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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 months

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New Fish | Yandere Platonic Azul Ashengrotto

There was something off with your step-father-your mother’s new husband. He has a small gleaming smile, eyes a darkened gray, a finely cut set of silver curls that always wave over his left shoulder, and a suit full of purple details to match. He has white gloves that are always folded together and a cane with a nautilus shell on the top. It always hung nearby on the chair, against the wall, in the J-brother’s hands.

“(Y/n), you better not be thinking of playing with that cane.”

Your mother scolded you through her handheld mirror, another gift from her husband. You tore your eyes and hands away from the metal stick deciding to fiddle with the various drawers that remained locked. Hearing her lips smack, spreading the new color, she speaks in tone that screams distracted—like usual.

“Why don’t you go look at the fish? I hear they got a new angelfish or something.”

You huff, trudging to the office door. Pulling at the octopus-shaped handles you stop. Turning your head to look at your mother, you wonder if she'd give you the courtesy of waving you off. She did not. She was on her hair now, fluffing her fringe and playing with the parts that fell on her exposed shoulders.

She looks beautiful.

But she already was before she had that ring on her finger.

Without looking at you she urged you on.

“Go on. I could use the extra time alone.”

With that, you pushed open the door to find the empty fine-dining restaurant untouched and pristine as it was at the start of every afternoon. Making sure not to touch anything, you stood at the bottom of the giant fish tank at the center of the room. The round tank was wider than anything you’d seen before with the top supposedly continuing through the ceiling. When you sent it a passing glance on your last visit the J-brother had told you that on the upper floor was the top of the tank where they fed and put in ‘newcomers.’

But you’ve been to the second floor and that’s nothing but another dining hall with a matching fish tank. If it wasn’t a lie then the real top of the tank was a floor higher. You’ve never been to the third floor let alone offered to join the dinner parties that led up there. Supposedly it was because they had ‘adult desserts.’ You guessed if they had their drinks there’d be desserts too but why they had no problem drinking the former in front of you and not the other baffled you.

Putting your forehead against the glass, you replayed a scolding not to put your fingers on the glass. Watching the fish and crabs on the inside as they swam and scurried by looking so close their patterns blurred and blended. You let your attention dim to the entrancing colors of the tank and its lively inhabitants.

The fish living their lives adorned in the glittering jewels of their scales brought back memories. Memories that consisted of you doing the same thing with a much much smaller tank. A much dirtier tank. Staring woefully at the tanks of the pet shop on your old street. Seeing the new cycles of golden glitters huddle against one another in the cramped and dingy tanks.

It was elementary. After your trip on the bus, you go straight home. Straight home and three squares to the right was the pet shop. Mother couldn’t afford to get anything there, not even the smallest dying fish that seemed to reappear every two weeks.

“Why do you look over there? We don’t need anything that way! Keep your eyes straight!”

It was meant not to hurt you or the fish. It was a reminder of what was needed. To eat. To breath. To sleep. Only what was necessary. What was required so that you didn’t die.

The fish were fed. Every day when the sun first began to shine behind the buildings the man would come with a bin of indiscernible flakes. The frantic swimming became even quicker as they crowded the top of the tank. Some would fall to the ground, propelled in the excitement; left to flap against the darkened linoleum until the keeper’s hand scooped them up. In a few unlucky instances, you’d seen the occasional rat run off with them. The little-big rodent would sit at the bottom of the floor, waiting for the inevitable and forgotten fish on the ground. You didn’t like to think what would happen after they ran away.

The fish also slept, according to your teacher. They just hovered in place while they slept. You could hardly tell when you watched closely, always seeing those reflective colors constantly shimering.

You knew as well as the keeper that the fish would die. Even with the roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and water in their gills.

Why did they still die?

It was all they needed right?

“Enjoying the view?”

The smooth harmonious voice of the establishment’s owner. He looked awful dapper as he always did, even with his overcoat and suit jacket folded over his arm. Wearing his seashell braces and his purple-black tie he leaned on his left foot; appearing uncharacteristically resolute without his cane.

You nodded before turning back to the tank. Expecting to hear the door of his office opening, you were surprised to see the reflection of his luxury name-branded belt behind you. Feeling the older man’s silver gaze, you feel the need to explain yourself.

“Mom says there’s a new angel fish in here. I just wanted to see.”

Laughter-like bells rang from above. Looking up at the man who held his gloved hand over his mouth, you waited while he quieted to a chuckle. With a fresh smile, he took his glove away, speaking in a tone softer than his usual.

“That’s perfectly fine. Though you should know there’s no new angelfish today.”

You tilted your head in question.

“Yes, today we got what’s called an anglerfish.”

A brush of familiarity caused you to whip your attention to the tank, looking frantically over the vast coral structure. You remember reading about them when you spent time in the library. Over an hour past the time your mother said she’d come, checking over your finished work just wasn’t appealing. Naturally, you’d spend your extra energy learning about them.

“An angler? But don’t they usually live in the deep? How could it be here?”

He swallowed another laugh.

“Usually you’d be exactly right but our latest edition isn’t exactly one you’ll be reading about in books.”

He smiled at your crinkled noise and the scrunched eyebrows. Putting a gloved hand on your back he urged you to turn towards him. Following his lead you looked into his stormy eyes as he spoke.

“How about you come with me to the third floor?”

“The third floor?”

“Yes, you want to see him don’t you?”

You tentatively nodded your head. Even from the man himself, the room felt like a forbidden myth. He opened his arms beckoning you to hang onto him, which you gladly accepted. It was a rare privilege your mother said you were ‘too old for.’ So even with the shred of doubt that fluttered in the pit of your stomach you accepted. Delighting in the whiff of cologne and the warmth you got resting your head on his shoulder. Supported by his forearm you enjoyed your elevated view of the tank. Continuing to look past his locks to watch the tank get smaller as you were carried away, you didn’t turn until you heard the familiar chuckles of the J and F brothers. Both were dressed in their usual tuxedos coming down the stairs with smiles wide and teeth as sharp as sharks.

