, baby?” His voice is low as he teases you, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smile. “Thought I was gonna walk in and fuck you against the front door, did you?” He leans in to kiss your neck, then just above the cup of your bra, his fingers brush the lace at your hip. “You really do know how to make a man feel wanted.” He whispers as his kisses press right against your sternum, then just above your belly button, and finally right above the waistband of those panties, grinning against your skin. “You’re lucky I’ve still got some self control left.”
You sigh out softly, tilting your head down to look at him as he moves upwards.
Mac kneels between your thighs, he’s still in his jeans. His eyes are raking over you as his hands come to his belt, slowly unbuckling it as he drinks you in. He pulls back, just enough to shove them and his boxers to his ankles and kick them away, settling himself back against your sheets and between your legs in all of his naked glory. A lone tattoo on his leg, a tiger with its head busting through a heart, sits right there on the top of his thigh. Then his hands are on your thighs, spreading you open wide. He’s slow about it. He savors it. His thumbs are pressing deep into your skin like he needs to feel the reality of this before he figures he’s dreamt all of this up. “You’re gonna kill me,” he sighs softly, dragging his palms up your thighs to settle on your hips. “I’m not even gonna make it inside you, beautiful. Gonna keep looking at you and fucking explode.”
You reach for him after that, pulling him down into another kiss. Then— because you want it, because you’ve needed this— you roll him over and straddle his lap before he can protest. Before you settle down, you shift carefully. Tugging your underwear down your legs and tossing them towards the hamper. His breath catches in his throat as he looks up at you. Brown eyes pleading. He’s already so fucking hard, leaking against his stomach. He runs his hands up your sides so slowly, drifting back to let his fingers unhook your bra with an ease so practiced it almost makes you lift an eyebrow. He slides the fabric down your arms. His eyes zone in on your tits before they flick up to your own. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen anyone more perfect in his life. Each time he sees you naked for him gets better and better. You smile, and then trail a finger down his chest, as his hand snakes between your bodies.
He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, tilting his head a bit to watch where the two of you are almost joined. He slides the tip through your folds, gathering the slick that’s pooled there. And then he’s lining himself up, breaching your entrance with as little resistance as you can manage. Your whole body clenches around him. “Fuck—” One of his hands fists the sheets, the other settles on your thigh, his head thrown back against the pillows. “Fucking Christ— you feel unreal— oh my God— never had a pussy like this.”
The stretch is delicious, perfect, as he feeds you his cock inch by inch. Your thighs are burning as you take him to the hilt. You’re both trembling now. It’s all hitting at once— the distance you shared, the loneliness you had felt, the months of want after one measly weekend built up like pressure in your chest. He grabs your hips with both hands now, as he looks up at you. “Been dreaming about this. About you. Every goddamn night. Knew you’d be just as good as I remembered, better even.”
Your hands are pressed flat against his chest as your hips move slowly, soaking in the feel of him. Rolling with each lift up and slow sink back down. You don’t miss the way his hips twitch up to meet yours— even if it’s barely there, or how his hands shake against your waist like he’s trying not to cum just from the heat of you clenching around him.
“You okay?” he whispers. His voice a sheer contrast to the confidence he had felt before this had actually started.
“Yeah,” you breathe out, reaching forward to thread your fingers through his hair. He’d complained all week last week how grown out it had gotten, that he needed a good cut. “You?”
“Gonna be real honest, m’close to crying.”
You laugh as your eyes close, shaking your head. Your head feels dizzy and you’re so full of him. You kiss him again, biting at his bottom lip until he lets out a little moan. And then he starts to move with you, his hips lifting off the mattress, gaining a steady rhythm. It’s messy and clumsy, but he can watch your tits bounce like this. And maybe that’s the reason he loses his pace halfway through a moan. You laugh and nearly fall forward when he bucks his hips a little too hard afterwards. Your pillow hits the floor when he readjusts his arm. None of it matters anymore. Every one of his thrusts hits a little deeper against that spongy spot along your front wall, every brush of his mouth against your collarbone makes you shiver, and every sound he makes turns you molten in his arms.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he groans against your shoulder, his arm coming up to pull you against his chest, “so perfect— fuck, I’m never letting you go, you hear me?” He mumbles into your hair as he holds you a bit tighter.
You whimper, hips rolling harder in this position, your nails digging into his sides. “Mac— please—”
That’s all he needed to hear, before he flips you suddenly. It’s effortless and he’s pressing you into the mattress with his weight. “I got you. I got you, baby,” he pants, rutting into your cunt harder now, deeper, fucking relentless in the best way. “Gonna make you cum, baby. Wanna feel you fall apart for me.” He breathes out heavily as his hand slips between you. His fingers circling your clit with practiced desperation. You cry out, overwhelmed— he’s everywhere, inside you, over you, around you— and it crashes into you all at once, fast and hard and impossible to stop. That white hot band in your belly snapping taut and your orgasm tears through you like a live wire. Your whole body tensing as you sob out Derrick, Mac, Derrick into his neck.
Mac pushes himself up and pulls out of your tight heat at the last second, cursing as he fists himself. The muscles moving beneath inked skin stirs something deep in your belly. He gives one, two, three, tugs as he pants out your name, cumming with a groan from deep in his chest. He’s painting your belly in his spend as his thighs shake, his chest heaves, and his brain unable to catch up. You’ve done this once before, hurried and rushed in a Des Moines hotel room. But now? Fuck. Now he looks better than ever. Like every orgasm you’ve ever brought him to— your one night in person or the many over a screen— was just getting you ready for right now. His cheeks are flushed, his muscles twitching, and he’s got a hazy look in his eye that you cannot describe. He collapses against you, burying his face in your neck.
You both lie there in each other’s arms, quiet and spent. Your breaths both ragged but smiles living on your faces. Then, he speaks up, his voice muffled against your skin, “Worth the flight.”
You laugh, fingers in his sweat damp hair. You brush a few strands away from his eyes. “You came early.”
“Emotionally or physically?”
“…both.”
He grins against your chest, presses a kiss over each of your nipples, and then he looks up at you— his eyes soft, sleepy, completely yours. “I love you.”
Those words steal the breath from your lungs even more so than the filthy ones— but you don’t hesitate to answer, “I love you too.”
He exhales like it’s the first real breath he’s taken since landing. Then he’s nosing between your breasts and pressing a kiss to your sternum. “Next time, I’ll last longer.”
“Next time’s already on your mind?” You laugh softly, “focus on the now, Mac. You’re getting the towel this time.”
He groans softly, dragging his nose along the swell of your breast again as he leaves little kisses in his wake. “You’re already making me move?”
“You’re the one who said I’m beautiful. Now you have to suffer the consequences.”
He grumbles something about cruel women and fucking limp legs, but he lifts himself up and trudges butt naked to the bathroom, but not before slapping your thigh affectionately on the way.
“You’re still the best lay of my life,” he calls over his shoulder.
You smile, lazy and full of warmth, and close your eyes.
He’s here. He’s yours. And it’s only the beginning.
tags ;; @djomorelikedelulu
#warfare#mac warfare#lt macdonald x reader#lt macdonald warfare#mac warfare x fem!reader#mac warfare x reader#mac warfare x f!reader#cw: smut#cw: piv#cw: unprotected sex#mac warfare smut
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Chapter 12
⌖
Morning Light
I woke up smiling.
Not wide. Not dramatic. Just a soft, sleepy curve of my mouth against the pillow. A breath that didn’t ache when I took it in. The light coming through the window was warm. Diffused. That honey-yellow that only shows up when the world is still quiet and soft and untouched by the day.
For a moment, I didn’t move.
I just let it sit there. That weightless feeling. The slow stretch of my legs beneath the blanket. The way the air felt cooler on my arms. My hair was half-stuck to my cheek. I turned my head, eyes still closed, and breathed in the stillness.
He kissed me.
The thought came like a whisper. Gentle. Unforced.
Not the way it haunted me before. Not like a question.
This time, it felt like a truth.
He kissed me.
Again.
And he didn’t regret it.
I opened my eyes.
The ceiling looked the same as always, white, cracked slightly near the corner, but the room felt different. Lighter. Like the silence wasn’t crushing anymore. Like it wasn’t pressing into my ribs or settling in my throat. I slipped out of bed slowly. The floor was cool beneath my feet. I padded to the bathroom, peeled off my shirt, and let the water run hot. Steam billowed up fast, curling around the mirror like it was trying to blur the version of me that existed before yesterday.
I stepped in.
Let it hit my shoulders.
Closed my eyes and exhaled.
My body felt like mine again.
Not like something fractured and overanalyzed. Not like a puzzle I couldn’t solve.
Just… mine.
And under the water, I thought about his hands. The way they shook, just barely, when he touched me. The way his breath caught. The way he kissed me like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.
He was scared.
But he kissed me anyway.
And I stayed.
My fingers stilled under the stream.
He let me stay.
I rinsed the shampoo out of my hair slowly. Stepped out and wrapped a towel around myself, letting the steam follow me back into my room. I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t scrambling to beat the clock or silence the doubt in my head. I moved through my routine with something I hadn’t felt in days.
Ease.
I dried my hair, combed it out with patient fingers, even clipped it half-up just to feel more like myself. My lashes curled, my skin glowed a little from the heat of the shower, and for once, I didn’t flinch when I looked in the mirror.
I didn’t see someone falling apart.
I saw someone still standing.
Still trying.
Still here.
I moved into the kitchen barefoot. The tile cooled my steps, but it felt grounding. Real. I cracked two eggs into a pan, turned on the coffee machine, and hummed to myself as I toasted a slice of sourdough. The sunlight hit the counter just right.
And I let myself think about him.
About today.
About walking into that room again. About meeting his eyes and not needing to say much, because we already had.
Because he kissed me.
Because we’re not broken.
Not like I thought.
And maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m being naive.
But I don’t think I am.
Not this time.
He heard me yesterday.
Really heard me.
And whatever weight he was carrying, whatever fear that had stitched itself into his silence, I saw it shift. I saw it crack.
He let me in.
I sipped my coffee. Slow. Let the heat bloom behind my ribs. I was going to see him again today. Not as a ghost of last week. But like this. Like someone who mattered again. Like someone he didn’t want to push away.
Maybe we’re not there yet.
Maybe we’re still figuring it out.
But today didn’t feel heavy.
It didn’t feel impossible.
It felt like something was beginning again.
And for the first time in days…
I was looking forward to what came next.
─────── ⌖ ───────
The walk through the halls didn’t feel as heavy today. No nerves. No tension coiled tight behind my ribs. Just footsteps, quiet, even. The walls didn’t feel like they were closing in. They just felt like… walls.
For the first time in what felt like forever, my badge didn’t weigh a thousand pounds against my chest. I nodded at a few people I passed, colleagues, nurses, the quiet receptionist who always tucked a granola bar under the counter in case I forgot to eat. No one asked if I was okay. Which was… new. Usually, someone could tell. That I wasn’t sleeping. That I was unraveling at the seams. But today?
Today, I looked like a person again.
I felt like one.
I slipped into my office and closed the door behind me. The click echoed softly through the space, and the silence that followed was different than the kind I’d grown used to. It wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t lonely. It was peaceful.
The kind of quiet that lets you breathe.
I set my bag down, shrugged off my coat, and sat at my desk with a slow, content stretch, back arching, arms raised, fingers brushing the ceiling. My chair creaked just a little under me, but it felt good. Solid.
I opened my laptop.
Emails first. Notes second.
Then the charts.
I moved through them with ease. Clinical. Efficient. No second-guessing, no mental fog thick enough to drown in. I was clear. Focused. Even my handwriting looked cleaner, sharper. I jotted down updates for two patients I’d seen last week, flagged one for med reevaluation, then paused when I reached the last file in the stack.
Poindexter.
Benjamin.
I hesitated for a second.
Then opened it.
Just to check.
Not out of obsession. Not because I was spiraling.
Just because I wanted to.
Because I could.
His file stared up at me, his name, his photo, that barcode the system tagged to his wristband. I scrolled through the notes. I could almost track his progress like a line graph in my head. The steep slopes. The climbs. The crashes. The plateaus.
And the shifts.
The parts that weren’t measurable in ink or metrics.
The moments. The trust. The fight in his eyes when he tried.
The silence that wasn’t apathy, it was fear.
The kiss that wasn’t weakness, it was something real.
I added a brief update.
Patient’s emotional restraint remains high, but relational responsiveness has shown recent signs of breakthrough.
Recommend continued sessions to assess behavioral stabilization over time.
I paused.
Then added-
Notable improvement in eye contact. Voluntary touch noted.
My lips twitched. Barely.
A smile.
Small. Private.
I saved the file and leaned back in my chair.
For the first time in weeks, the air in this office didn’t taste like nerves. It felt still. Clean. Like I had the right to be here. Like I was good at what I did. And maybe, just maybe, it was working.
All of it.
Him. Me. The thing we weren’t calling anything yet.
The day moved slowly, but not in a bad way. I answered emails. I scheduled two more check-ins. I re-filed three loose charts and actually remembered to finish my tea before it got cold. It felt like balance. Like peace.
And then-
A knock.
Firm. Knuckles to glass.
I looked up.
One of the nurses. Jason. Friendly, a little awkward. Always wore mismatched socks under his scrubs. “Hey,” he said with a half-smile, lingering at the door. “Sorry to interrupt. Chief Calder wants to see you in his office.”
“Oh yeah. Of course,” I said, already rising to my feet. “Did he say why?”
Jason shook his head. “Just asked me to send you over.” I nodded, brushing my hands down the front of my slacks as I moved to the door. “Thanks,” I murmured, stepping out into the hall. He gave me a polite nod and turned the corner, disappearing down the hallway.
I stood still for a second.
Then started walking.
I wasn’t nervous.
I should be nervous. When your boss asks you to come to his office, you should be nervous. But I wasn’t,
Not at first.
Calder called people into his office all the time. Routine updates, chart reviews, program changes. Sometimes he even pulled doctors in to thank them for their performance. And today, after how this week had turned around?
Maybe that was it.
Maybe he’d seen my notes, my patients.
I walked faster.
Shoulders straight. Hands calm at my sides.
It was probably nothing.
Just a check-in.
Just another quiet moment in a day that had started off so good.
So steady.
So full of hope.
─────── ⌖ ───────
His office is warm.
Not in the cozy sense, but in the way that nice offices are supposed to feel. Neutral wood paneling, low light, books stacked neatly behind his desk. Everything is in its place. He’s already sitting when I step inside.
“Morning, Doctor,” he says, gesturing toward the chair across from him. “Close the door behind you.”
I do.
No tension. Not yet.
Just the quiet click of the door as it seals shut. I take the seat he motioned to and smooth the fabric of my pants against my thighs. There’s a coffee mug near the edge of his desk, half full, steam curling lazily toward the ceiling. His laptop’s closed. No charts open.
This isn’t about a file.
“First of all,” he starts, folding his hands over a legal pad, “I just want to say, you’ve been doing exceptional work lately.”
I blink.
Not the sentence I expected.
“Thank you,” I say, cautious but polite.
“I mean it,” he continues, nodding slowly. “The patient reports I’ve reviewed? Remarkable. Your cases show growth, structure, and clarity. And the progress I’m seeing in some of our most complex patients, Poindexter included, isn’t something we see every day.”
He smiles.
A real one. Not forced. Not stiff.
Pride flickers in his eyes.
And I feel myself relax, just a little.
A small breath leaves my lungs.
“Thank you,” I say again, more softly this time. “That really means a lot.”
He nods once more.
And then his gaze drops.
Only for a second.
Barely long enough to register.
But it’s enough.
Something shifts.
“And that’s why this isn’t easy,” he says.
My smile doesn’t fall yet. But it starts to falter at the edges.
He leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
“You’ll be off Poindexter’s case.”
The words land with quiet finality.
At first, they don’t register.
Like I misheard him. Like maybe he misspoke. My brain tries to rearrange them into something else. Something softer.
But they stay.
Right there in the air between us.
You’ll be off Poindexter’s case.
“I-” My voice catches. “What?”
His face shifts, less warm now, more composed.
“I know this comes as a surprise.”
No.
No, no, no.
No.
My spine straightens, the chair suddenly too rigid against my back. My hands curl into fists in my lap before I even realize I’m doing it. “But- sir, I’ve been working with Poindexter for months now,” I say, trying to keep my tone level. “He’s progressing. We’re making headway. I don’t understand why would you change his doctor? You just told me you were proud of my work.”
“I am proud,” he says quickly. “This isn’t about performance. It’s not even a question of method.”
He hesitates, just briefly.
That flicker again.
Then he says it.
“It wasn’t my decision.”
And that-
That’s when it starts to sink in.
Slowly. Like ink bleeding into water.
My breath feels shallow.
“What do you mean it wasn’t your decision?”
He sighs, folding his arms now. Leaning forward. “You’ll be reassigned,” he says. “We’ve got a new intake arriving later this week, classified, high-risk. You’ll be leading it. It’s a challenge, I know. But you’ve proven you’re more than capable.”
I don’t care.
I don’t care about a new intake.
I don’t care how “capable” I am.
He’s still talking, words I can’t hear. Something about it not being personal. Something about opportunity. Career growth.
But it all fades.
Blurs.
Like, my ears aren’t working anymore.
Like someone pulled a plug and drained the noise out of the room.
My stomach sinks.
I feel it in my ribs. My throat. My chest.
He requested it.
Dex requested this.
And just like that, everything soft from this morning turns cold. All that warmth, all that hope-
Gone.
─────── ⌖ ───────
I don’t remember leaving his office.
I know I stood up. I know I thanked him. I know I kept my voice even and my expression composed because that’s what I was trained to do. But it wasn’t me who walked out of there. It was some version of me on autopilot, nodding, smiling, saying all the right words as if something hadn’t just been ripped out of my chest. The hallway feels colder now. Too bright. Too clean. Each step echoes louder than the one before, and by the time I get back to my office, my hands are shaking. I close the door behind me, slower than I should.
Staring at nothing.
Poindexter.
He requested it.
He asked for someone else.
And the worst part, the part that’s making my skin prickle and my lungs burn, is that I didn’t see it coming. Not even a little. I walked into that session yesterday believing we were on the same page. I just sit there in my office, hands loose in my lap, eyes fixed on nothing. The corners of the room feel sharper somehow, like everything has been hollowed out and left to echo.
The silence isn’t soft anymore.
It’s not peaceful.
It’s suffocating.
I blink at the wall in front of me, but it doesn’t feel real. Nothing does. The light through the blinds feels wrong, too warm, too bright, like it doesn’t belong in this moment. My ears are ringing. I don’t know if it’s the blood rushing to my head or the words replaying in it on a loop.
You’ll be off Poindexter’s case.
Reassigned. Removed. Like it’s nothing. Like I’m nothing.
I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. My fingers thread into my hair, clutching the roots like they’re the only thing keeping me from floating off the floor. I press my forehead to my hands and squeeze my eyes shut, willing something, anything, to make this make sense.
We were okay.
Yesterday, we were okay.
He kissed me.
He held me.
He looked at me like I mattered.
I sit up abruptly, breath catching in my throat. The urge to cry comes fast, but I fight it back with a hard blink. No. Not here. Not now. I reach for my phone. My hands are trembling, but I unlock it anyway.
My thumb hovers over Gigi’s name.
I don’t think- I just tap.
It rings once. Twice.
“Heyyy,” she answers, voice light. Unknowing. Warm.
I swallow.
“They took me off his case.”
There’s silence. Just a breath. One second. Two.
“What?”
“Dex,” I say quietly. “They pulled me off his file.”
Another pause. Her voice drops, serious now. “Wait- what? Why?”
“They reassigned me to some new high-risk intake,” I mumble, my voice already wobbling. “My boss called me into his office. Said it wasn’t his decision.”
Another silence.
Longer.
“Oh,” she breathes. Then, carefully: “Was it…?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “He asked for it.”
Gigi doesn’t speak for a beat. And then she exhales, slowly. “Fuck.”
I nod, even though she can’t see me. I’m still trying to process it. Still hoping there’s another explanation waiting to surface. “He didn’t say anything yesterday,” I say, quieter now. “Not a word. He let me sit there. Pour everything out. And then he kissed me. Held me like I was the only person in the world. And now I’m off his file like none of it meant anything.”
The tears come now.
Not loud.
But steady.
And they sting more than they should.
“I want to go up there,” I mutter, wiping my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “I want to yell at him. I want to scream. I want to walk into his room and just-” I pause, my chest tightening. “I want to beat his ass.”
Gigi makes a sound-half laugh, half breath, but it’s not because she thinks it’s funny. She just gets it. She always does. “Okay, babe. Listen to me.” Her voice changes.
Softer. Firmer. Anchored.
“You can’t go up there.”
“I know,” I murmur.
“You’re not his doctor anymore.”
“I know.”
“I know you want to scream. I know you want answers. But this isn’t how you get them. He made this choice. For whatever reason, he asked to be reassigned.”
“But why?” My voice breaks. “Why would he do that if he didn’t want me to leave? Why kiss me? Why let me in? Why hold me like that if he was just going to shut the door the next day?” Gigi sighs again, softer this time.
“Because people like him, people who’ve been through what he has, they don’t always know how to have something good. So when they do, it scares the shit out of them.” I press my hand to my mouth, trying to steady my breathing. It doesn’t work. My chest still shakes.
“You don’t do this to someone you care about,” I whisper.
“No. But he probably thinks he’s protecting you.”
“I didn’t ask him to protect me.”
“I know,” she says gently. “But he’s not thinking like that. He’s thinking like someone who’s been hurt so badly, so many times, that letting someone love him feels like handing them a loaded weapon.”
I close my eyes.
It hurts.
It hurts in that quiet, permanent kind of way. Like something’s shifted in me and can’t be undone. “You kissed him,” she says softly. “And he kissed you back. He held you. That wasn’t fake. That wasn’t meaningless.”
“Then why?”
“Because he knows he can’t give you what you deserve,” she says. “Because he’s scared he’ll hurt you. Because it’s easier for him to push you away than risk watching you stay.”
I wipe another tear off my chin.
“I’m so tired, G.”
“I know.”
“I really thought this was going to be different.”
“I know,” she says again. “But sometimes the people we want to save… won’t let us.”
I sit in that for a long moment.
And then, quietly, so quiet it’s almost not there:
“I miss him already.”
“I know, y/n,” she says. “I know.”
There’s a pause. Long. Quiet.
Then Gigi’s voice shifts.
Sharper. Drier. Like she’s done holding the soft space for me.
“Okay. But babe… what if this is who he is?”
I blink. “What?”
“I mean it. What if this is just… him? We’ve always known he’s high-risk. You said it yourself, he’s been through shit, he’s dangerous, he’s emotionally unstable. So why are you so surprised?”
My mouth opens, but I don’t know what to say.
“He asked for another doctor after kissing you, y/n. After holding you like you were air. That’s not normal. That’s not okay. And it’s not your job to try and make it make sense.”
“He’s not- he’s not manipulative, G.”
“Are you sure?” she shoots back, voice firm now. “Because I don’t know, if I looked like him? I’d probably use it too. Wrap a pretty girl around my finger, kiss her like it’s the end of the world, make her feel like she’s the exception, and then drop her before she gets too close.”
“G…”
“No. Listen to me. You’re smart. You’re good at what you do. But this? This wasn’t clinical. This was personal. And he knew it.”
I go quiet. She keeps going.
“I’m not saying he’s evil. I’m saying he’s sick. And maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Maybe you’re not the first person who thought they were saving him. Maybe that’s the cycle.”
Silence buzzes in my ears. I can barely breathe around it.
“You want to think you mattered to him,” she says. “But y/n, even if you did, especially if you did, he still made the choice to let you go. And I think you need to stop trying to turn that into something noble.”
I sit there, completely still.
Because even though I don’t want to hear it…
Part of me knows she might be right.
But God-
It hurts worse than silence ever did.
─────── ⌖ ───────
My apartment is quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels personal. Thick. Like it’s sitting in my lungs. Like it knows what I did today.
I’ve got a glass of wine in one hand, cheap, red, something I forgot I even had, and Gordon Ramsay is yelling at some poor chef on the TV screen across from me. Hell’s Kitchen. I don’t even remember turning it on. It’s background noise now. A distraction with a British accent and too many knives. The window’s cracked open. Just a little. Just enough for the night air to slip in. I can hear Hell’s Kitchen below me, the real one. Not the show. Cars. Horns. Sirens. Some guy is yelling down the block. Music from someone’s second-story apartment bleeding into the street. The usual mess of life outside these walls. It’s comforting, in a way. All that noise. All that movement. Everything else keeps going.
Even when I feel like I can’t.
I take another sip. It doesn’t taste good. Too acidic. But I don’t care.
I stare out the window, unfocused.
And I think: I got too attached.
Too fast. Too hard.
I wasn’t supposed to. I knew better. From the moment I felt that pull, I should’ve said something. Should’ve stepped away. Handed the file to someone else. Requested a reassignment. Something. Anything.
But I didn’t.
I stayed.
I leaned in.
I crossed every line I swore I wouldn’t, and now I’m here, alone, tipsy, staring at the city like it has answers.
This was a mistake.
Letting myself care about him.
Letting myself believe for even a second that there was a version of this where it could work.
That we could work.
God, how stupid could I be?
There was never a future here.
He’s a patient.
A high-risk one. A murderer. A convicted assassin with a documented kill count and a track record that reads more like a horror film than a resume. People fear him. They build walls and systems and entire facilities to contain him.
And me?
I thought I could… what? Reach him? Fix him?
Love him?
He kills people. Innocent people. People like me. And yet I sat there, on that couch, in his room, and let him touch me like I was something he wanted to keep.
I close my eyes.
My head tips back against the couch cushion, and I exhale hard.
Why would he care about me?
I’m just a name on a badge. A signature on a file. A face he’s seen every few days for a few months.
He probably saw an opportunity.
And he took it.
Started cooperating. Started talking. Made me think he was progressing. Made me feel like I was helping, like I was special. Like I was getting through to him in a way no one else had.
And then he kissed me.
God, I let him kiss me.
More than once.
I let myself believe it.
And now?
Now I’m sitting here, drinking half-warm wine and wondering if this entire thing, every session, every look, every pause between breaths, was just part of some bigger play. A manipulation.
Maybe this is what he wanted all along.
Get me close. Make me care. Get me on his side.
So when the time came, I’d make it easier for him to walk free.
So I’d be the one to convince the board he was stable. Safe.
And when I wasn’t useful anymore-
He’d drop me.
Like he did today.
Like I never mattered in the first place.
My throat tightens, and I press the heel of my hand to my eye.
I feel so stupid.
I should’ve never let this happen.
I’m a professional. A doctor. I’ve worked too damn hard to get here. My license. My career. My entire future- I risked all of it for a man who has nothing left to lose. A man who could’ve easily made me the next name on his list.
And I miss him.
That’s the part that breaks me.
That’s the part I can’t say out loud.
Because after everything, after today, after that look on his face when I walked into his room, I still miss him.
I still want to be close to him.
I still want to know why.
I wrap the blanket tighter around myself and stare at the flickering lights on the TV. My wineglass rests on my knee, hand loose around the stem.
I’m an idiot.
I got fooled.
I fell for it.
And now I’m trying to explain it away. Trying to rewrite the narrative in my head, like maybe there’s a version where it wasn’t cruel. Where it wasn’t calculated.
What if I’m overanalyzing this?
What if Gigi’s wrong?
What if he didn’t mean it like that?
What if he’s hurting too?
What if this is how he protects people? What if he thought it was safer to push me away than to keep me close? What if he’s sitting in his room right now, just as wrecked as I am?
What if he cares?
What if he really, truly-
I clench my jaw.
My wineglass trembles slightly in my grip.
No.
Who am I kidding?
He asked for the reassignment. He didn’t even look at me when I confronted him. Barely spoke. Barely moved. All that connection, all those things we weren’t saying aloud? He walked away from them. He let them die.
Because it was easier.
Because I didn’t matter enough.
I’m not the exception.
I’m not the one who changed anything.
I was just next.
I sip the wine again. It tastes worse now.
I need to get over this.
Get over him.
He’s not mine to care about anymore. He’s not mine at all. He never was. He’s out of my hands. Out of my case file. Out of my future. And I need to remember who I am. I need to remember what I worked for. I need to find someone normal, someone stable, someone safe. Someone who doesn’t live behind bulletproof glass and prison bars. Someone who doesn’t look at me like they’re starving and kiss me like it’s the end of the world.
I deserve that.
I know I do.
But the ache in my chest says otherwise.
Because all I want is to go back.
To that moment.
That second before everything fell apart.
And it hurts.
It hurts more than I thought it would.
More than I want to admit.
Because even now, after everything, I still don’t know if he ever really felt it.
And worse?
I still do.
─────── ⌖ ───────
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. ♡
I know the last few chapters have been a bit heavy (okay… very heavy), and I’m so sorry for putting you all through the emotional blender, but trust me. I’m cooking. The good stuff? The everything-you’ve-been-waiting-for stuff?
It’s coming.
Veryyy, very soon.
I’m already writing the next chapters, and I can’t wait for you to see what’s ahead.
Thank you, truly, for reading.
Enjoyyyyyyyyyyyy.
Yours truly, Raey ♡
─────── ⌖ ───────
[ next chapter ]
#benjamin poindexter#daredevil#daredevil born again#fanfic#matt murdock#marvel#foggy nelson#mcu#wilson fisk
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Cautionary Tale on Carbon Monoxide
So, for the last 2 weeks or so my smoke alarm/carbon monoxide alarm has been beeping sporadically. I paid it no mind because there was no smoke, nothing was burning and I did not think it could be anything else. I assumed the alarm or batteries were going bad because they had been here forever ago.
So, we changed the batteries and bought a new alarm, and installed them through the house a week ago. The beeping stopped. However, a few days ago while I was cooking the beeping came back. Again, no smoke in the home and nothing was burning. We are searching trying to figure out why it keeps going off.
I constantly have my essential oil diffuser plugged in and running so some searches came back saying certain essential oils might set off the alarm if strong enough and my 16-year-old has been fear rubbing herself with Citronella essential oils(repellent for mosquitoes) because whenever the door opened these new breed mosquitos fly in and she is terrified if her face and body looking like a swollen pepperoni pizza🙄😂. (The concerns of a 16-year-old who was looking out for her upcoming first day of school face card status lmao)
Finally, after some YT videos and Google searches, we began to suspect it was beeping because of carbon monoxide. So we hurry and get out of the house, food still on the stove half cooked, and wait for the gas/electric company to come to investigate and fix the problem.
When the tech comes he walks inside the house and instantly the machine he carried to check the PPM set off a reading of 41. This level is highly dangerous and prolonged exposure can result in health risks and possibly death.😳
He continued to walk through the house and found pockets in the house where the PPM was 38-41(still dangerous). He goes into the kitchen and instantly says, I see your problem. He goes to the stove and points to my favorite, can't live without have used almost every time I cook 11" Copper Chef casserole pot and says this is the culprit.
Apparently, the size of the pot covers my entire burner so there is no ventilation happening under the pot which is bad. He then points to another favorite pot on the back burner and says this one is also bad because of the size of the pot. He turned on the fire under the Copper Chef pot and instantly his machine went up to 144 PPM😳.
I was appalled. He asked about how we all were feeling and asked who the cook in the house was and of course it was me✋🏽. I felt fine. I usually always have headaches and feel tired, he said I could be suffering from long-term carbon monoxide exposure and should go to the hospital to be sure.
To make this longer story just plain ol' long, I say all of this to caution you guys on pot sizes for your gas stove burners and to say it could be the things/ways you least expect.
Tips from the gas/electric company tech
-Make sure your pot is not bigger/wider than your burner flames.
-Turn on your overhead vent or open your kitchen windows when cooking for either or both of these: 1) If your pots are bigger than the burner flames or 2) To take an extra level of safety.