Greeting you with a smile the J-brother spoke first. “Hello, little one. Heading to the second floor?”

You looked to Azul, who answered for you.

“The third actually…that is if it’s clean up there.”

The silence between them was telling enough, between them that is. For as many times as you flip your head back and forth between them only noting the shared eye contact. And suddenly everyone was smiling again.

“Yup! Clean as a newborn’s butt!”

“Floyd.”

“Hehehe have fun!”

The F-brother giggled to himself poking at your tummy with his claw-like fingers before skipping down the steps. With a light bow of his head, the J brother followed with a smaller smile and a gloved hand on his chest.

“We’ll keep the Mistress company.”

“Thank you, Jade.”

Azul continued up the steps, you peeked slightly over his shoulder as the brothers went through the double doors of his office. As if to get your attention again Azul pats your back bringing your attention back to him.

“How have you liked your new bedroom?”

The topic came from nowhere. The last thing you were thinking about was the giant bedroom you were suddenly expected to be comfortable in. Aside from the unfamiliarity of the whole building, you felt like your new room wasn’t yours. Not that you missed the crack you’ve seen the uninvited rats squeeze through or the dingy smell of the mold behind the dresser. It was just new.

“It’s good.”

“Really? How so?”

Yikes. You didn’t think he’d ask for more.

“I dunno.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“So you don’t like the room, huh?”

Your cheeks felt hot as he triumphantly held a smirk. Holding your hands over your face you hoped it’d hide your guilt from lying. Gentle prodding against your curtain of fingers had you opening up to peer at the chuckling businessman.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

You tucked your head against his shoulder, hiding your eyes and muffling your voice as you apologized.

“Don’t be sorry you're being honest now and that’s what counts.”

Quickly stepping onto the third flight of stairs you immediately distinguish the change of floors with the even lower lighting. Rather than the tasteful purple-shaded lighting above every four tables, the only thing that illuminated the room was a runway collection of violet floor lights. You couldn’t make out the chairs or the tables all that well only vaguely registering different textures of what was nearby.

Azul masterfully walked across the floor, maneuvering obstacles that remained invisible to your eyes. Looking around with a renewed fervor you tried to find the fish tank’s top, finding nothing with your limited sight. With a hand on your back, Azul soothed your searching as he came to a specific spot on the floor; quickly snatching a tarp off the ground to reveal what you’d been searching for.

A giant metallic circle filled with water that was rippling with various little waves that promised life below. It surprised you that you couldn’t even see the lighting of the other parts of the tank below.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well I’m sure you know the Angler fish isn’t typically used to light,” he adjusted his hold on you, “so we’ll have to be patient.”

As if that were some magic word a ball of light illuminated the surface of the water revealing its owner to be the fish you’d been looking for. With a hanging ball of light, the Angler fish was like one in the books except with some minor changes.

“Why is…everything so big?”

Big was putting it lightly. Its teeth were incredibly long and sharp, snaggling outside of its mouth. Its size was much larger than books estimated and its stomach was enlarged with whatever it had recently eaten.

“Do you know what angler fish usually eat?”

“Shrimp and small fish?”

“Good job. But we have a very…different diet for our angler.”

“What’s he eat?”

He didn’t respond. You turned your head to him barely making out his smiling face in the dark. He kept his eyes on the rumbling water even as the angler’s glowing light disappeared. He continued to stare at the unclear waters. Realizing your fists were clenched tightly on his dress shirt you shakily released your hold. Bringing your sweaty hand to your shirt you held the spot where your heart was palpitating exponentially.

“Are you okay? You scared?”

Just like that, his attention was on you, prepared to take you away at a moment's notice. You frantically told him you were not, that you were excitedly looking at the angler fish. But your hands were still tightly holding onto his dress shirt, fidgeting occasionally as the light of the angler appeared now and then.

“(Y/n) It’s okay if you are. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Uh okay.”

“So don’t be afraid to tell me, okay?”

“Uhm okay…why is there a shoe in there?”

Both of you watched as a man’s dress shoe drifted by. Occasionally lit up by the angler’s unsuccessful snapping at the shoe. It looked as though the fish was playing with it, bringing a smile to your face.

“Uhhh how about we go join your mother downstairs.”

“Awwww.”

“And maybe we can talk to her about getting you a tank in your own room.”

“What?! Really?”

“Yes anything for you, my Pearl.”

______________________________________________________________

Azul felt his latest occupation wasn’t going to be that hard. Specifically in comparison to his current agency as the underworld’s classiest and savvy business for all things. A liquidator of dirty money and the wish maker through contracts; Azul Ashengrotto was not a man to be taken lightly. Not to mention his close ties with the Leech Mafia.

So being a father couldn’t nearly be that hard.

And to some degree, it wasn’t.

It was harder.

When taking up the nighttime routine of a 5 year-old many things were meant to be taken into account. Like the precise temperature of their late-night cup of milk—which was exactly 50 degrees Celsius. Or the very specific wash routine that had to be done, which included having an emotional intervention for a rubber duck that was spouting mold. Or the reading of the storybook that required he voices five different characters.

It was exhausting but so much more fulfilling at the end of the routine when he was asked to lean beside the bed.

“Mom doesn’t do all the stuff you do….so thank you. Goodnight.”

The whispers and a thankful peck along his cheek were like the sun’s ray gracing the deep depths. For once he returned the gesture and closed the door he returned to his nightly throne as a contractor of the deep and depraved. Smiling pridefully as he arrived at the final meeting of a man whose debts would never be paid.

“Excuse me for my misplaced smile, the joys of familyhood truly are a wonder.”

He felt no remorse as Floyd proceeded to smash his face along the table or when he began to plea for his own family after the first tooth was pulled. A sense of disgust filled him to make such soundless gambles when he’d been gifted light itself. It made the final squelch of his last breath that much more earned in Azul’s opinion.