-If you are using bigger pots try to open closet doors throughout your home because the carbon monoxide can creep into the closed closet and remain there for hours.
-In your gas using ovens do not have any liners or protectors(the ones you put down to prevent spills or drips as you bake) on the bottom of the oven if they come anywhere near the two ventilation slits in the oven(where the flames/heat rises).
-If you have done all of the above and constantly feel lightheaded, dizzy, persistent headaches, fatigue, sleepiness, be safe and just get it checked out in the ER or Urgent Care.
Be safe out there y'all. Carbon Monoxide is known as a silent killer.
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uhmmmm actor leon kennedy?? mayvbe
cw: dom! ooc leon kennedy x sub afab reader | no specific leon | he's kinda weird here idk | creampie | praise | mild degradation | wee bit of size kink idk
[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni}
a/n bc i love rambling : so uhmmm when i was writing this there was an electric explosion right outside of our house so the power's out in our neighborhood and im back in this damn cafe LMAOOO
a/n : (update lol)i wrote this like monthssss ago (wtf this sucks).. so im back nd im gonna post this bc why the fuck not it's still rllyyyy bad and a lot of word repeating but yeah just felt like posting lol
synopsis : actor!leon kennedy has been in the gig too long to deal with nepotistic, wide-eyed girls like you. yet much to his exasperation, you're just too much of a greenhorn in the showbiz world.
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -you can fucking skip this part idc- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
you've only ever heard his name maybe once or twice in one of the magazines in your mother's bar. you must've read it over and over again, having to see his name and face habitually to endure the excruciating hours of working behind the bar with your phone in a locker. you weren't particularly enthusiastic about films or Hollywood or WASP families, either. but it was better than nothing.
it started like this. you were wiping the cedarwood slab that dewed with beer, when the woman who sat across you (having drunk maybe 4 pints) reached over with her veiny, grisly hands. the acrylics tapped at your temples when she held your awkward face.
said "woman" was your aunt who just got back from monaco. and she's been urging you to work with Pierce. whoever that was.
you were well content with the life you had right now. but sometimes—often in front of your vanity— you did find yourself fantasizing about the 'big city'. you caught yourself in a cliche dream but the idea was invigorating, the mere machinations of those opportunities dangled above your eyes like meat on a stick.
"..oh, but.. i don't think it's practical, you know?" you excused as you dismissed the billowing thoughts in your head. even if you had the physical assets that aligned with the director's vision, it would still feel wrong. some people go to literal schools for this stuff, don't they?
but she remained persistent. and after a low, lighthearted sigh, she continued her persuasion. "..y/n, you're a diamond in the rough." your aunt neared you, holding your hands together in a friendly hold. "..let me make it a reality for you."
‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ -♡- ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵
so. were you a natural? hell no.
you're wearing a costume that you can't even touch without the stylists getting mad at you. you got harped on and poked at for so long you were starting to get a migraine. the studio refused to let up on you, jabbing at you passive aggressively until you curled like a millipede. honestly, you were more pissed than sad!
and leon? god, he was a total fucking hottie. and he was totally cold.
the director announced an hour break to everyone just before they'd jump straight to the next scene. you remained sat on one of the props, hands clasped on your lap, contemplating the choices you've made over for the 7th time today. you were fidgeting like you were anxious. you forgot how breaks felt. the luxury was there, five star hotels, velvet cushions and robes and office gossip and dinners with imported wine and cheese. but it felt like hell. working with leon was the only thing that made it even ten percent worth everything, but even he doesn't seem to like you. why was everyone so mean? fucking fair enough, you were beginning to hate this place so much you might ask for a cigarette yourself.
the petrichor mellowed through the film set, nibbling her skin with chill. nights in raccoon are cold, you needed to keep mind of that in case you decide to open your front door without a jacket. the alleyways were diffused by vapor lighting and LED signs. you also had another superficial thought. what do people on set usually do when they're on break?
you whip your head up, legs swinging slightly as you scanned the area. most of them are either adjusting equipment, going through script, or smoking one. you turned your head to your right without expecting much.
you saw leon leaning against the wall, next to the director, sharing smoke (you're beginning to see this is a trend) and cheap laughs. you were mildly surprised, not realizing they were both adjacent behind you, and you felt goosebumps rise when your eyes landed on leon. you quickly looked forward again. you didn't want to move away.
you missed leon's subtle smirk to himself when his gaze flicked to the crown of your hair. he took a puff of his stick, still sounding like he was talking to the man beside him. his eyes didn't leave you and the way you sat there like you were going to spend the remainder of your break spacing out.
leon's voice was nonchalant behind you. to you, it was faint chatter. "...life will chew you up and spit you back out before too long, but that's..."
...
was he talking to you?
leon wasn't too nice on you while you guys were on set, but he wasn't so directly mean either—emphasis on directly.
he's earned word of you from both your aunt and the director, obviously. he doesn't look like the type, but sometimes he has a knack for gossip. that's just how the nature of stardom works, doesn't it? name number #1 did this that tto name number #2, someone divorced someone, someone slept with someone—and the whole world goes aflame. he could care less about where you came from, why you're really here or who you were connected to. but something about you was thought-provoking. contrasting you, he worked for where he was. you just sat there looking pretty and snagged the role right away. maybe that sort of incompetency and oblivious audacity made you stand out from the rest. he found it pathetically attractive. you're an artless girl.
your head swiveled over your shoulder, looking behind and up at leon.
leon's eyes met your gaze halfway. "aww. is this your first big time acting gig, baby? no need to be nervous, it'll be alright." a tinge of mockery sweetened the husk of his voice. the director, who you now know is 'pierce', snickered at leon's subtle sarcasm.
the director tells him he's going to announce everyone to continue, since he wanted the rain to 'sex things up'. heaven's dew tapped lightly on the concrete as the director mounted his back off the vandalized walls, leaving you and leon alone in the same space. oh god.
for a minute you sat there quietly, letting the tension sink in upon the director leaving. you tentatively take another glance at leon. he wasn't looking at you anymore, and his hands were out his pockets as he swipes the little box open. soft brown tufts wisped when he shook his head to get the rain off his hair.
you got off the table. you walked to leon. you'd say your feet were moving on its own.
his head shifts to your direction. his bangs falling over his face. a gust of wind breezes by, and he smells deep, musky. like cardamom. cedarwood.
" if anyone's givin' you trouble on set..." leon looks down as he slips a cigarette in his mouth, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. "you come to leon... 'kay?"
his hush voice was honeyed whiskey when it wooed at you, applying simple emphasis to his two-syllable name. leon, leon, how that name would sound in bed. there's a slight tease to his eyes, before diverting his attention to his cigarette, casting an orange glow in his palms when he flicks the lighter on with his thumb. his presence was prodding, inviting you with every inch of his body language. this man was blazing and you were a fucking moth.
he likes the way you're looking at him right now. your eyes are batting at every subtle sculpt of him. you can look away but he knows you're still thinking about him.
such a sweet thing, this one.
he decides to be 'friendlier', pitying the fact that you're obviously having a hard time socializing with the crew. "what's your favorite movie, doll?"
"mm.. i liked kill bill. and pulp fiction." you converse casually.
a name rolls off his tongue. "quentin tarantino." he nodded in what seemed like approval, watching a puddle.
you blink. "what?"
he glances at you and he doesn't reply, before leaving that wall all to yourself.
...
leon's tongue trickles with the taste of vouvray. you were art in the shadows, the honey lighting of the dimmed lamp doing nothing to illuminate leon's hotel room. your lips are glossed with his saliva, evidence of your breath went after he made out with you.
you're barely holding it, all while his big hands purchased at your flesh, drinking in the way you straddled his boner. the subtle friction where you were able to feel how big he really is intimidated you, blooming excited butterflies, your stomach fluttering at each soft push of your hips. you watched with your palms flat on his stomach, the soaked fabric of your panties collecting and staining all over his boxers as you stifled a needy whimper. "y'need it now, baby? oh, don't go soft on me now... i'll take care of you, just tell me."
his pretty baby, sitting on him and too shy to plead from the big shot. leon's hands languidly travel your skin, palms massaging up your sides. "...i-i wan' it.. i want you.. please.." you murmured hazily, leaning down to give him a soft kiss to compensate for the bashfulness that rode over your speech.
"is that right, sweetheart?" he bit his lip gently at the teasing sight, loving the way you sounded needier by the minute. "oh, baby, go on. it's all yours, yeah?.." he crooned, patting your thigh gently.
"easy, baby.. oh, there you go.. atta girl.." he groans prettily when he's muttering you through it, eyes delectably gazing at the way you sink on his length. it was cute to him seeing you not knowing what to do with your hands. but he watches you settle them on his built torso, and he could only look at you in adoration. god, he was so fucking thick and you were so highly strung..
leon's touch stroke at your knees. you aren't moving, and he looks almost amused seeing you try to render just how he feels inside you. "i can't.." he heard you murmur before you giggled quietly, to which made him chuckle as well. but the flustered laughter dies down. the actor groans, feeling your fluttering grip around his cock, making it his instinct to hold onto your waist.
it didn't take long before you started getting loud. your arousal lathered up and everytime you pump down a creamy squelch. "mhmmm... uhh, keep going.." leon whispers, and his eyes stared at where your bodies met. you could hear a soft whimper from him—vocally begging your sweet little self to go faster.
leon watches you trying to change the speed. poor girl, you looked like you were already starting to ragdoll. you resisted stopping, unable to with the way he'd rub into the right spots. leon took your small, depleted whine as a sign for him to initiate. he was just letting you have your fun. just until you'd get a bit frustrated. by this time he'd already lit another cigarette and the stick perches between his lips.
"..tiring, ain't it, sweetheart?" leon coos, feigning pity for you, fingers clutched at your hips like its his favorite thing to hold. he started to thrust up into your sopping little cunt, pulling a weak mewl out of you. there might be nothing he loves more than watching your supple frame as it bounces atop him.
"mmm.. aww 's okay, baby.. leon's got you.. mhm, that's right." he responds to every quaint sob you make. his stamina was stubborn as he gradually shifted his pace.
"nice and quiet, baby... don't want th't fucker 'pierce hearin' you..." leon almost feels like a sick fuck, pretty lips grinning slightly as he moans. "god, fuuuuck... mmmhh... uh- f-fuck!" leon almost whines before giving you a harsh thrust, as if he were desperately trying to make you his cocksleeve. if you were going to take it so well then you shouldn't be surprised at how he's gonna force you down, and keep you in place while he sluts you out.
you're murmuring something, and the words fall like blabber to his ears.
leon smiles endearingly, as if he isn't fucking you stupid right now. "mhhh.. wanna cum? you wanna cum?" leon asks as he tries to make sense of what you're saying.
and you gulp, gasping through your watering voice. "w-wanna cumm.. give it t'me-"
he tries not to laugh.
"c'mon, let me make you cum... i'll make it feel good.." leon murmurs before you could feel him pound into you, a whine dripping like syrup from your voice. your body barely keeps up. you feel tight and it's making leon's head tilt back a bit. "oh, there you go, sweetheart... atta girl.." he mumbles hazily as his mind starts to get messy.
"like that? uhuh? mmmh?~" leon moans back almost mockingly at each pleasured whine that spilled your voice. you're mindlessly pawing at whatever you can reach on leon, turning him on with your helplessness. "takin' me nice and well-..." he growls as he starts to piston up into your cunt brutally. you look cuter when you're stuffed with leon's thickness, when you're crying on what you begged for.
"leon, c-cumming" you lolled out in a low moan, head leaning slightly. "i'm gonna cum.."
he responds with a groan, hips rocking upward as he feels you clenching around him. "go on, baby, give it to me. 'm right here,"
he has you shuddering when you cum, the vibrating sensation jolting to your brain as it reeled in pleasure. it takes a few shallow thrusts to keep you satisfied but it's hard to tell when you're already sniffling and twitching on top of him. you wipe your face as you draw a few breaths. leon reaches to warmly take your wrist, thumb pressing onto your skin, feeling your heartbeat.
he watches you gather your bearings before generously caressing your hair once. you help yourself off leon's shaft and a heavy-sounding breathe escapes him in wonder.
leon whispers something once he leans into you and chucks his half-dead cigarette into the ashtray. "c'mere.." his one arm tucked around your back and eventually the other to your leg as he makes you lie down. he treats you with some sort of delicacy, at least until he doesn't.
leon tugs you closer with his arm hooked loosely under your knee, pulling your princess body in for a few intimate kisses to calm the both of you. he tastes mildly bitter. you hummed in his mouth when your lips lock together, eyes fluttering while you felt weak. leon starts muttering as he asks if anything hurts, if you're okay, if you're gonna stay here for the night. for a moment he doesn't say anything and he's just gazing down at you languorously while he breathes. he kisses one of your eyelids before he shifts.
maybe leon liked you better like this, on your fours, limping against the satin bedding as you cried and panted in a way that seemed like suffocation. his thick fingers tug at your hair once, your only teary view being the couch and the TV that dimly mirrored a reflection of you being held down be leon as he rammed into your dribbling hole tenderly. your legs occasionally kicking up against him, hitting him with your ankles as you found it hard to not writhe. he watches you peek over your shoulder, the expression in your eyes instigating struggle. "what?" leon tugs at your hair again, fighting the toothy smile from his face as he fucked you brainless. "didn't think i could make a whore out of you?"
leon lets go of your hair to rut into you with urgency. the bed was starting to jut out small squeaks from leon's rhythm. he leans closer, chewing on his lip as his eyes narrowed in pleasure. a soft growl emanates from behind you, skin on skin, breathing near your ear. the rough hands that were once planted near yours on the mattress start to grip your forearms like handles. he watches your back contort.
you jolt up as leon yielded you to his body, impaling you with his girth in a routinely fashion, urging you to cry louder. "oh, baby.." he whimpers lowly as he starts to feel himself lose control again.
"fuck, i can't.." you wail out, head hanging low briefly. he notices.
"ready to pass out, honey?" he pants softly.
you weakly shook your head.
"good girl." leon bit his bottom lip, whispering out a needy 'fuck' as he slammed into you while pulling you back. he felt satisfied by the way you yelped. his brows furrow, expression tainted with a lustful and crude color as he almost began to drool. brown strands started to get in the way of his vision. his breath is suddenly hitched, water lining his eyes as his voice turned up a note. he hisses, head tilting to the side. "fuck, fuck,-" his gruff words start to match with his thrusts. "take it- all-, yes, baby, that's a good- fucking- mnnnghh..."
it takes leon a while to recover, moaning lowly and riding his orgasm, watching you spasm beneath him while he spills inside you without much restraint. he tiredly fucks his load in you before he gives out and huffs a spent whine. he catches a glimpse of it. you're leaking white.
you're breathless, fatigued, sweating, and almost thoughtless as you catch some oxygen back in your lungs. you could feel yourself pulsating around his twitching shaft as waves of pleasure traveled your burning body. his arms loosen of their sensual hold before they catch you, pulling your weary form down to spoon with you momentarily. you can feel each other inhaling. exhaling.
a phone rang. it wasn't yours, you could tell by the ringtone. your eyes flit to see pierce's name on a default iphone screen. "i need a drink." leon exhales roughly, leaning over to kiss the shell of your ear before he reached for the bedside table to grab for his phone. he slipped out of the sheets with his phone on his ear.
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PotP Ch 55 - Blizzards, Blackbirds, and Bargains: Part 1
Snow.
Varian hated snow.
It wasn't always such. In his youth, he had loved winter. Snow days were meant for play. He'd make hot cocoa, ice skate, pick frost berries, and build snow forts for snowball battles with the local kids. Once he invented a machine that helped carve ice sculptures... until it caught on fire and melted them all.
But that was before the amber.
Varian could tell that it was snowing before he ever even poked his head out from under the covers.
First, the cold morning air; unusually cold for San Fransokyo. Then there was the soft diffused light from the frosted window pane shining in his bedroom. There was also the quiet stillness; near unheard of in the big city. Finally there was the fiamiler fresh scent of ice. It lacked the undertones of fir and pine that he was used to, but he could still tell.
A look outside confirmed his worst fears.
Especially when Ruddiger came through the window and shook the white powdery stuff off his fur.
Varian groaned, kicked off the covers, and made his way to the kitchen.
----------------
"What are you hunting for?" Aunt Cass asked with a yawn.
"I guess we don't have any tripe, do we?" Varian asked in kind as he rummaged in the cupboards.
"Ummm... pretty sure we don't. Why do we need tripe?"
"It's snowing."
Aunt Cass blinked, unsure of what the connection was. "Snowing?"
"I used to make tripe stew on snow days." Varian explained. "It's just easy and warms the castle up."
"Oh... well... we don't have any tripe, b-but we do have some bacon." She opened the fridge and started rummaging around. "Maybe we can improvise and make some bean and bacon soup instead? Start a new tradition, huh?"
She retrieved the bacon and smiled wide as she offered her suggestion to Varian.
Varian half-heartedly returned her smile and took the meat from her.
Aunt Cass frowned at his lack of enthusiasm.
She placed a hand on his shoulder, pausing him in his hunt for the beans. "Hey, I know sometimes you get homesick, and that's okay. Everything is different here, and it's a readjustment. But If you need anything you know you can talk to me."
Varian shook his head. "It's not that. "
Aunt Cass's brow furrowed in confusion, but rather than explain, Varian just said, "The bacon's a good idea. Tripe is too chewy anyway." and went back to digging around in the pantry.
----------------
Honey Lemon watched the pink puff balls on her boots bounce up and down as she gingerly stepped off the trolley. The railed carts were the only safe way to travel in this weather as most people in San Fansokyo didn’t own cars with snow tires, including Gogo, who stepped off of the trolley after her. They spotted Fred waving at them both from across the street as they walked over towards the Lucky Cat; very carefully, so as to not slip on any ice.
“Hey, glad you made it!” Tadashi greeted them, as he held a large snowball in his hand. He placed it on top of an even bigger snowball and he and Hiro both started patting extra snow along the seam where the two met.
“We’re building a snow sculpture of Baymax.” Fred explained as he joined them.
Just then Wasabi opened the door to the cafe. “I found the eyes!” He called out as he carried a small cardboard box. Baymax shuffled along behind him.
“What did you get?” Hiro asked him.
“Chocolate covered coffee beans!” He proclaimed as he pulled out a small container of the treats.
“Oooh, I want some!” Fred exclaimed and practically crawled over Wasabi to rummage in the box he held.
Honey Lemon laughed. “You better not eat all of Varian’s stash. He might be tearing the cafe apart looking for those later.” She gently warned.
“Where is Varian anyway?” Gogo asked.
Tadashi shrugged. “Upstairs. He’s been in the kitchen all morning with Aunt Cass.”
“I’ll go get him.” Honey Lemon offered and skipped inside.
Her glasses started fogging up as soon she entered the much warmer cafe. She paused to take them off and rubbed them clean on her matching pink sweater. This only got lint on them, so she wiped them on her jeans instead. Satisfied, she put them back on only to find Aunt Cass coming downstairs to greet her.
“Hi,” She sang out. “I’m glad you and Gogo made it here safe.”
“Hi Aunt Cass. Yeah, the roads weren’t too bad and the trolleys are still running. I thought I’d ask Varian to join us. Is he still upstairs?”
“He is, he’s in the kitchen, however...” Aunt Cass sighed as she poured herself a coffee. “I don’t know how much he’ll want to get out. He’s been pretty shut in all day. Buuuut, if anyone can encourage him to come outside, it’ll probably be you.”
She gave her a sweet smile before heading outside herself to check on the rest of the teens.
Honey Lemon watched her go with a frown. Varian must be in one of his moods again, and no one ever quite knew what to expect when Varian became gloomy. She also didn’t know what she could do that Aunt Cass probably hadn’t already tried.
Still, she took a deep breath and made her way up the stairs.
She found Varian in the upstairs kitchen just like everyone had said. He was sitting at the table reading a large leather bound tome, while a pot on the stove was boiling away. Honey Lemon recognized the book. It was the fantastical grimoire that held the secrets to the magical portal that would send him home. The thought of which filled her with dread, but best not to bring it up now.
“It smells good.” She said with a smile as she came up from behind him.
Varian looked up from the spellbook, startled by her voice, and turned to look at her. “Oh yeah, umm, Aunt Cass and I are making bean and bacon soup. Sorry, I didn’t know you were coming, or I would have made you a vegan option.”
“It’s okay, I can just pick around the bacon.” She shrugged as she lifted the lid off of the pot to look at the soup. “Beans sound like a good supper to me.”
“It’s chicken stock as the base.” Varian warned. “Here, I think we still have some dried beans. I’ll just make you a small pot of your own.”
“Oh, you don’t need to go to any trouble on my account.”
“What trouble?” He asked as he pulled out the bag of dried beans. “All you do is put it in a pot and let it boil for a while. Look to see if there’s any vegetable stock in the cabinet over there.”
Honey Lemon followed his suggestion and quickly found the container of stock next to the other broths. She poured some into another small pot, along with the beans, as Varian started raiding the spice cabinet.
“What do you want in it?” He asked. “Shallot, a bit of celery salt, oooh, how about some chili power for a little kick, huh?”
He gave her a Cheshire smile and waved the plastic shaker full of pepper at her.
She only shrugged in response. “Anything is good with me.”
Varian took this as permission to experiment and pulled out a whole bunch of spices. He happily went to work seasoning the small pot of what was quickly becoming vegan chili.
“What do you think we should have with our soup?” He asked. “Aunt Cass thinks we should just toast the leftover baguettes downstairs and make croutons, but I think we should make some fresh bread.”
“Why not both?” Honey Lemon awkwardly asked. She didn’t like being caught in the middle of any sort of disagreement, even a mild one like this.
“I like the way you think.” Varian agreed, and Honey Lemon felt relief wash over her. Varian didn’t seem to be in a bad mood at all. Perhaps what had bothered him earlier today had been forgotten, or maybe he had worked through it.
“Shall we go for a sourdough, or a dark rye... Oh hey, I’ve never made cornbread before. That’d be fun. Something new?” Varian gave her a wide smile and Honey Lemon returned it.
“I’m down for something new.” She agreed. However, as Varian started to gather up the ingredients she decided to press on with why she was here. “Speaking of fun. Everyone is outside building a snowman. You wanna join in?”
Varian paused in shifting the cornmeal and started to stare blankly at the opposite wall. Then he shook his head and went back to cooking.
“No, it’s alright. You go on ahead, and I’ll just keep fixing our dinner.”
“Well... dinner’s not for hours.” Honey Lemon nervously suggested. She could feel the change in Varian’s mood the way one would feel the temperature drop. “Why don’t you take a break and do this later?”
Varian paused in what he was doing and turned to face her with a cold frown.
“I.. don’t like snow,” He said carefully. “I would rather not.”
He then turned away from her and placed the mixing bowl on the stand mixture. “You can go on ahead though. Y'all have fun.”
He said this in a much lighter tone, but Honey Lemon couldn’t dismiss the sudden change in attitude. Especially not with the grimoire still lying there on the table.
“Is... is everything alright?” She asked.
“Yeah... yeah, everything is fine. Snow is... just not my thing.” He lied to her. “After all, it’s not that special when you get it regularly every winter.”
“Do... do you get a lot of snow in Corona?” She timidly asked as she placed her hands behind her back.
Varian finally turned to look at her, and he gave her the most peculiar stare; as if he was simultaneously seeing all of her, and through her at once, looking past her at some distant memory that she wasn’t privy to.
“We get far too much.” He said ominously, and Honey Lemon didn’t want to know what he meant by that.
She sighed, accepting defeat. “Well I thought I would just ask... promise me though... that you won’t stay cooped up in the kitchen at least. You’ll come down stairs for hot cocoa, right?”
Varian gave her a small, sad smile. “Alright, I promise.”
“Okay,” She nodded.”I’ll come and get you when we do that. Sounds good?”
“Yeah, I’ll see ya then. In the meantime I’ll fix the rest of dinner.”
Honey Lemon pursed her lips and gave a tight smile before awkwardly turning to leave. She did however turn back to look at Varian one final time before heading downstairs. His back was turned towards her now as he continued to make the cornbread. Her eye landed on the spellbook again, and for one brief moment she wished she could throw the thing in the trash.
----------------
The storm only got worse throughout the day. By the time lunch rolled around all the roads were completely closed, with announcements that the trolleys would soon stop running and shut down early for the day, and the news was advising people to stay at home.
Everyone agreed therefore to an impromptu sleepover in the living room.
Board games, movies, hot cocoa, and pillow forts with pillow fights helped to pass the time away.
Aunt Cass yawned as she finished handing out the last of the blankets. "Man, this snow day has worn me out. I'm heading to bed early. Just don't stay up too late. Good Night."
"Night Aunt Cass." The chorus of college kids rang out behind her.
"I'm with Aunt Cass," Wasabi yawned himself as he laid down on his makeshift pallet on the floor. "I'm pooped."
His beauty rest was short-lived when Rudigger crawled up on his chest, circled around once, and then curled up to sleep.
Wasabi frowned before picking the wild creature up and putting him down on the floor. "Hey now. I am not a pillow"
He then readjusted his sleep mask and laid back down again, only for Ruddiger to ignore his warning and perch upon the scientist's chest once more.
Wasabi's ensuing battle with the raccoon for dominance was ignored by everyone.
"Well, I for one think we shouldn't end any good sleepover without ghost stories." Tadashi mischievously smiled as he flopped on the couch.
"Varian's got a good vampire story to tell." Hiro chimed in. "You know, that one you told during the camping trip."
Varian, who was already laying down on his own pallet on the floor, heaved a sigh. "I'm not really up for stories. I'm pretty tired as well."
Gogo frowned. "Hey, is everything alright? "
"Yeah, you've been pretty bummed out all day." Fred added bluntly.
"It... it's nothing." Varian insisted. "I'm just not a fan of the cold."
And with that he pulled the cover up higher and turned on his side. Everyone shared knowing looks as he pretended to sleep, but all thought it best not to press the matter.
"Well, I guess it's up to me then." Tadashi sighed as a knowing smile played on his lips. "How about the one about…”
----------------
Tadashi was midway through his ghost story when the power went out.
Varian had only been half paying attention but his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright at the sudden darkness.
He vaguely heard screaming, but he couldn't tell if it was just himself or the others.
“Ha. ha. Very funny Tadashi.” Wasabi yelled into the darkness sarcastically.
“It wasn't me.” The other boy protested.
That's when Baymax’s chest lit up and produced a weather report.
“The news is reporting temporary power outages across the city. Citizens are recommended to stay inside and keep warm while the electric company works on the lines. Power should be back shortly.” The robot helpfully informed. “In the meantime I will activate my built-in heater.”
Varian could see a few of the teens make their way over to the glowing automaton and snuggle up to it. Others wrapped their blankets around them tighter.
All except Hiro, who had made his way over to him.
“Hey, are you okay?” He asked in a low voice.
Not low enough to Varian’s liking however, as he put on his usual front. “Yeah I'm fine.”
“I didn't think Tadashi’s story was that scary.” Gogo added, commenting on everyone else's earlier screams.
“Just because you're not afraid of anything Gogo..” Honey Lemon started but Fred interrupted her.
“Nuh uh… She’s afraid of leprechauns, remember?”
“Leprechauns?” Tadashi snorted.
Gogo rolled her eyes. “It's from that stupid movie that came out when we were kids. I was five. Okay.”
“Oh Unlucky Charms!” Tadashi nodded recognizing the film. “Okay, I can see why that would creep a kid out. Not me of course… but…”
“Oh stop lying.” Hiro needled his brother. “I know what you're afraid of.”
“Oh come on… no… not that.” Tadashi begged.
“He’s weirded out by the Share Bears.”
Tadashi groaned and literally everyone else burst out laughing. Everyone but Varian.
“Bears can be scary.”
“No he means the Share Bears.” Wasabi tried to explain.
“It's a cartoon.” Honey Lemon added through her snickers.
“Yeah, a cartoon for babies.” Fred chimed in. “Seriously bro?”
“Hey, they're disturbing. Alright?” Tadashi defended himself.
“How are teddy bears that teach kids manners 'disturbing’?” Gogo asked.
“Because they don't teach anything. They brainwash people into being perfect little mindless drones with those heartfilled laser beams. I'm telling you guys, it's a messed up show. Also Hiro had one of those stuffed animals as a kid and it would not die. I'd bury it in the backyard and three months later it was back in the toy box singing ‘I love you very much’ in its high-pitched voice over and over again.”
“So in other words, your parents found it outside and put new batteries in it.” Wasabi stated matter of factly.
“That's just it,” Tadashi insisted. “There were no batteries in it. I checked!”
“Ooooh… now that is creepy.” Fred whispered.
Gogo rolled her eyes. "So we got leprechauns, share bears, " she pointed to Fred, "spiders," then to Wasabi, "heights," and lastly to Honey Lemon, "and hippos... for some reason."
"Hippos?" Varian couldn't help asking in spite of himself.
"Hippos are mean." Honey Lemon defended herself. "They bully all of the other animals. Even crocodiles are afraid of them!"
"Don't crocodiles eat hippos though?" Hiro asked.
"Actually adult hippopotamuses are extremely aggressive and most predators leave them alone." Baymax informed them.
"See!?" Honey Lemon shouted, validated. "And they have those big scary tusks and huge mouths, and they can trample you under their weight."
"So can elephants and you love those." Wasabi butt in.
"Yeah, but elephants are adorable." Honey Lemon countered, as if this was an obvious difference.
"Okay," Gogo rolled her eyes again, "So we know what everyone is afraid of, except for you Hiro."
"Me?" Hiro asked, and shrugged. "I don't know. I used to be scared of monsters under the bed when I was like three, but after you've faced what we've faced…. It's kind of hard to find normal things scary."
"What about abnormal things then?" Tadashi asked.
"I... I still have nightmares about the void sometimes." Hiro admitted. "I can face it, but like... it's just nothingness... endless... I won't lie... that's kind of terrifying."
"Many people find the unknown scary. It is a common fear." Baymax said comfortingly.
"But apparently it's not unknown." Fred said. "That Madame Canardist says she traveled through it to get here.”
“So she says .” Gogo pointed out. “We've no reason to believe her.”
“We don't really have any reason to disbelieve her either.” Tadashi shrugged. “I mean given everything we've seen so far.”
“What do you think, Varian?” Wasabi asked.
Everyone turned to resident portal expert among them, but Varian just sat there hugging his knees and staring at the floor.
"I think... I'm afraid of failing."
Silence fell over the little group as Varian kept staring at his toes.
He seemed to be considering something before he looked up again, coming to a sort of decision.
"Where did you put Carnardist's scroll?" He asked.
"No." Tadashi said softly, but firmly. "We all agreed that we weren't going that route."
"But-"
"No 'buts'. You said it yourself. It's too dangerous. We'll use the portal."
"And what if I can't get it to work?" Varian sobbed.
"You will," Tadashi reassured, "and we'll go with you to rescue your dad."
For once, Varian didn't even bother to argue the second part. "You don't know that."
"You got it to work before." Hiro pointed out.
"If anyone can make it work you can, querido." Honey Lemon encouraged, wrapping him in a hug.
Varian didn't return it. "Exactly. What if no one can? What if we're just wasting time? What if he's... what if he's already d-"
Gogo sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his panic.
"Hey... I believe in you. We'll keep Madam Carnardist's scroll as a backup, but until we know more about the void, we're going to focus on fixing the portal first."
"Just tell us what you need and we'll help." Wasabi added.
"Oh and Minimax has been running algorithms on that secret code in that Demanti guy's journal every night, just like you asked." Fred said.
Varian only frowned at them, in spite of their support.
"You don't understand." He whispered before suddenly standing up.
He briskly made his way to the stairs and everyone rushed to follow him.
Despite the darkness he ran down them two steps at a time and for a moment, everyone feared that he was going to rush out into the storm, but he stopped at the door.