The infamous contractor never intended to be a father; at least not in the legal sense. He figured the closest he’d ever get to a child was when he needed to convince one to forfeit their inheritance—an easy task he’d done before.

But then again life never goes the way we plan.

In a way, it has its own chart. It’s own map that leads to a series of coincidences and chance encounters.

One of those being the unofficial radar of his two right-hand men Jade and Floyd Leech. The twins enjoyed the entertainment that came from chasing down his debtees and those who wished to thwart his clientele. It gave them an excuse from the family business and kept them out of enough trouble to satisfy their parents.

That being said a menial task now and then wasn’t unappreciated. As much as the other half would complain Jade didn’t mind going to the lower side of the city to pick up not only information but a large bag of cheap fish to feed the mutated monstrosities Azul kept getting gifted.

So of course he’d begun to notice the wide-eyed shrimp watching the sick creatures swim about. A window of the innocence he seldom saw in his line of work. Floyd would agree, having fought the urge to surprise the little shrimp on their walk home. But that wasn’t when Azul met them only hearing the vague chuckles and pointed smiles as the twins mused about their travels.

For Azul, it was the woman who’d made a name for herself so soon. Far from being as big as him, she still made it to the ears of his clientele who spoke fondly of her. Known for her business savvy, smooth-talking, and confident personality she’d been able to get into the good graces of many of the underworld’s giants. Something Azul needed, more than ever. As far as he’s concerned as of now she was a mere fox only able to slip around obvious cracks but Azul didn’t mind making gold out of silver.

It seemed like a small exchange: get a partner who could further his influence for the small chore of protecting her. It also gave him an easy out; to say he wouldn’t be bothered should someone come to clean their hands of her was an understatement.

The only problem was that there was a child.

It wasn’t a problem. He’d never call it a problem without it being an obstacle to an otherwise perfect contract. It’d help his image but should he get attached there would truly be a weakness acquired in this partnership. Bringing up this concern didn’t settle his hesitance.

“Whatever we have to do we’ll do it. Besides the kid’s not going to do much of anything, they're good.”

Appearing with a faux weakness was one thing but appearing with a weakness that wasn’t was a concern. Azul debated if it was worth it weighing the opinions of the suddenly invested Leech twins.

“I say we give it a trial period.”

“Trial period?”

“After all typical courting comes before marriage otherwise there’d be room for doubt.”

“I see.”

In no time at all the process would begin where he’d get to know not only the ins and outs of his wife-to-be but the little child who’d been peeking at the top of the rickety staircase. The door of the home she lived in nearly came off its hinges with Jade’s gentle prodding. What’s worse was the musk of fungus growing behind the worn walls and the emptiness felt with the lack of furniture.

“This place–”

“--Is a dump.”

“Floyd you shouldn’t be honest when it comes to these kinds of homes.”

“Jade, Floyd be nice.”

Somehow it becomes that much worse when she finally coaxes a little five year old down to greet them. The way small worn shoes avoid certain stairs and the way they run past a crack in the floor as though something had bitten you there before. And the robotic greeting given upon the woman's command.

He felt gross. Not just because he’s seen three different vermin while conversing with the woman or the suspicious screaming she said to ignore. But because a child was living through this.

Even worse the woman didn’t seem overly concerned and more likely peeved that he was curious at all.

“Why do you keep asking about them? Is it really that big a deal?”

So he’s crafty about when is he not saying he’ll send the child off with Jade or Floyd so that the adults can focus on one another. The problem with this is the woman’s insistence that such attention isn’t necessary. Unclear about whether it’s a defense mechanic or an inclination for negligence but he feels the need to play dirty a bit–staging situations that force the kid to be babysat by one of the Leech brothers.

“Don’t give them trouble.”

“Okay.”

What he hears back on the not-so-detailed reports from his favorite employees are all extremely positive. Unfortunately being positive doesn’t count for all the concerning information they happen to pick up along the way.

“Yeah, they said something about the rats in the walls.”

“What did they say?”

“Mmm I don’t remember but they really liked that restaurant though.”

“Floyd!”

Jade is almost worse. Able to record clear likes and dislikes properly he refuses to share. Saying something about ‘doing his own investigation’ while he holds the ‘gifts’ he’s earned close to his chest. He is maliciously vague about the closeness of his newfound friendship with the child who doesn’t speak to Azul unless commanded to.

He’s changed that now. With a ring on his finger and a new partner in the business, he’s able to start a relationship with a child he’s been worrying about for a while now. Finally able to sneak into that glass- border that he’s been worriedly looking through for so long now; he can finally make a difference.

Technically his work should be done. With a safe home, healthy food, and proper access to health care he should be able to step back and rest easy. But he can’t. Not at all now that he’s seen the innocent wonder he gets ‘playing’ the role of a father.

“I thought your meeting ended thirty minutes ago.”

“It did but I ran into (Y/n).”

“Ugh did they break something? I can tell them to not touch anything.”

“No, they were only interested in the tank's latest edition.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice did they get to feed it?”

“...No. It’s controversial to show a child something so dark.”

“Hmm, I’m sure they’ve seen worse. Anyway, let’s talk about this asset, when I last checked it was booming.”

He couldn’t kill her. The custody wouldn’t go to him. She off-handedly mentioned you’d go back to her family which she left for reasons she refused to share. It was too risky to leave it up to chance that the family she’d leave behind would even be willing to give his child back.

Azul played with the idea of putting her in a comatose state but Jade reminded him that it’d be a weakness to have her immobile. The allies she’s made, the reputation he’s built, the sadness that’d no doubt plague the little mind he’d hoped to protect. Having an obstacle that would constantly demand the attention of his child was a bit too far….for the time being.

So for now he’d simply get you acclimated, become your favorite keeper, and relocate you when the time was right. You’ve been through so much he’ll focus on boosting your morale. This kind of care takes time and energy; using the elimination method to slowly take out the parasites in your newly acquired tank.

But no worries, like the smart cephalopod he is he can wait until the perfect time to strike. After all, cleansing unnecessary parasites with crippling contracts was his specialty.

“Yes, let’s begin negotiations.”

#yandere platonic #yandere platonic azul ashengrotto #platonic yandere #platonic yandere x child reader #platonic yandere x reader #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul

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fiveht · 2 months

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Proof of life (Adore pt 3)

Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️

I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.

Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.

So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.

This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.

Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.

Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.

He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.

It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.

He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.

The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.

He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.

Rieka: let's go out tomorrow

Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal

Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks

Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.

Me: got plans

Me: raincheck?

So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?

Rieka: booooo 👎

He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.

Me: i'm ready

Me: are you in your office?

Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes

Daddy: Want me to call?

Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.

"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.

"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"

There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"

"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.

"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."

He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."

"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.

He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.

"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."

Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."

"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.

"Tell me how."

"I'm not gonna touch."

"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."

"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"

"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."

Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here.

The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.

"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.

"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.

"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."

Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."

"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"

"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"

"Mmmm, surprise me."

"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions?

Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.

"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."

Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.

There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair.

"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."

"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges.

"Tell me why."

"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."

"Good boy."

Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.

"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"

"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."

"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.

#and i disappear into the night once again #turned off anon asks for the time being #sorry i love you guys i'm just awkward

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valleydean · 4 months

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Sweet Science [a Heavyweight timestamp]

Part of 12 Days of Smutmas Read on AO3 | Read Heavyweight For River

Part One: Sleigh/Slay

These days, most of the fans stood outside the arena, straining their ears in an attempt to hear the commentator’s booming voice from within over the honking car horns on the street. Somehow, they would find out the results of the bout and swarm beneath the marquee for the victor’s autograph—for a chance to relive even a fraction of the glitz and glamor that had slipped from New York’s grasp and shattered on the floor like a delicate pearl necklace.

In hindsight, the roar of the 1920s was always bound to be silenced. The ‘30s were more of a whimper.

Supper clubs shuttered their doors. Speakeasies were a memory of the past since the repeal of Volstead. Central Park was a city within a city, made of tents and campfires, as more people failed to pay their rent. Most couldn’t afford to feed their children. It went without saying that they no longer had the money to spend on frivolous things like tickets to boxing bouts.

Castiel had certainly felt the difference in his own wallet. Even as a four-year heavyweight world champion, the money was dwindling. The cash prizes were mere fractions of what they had once been. All over the country, fighters had to hang up their gloves and find day work in the factories and mills, vying for spare cash along with the rest of the masses huddled at the tall fences, hands covered in soot and oil.

Dean had even started picking up shifts at the car garage beneath Winchester’s Gym. Castiel had found himself alongside Jack in the shipyards of Brooklyn more than once, hauling imported goods from the barges to trucks. There, no one bat an eye at him. He was treated the same as everyone else who had been fortunate enough to find a wage for the day.

It was safe to say the glory days of boxing were over.

But, walking through the crowd of fans under the marquee beside Dean that night, it was easy to pretend they were still in the halcyon heyday of the sport. Dean had won his bout by knockout in the ninth round. There hadn’t even been the need for an eight count. The commentator had cheered through the speakers, “Pretty Boy Winchester slays the competition and wins the night!”

The crowd pressed in, practically throwing themselves over the barriers, waving pens and pieces of paper. All of them were wrapped up in patched coats and mended, dulled clothes that were at least five years old.

“Mr. Winchester! Mr. Winchester!” they shouted, trying to get his attention. Flashes from handheld cameras washed out the bandages and red cuts on Dean’s face in bursts. Stars were in Castiel’s eyes just from looking at him.

“Mr. Novak! Over here!”

Castiel scribbled his name on whatever was shoved into his face as quickly as he could. Distantly, he wondered how many of these autographs would be sold to make ends meat. Usually, he’d be happy to help feed a family for a day or two with nothing but his signature, but not tonight.

Half of his attention was constantly on the car waiting for them in front of the sidewalk. He needed to get home to pack. It was late, and he and Dean had planned to get up early to drive upstate.

In lieu of Christmas gifts that year, he and Dean had rented a room at a mountain house an hour outside of Manhattan. They would be there through the New Year. It would do them well, Castiel thought, to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city for a while. Besides, now that Sam and his wife, Eileen, had moved back in, in conjunction with working so much, it had been some time since Castiel had Dean all to himself. He was looking forward to it.

More than that, he was impatient for it. Logically, he knew rushing Dean wouldn’t bring the morning any faster, but it was worth a shot.

He shot Dean a look, silently telling him it was time to go. Dean seemed to get the message. He took a step back from the barrier and the hands reaching for him and shouted, “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

The crowd delighted in that, even though it was the day after Christmas.

Castiel waved toward them in general before beelining to the rumbling car. Exhaust coughed out of it into the late December air. Dirty snowbanks melted to slush on the sidewalks. He slipped into the backseat and shimmied over to the far door. Dean got in after him. The driver closed the door after him and started walking around the car. While he was out of sight, Dean grabbed Castiel by the tie and yanked him in for a hard kiss. Castiel melted into it.

He lingered close to Dean’s lips while he said, “Congratulations.”

The driver’s door clicked open, and Dean pulled away. It was a shame. Dean was so warm. The chill of the night hadn’t left Castiel’s bones yet. He rubbed his hands together. Out of sight from the front seat, Dean clasped his hand atop Castiel’s thigh and dragged it up and down.

The car started moving.

“Extra cash is gonna come in handy for New Year’s, huh?” Dean said, patting his breast pocket where the envelope of his earnings was stored. After his team was paid, he was left with a little left than $100. “I mean, gonna have to set some aside so Sammy and Eileen can buy groceries for the week, but—” He shrugged, like it was of little consequence.