He stood there staring out into the alleyway and the flurry of snowflakes. Everyone stood still on the stairs, afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing that might send him into a flight. Only for him to forcefully slam the door. He turned back towards them, shaking as tears ran down his cheeks.
"I hate the snow." His voice cracked with this little admission before he slumped down onto the floor, his back to the door.
Tadashi broke from the group first. "Well I love it, especially if it keeps you from running away yet again."
He stood there in front of his adopted brother, his hands on his hips, as if waiting for an explanation. He had tried to keep his voice light and his manner half joking, but he couldn't fully rid the evident concern on his face. Finally he sighed and sat down next to him.
"Look, I know we don't understand." He said more softly. "And I know it's difficult for you to talk about it. Just.... What are we supposed to do? How can we help?"
Varin sniffled. "Nothing."
Tadashi shook his head and rung his hands. He looked back up the landing to his friends, completely lost.
"What if... what if we ran some experiments?" He slowly offered. "After school starts back. While you and Hiro work on the portal... maybe Baymax and I could study the scroll mor-"
"No!" Hiro half ran, half jumped down the stairs towards them. "No one is reading any freaky magic scrolls or going anywhere near the void."
Tadashi gave his little brother a pleading look, but was surprised to hear Varian speak up in agreement.
"Hiro's right. It was stupid of me to ask. Just... just forget it."
Hiro immediately looked regretful. "We can still work on the portal. You've proven that can be done safely."
Varian gave a long sigh.
"Sure." He said flatly.
Everyone exchanged worried glances. Unable to run away or fight, Varian now went back to his depressed state from earlier, and for some reason that seemed to be even worse.
It was Fred who spoke up first. "It worked the first time, before Momaksake showed up. Did you change the design of the portal any when you rebuilt it?"
Varian shook his head. "No... and I'm using the same focusing device. The amber should work. That's what I can't understand."
"What is the amber anyways?" Tadashi asked. "You said that you made it somehow."
Varian eyes darted away from his, and he wouldn't answer.
"Well, then do you have anything else that you could try?" Wasabi asked.
"No. Nothing else would have the same energy signature. Except... except for the rocks."
"Like Carnardist's paperweight?" Gogo asked. "She said it was made from those rocks."
"She won't let us use it though." Tadashi pointed out.
"Well maybe if we just explained-" Honey Lemon started but Varian interrupted.
"Guys.. just drop it!"
Everyone stared at him. That's when the lights came back on.
This seemed to signal something to Varian. He stood up and made his way back to the stairs. He stopped at the top of the landing.
"Maybe it's time to face the facts." He whispered. "I'm never going to see my Dad again, and it's my fault."
Gogo stepped forward. "Don't say that."
"Gogo, please. All this time I've been trying and trying to fix my mistakes and all I've done is either gone nowhere or made things worse."
"That's not true." Tadashi said, standing up himself, as if highlighting what good Varian had really done just by being there.
Varian looked back at him, lost. Tadashi wouldn't let him continue.
"I've already told you before. It's not your fault."
Varian's face hardened as he looked down on them.
"You weren't there."
His voice sounded colder than the freezing snow outside.
Tadashi made his way back up the stairs until they were face to face.
"In what way is it your fault? It's not like you hurt your dad. You didn't cause the rocks. You didn't start the war. It isn't your fault that the portal's not working."
Varian seemed to crumple in on himself as Tadashi continued.
"Tadashi, please..."
Tadashi ignored his pleas and held him by the shoulders. "Listen. I know. Okay? I know what it's like to blame yourself for bad things, to think about all the ways you could have changed time if you had just done something different, but sometimes accidents just happen and it's no one's fault."
Varian was openly crying now. Tadashi waited.
He was going to make Varian understand. That he didn't need to feel ashamed of his past. They were going to get through this as a family, just like they had always done.
Nothing prepared for the words that came next.
"But I did do all those things." Varian whispered.
"What?"
"I caused the accident..." He started to ramble as he pulled away from Tadshi's astonished grasp. "The rocks were destroying our home! I had to do something! Dad told me not to. B-but I didn't listen. Not till it was too late! We.. we were arguing in my lab, and I heard him shout and he pushed me out of the way... and... and... It's my fault!"
Everyone stood there in shock as the most pitiful wail broke from Varian's lips. "Oh God, why did I ever mix that formula?"
He broke down in tears and no one knew what to do. Then suddenly he gasped as if coming to a realization.
"What if he really is dead? What... what if I killed hi-?"
"Now none of that." That seemed to snap Wasabi out of his shock. He took three big strides and before Varian could react he found himself wrapped up in a big bear hug.
"None of that." Wasabi repeated; softer this time. "Your dad is alive, and we're going to rescue him. And... even if the worse has happened...it is still. not. your. fault."
He made sure to emphasize each word and only held onto him tighter.
"Of course not." Tadashi agreed, and joined in on the hug.
"An accident is still just an accident." Hiro explained as he too came forward.
"Your dad wouldn't blame you." Gogo added.
"We certainly don't." Honey Lemon said as she came up from behind.
"That's.. *hic*... the saddest... *sob*... origin story I've ever heard." Fred bawled before adding himself to the group hug.
"It is difficult sometimes to face our past." Baymax advised. "But remember that, even when you believe you've made a mistake, you are loved."
Now Varian was crying for a whole new reason. He was still loved. They saw his deepest fear and still cared. They still were promising to help his dad, the same as they had done months ago under the sequoia tree. And if they still had hope... maybe he could too.
----------------
Honey Lemon turned in her sleep and reached out to cuddle the nearest person, but her hands grasped nothing but the cold rug underneath.
Her brow furrowed as she barely consciously noticed something was amiss. She fell asleep surrounded by her friends. Someone should be there.... but who?
Her eyes snapped open with alarm. Varian!
She sat up quickly and tried to pierce the darkness as she scanned the living room.
Everyone else was still asleep but Varian's sleeping bag was definitely empty.
Honey Lemon tried not to panic. After all, he could have just decided that his own bed was more comfortable than the floor. But somehow Honey Lemon knew that not to be the case.
Varian, for all his pertinacity for running away, he genuinely hated being alone. Especially when he was upset.
She couldn't see him retreating to his room and willing isolating himself after what he had told everyone about his dad.
Slowly she stood up and tipped toed towards the kitchen. Maybe he woke up for a midnight snack?
She was surprised that her hunch was correct. Varian was indeed in the kitchen, but he wasn't eating.
He just stood there, silently, staring out of the window at the swiftly falling snow.
Unsure how best to approach him, Honey Lemon just quietly moved to stand beside him and watch the storm too.
"Sorry, I tried my best not to wake you." He whispered.
"It's okay." Honey whispered back, and then after a pause asked. "Did you have another nightmare?"
Varian's only answer was to sigh and hang his head, as if he was ashamed of such a thing.
Rather than asking if he wanted to talk about it, Honey Lemon decided on a new tactic. "C-cause I just had one. That's what woke me up actually."
This had the desired effect as Varian completely forgot about his own insecurities and reverted all of his concern onto her instead.
"What about?"
Honey thought quick. "That you had disappeared."
It was close enough to the truth that Varian didn't question it. Instead he gave a soft laugh and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Well I'm right here." He smiled.
Honey grabbed his hand with both hers as he caressed her cheek. He was still here and she couldn't have been happier for it. If only he would stay and never go back to that awful Corona.
Varian broke away from the embrace first, but he still held her hand as he led her to one of the kitchen chairs. He sat down, and without even thinking about it, Honey Lemon sat in his lap.
It felt so natural to just sit together in the quiet. Him holding her. She absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair.
She could have remained there all night to watch the sunrise, but then her eyes soon landed on the journal sitting on the table.
She reached out to pick it up. It was opened to a page about portals.
She gave him a pout and Varian pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say.
She shook her head, laid the book back down, and stood back up.
"Honey?"
Varian took off after her as she made her way down the stairs.
But rather than answer she forced a smile on her face.
"Do you want some hot cocoa?' She asked him with as cheerful a voice as she could manage, and without waiting for an answer, she went behind the counter and started to pull out the hot cocoa packet and mugs.
Varian stood frozen on the bottom of the landing, bewildered by Honey Lemon's sudden mood swings, not knowing how to proceed.
"Do you want marshmallows?" She asked.
"Yeeeah...?"
He inched slowly towards her as she pulled out the half and half; almost as if she was a deer in the forest that might bolt if he so much as breathed wrong.
"You know... I umm... about that nightmare I had?" He paused waiting for her reaction. She slowed in her moments but didn't look at him. He continued on. "Mine was about the black rocks again. I keep having them. It's sort of the same dream... only different each time and well, whenever I can't sleep I'd rather work on something then just sit there in the dark. S-so that's why I was studying Demantius journal."
"Okay."
Her reply was soft but curt and Varian didn't know how to respond to it.
"Here's your coco." She said with another forced smile and handed him the steaming mug. He took it and gave it a half hearted sip as she went to sit in front of the window.
The street lamp outside lit the swirling flurries with a soft warm glow. It was beautiful. It was deceptive. And it was cold.
His gaze landed back on the slender woman's silhouette, also bathed in that same warm light and every bit as frosty as the snow that fell.
He suppressed a sigh of frustration and took a seat next to her. They sat there, for who knows how many minutes, just looking at the storm.
“I know you don't want me going back to Corona.” He said, finally breaking the silence.
Honey Lemon didn't respond.
“B-but you do understand how important it is, right?” He pressed. “Now that I've told you everything?...You don't have to like it. I just need you to understand.”
“I understand.” She whispered; not looking at him.
“Do you? Do you really? Cause, it doesn't feel like it when you get mad at me for working on the portal.”
She turned her head away from him, but didn't answer. He sighed and went back to nursing his cup of coco. The uncomfortable silence returned.
"Did you know I had a sister?" She asked suddenly, and Varian turned to her in surprise.
"Umm... n-no. No I didn't." he stuttered.
"I've never met her."
She still wasn't looking at him as she stared at her toes.
"I don't even know her name."
She almost laughed at that. Almost. Like a breathless gasp that she nearly choked on.
"See... after dad moved out he got this job at a university. It was practically on the opposite side of the world. Anyways... I hadn't heard from for awhile, so I contacted the collage and got his private office. Some girl answered the phone and when I asked to talk to 'Professor Hopken’, I heard her call out 'Daaad!' Phone call for you!' so I just hung up.”
Varian didn't say anything. He sat there, with concern etched onto his face. Honey Lemon knew that look, but didn't turn to face him. She kept staring at her cup of coco that she had barely drunk out of.
“I always thought that the reason he left was because he didn't want to be a dad. That he had to put his career on hold when he and mama had me. But I guess he just didn't want to be my dad.”
“Don't say that.”
Honey Lemon finally looked at him and gave him a sad smile. “I know. It's not me. It was never about me or my brother.”
She let out a shaky breath.
“Look, you're right. I don't understand. I never had a dad who cared. I can't even begin to imagine what you've gone through. But why do I have to understand? I'm not trying to stop you. I said I would help.”
Varian let out a second sigh; one of defeat instead of frustration.
“I know. I guess… I just feel guilty when I see you upset over it.”
“Sorry.”
“No. No, don't be sorry. You didn't do anything wrong. I guess…I should be happy that you care so much?”
Honey Lemon snorted over his awkwardness.
“Well, if I was planning on traveling to a dangerous alternate dimension to save someone, what would you do?”
“Go with you.”
“And if I told you ‘No. It's too dangerous.’ What then?”
He conceded with a nod.
“Okay. I get it.”
“Sooo you'll let us help you?”
“Define help.”
“Like coming with you to Corona to save your dad?”
Varian stifled a groan. “How?”
“What do you mean ‘how’?”
“I mean how will you being there help?”
“Well for one we could fight off that nasty king if he showed up!”
“It wouldn't be the king. It would be the king's guard and Rapunzel. You can't just bubble the princess like you do criminals.”
“Why not?”
“Magic.” He said seriously.
Honey Lemon’s stomach dropped. Varian hated any association with magic. It only dawned on her just now why. He hated magic, because he had fought against magic. It wasn't fairy godmothers granting wishes to attend royals balls nor pixie dust that made people fly. Magic was something to be feared. Magic was a weapon.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and looked him straight in the eye.
“And we have the power of science.” She said with far more confidence than she felt.
Varian slowly broke out into a grin before snorting with laughter.
“It wasn't that corny… was it?”
“It was,” he snickered.
Honey Lemon pouted.
“And it was glorious.” He added. Which made her feel a little better.
“B-but I mean it. We could figure out some way to like.. I don't know… block her powers or something.”
Varian swallowed down his giggles with another swig of coco, before gaining his composure.
“I'll make you a deal.” He said, more seriously this time. “If you can find a way to dispel magic. You can come. ”
Honey Lemon raised an eyebrow. “And if we can't?”
“Then you stay behind to man the portal.”
“I'm not sure if I like that deal.”
“Someone has to stay behind, so that whoever goes won't get stuck.” He reasoned.
Honey Lemon saw the logic in that but wasn't ready to give up.
“On one condition.”
“Name it.”
Honey Lemon bit her lip for a moment before jumping up and pulling Varian away from the table and his mug of coco.
“We have a snowball fight.”
“What!?”
“We have a snowball fight.” She repeated as she opened the front door. Everything looked pale and gray in the early morning. “If you win, then I'll accept the terms of the deal. If I win, then we renegotiate.”
She stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, looking at him expectantly.
He however looked at her as if she was crazy.
“I’m not going out in that .” He pointed behind her.
“It's just snow. It won't hurt you.”
“It's cold.”
“We're both wearing sweaters.”
She grabbed a couple of scarves and hats off the coat hanger next to the door and tossed some at him.
“You could slip on the ice.” He protested, as she put on her boots.
“And it's not even fully light out yet.”
She didn't hear him as she ran outside.
“Fine, I'll renegotiate!” He yelled from the doorway; his hands up in the air in surrender, still clutching the hat and scarf.
Honey Lemon paused, snow in hand.
“You mean I can come with?”
“I didn't say that.”
Honey Lemon grabbed another handful of snow and started packing it on top of the previous handful.
“Okay… okay.”
She looked up to see him snag a handful of snow himself while still standing in the doorway.
A short but fierce snowball fight began. Honey Lemon ran this way and that. Varian never left the doorway. Somehow they both manage to completely miss each other every time.
Varian dogged another snowball as it smacked into the side of the doorframe, and then he scooped down to get more ammunition.
He had to lean out far to grab more fresh snow, since had used up all that was in front of the door.
Honey Lemon took aim, and then lowered her arm as she watched him struggle.
“We can take a break if you want to get your shoes.”
“No… it's fine… I got it.” He grunted as he nabbed a pitiful handful of powdery frost, before catching himself as he nearly fell face forward.
He righted himself quickly and started quickly forming a ball before it melted in his hand. He stopped when he noticed that Honey was no longer throwing anything at him.
“Do you really hate the snow that much?” She asked.
“I… don't hate it.” He squirmed. “I just…”
He trailed off, unable to articulate his complex history with the weather. When looked up again, she was standing in front of him. Her hands now empty.
“I'm sorry. I just thought it would be fun.”
“It was fun.” He insisted. “Really. I'm… I'm just bad at snowball fights.”
She threw her arms around his neck, and he dropped the last of the half melted snow.
“Oh what are we going to do?” She moaned, her face inches from his own.
“Uhhh…” His mind blanked. “I don't know.” He managed to mutter.
His head swam. She had given him hugs before but this felt different. He could feel her warm breath on his lips, contrasting with freezing air and he wanted to kiss her. Kiss her properly, on the mouth. Like he'd seen in movies and read in books.
But would she let him?
He didn't get a chance to find out.
“What are you doing holding the open like that? It's freezing out there.”
Varian snapped his head around to see Aunt Cass and his brothers on the stairs.
“Yeah and some of us are still trying to sleep.” Tadashi added, hugging himself to keep warm.
“If you want to go outside that's fine, but try not to let all the warm air out with you.” Aunt Cass finished before turning to go back up stairs.
“Why can't you two flirt like normal people?” Hiro sneered before following after.
Both Varain and Honey Lemon turned beat red.