Dean was no stranger to living with limited funds. He’d done it for most of his life. But Castiel had thought those days had been over for him. Dean deserved to not have to worry about such things.

“We can have a nice dinner at the inn’s restaurant. My treat,” Dean finished with a grin.

Castiel tried to smile at that, despite the guilt mixing inside of him at the reminder of their limited funds.

There was something Castiel had wanted to tell Dean during their trip, but he didn’t know how Dean would take it. After all, it wasn’t exactly the ideal time to retire.

But it wasn’t just the sport of boxing that had crested its prime. Castiel had, too. He was thirty-three years old, and every punch, every blow, every injury was taking a toll on his body more than it had before. His recovery time seemed to take longer after every bout, and many of the aches remained inside his body, becoming a part of his muscles and bones. He was getting slower, more tired. He’d even fractured his jaw again last year, and the bone still hurt when it was cold out.

He was getting old. At least, too old to be a professional athlete. It had taken a long time for him to let go of his pride and admit that to himself. After that, it was easy to make the decision.

He’d already told Michael and the rest of the Garrison team: next year would be his last.

It was time for a new champion to take his place.

He’d been putting off breaking the news to Dean. But he was running out of time. Balthazar and Gabriel were set to make the announcement public in the first week of the year. Castiel was tempted to let Dean find out in the papers, but that would only make Dean angrier. It was probably a bad idea.

“Well, then I’ll buy the most expensive thing on the menu,” Castiel attempted to joke.

Dean scoffed out a laugh. He squeezed Castiel’s leg and let his hand rest there, high up. His thumb stroked the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

The motion made all the dread of telling Dean about retiring drain away, at least for the moment. Castiel only focused on the heat of Dean’s touch. He met Dean’s eyes, seeing the suggestive curve of Dean’s lips and the way his eyes darkened.

Castiel became even more impatient to get Dean alone for days.

///

Bear Mountain House was a stone and wood structure in New York’s section of the Appalachian Trail. The spacious grounds were home to scenic overlooks, hiking trails in the warmer months, an ice-skating rink, and hunting and fishing cabins.

As Dean’s Chevrolet wound its way up the mountain, Castiel watched men coming in and out of the camps of hired workers. They tended to the grounds and roads, blasted rocks from the mountain to load into trucks to take the overlook tower they were constructing at the summit. Most of them were no doubt from the city, sending money home to their families when they could.

In the picnic area, the laborers huddled over the bowls of soup and bread that were being ladled out from a giant pot for lunch. There was a line of more hungry men waiting for their turn. The fluffy snow blanketing the mountain range was jarringly picturesque around them.

The view was much more fitting when they reached the mountain house. The inside of the lobby was both rustic and opulent with its high ceilings and grand fireplaces. Carolers in overcoats serenading the guests the lounge area with an angelic rendition of Silent Night.

Their room, when they reached it, was expansive, with furniture made of light wood and tartan blankets on the bed. The walls were paneled, and paintings depicting nature hung from them. Across the room, velvet curtains were drawn open over the large window. Castiel put his bag on the bed closest to the door and wandered over to peer out at the vista.

The sky was clear blue over the barren, snow-covered trees. Without the obstruction of their leaves, Castiel could see a glimpse of the gray Hudson River. Mountains rose up in the blue distance. It felt like they were lifetimes away from the city.

In fact, so high up, he felt as if he was floating far above the entire world. On top of it.

It may very well be the final time he ever felt that way.

Below, people in winter gear waded through the snow. His eyes landed on specks of tourists sledding down an incline. Others were ice skating in the rink. But what drew his attention the most was the red sleigh gliding over the snow, its bright color sticking out like a neon light. Horses pulled it, giving the visitors inside a ride. Castiel could hear the jingle of its bells muffled by the window.

Behind him, Castiel heard Dean set his own bag on the bed and pace closer. Two warm arms wrapped around Castiel’s middle. Dean pressed his chest to Castiel’s back and pecked a kiss on the back of his neck. Then, he hooked his chin over Castiel’s shoulder to look out the window.

“Not bad,” he remarked. Then, a touch more excited, “Hey, check that out.”

“The sleigh?” Castiel asked.

He felt Dean nod. “That’s pretty awesome. We should do that.”

Castiel set his hands over Dean’s on his stomach. “We can do whatever you’d like,” he promised. “Later.”

Dean hummed. “You got something in mind in the meantime, baby?” His mouth, hotter now, was on the back of Castiel’s neck again.

One corner of Castiel’s lips pulled up. Anticipatory heat curled through his abdomen. He turned around in Dean’s arms, circled his own on Dean’s waist. He splayed his palms on the small of Dean’s back. “Yes,” he answered before kissing Dean deeply.

Dean groaned contentedly into it. He tightened his arms around Castiel and turned them around, their shoes and knees knocking together while Castiel let himself be led. The back of his legs hit against the bed. Dean lowered him down on top of the covers. Castiel’s legs were bent over the end of the mattress. He rounded one hand around the back of Dean’s neck, used his fingers to card through Dean’s hair. He kissed Dean’s face, careful to give gentle attention to the cuts and bruises.

Dean hummed when Castiel kissed the bruise on the bolt of Dean’s jaw. Dean always loved when Castiel kissed his wounds.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered to him. Even after all these years, it was a thrill just to say it.

“You a sleigh?” Dean asked, apropos of nothing. He lifted his head slightly, grinning salaciously down at Castiel, who frowned in question. “’Cause I’m about you ride you.”

Castiel sighed at the terrible joke. It only made Dean rumble more in laughter. Castiel felt the vibrations of it where their bodies were flush together.

“Fine,” Castiel relented, yanking at the back of Dean’s shirt. He played along, “We’ll need a slick surface for that.”

Dean wiggled his brows, his green eyes alight and beautiful. “Got just the thing.” He pressed another long kiss to Castiel’s lips before getting up with a grunt and moving to fish through his luggage.