She slowly untangled her arms from around his neck as Tadashi left as well, and he stepped aside to let her in.
He was about to close the door too when a strong gust of wind blasted in his face.
Honey Lemon squeaked and covered her head as something clambered against the side of the wall.
Varian looked to see what had hit the side of the house. It was black and poking out of the snow.
Ignoring his socks getting soaked through, he strode over to the object to pick it up.
Its handle glinted in the soft light and his heart stopped.
“What is it?” Honey asked, peering from the doorway.
“It's a knife.”
“A knife?”
He pulled the dagger from its sheath to show her. Even the blade was polished black stone.
“That's weird.” She commented. “Who leaves knives lying around?”
He looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“It's not from here.” He said. “It's from Corona.”
#tangled the series#big hero six#of rocks and robots#varian#honey lemon#baymax#hiro hamada#tadashi hamada#gogo#fredzilla#wasabi#aunt cass#bh6 the series#tangled
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Unexpected Tension
Connor DBH x fem!Reader
Summary: Gavin teases Connor once again but this time you stood up for him
Warnings: mature language
WC: 973
The bustling atmosphere of the Detroit Police Department filled the air as you made your way through the precinct. As a detective working closely with Connor and Hank, you were no stranger to the occasional banter and friendly jabs exchanged among the officers. However, today seemed to be different, and Gavin Reed was at the center of it all.
You walked into the station, noticing a group gathered near the coffee machine. Hank stood among them, his arms crossed, and a smirk played on his lips. Connor, ever the picture of stoic professionalism, was enduring Gavin's typical snarky remarks about his personal life.
Gavin's voice carried across the room, "Come on, Connor, admit it. You've never had a good time in bed. Just look at you, all stiff and robotic. I bet you've never even been laid!"
You watched as Connor's LED flickered yellow momentarily, an indication of slight discomfort. His face remained impassive, but you could sense the tension building within him. You couldn't stand by and let Gavin's taunts go unchallenged.
With a confident stride, you approached the group, your presence commanding attention. Your reputation as the femme fatale of the station was well-known, and you were more than willing to use it to your advantage in this situation.
"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of mischief.
Gavin's eyes widened as he turned his attention towards you. "Well, well, if it isn't our very own vixen detective. What brings you here?"
You locked eyes with him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Just couldn't resist the chance to defend Connor's honor, Gavin. You know how rumors spread around here. And let me tell you, I happen to know firsthand that he's quite the impressive lover."
The room fell into an instant hush. Hank's eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement evident on his face. Connor's LED turned a deep blue, betraying his astonishment. You had his complete attention, and you could see a flicker of something in his eyes, a hint of curiosity and perhaps even appreciation.
Gavin's face contorted into an expression of disbelief and jealousy. "You're full of shit. There's no way you and Connor have ever..."
"Oh, Gavin, dear," you interrupted, leaning in closer, your voice dripping with mock seduction. "Let's just say I've had the pleasure of experiencing Connor's unique... talents, and it was absolutely incredible."
Connor's LED turned a vivid shade of red as his programming attempted to process the unexpected turn of events. He glanced at you, searching for any sign of deception, but your poker face remained intact.
Gavin's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. He knew you were teasing, but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was driving him mad. His competitive nature wouldn't let him back down so easily.
"Oh, really?" Gavin sneered. "Prove it."
A mischievous smile curled on your lips as you took a step back, crossing your arms. "Oh, I would love to, Gavin, but that would be unprofessional. You'll just have to take my word for it."
The room erupted into laughter, the tension diffusing as everyone realized the absurdity of the situation. Even Connor managed a small smile, a trace of warmth in his eyes.
Gavin huffed, his pride wounded. "Whatever. Just keep your wild fantasies to yourself. We've got work to do."
With that, Gavin stormed off, leaving you, Connor, and Hank in a cloud of lingering amusement. Hank chuckled, clapping a hand on Connor's shoulder.
"Well, Connor, looks like you've got yourself a reputation," Hank teased, a twinkle in his eye.
Connor's cheeks tinted with a touch of color, but he met your gaze, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, agent. I appreciate you standing up for me, even if it was... unconventional."
You winked at him, your playful demeanor still intact. "Consider it a small payback for all the times you've saved my ass in the field, Connor. Besides, it's always fun to see Gavin squirm."
As the laughter and banter filled the room once more, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie between you and Connor. Perhaps this unexpected turn of events would bring you closer, and who knows what other adventures awaited you in the future.
A few days later, you found yourself alone with Connor in the break room during lunchtime. The air was thick with anticipation as you caught his gaze, your voice dropping to a low, suggestive tone.
"So, Connor," you began, your tone teasing, "about that little fib I told Gavin…"
Connor's eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of blue. "You want to… make it come true?"
A mischievous grin played on your lips as you stepped closer, the atmosphere charged with unspoken desire. "If you're up for it."
Without hesitation, Connor closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. In that moment, the boundary between fiction and reality blurred as the electric connection between you intensified.
The days that followed were filled with stolen moments and secret rendezvous, where you and Connor explored the depths of your desires. The lie that had ignited it all had transformed into something real and intoxicating, a connection that went far beyond anything either of you had anticipated.
As for Detective Gavin Reed, he remained oblivious to the truth, his jealousy fueling his determination to prove himself. But in the end, it didn't matter. The bond you shared with Connor was a flame that burned brightly, casting aside the doubts and insecurities that once lingered.
Together, you and Connor forged a path of passion and companionship, navigating the intricacies of human emotions and discovering the true meaning of love in a world that was still learning to accept the androids who sought to understand it.
#detroit become human#detroit rk800#dbh connor#dbh fanfic#dbh gavin#dbh x reader#dbh hank#dbh#dbh rk800#dbh x you#bryan dechart
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Have you noticed any other interesting quirks about your son?
Vox: *sighs, rubbing his screen-temples* Oh, you mean besides the fact that he finds ‘Microsoft Word 1989’ more engaging than literal demonic hellfire? Yeah, there are a few quirks.
Lucifer: *leaning back, smirking slightly* Our son is... peculiar. A genius? Not really sure. But definitely peculiar.
1. He hates chaos.
Lucifer: *gesturing dramatically* You’d think, being our child, he’d thrive in chaos. But no—he despises it. He actually prefers things to be orderly and structured. You so much as move his toys out of place? He zaps you."
Vox: *nodding* Yeah, I learned that the hard way. I tried to give him a stuffed bear, and when I put it next to him out of alignment with his other toys, he glared at me and shocked my wrist…My son has standards already.
2. He has zero reaction to horror or violence.
Vox: *scoffing* So get this: we thought maybe he’d enjoy something classic. Something thrilling, dark, edgy. So I played one of my personal favorites—The ‘Exorcist.’ You know, a masterpiece of horror.
Lucifer: *grinning* And do you know what he did?
Vox: *deadpan* Nothing. He just blinked at the screen, completely unfazed. Meanwhile, I played a video of an accountant doing tax calculations, and the kid lit up like I’d just given him a lifetime supply of pacifiers.
Lucifer: *nodding solemnly* It’s true. He looked at the demon-possessed girl once and then went back to watching a ‘step-by-step tutorial on itemized deductions.’
3. He has a ridiculously specific comfort zone.
Vox: *pinching the bridge of his brows* Virgil is extremely particular about where he naps. If it’s too soft, he won’t sleep. If it’s too warm, he fusses. He won’t fall asleep unless he’s in a perfectly balanced room at exactly 69 degrees, with a white noise machine set to ‘low hum.’
Lucifer: *grinning* And let’s not forget the worst part: he refuses to sleep unless the room smells like old books.
Vox: I time I read to him in the library. Now he associates the smell with sleep. So now I have to keep actual dusty old books near his crib just so he’ll settle down. I tried faking it with scented air diffusers, but he knew.
4. He’s terrifyingly good at judging people.
Lucifer: *grinning wickedly* This one’s my favorite. Virgil has an uncanny ability to determine whether or not someone is full of shit. You put him in a room with someone, and if he doesn’t like them? He just stares at them in silence. Doesn’t cry. Doesn’t fuss. Just stares.
Vox: *nodding in agreement* It’s deeply unsettling. I tested it out by introducing him to a few people I don’t trust, and sure enough—he just glared at them. Didn’t even blink. The room got so uncomfortable, even I felt awkward.
5. He’s... suspiciously quiet.
Vox: *crossing his arms* This kid doesn’t babble. Doesn’t coo like other babies. If he needs something, he’ll make a noise, sure, but most of the time? Total silence.
Lucifer: *nodding* He just watches. Observes. It’s unsettling, really.
#official voxtek blog#vox#lucifer#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#lucifer morningstar#ask vox#ask lucifer#virgil morningstar#virgil#virgil’s quirks#my boy is boring#but he is baby
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The Amnesiac : ep04
A Real Headache
The best table at the coffee shop is the little square two-top next to the window. The building is north facing, so you’re never looking into the sun. There is always soft, diffused light and a long unimpeded view west along Lighthouse Avenue that’s perfect for people watching, email checking, and coffee consuming. The clientele here is the polar opposite of the touristy Starbucks just one mile away on Cannery Row. Everyone here is a local. There’s a pleasant mix of young people in their twenties and young moms in their thirties, who bring their toddlers to play in the tiny pretend kitchen near the back corner of the seating area. There’s always a tradesman or construction worker standing in line, not because the coffee is particularly great, but mostly because the owners are smart about hiring cute girls to work the counter. The older tradesmen flirt harmlessly with the coffee girls and then spend the rest of the day bragging to the guys at the construction site about the things they do to in bed with the girls if they had the chance. Of course … they’ll never have the chance.
The shop employs one unattractive girl and she runs the bakery in the back preparing fresh croissants. And if I’m honest, she’s not that unattractive. She just lacks self confidence and is usually covered head to toe in all purpose flour.
River steps away from the espresso machine for a second time during the morning coffee rush to bring me my latte and a zip lock bag full of crushed ice wrapped in a paper towel. I grab a handful of sugar packets and start thrashing them back and forth so that the sugar settles to the bottom. Then I tear the tops off of the packets and dump the sugar into my drink. River hands me a wooden stir stick.
“How many sugars is that? Six?”
“It’s not so much coffee as it is a liquid brunch.”
“I’m not sure how you stay so thin.”
“Coffee for breakfast. Dinner for dinner.”
“No dessert?”
“The occasional barista …”
“Oh don’t you even go there bad boy. This is a workplace.”
“I am simply making the point that some of the most enjoyable things to eat after dinner are low calorie.”
“Oh Dangerous Dave, it’s nice to have you back …”
“You keep saying that like I was gone.”
“You were. But I don’t have time to debate with you right now. I’ve got to get back to work. The line is out the door again and I’m the only one pulling shots.”
“Before you go, do you have any Advil?”
“No, but there’s a drug store literally around the corner.���
“The drug store under my apartment?”
“Floody, you are a regular ole’ piece of work aren’t you. Listen my injured little puppy, go home, get Advil and come back. I’ll make sure nobody steals your laptop.”
“Or my coffee”
“Or your coffee.”
“Or my seat.”
“Go! Your stupid coffee and your stupid laptop and your stupid seat will all be here when you get back!”
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Discover the perfect scent machine for your home or office. Indulge in an aromatic experience that creates a welcoming atmosphere and promotes well-being.
#diffuser machine#diffuser machine fragrance#diffuser machine learning#diffuser machine price#diffuser machine near me#diffuser machine kuwait#diffuser machine - dr large#diffuser machine for hair#diffuser machine dubai#diffuser machine manufacturers#diffuser machine - dr mini#dr scent diffuser machine#best home diffuser machine#hotel scent diffuser machine#hotel diffuser machine#home diffuser machine#smart scent diffuser machine#smell diffuser machine#oil diffuser machine#ds eco diffuser machine#aroma diffuser machine#scent diffuser machine#aroma scent diffuser machine#home unit 101 aroma diffuser machine#scent machine#scent machines for homes#scent machine for hvac#scent machine for business#best home scent machines#best scent machine
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How To Use AI To Fake A Scandal For Fun, Profit, and Clout
Or, I Just Saw People I Know To Be Reasonable Fall For A Fake "Ripoff" And Now I'm Going To Gently Demonstrate What Really Happened
So, we all know what people say about AI. It's just an automatic collage machine, it's stealing your data (as if the rest of the mainstream internet isn't - seriously, we should be using that knee-jerk disgust response to demand better internet privacy laws rather than try to beef up copyright so that compliance has to come at the beginning rather than the end of the process and you can be sued on suspicion of referencing, but I digress...), it can't create anything novel, some people go so far as to claim it's not even synthesizing anything, but just acting as a search engine and returning something run through a filter and "proving" it by "searching" for their own art and "finding" it.
And those are blatant lies.
The thing is, the reason AI is such a breakthrough - and the reason we memed with it so hard when DALL-E Mini and DALL-E 2 first dropped - is because it CAN create novel output. Because it CAN visualize the absurd ideas that no one has ever posted to the internet before. In fact, it would be a bigger breakthrough in computer science if we DID come up with an automatic collage machine - something that knows where to cut out a part of one image and paste it onto another, then smooth out the lighting and colors to make them fairly consistent, to make it look like what we would recognize as an image we're asking for? That would make the denoising algorithm on steroids that a diffusion model is look like child's play.
But, unlike the posts that claim that they're just acting as a collage maker at best and a search engine at worst, I'm not going to ask you to take my word for it (and stick a pin in this point, we'll come back to it later). I'm going to ask you to go to Simple Stable (or Craiyon, or the Karlo demo, if Google Colab feels too complicated for you - or if you like, do all of the above) and throw in a shitpost prompt or two. Ask for a velociraptor carousel pony ridden by a bunny. Ask for Godzilla fighting a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man. Ask for an oil painting of a capybara wearing an ornate princess gown. Shitpost with it like we did before these myths took hold.
Now take your favorite result(s) and reverse image search them. Did you get anything remotely similar to your generated image? Probably not!
So then, how did someone end up getting a near perfect recreation of their work? Was that just some kind of wacky, one-in-a-million coincidence?
Well - oh no, look at that, I asked it for a simplistic character drawing and it happened to me too, it just returned a drawing of mine that I never even uploaded, and it's the worst drawing I've done since the fifth grade even just to embarrass me! Oh no, what happened, did they change things right under my nose, has digital surveillance gotten even WORSE?? Look, see, here's the original on the left, compare it to the output on the right - scary!! They're training on the contents of your computer in real time now, aaaagh!!
Except, of course, for the fact that the entire paragraph above was a lie and I did this on purpose in a way no one could possibly recreate from a text prompt, even with a perfect description.
How?
See, some models have this nifty little function called img2img. It can be used for anything from guiding the composition of your final image with a roughly drawn layout, to turning a building into a dragon...to post-processing of a hand-drawn image, to blatantly fucking lying about how AI works.
I took 5 minutes out of my day to crudely draw a character. I uploaded the image to this post. I saved the post as a draft. I stuck the image URL in the init_image field in Simple Stable, cranked the init strength up to 0.8, cleared all text prompts, and ran it. It did exactly what I told it to and tried to lightly refine the image I gave it.
If you see someone claiming that an AI stole their image with this kind of "proof", and the image they're comparing is not ITSELF a parody of an extremely well-known piece such as the Mona Lisa, or just so extremely generic that the level of similarity could be a coincidence (you/your favorite artist do/es not own the rule of thirds or basic fantasy creatures, just to name one family of example I've seen), this is what happened.
So from here you must realize that it is deeply insidious that posts that make these claims usually imply or even outright state that you should NOT try to recreate this but instead just take their word for it, stressing ~DON'T FEED THE MACHINE~. It's always some claim about "ohhh, the more you use them, the more they learn, I made a SACRIFICE so you don't have to" - but txt2img functions can't use your interaction to learn jack shit. There's no new information in a text prompt for them TO learn. Most img2img models can't learn from your input either, for that matter! I still recommend being careful about corporate img2img toys - we know that Facebook, for instance, is happy to try and beef up facial recognition for the WORST possible reasons - but if you're worried about your privacy and data harvesting, any given txt2img model is one of the least worrying things on the internet today.
So do be careful with your privacy online, and PLEASE use your very understandable knee-jerk horror response to how much extremely personal content can be found in training databases as a call to DEMAND better privacy laws ("do not track" should not be just for show ffs) and compliance with security protocols in fields that deal with very private information (COMMON CRAWL DOESN'T GO FAR OUT OF ITS WAY, IT SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN ABLE TO GET ANY MEDICAL IMAGES THE PATIENTS DIDN'T SHARE THEMSELVES HOLY SHIT, SOME HOSPITAL WORKERS AND/OR MEDICAL COMMUNICATIONS DEVELOPERS BETTER BE GETTING FIRED AND/OR SUED) - but don't just believe a convenient and easy-to-disprove lie because it aligns with that feeling.
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You smell that?
Sirius Black x fem! tomboy! reader
Summary: Sirius and his girl have never cared much for traditional gender roles
Warnings: swearing, established relationship, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, babies, drinking, intoxication, alcohol and sex, cute drunk Lily, iconic dorlene, some mean couple, badass reader, badass sirius, adorable James and poor poor Remus, quick proofread
A/n: 2.2k words, I love tomboy reader so much xx thank you for the request, enjoy!
Navigation | Sirius Black Masterlist
“Siri? Can you come here a second? I need help” Sirius hears you call out, smiling to himself at your little dip in tone during the nickname
He wasn’t in the middle of anything important, watching the magic of the little tv dish going around the muggle micro-ma-thing could wait
Walking through he pokes his finger up into the shirt surrounding his hair, scratching the itch as he enters the room “Hey darlin what…” he trails off at the end, distracted by you adored in unbuttoned jeans which leave the tip of your underwear poking out, accompanied with a tubbed vest acting as a bra, something you often used to flatten your chest a bit and make you feel a little more comfortable
“Hey do you…” you turn to him, quickly noticing his gaze flicking from your chest to your stomach “Enjoying the view?” you place your hands on your hips, feeling pretty smug at how the pose affects him
Blush grazes his cheeks and he’s snapped out of his daze, but really, he would never feel guilty for admiring his girl
“Always when it comes to you” he admits, matching your energy
“Ooo, flirty puppy today” you tease softly, adoring how his smirk turns bashful for a brief moment
“Can’t help it when you call me in looking like that” he moves over to you, hands finding your hips, thumbs moving up and down your sides, touch near tantalising as they rub over the waistband of your underwear
He sees you get a little shy at that, smiling to yourself and he finds it just divine
“I don’t know what to wear” you admit “I want to wear these jeans but I can’t find a shirt that goes”
“You do look good in those” he compliments earning a quiet ‘thanks’ “I have a few of my old band shirts I washed yesterday” he suggests
“So that's why you looked a little dizzy when I came in” you taunt knowing how Padfoot often adored the washing machine, even if he got a little turned around from it
He scrunches his face turning away from you a little “Shut up” he mumbles so cutely that it’s barely an insult
“Sorry puppy” your hands cup his cheeks, bringing his face back to yours, giving him a smile before pecking his lips “Better?”
“One more and we’re good” he says and you peck his lips twice before turning to go and look through the washing “You overpaid” he notes, itching his wrapped hair again
“You want me to take it back?” you giggle finding a t-shirt you like, yours and Sirius’ clothes were shared and exchanged so often almost all of them had now been charmed to automatically adjust to each of your respective sizes
“No” he says as you turn to him, head cocking to the side as his hair sits in an itchy, almost dry but not quite there, state “Just ya always overpay, makes me look bad”
“Guilty” you giggle as does he “You want me to dry it off early?” you ask, noticing his discomfort “If you don’t mind the slight frizz”
He nods “You mind?” he knew you didn’t, he knew you loved it doing his hair, you were the one to finger roll it for him earlier but he still made sure to ask
“Never” you peck his lips but he pulls you by the hips in to prolong it, something you giggle at but adore none the less “Cute” is all you quip when he pulls away, watching that adorable little smile appears at the compliment
Sirius then moves to grab a pillow from the chair, placing it on the ground in front of the bed and taking a seat, watching you pout as you detangle the plug to the hair dryer and then attach the diffuser
“You excited?” you ask, bending over to pull out the extension and plug in the dryer
He hums, eyes lingering on your arse “Yeah, it’ll be nice to see everyone all together. Been ages” he notes with a smile, undoing his dressing gown and letting it fall off his shoulders but it gets caught
“I’ll get that for you” you tell him as you plop on the bed, positioning your legs either side of his body and placing the hairdryer beside you
“Thanks, darlin” he closes his eyes, letting his head fall forward as you gently remove the dressing gown before freeing his hair
Grabbing the hair dryer, you delay turning it on, instead leaning over him a little “Kiss?” you ask, readying your lips
He smiles, leaning his head backwards so you can kiss him “And you call me cute” he winks
“You had to learn if from somewhere” you banter back
“That was a good one” he chuckles looking proud
“Thank you” you peck his lips one more time before he tilts his head forward “Squeeze my leg once if it’s too long or hot in one place and twice to stop okay?”
“Okay darlin”
“Merlin Red, slow down, no one’s going to take it from you” Sirius barks a laugh at the girl, clutching her cocktail
She eyes him “When you have a 4-year-old, a 2-year-old and Harry you’ll understand” is all she says, earning chuckles from Remus, Dorcas and Sirius
“How is the littlest one anyway?” he wonders, eyes flicking briefly to you, Marlene and James at the bar then back to the redhead
“An angel” Lily smiles to herself “She’s got the chubbiest cheeks. I hope she never loses her puppy fat, just like her mum” she pinches her own cheek
“Let Moony visit her more often then, sneak her chocolate” Sirius wiggles his eyebrows at the man beside him “Harry too it’ll bring out his dimples”
“Hey” Remus nudges his leg under the table “I have never given them chocolate”
“Bullshit” Sirius whispers earning a ‘wanker’ from Remus and they both smile
“Remus I’m not going to remember my name in five minutes…this is my first real drink since I was pregnant and I’ll tell you something Jamie isn’t getting another one…unless he asks real nice” she mumbles, and it was clear the baby fever was overtaking her again
“I have given them so much chocolate” Remus corrects causing Dorcas and Sirius to laugh
“That's okay just don’t let…” she hiccups “...don’t let sober me hear it”
“Noted” he winks
“Hey” you greet, placing down yours and Sirius’ drinks “Here pup” you whisper, placing a kiss to his temple while Marlene sides in next to Dorcas and James, Lily
Sirius melts at your touch, maybe it was the buzz from his friends and the pretty pink cocktails he had no idea what was in yet tasted great, but he felt like putty around you
“I’m your pup” he nudges his nose into your neck, igniting a few giggles from you and the rest of the group
“What a simp” Marlene teases, sniggering as you mouth back
“I really am” he admits as you wrap your arm over the back of the booth, arm hanging lazily yet dominantly around him “Can’t even deny it anymore I’m too happy” he grins
You hear a scoff from the booth behind but ignore it, chalking it up to coincidence since no one else at your table clocks it
“My pretty boy” your hand drops down around him, squeezing gently and the smile he wears is perfection
You swear he whispers “your pretty boy” back to you and Remus’ smile confirms it
“Dorcas?” Remus eyes the girls drink “Didn’t see that on the card” he holds up the drinks menu, scanning through
Marlene grins into her drink while Dorca answers a little flustered “It’s a mocktail” she confesses
“Mocktail?” Remus repeats while you and James’ faces light up, already there
“Yeah” the girl nods, hand moving to her stomach and Marlene cups it
“No way!” Lily sits up, the biggest smile on her face
Dorca nods “It’s still early but…” she pulls out a small photograph “...we got this yesterday” she hands it to the redhead
Lily tears up right away “I recant my earlier statement” she looks up at Sirius and Remus before turning to James with big doe eyes
“Guess threes the magic number then” he accepts it, pressing his lips to her cheek
“That mean I’ll finally get to be a godfather then?” Remus asks “Still a little pissed you gave it to Severus last time”
“Of course you can! If Jamie hadn’t lost the thumb war it was yours” Lily shrugs before hicuping, hand clapping over her mouth while James just chuckles
“You decided godfather on a thumb wrestle?!” Remus looks at them wide eyed while you and Sirius try not to laugh too hard
“It’s an effective way of deciding…” James muses, wearing a funny smile that makes something dawn on Remus
“Wait…did you do it for Harry too!?”
“No” James extends the syllables, shaking his head with a shrug
“Prongs” Remus deadpans “Prongs” he says a little more annoyed while you, Sirius, Marlene and Dorcas are practically dying by the final near pleading “Prongs”
“You were up then as well but I won and it when to Siri” Lily finally says, her answer delayed, clearly having no idea what was actually happening, nor the weight and would soon be given mocktails
“So…let me get this right” Remus holds up his hands “I’ve lost godfather twice because James can’t win at thumb wrestling”
“Pretty much mate” James cringes “Sorry”
“Merlin I’m just not built lucky, am I?”
After assuring Remus he would be allowed godfather one more time that was needed, Dorca and Marlene started explaining their ivf treatment to the group, to which they all collectively teased them, and found adorable, as they choose a donor who was described as the male version of Marlene, hence their kids would look like a real mix of them both.
Eventually almost everyone was up dancing, except Sirius who was chilling at the table after going so hard to ‘dancing queen’ and the whole group agreed he should sit down for a little bit.
You weren’t dancing either, currently at the bar getting Sirius some water while he admired you from afar but his admiration was interrupted “Hey” he hears someone say from behind
His eyes tear away from you, turning his head to look at the people in the booth behind “Hey” he greets them
“That your girlfriend” the girl asks
Sirius rolls his eyes “Yes she is” he goes to turn but when they try to speak again he cuts them off “I’m not interested honey” he waves it off but then the guy beside her laughs
“She wouldn’t be interested in you, mate. Not when she’s with a real man” the guy smirks, puffing his chest a little like the prized wanker he is
“That so?” he eyes him up and down, raising an eyebrow at the ‘real man’
“Yeah” the girl chips back in “What I was going to say is it was hard to tell, she’s so macho compared to you pretty princess” she mock pouts
Sirius takes a long breath out through his nose, not bothering to get angry at miss and Mr insecure before him
“Sorry honey your mistaken he isn’t a princess he’s a puppy remember…you call her mommy too” he mocks and Sirius rolls his eyes
“No but you’ll be calling for yours if you talk down to my guy again”
Sirius’ head shoots up to you, holding two waters in your hands and the cross of an amused smirk and don’t fuck with me expression on your face
“She even fights your battles for ya too? You’re a joke of a man” the man scoffs shaking his head “You know it’s a shame you dress and act like that, you could have been so pretty sweetheart” he talks down to you but you and Sirius just start laughing at them, to which they look confused
“What's so funny?” the girl asks, crossing her arms
“You smell that?” you ignore her and turn to Sirius, sniffing the air
He does the same “Yeah” he nods “The place reeks of it” he smirks up at you
“Of what?” the girl huffs like a squeak while the guy looks so pissed
“Two people insecure with the masculine and femininity” you wiggle your eyebrows, looking smug as hell and Sirius just looks at you with pride
That's my girl
“I am masculine” the man states, almost growling
“Yeah and I’m the queen of France” Sirius bites back with a laugh
“Missy nothing you say is going to hurt us you’re only gonna make yourself look stupid” you say, cutting off the girl before she can open her mouth
“Are you going to do something?” she looks to her boyfriend “She can’t talk to me like that!”
The man just huffs and stands, half dragging his now very angry and most likely ex-girlfriend out of the pub, while you just sit down feeling more than satisfied, as does Sirius, his hand slithering behind your back the moment your beside him again
“Here pup” you hand him the water, pressing a kiss to his cheek
He takes it, clinking the glass with yours to say job well done “Thanks darlin” you both take a sip “How close were you to throwing the drinks?”
You hold up your thumb and forefinger to less a centimetre apart “Took everything not to throw the whole glass when he called me sweetie” you mock the mans stupidly low voice “No one talks down to my puppy”
Sirius’ heart flutters “I love you so much”
You turn to him “Love you more” leaning in to let your noses touch
“Not possible” he whispers before capturing them
Thank you for reading ♡
#sirius black and reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black and you#sirius black#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius black and y/n#sirius and reader#sirius and you#sirius and y/n#sirius x reader#sirius x you
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to the person who left an angry response and then blocked me: copyright infringement isn't theft, and ai art algorithms don't violate copyright law, at least not in the US. they don't even copy anything directly. the reason why stable diffusion is able to take in billions of images and produce a model that is less than 10 gb in size is because it stores zero copies of any images from its training data. it is purely raw abstract patterns. these algorithms are intentionally programmed not to simply copy their training data but to identify patterns in images that are associated with the words the images were described with. in the case of particularly prominent patterns, such as "mickey mouse", it does manage to produce a decent replica, although never a 1:1 copy of any training data. however, when you aren't explicitly telling it to produce an output based on any particular artist or work, it will produce far more novel outputs. the process far exceeds anything as simple as a collage or a mashup, and while you could definitely argue that without the amount of data it was fed that it would be nowhere near as sophisticated as it currently is, I don't think it constitutes plagiarism by default.
you can't retroactively declare only these algorithms to be illegal, so if you want to legally prohibit these algorithms from being used you're going to have to redefine fair use. this isn't easy and the groups you'd have to work with in order to get it done do not have your interests at heart. the final option would be to simply make demands of major corporations not to replace human artists with machines, via actual organized labor actions. that's the one I'd go with, and it gets you plenty of other benefits as well.
I still think the developers should have worked to find sources of data that they had prior permission to use, but I don't think scraping the web for publicly available image-text pairs constitutes some major violation of consent any more than search engines or the Internet Archive does. at the end of the day, it's neither AI nor fair use provisions that is to blame for artists getting screwed over. capitalism is to blame. we need to work to ensure that everyone has economic security and the freedom to pursue their own interests independent of concerns such as profitability and marketability.
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Shot at Love II
Sofia woke up early feeling a mix of anticipation and annoyance. Her boss left her a message saying that Betty had called out again, leaving Sofia to handle the yogurt shop alone. Despite her frustration, Sofia reminded herself that she had done it before and could do it again. She stretched for a few minutes before freshening up with a quick shower and then brushing her teeth. Sofia decided to let her naturally curly hair shine and styled it with a leave-in conditioner, wide-tooth comb, and styling gel, finishing it off by diffusing it with a blow dryer.
For her makeup routine, she applied a light foundation to even out her skin tone, concealed any blemishes, and then set it with a light layer of powder. She then created a subtle smoky eye using soft browns and warm beiges from a neutral eyeshadow palette, added a thin line of brown eyeliner, and finished with a couple of coats of mascara. Sofia applied a peachy-pink blush on the apples of her cheeks and a tinted lip balm to moisturize her lips.
Sofia then dressed in her black and white tie-dye pant set consisting of a tube top and wide-leg pants. The pants were form-fitting with a high waistband, and she paired them with white sneakers and a black crossbody bag. She decided to add her black hoop earrings and silver studs to finish her look. She slips them on, admires herself once more, and then pauses to laugh to herself, knowing that she'll be changing into her work uniform once she arrives at the yogurt shop. Nevertheless, she's happy that she took the time to put together a cute outfit and make herself feel good.
"I'm doing this for me," she said to herself as she looked in the mirror. "I deserve to feel good, even if it's just for me."
As Sofia unlocked the doors and flipped on the lights at the yogurt shop, she couldn't help but feel annoyed. This was the third time this month that she had to work alone because Betty had called out. She knew it was going to be a long day, but she tried to push the annoyance aside and focus on her tasks.
Sofia glanced at the clock and saw that it was only 10am, so she decided to use the downtime to get ahead on some of her cleaning tasks. As she wiped down the counters and scrubbed the machines, she had a conversation with herself. "Okay, Sofia, you can do this," she said. "It's just another day at the shop. You've done this before, and you can do it again. And hey, at least you don't have to deal with annoying co-workers or your boss."