Castiel shimmied up the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. It wasn’t long until Dean was back. He tossed the jar of Vaseline on the bed and straddled Castiel’s lap. Dean unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt the rest of the way, kissing him again all the while.

Castiel took his time with Dean, just because he could.

Outside, the tinkling of the sleigh bells rang through the cold air.

#SPN Smutmas #SPNSmutmas #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #dean winchester #dean #cas #castiel #my writing #heavyweight #my post #boxing au

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peppermint-toads · 2 years

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eddie saves up for a handheld video camera and puts it to good use

cw: piv sex, sex tape

The biggest advance in movie-making since the talkies.

The box had advertised, along with a whole three hours of recording time. It was the best on the market, Eddie had been overcharging jocks for weeks to afford it.

He shrugged. “Three hours should be enough.”

⁂

“Smile nice and big.”

He squinted his left eye, looking into the camera.

“That’s perfect, sweetheart. Hold still, just like that.” He directed you with ease, knowing exactly what he wanted.

You could faintly see your distorted reflection in the curved lens, and you looked like a complete mess.

You gave a weak smile that was complemented so perfectly by the salty tears staining your cheeks.

Your panties were wedged between your puffy folds. Earlier Eddie had pulled them up as high as he could just to see you squirm and whimper. He had left them like that, and occasionally you would grind your clit onto the wet fabric. He liked when you did that.

Your stomach was covered in a glistening layer of cum and spit, the transparent sheen picking up beautifully on camera. Eddie smiled at the sight, kanines glinting mischievously.

Your eyebrows knit together as if to say please, Eddie, that’s enough.

He cooed. “Alright, alright. I just wanna get one more thing.”

He panned the camera down, and pulled your panties from your cunt and to the side, strings of wetness clinging to the cotton as he did.

His rings clinked against his belt as he tugged it off with one hand, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

All of a sudden he was shoving his cock in your abused hole, and your mouth fell open.

“Jesus fucking christ, Eddie!” You groaned.

He zoomed in nice and tight on your pinched face as he split you open. His hand trailed up your torso, lingering between your breasts before curling around your jaw. His thumb caressed your cheek, wiping away your pretty tears.

“Just like that.” He smiled.

TAGLIST: @sunsetenigma @loveyru @hbaramas @smolserpent

kisses from me and eds<3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson drabble

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ponett · 1 year

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i do have kind of complex feelings about being able to so easily [acquire] 3ds games now, honestly. not like, morally, but more like... the chase is always a big part of the fun in collecting, even with video games. and while the 3ds may have been "dead" in the switch era, i still had games i needed to pick up for it someday, and that made it feel like my time with the 3ds was still ongoing. it was just on the backburner

now i can just... go on a homebrew app on my 3ds and install all of those remaining games to my memory card and be done collecting. they're just more games on my pile of shame now. it's kind of anticlimactic, and kind of sad to scroll through the list of games to remind myself of the ones i missed and realize that that library really is finite now (homebrew notwithstanding)

and as my go-to handheld throughout my late teens and early 20s, a very rocky period of my life, i'm pretty attached to that little thing. it was the first new system i bought on launch day. my mom and i were pretty broke at the time following her and my dad's divorce, and i never would've been able to afford one. but i bought my original model teal 3ds (which has since been replaced with a new 3ds xl) on launch day with the cash i'd won in a school graphic design contest for designing a shitty logo for a local business. that felt like such a lucky break at a time when i really needed one. and then i had to suffer through the early days of the 3ds library where i was so fucking desperate that i bought a copy of steel diver. but by god, i was determined to squeeze every minute of fun i could out of that thing. i guess nintendo winding down support and me returning to my freshly hacked system is making me reflect on that whole era of my life

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crazydiscostu · 5 months

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Trimui Smart Pro TG5040 (GoGameGeek)

Mobile gaming much?

The Trimui Smart Pro TG5040 boasts the latest Allwinner A133P Processor and promises a flawless 60Hz FPS performance, ensuring smooth gameplay across a diverse range of retro games. Today we delve into the intricacies of this 2023 release, exploring the specifications and what sets it apart in an already-overcrowded market. Product supplied for review purposes Smart Pro TG5040 The Trimui Smart…

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what-even-is-thiss · 10 months

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Hello Mr. Roman What-even-is-thiss, may I kindly inquire if you by any chance know how to decrease a pride flag? It has even been washed, and yet, the folds from how it was packaged remain.

With kind regards, someone too coward to not be anon

My first choice would be a steamer but most people don’t own those so assuming you have a cheap polyester one which most people do try an iron on low heat. If your flag is made of nylon, you can still iron it but make sure you put a bit of scrap fabric between the iron and your flag. A piece of an old t-shirt you no longer wear will do nicely if you don’t have any scrap fabric lying around.

If you want a steamer for yourself, they make relatively affordable handheld ones for about 20-40 bucks. Here’s a video on how to use one if you’re interested:

youtube

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justalittlesolarpunk · 10 months

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This is my last post before I head off on my ten-day minimal-internet tidalpunk adventure (expect pics when I return!) so I thought I’d make a nice long list-type thing for all you solarpunks before I go.

Now, this might not seem very cheerful compared to my other topics - certainly all the people I’ve brought this up with irl have acted like I’m being alarmist and depressing, but I don’t see it that way. I view it as being prepared and maximising your ability to keep yourself and your community safe, which is after all what solarpunk is all about!

So without further ado, here is my *extremely idealised* suggestion for an emergency kit list to help you cope with increasingly frequent and severe extreme weather events. The goal is that with the supplies in this bag you could either shelter safely in place or get up and go, and be well supplied in either case to care for yourself and share with those in need. In fact, in both scenarios you would hopefully be able to temporarily ‘start from scratch’ in terms of infrastructure should the frameworks of society around you no longer be reliable. I based mine off suggestions by climate scientist Kendra Pierre-Louis (you can check out her advice on the ‘Unnatural Disasters’ episode of the How To Save A Planet Podcast), but yours might look subtly different depending on who you are, what you can afford/carry, and where you live.