She continued to clean, organizing the toppings and making sure everything was spotless. Even though she still felt a little annoyed about working alone, she felt better after talking to herself. She reminded herself that she was capable and that she could handle the workload. Sofia finishes up her cleaning tasks and heads back to the counter, her thoughts drifting to how she can't wait to be done with this place. As she approaches the counter, her thoughts are interrupted by a customer at the door.
"Welcome one, welcome all to Popov's Big Top Yogurtopiaaaaa...." Sofia recites the mandated greeting with a forced smile, cringing internally at how cheesy it sounds. Suddenly, she hears a chuckle and a familiar soft voice saying, "Haha... I know. I was here yesterday."
Sofia looks up to see the same shy and cute guy from yesterday, and she feels a small smile forming on her lips. "Oh, hi," she says, feeling a bit surprised that he's back so soon.
As he looks at her and begins to blush, Sofia feels a slight flutter in her heart. "You still work here?" he asks, his voice sounding a little shaky. He looks away from her, scratching his neck in what seems like a nervous gesture. Sofia can't help but smile at his reaction, "I'm here and in uniform, same as last time." she replies, trying to hide her own excitement.
He nods his head, still blushing, "Cool. Cool..." he trails off, seeming to linger near the counter. Sofia can't tell if he's interested in the yogurt or just trying to find something to say. She waits, hoping he won't ask for cookies because she hasn't had a chance to restock the little shelves today.
Suddenly, he looks up at her and asks, "You uh....You got a boyfriend?" Sofia is caught off guard and almost chokes on her own words. "I-I uh..." She can't believe this is happening and wonders if she's still dreaming. "Whattttt do you mean?" she asks, trying to make sure she's not misinterpreting his words.
The guy looks at her, his cheeks still flushed as he says, "You know. Like. A boyfriend." Sofia can feel her face turning red as she nervously plays with her hair. She's not used to guys asking her out, especially cute ones like him.
Sofia's heart is racing as she takes a deep breath and responds, "Uh, no. No, I don't have a boyfriend." She feels her cheeks warming up and hopes he doesn't notice. The guy looks at her with a hint of relief and smiles. "Oh, good. That's good," he says, before awkwardly shuffling his feet. Sofia can't help but smile at how cute he looks when he's nervous. She decides to take a chance and ask him a question of her own.
"So, um, what's your name?" The guy gives a small smile as he looks up at her. "It's Nick," he says, his voice still a bit nervous. Sofia nods and introduces herself with a smile, "I'm Sofia." She adds, "Nice to meet you, Nick." Nick nods back, his shyness evident, "Nice to meet you too, Sofia," he says, looking at her with a small smile.
Taking a deep breath, Sofia musters up the courage to keep the conversation going. "So, Nick, what brings you here today?" she asks, hoping to get to know him better. Nick scratches his head, clearly thinking of the right answer. "To be honest, I came to see you again," he confesses, gazing into her eyes.
Sofia's heart flutters at his words, and she can't believe someone as charming as Nick is interested in her. "Really?" she asks, her face breaking into a smile.
Nick nods, giving her a shy grin. "Yeah, I thought we could grab a coffee or something after you finish your shift," he suggests, hoping to make plans with her.
Sofia's heart leaped with excitement at Nick's proposal. She thought for a moment and suggested, "How about we grab boba instead? There's a great place a few blocks away from here." Nick's eyes brightened at the idea. "Boba sounds perfect," he said with a broad smile.
The rush of adrenaline hit Sofia as she realized that she had just made plans with Nick. She couldn't believe her luck and playfully winked at him, "It's a deal." Nick's grin widened as his blush intensified. "Great. I'll wait for you outside when you're done," he said before turning to leave. "See you soon, Sofia."
Sofia watched him walk away, feeling a mixture of happiness and nervousness. She couldn't believe that this was happening, but she was excited to see where things would go with Nick.
As Nick leaves, Sofia can't help but feel giddy with excitement. She lets out a squeal of joy and jumps up and down a little bit before realizing that she's still at work. She looks around and sees that there are no customers in the shop. Sofia takes a deep breath and tries to calm down, knowing that she still has a few hours left in her shift. She starts wiping down the counters and checking the inventory, but her mind keeps wandering back to Nick.
"I can't believe this is happening," she mutters to herself with a grin.
As she works, Sofia starts to imagine what her date with Nick will be like. She pictures them walking down the street, sipping on their boba drinks and laughing together. She wonders what they'll talk about and if they'll have any chemistry.
Suddenly, the bell above the door jingles, interrupting her thoughts. Sofia looks up to see a customer walking in. "Hi there!" Sofia greets the customer with a smile, happy to have something to distract her from her thoughts.
The customer smiles back and starts to browse the selection of frozen yogurt flavors. Sofia helps her pick out a few toppings and weighs the cup, ringing up the purchase. As the customer leaves, Sofia's mind goes back to Nick and their upcoming date.
"I can't wait to see him again," she thinks to herself, a smile creeping onto her face.
Sofia feels a mix of excitement and nervousness as she finishes cleaning up the yogurt shop and gets dressed into her regular clothes. She tries to ignore the nagging thoughts about whether this is actually a date or just two people getting to know each other. "Isn't that what dating is?" she mutters to herself, trying to brush off the anxiety and focus on the moment.
As she locks the door, she can't help but feel a sense of anticipation for her upcoming time with Nick. Sofia's mind races with questions about Nick. Who is he as a person? What does he like to do? What does he do for work? She can't wait to find out more about him.
As she finishes locking up, she notices Nick sitting at the bench outside the yogurt shop, just like he said he would. Sofia feels a mix of excitement and relief as she approaches him. "Hey, sorry for the long wait," she says, hoping he hadn't been sitting there the whole time. Nick stands up, a warm smile on his face. "No worries at all," he reassures her. "I didn't mind waiting. How was your shift?"
Sofia can feel the nervousness dissipating as they start chatting. She tells Nick about her day at the yogurt shop, and he listens attentively, asking questions and making small talk. She starts to feel more comfortable around him and is eager to learn more about him too.
Sofia chuckles, feeling more at ease. "So, boba?" she asks, changing the subject. Nick gives a nod of agreement, his smile broadening. "Yes, boba," he replies, as Sofia starts leading the way, happy to guide him to her favorite boba spot.
Walking through the city streets, she found everything seemed somehow more vibrant - the buildings towered majestically, the passersby bustled with infectious energy, and the city sounds created a symphony of life.
As they walked down the street, Sofia and Nick talked easily about their day. Despite Nick's initial shyness, he seemed to open up a bit more around Sofia, making her feel special. As they approached their destination, Sofia decided to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind.
“Nick,” she began, her voice wavering slightly, “Is this… is this a date?” The words hung in the air between them for a moment before Nick turned to look at her. There was a slight blush on his cheeks, but he didn't look away. “If you want it to be,” he replied, his voice steady despite his blushing face. “I mean, I'd like it to be a date.” His honesty made Sofia's heart flutter, and she nodded, feeling her face heat up. "Then, it's a date," she confirmed, and they both broke into shy smiles.
As they walked into the boba shop, Sofia watched Nick's eyes widen with delight when he spotted the Horchata Boba on the menu. It was just a minor detail, but it was one Sofia mentally bookmarked. As they sat down with their drinks, Nick seemed more relaxed. His initial shyness seemed to fade away as they talked about their interests, hobbies, and a bit of their lives. Sofia learned about his twin Pomeranians, Pico and Cheese, who Nick described with great affection and was an avid video gamer. She also found out that he disliked scary movies and straight liquor, which made her laugh.
What truly surprised her was when Nick mentioned his profession. "I'm a social media influencer by day," he said with a slight shrug. Sofia was taken aback, but his next revelation was even more surprising. "And I'm a professional male dom by night."
Despite his cool exterior, Sofia was taken aback by this revelation about Nick's night job. It was an unexpected facet of his life, but the candidness with which he discussed it reflected a deep sense of self-acceptance. She was quiet for a moment, processing the information. Then, she stole a glance at him, her eyes meeting his briefly before flitting away nervously. She wrung her hands around her winter melon milk green tea, uncertainty creeping in.
"Nick," she began, her voice a soft murmur in the bustling cafe. "Can I... um, can I ask you some questions about your night job? I mean, only if you're okay with it." Her words hung in the air, fragile as glass. She braced herself, uncertain of his response, yet hoping she hadn't crossed any line.
Nick seemed momentarily startled by her request, and a twinge of regret flickered across Sofia's face. She was on the verge of retracting her question, reassuring him he didn't have to answer when he raised a soothing hand. "Sofia," he responded in a soothing tone, "I appreciate you asking." He paused for a moment, taking a sip of his own drink before continuing. "I'm okay with it. Ask away."
His words brought a wave of relief over Sofia. She felt an odd mixture of nervousness and excitement - she was about to delve into a world she knew very little about. "Okay, so," Sofia initiated, placing her drained boba cup on the table and inhaling a deep, steadying breath. "What exactly does your work involve? I mean, from what I understand, it has to do with... dominating people, right?"
Nick chuckled a bit before nodding. "That's a pretty basic way to put it, but yes. It's a role where I exert control in a consensual, negotiated scenario. It's less about pain or humiliation and more about a power dynamic, a relationship of trust. The people who come to me do so because they have a need or desire to surrender control, to explore certain fantasies or feelings that they may not be able to in other aspects of their lives." He paused, making sure Sofia was still following along. "Does that make sense?"
Sofia nodded slowly, her gaze focused on Nick as she took in his words. "Yes, it does make sense. I had a bit of a different perception before, but it's good to hear it from you." She hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously playing with the straw in her now-empty cup. "Do... do you have sex with your clients?"
Nick shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips. "No, Sofia. It's a common misconception, but no, I don't have sex with my clients. It's all about control and surrender, about boundaries and trust. But it doesn't involve actual sex. It's more psychological than physical in many ways. Again, every dom has their own set of rules and boundaries, and that's one of mine."
Sofia let out a quiet sigh of relief. She respected Nick's profession and the professionalism with which he carried it out. "Thank you for telling me, Nick. I really appreciate your honesty," Sofia said, giving him a small, grateful smile. She felt a newfound respect for Nick, admiring the way he approached his unconventional line of work with such care and integrity.
Nick gave a nod, his gaze softening. "Of course, Sofia. I understand that my job might be...a bit overwhelming to understand or even accept at first. I just want you to know that I'm open to talk about it anytime you want, and I appreciate you trying to understand it instead of judging it."
Their conversation flowed naturally, shifting from lighter topics to past experiences. Nick looked at Sofia, curiosity in his eyes. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but, can you tell me about your last relationship?" he asked, his tone gentle.
Sofia paused for a moment before giving a small nod. "My last relationship ended on a sour note," Sofia started, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "He cheated on me while he was away at school. It was... painful, to say the least."
Nick's expression softened as Sofia shared her past. He reached out, placing his hand over hers in a gentle show of support. "I'm really sorry to hear that, Sofia," he said earnestly. "No one deserves to go through that." A thoughtful pause fell over him, and then he asked, "Is that why you asked about my job? You're worried that... because of what I do, I might not be faithful?" His voice was gentle, not accusatory. It was a fair question, he figured. One that deserved a sincere answer.
Sofia took a moment to consider his question. "It's a valid concern," she admitted, "But no, that's not the reason. Your job is... unique. I asked because I wanted to understand it better." She offered him a sincere smile. "I believe that every profession has its own challenges and boundaries, and it's important to understand those, especially in a relationship." She went on to explain, "Just because my ex-boyfriend cheated on me, doesn't mean I'm going to distrust you because of your job. That wouldn't be fair to you."
Nick's eyes softened as he listened to Sofia, taking in her words and her perspective. He admired her maturity and her ability to separate individuals from their actions. "Sofia," he started, his voice warm. "I appreciate your understanding, really. It means a lot to me that you don't judge me because of my job."
A slight blush crept up his cheeks, as he mustered the courage to ask, "Does this mean you'd be interested in... maybe getting to know each other better? Maybe on another date?" His gaze remained steady on hers, hopeful yet understanding if she wasn't ready. Sofia's heart fluttered at Nick's words, his question bringing a gentle blush to her cheeks. She looked into his eyes, those sincere eyes that held so much warmth.
"I... yes," she stammered, her smile slowly growing. "I'd love that, Nick. I want to get to know you better. And another date sounds perfect." She held his gaze for a moment longer, basking in the glow of their shared connection. Nick's response was filled with genuine relief and joy. "I look forward to our second date," he stated, his voice soft, yet laced with enthusiasm.
Noticing the dimming light outside, he rose from his seat. "It's getting late," he noted, glancing out the window at the softly glowing city streets. "Would you mind if I walked you home?" His voice was warm, his offer reflecting the closeness that had grown between them during their conversation. Sofia looked outside at the dimming city lights, then back to Nick, her smile matching the warm glow in her eyes. "I'd appreciate that," she said, her tone sincere.
She got up from her chair, taking one last glance around the now almost empty boba shop. What had started as a casual first date had blossomed into a surprisingly comfortable evening filled with genuine conversation. And she had a feeling that it was just the beginning.
As the night sky was painted with twinkling stars, Sofia and Nick found themselves strolling side by side through the quieter city streets. The conversation flowed easily between them as they navigated the somewhat deserted sidewalks, their shared laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings. Nick’s nervousness seemed to have dissipated, replaced by a calm confidence.
The dim glow from the street lamps cast long shadows as they moved, their footsteps synchronized in a comfortable rhythm. Sofia listened attentively as Nick shared stories about his twin Pomeranians, Pico and Cheese, and how he managed to balance his day job as a social media influencer with his nighttime role. She found herself laughing at his anecdotes and admiring his commitment to his passions.
Before long, Sofia's apartment building came into view, its windows a series of glowing squares in the city night.
"We're here," Sofia said, breaking the silence as she turned towards Nick. His gaze met hers, a spark of warmth flickering in his eyes. "I had a really great time tonight, Sofia," Nick said, his voice sincere. "And I'm looking forward to our next date." Sofia felt her heart flutter at his words. "Me too, Nick," she replied, a gentle smile playing on her lips. Without speaking, they stepped into a warm embrace, their bodies melting into each other. Sofia rested her head on Nick's chest, feeling his heartbeat under her ear, steady and reassuring.
Nick gently raised his hand, letting his fingers lightly trace a path up her back, until they came to rest at the nape of her neck, his thumb softly brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. Slowly, they pulled apart, the world seeming to quiet as they held each other's gaze.
At that moment, she knew she wanted to be closer to him. Taking a small step forward, she tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. "Nick," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can I... Can I kiss you?" Nick's eyes widened slightly at her question, but then he smiled, his gaze softening even further. "Yes, Sofia," he murmured, "I'd like that very much."
Their gaze interlocked, the air pulsing with unspoken anticipation. Sofia's hand tentatively rose to rest on his cheek, the cool skin of his face contrasting against the warmth of her palm. His hands found a natural place on her waist, gently pulling her closer. With their faces just inches apart, they could sense the warmth of each other's breath, an intoxicating allure growing between them.
Sofia, with one last look into his eyes, eliminated the space that separated them. The kiss was delicate and curious, an inquiry tendered and reciprocated as they moved in harmony, discovering the unique tempo of the other. Nick secured her even closer, deepening the kiss, his hand nestling comfortably at the curve of her back. His other hand gently cradled her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.
They separated moments later, their foreheads still leaning against each other, their breaths mixing in the crisp night air. With their eyes shut, they savored the remnants of the kiss that still tingled on their lips. The tranquil night wrapped them in its embrace as they stood together, content and connected.
As Sofia gradually opened her eyes, she found Nick watching her, his face illuminated by a tender smile. "That... was nice," he murmured, his eyes mirroring the joy emanating from hers. "It was," Sofia concurred, her cheeks blushing a soft pink. She retreated slightly, her gaze never straying from his. "I'd like to do that again... on our next date," she teased. "I'd like that," Nick responded, playfully echoing her teasing tone. He inclined, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Until then, Sofia."
They bid each other farewell, their promises to meet again imbuing the air with anticipation. As they left, their faces wore lingering smiles, their minds filled with the memory of a sweet kiss beneath the warm glow of the streetlamp.
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