Emergency kit list:

-Big hiking rucksack, to keep everything in

-Sleeping bag

-A small portable tent and camping stove

-A penknife or multi tool

-Matches or a lighter

-Kindling or firestarters - I use wood wool balls held together with wax

-Torch (with up to date batteries!)

-Towels

-Non-perishable or long-life foods, such as protein bars, rice cakes/breadsticks/crackers, dried fruit, bagged nuts/seeds, crisps, tinned soup, pot noodles

-A seedbomb of edible plants (you can get some for slightly excessive prices here in the UK, otherwise they can be made fairly easily by combining clay, straw, paper or flour with the desired seeds)

-Two large water bottles (600-650ml) and a water bladder

-A water purifier (preferably one capable of filtering out both natural pathogens like bacteria and viruses and synthetic pollutants like heavy metals and PFAS)

-A collapsible bucket

-A first aid kit, including plasters, bandages, sterile wipes, hand sanitiser, latex gloves, antiseptic/disinfectant, (K)N95 masks to filter out particulates (whether ash or pathogens), painkillers, antihistamines, rehydration sachets, anti-emetics and anti-diarrhoeals, steroid creams, aloe vera gel, iodine tablets in case of radiation, and any medication you regularly take (including epipens and inhalers if needed)

-A pair of goggles to protect your eyes from air pollution such as smog, wildfire smoke, etc

-Toothpaste tablets and a spare toothbrush

-Period supplies (pack these even if you don’t get periods - someone you run into might need them)

-A solar charger

-A satellite phone

-A mechanical handheld fan, with working batteries, to keep you cool in extreme heat

-A magnetic heat belt for extra warmth

-A change of clothes, including a sun hat, a scarf, woolly hat and gloves for extreme cold, and waterproofs (plus an umbrella!) for wet conditions

-Pliers or secateurs for cutting through dense debris or vegetation

-Some strong, climbing-grade rope

-A trowel (for planting and digging up but also for burying…waste 😅 - a long-term wild camping scenario isn’t infeasible here)

-Your passport and any other documents (marriage certificate, adoption papers, savings bonds if you’re like a hundred years old) that you might need if fleeing your country becomes a necessity

-As much cash as you are comfortable withdrawing/leaving lying around your house/carrying with you in an emergency

-A personal locator beacon is a radio-transmitter that signals your location to emergency services via satellite. These tend to have a 24-hour battery life, so if you foresee being in any way ‘stranded’ for longer then a useful trick is to switch it on for one hour each day, and then turn it off again. This not only saves power but shows emergency services that there is conscious intention involved, proving you’re still alive and lucid

-Some things to keep your spirits up, like a chocolate bar and your favourite/funniest book

-It’s worth having a sturdy pair of hiking boots for if you have to pick up the bag and go

Obviously this list is super extra, a bunch of these things are prohibitively expensive, and some items would need periodic replacement if a long time passed without the necessity of using the emergency kit. You could also likely build a fairly functional emergency kit with only a fraction of these supplies, I’m just trying to anticipate every eventuality here.

It’s up to you whether you think the investment is worth it - it’s a big outlay for a possible zero return. Personally I think it’s at least somewhat worth it as extreme weather is only going to happen more often and have more serious consequences, and preparedness turns what could be a disaster into an inconvenience, often saving money in the long run. But it will depend on the relative likelihood of severe weather events in your local area. It’s also worth saying that these work for ostensibly non-climate related problems, from a power cut in your town to an authoritarian coup in your government to your house falling down! It isn’t just for wildfires or tornadoes.

Over the next few months I’m hoping to slowly build up the aspects of the kit that are affordable and accessible to me, with the aim of being able to keep myself safe and aid my neighbours should disaster strike.

#solarpunk #disaster preparedness #community care #hopepunk #cottagepunk #environmentalism #social justice #climate change #extreme weather #natural disasters #readiness #obvs all of this stuff is pretty intense but I thought it was worth making the list #also like it’s so expensive I acknowledge especially as I’ve tried not to put Amazon links #how to save a planet #Kendra Pierre-Louis #links mostly for reference #these are just suggestions do what you think is best

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imaginedreamwrite · 9 months

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Happier Than Ever

Part 4: Fate Thou Art Twisted

“My base is your base.” The words were reminiscent of what Colonel Vargas had said before, when Ghost mentioned Commander Graves of the Shadows assisting in finding Hassan.

The join task force would hunt Hassan down in the hills he was hiding in, leaving no single crevice in that hideout uncovered. There was no probability of failing, this mission had to be a success, and whatever missiles Hassan had, needed to be found.

With the weight of more than just American lives on the line, the task given by General Shepherd and Laswell couldn’t afford any small measure of force. There would have to be an unseemly pressure put on Hassan and the hills he was hiding in.

“You good for this?” Soap had questioned you again, as if you had the opportunity to back down, as if you could change your mind and head back to the US. “You’re heading into gunfire.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Your heart was racing, and dread had settled in your stomach. It was your 4th mission with Ghost & Soap, and you’d yet to gather or steel your nerves. Not like they had, and not how you particularly should have.

You followed Soap & Ghost into the armoury, standing nearby as they grabbed ammunition and assault rifles, checking the weapons over. There was no shortage of artillery here, heavy and handheld weapons to kill or disarm, another necessary adage to the mission.

While you were a medic, and you had completed your nursing degree, you weren’t necessarily a soldier. You had gone through your 6 weeks basic training, you had learned to survive in a war zone, as best as Alex Keller could teach you.

You had gone through your crash courses, you had gone through as much training to solidify your skills as a combat medic. Pushing yourself through every necessary test to get your rank as private, you hadn’t faltered.

You completed your training, but you were not like Soap & Ghost. You wanted to put your focus on keeping them alive, on keeping them breathing.

“Take the damn gun.” A smaller rifle was handed to you, an order from Ghost.

As your CO, he had been responsible for yourself and Soap, and any fatalities were purely his responsibility. “And keep your head on straight.”

“An XM7,” Soap had spoken over Ghost, tapping the barrel of the gun with his fingers, twice, and then looked over his shoulder, “sergeant Parra is taking you to the med-bay. Get whatever supplies you need, we leave in 10.”

He already had his gear on, with the Kevlar bulletproof vest that bared the flag of his country, his rank, and the emblem belonging to Los Vaqueros. His vest was similar to Ghost & Soap’s, the indicators that would lead anyone to know that they were soldiers.

Unlike the soldiers' bulletproof vests, your tactical vest was emboldened with MEDIC, in English, in bright white letters at the front, with MÉDICO, in Spanish, below.

As on the front, there were the same distinguishing patches on the back of your vest, accompanied by a caduceus, a snake, and a pair of wings to symbolize your status as a healer rather than a fighter. A commonality among the three of you was the flag from your countries, a patch that identified just how international this mission was.

“Leave in ten.” You nodded your head, acknowledging the order Ghost had given you, and then you stepped toward Sergeant Major Parra.

He was waiting for you, and had reviewed you once, before he directed his attention behind him with a nod of his head.

When you first approached, you noticed his hands were held behind his back, though when he began walking with you, they dropped to his sides. As you walked with relative silence between you, you glanced over at him, rather of the identifying soulmate mark on his wrists.

One, you noted, was already emboldened and lined with black. One of the phrases was securely etched into his skin, as usual with marks like that, meaning he had found one; however, there was another out there.

You diverted your attention once you had reached the doors of the med-bay. The small clinic was dark upon your approach, something that had been rectified when you’d stepped inside. The automatic lights turned on, and you were greeted with shelves upon shelves of medical equipment.

“Take what you need.” Rudy Parra had leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you, waiting for you to gather some things.

“Yes sir.” You stepped toward one shelf, looking over the different kinds of bandages and gauze there was, and then further to the threads for stitching.

You grabbed what supplies you hadn’t already had, mostly newer gauze and bandages, some cold compresses and extra thread, before you took a side-eye toward the narcan. You reached for the glass vial, looking over the label before you closed your fingers around the bottle and shoved it into your bag.

“You don’t seem like the type to be in a fight like this,” Rudy’s voice had caught you off guard, and you’d looked over your shoulder toward him.

“I’ve got more interest in being a medic, or combat nurse, than I do physically being caught in gunfire. But… I’ve always wanted to be in medicine, I’ve always wanted to be a nurse.” You moved down the shelves and then hummed under your breath.

“Looking for something?” His accent was light, his voice was relatively calm as he stepped further into the med-bay, closer to you.

“Necesito un frasco de morfina.” It was just natural for you to ask in Spanish, given that he was a native-born Spanish speaker, and you’d never questioned yourself until Rudy looked at it with furrowed brows.

“Hablas español?” He reached above you, grabbing a few glass vials of the drug you were looking for, handing them down to you.

“Yeah, I’m… I wouldn’t say I’d be as fluent as someone who was born in Mexico, but I learned Spanish from the time I was 7 to 18.” You thanked him and placed the vials into your bag, feeling at odds with yourself for letting your second language slip.

“Es necesario en los Estados Unidos, no?” He didn’t question why you weren’t forthright with your ability to speak Spanish, rather, he’d questioned you about something related.

“The United States has a lot of Spanish speakers in the country. I don’t know if it's mandatory to learn it in school in every district, county or state, but in my school it was.” You took another look around the med-bay, double-checking your supplies and what you’d taken, before you zipped the top.

“Tu español es muy bueno.” Rudy held the door open for you when you finished.

“Gracias.” You stepped by him as he allowed you to step out first. It was while you were stepping by him that you tilted your head, eyeing the edges of his second soulmate mark.

The words were lined with an edge faint black, as if he had come in proximity to his soulmate, but the words themselves weren’t spoken. They were in Spanish, and while you had said the words in your head, you whispered them under your breath.

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez?” You whispered faintly under your breath, almost entirely incomprehensible.

You glanced toward the mark again and then looked away, your eyes drawn toward Soap & Ghost as they stood by the fleet of humvee’s. They were geared up, as usual, bearing weapons that were far more formidable than your own, even though yours had the same potential to maim and kill.

“PT!” Soap called your rank from across the open space, directing you toward a series of vehicles parked and waiting. “Move your ass!”

“Yes sir!” You walked directly to your CO’s, your gun by your side and ammo stashed in the pockets of your tactical vest.

There was a certain amount of tension in the base that was directly tied to the mission to find Hassan. It was a tension that overshadowed any previous anxiety you had, with the knowledge that this could be someone’s last day breathing.

This could be your last day breathing.

“Get your head screwed on right, lass. This could get ugly.” Upon approaching Soap, he motioned with a single nod to get into the vehicle beside Ghost, the position open for you.

You’d tossed your bag to the floor of the humvee and climbed inside, taking your place beside Ghost, while another soldier had taken his place to the right of you.

Ten minutes had been enough time for you to grab what you needed, to secure necessary and life-saving tools to keep them safe. It was also enough time for you to reveal yourself as someone who could not only understand Spanish but speak it fluently enough to carry a conversation.

You hadn’t been aware of Soap or Ghost wanting you to keep your ability to speak Spanish a secret forever. Nevertheless, there was a certain expectation that you’d act as their translator, and it was impossible to do so without someone, at some point, knowing you were bilingual.

“You good, kid?” Soap turned in the front passenger seat, looking back at you as Colonel Vargas drove. “You ready for this?”

“You’re three years older than me, if you call me kid, can I call you senile?” Your back and forth with Soap was ordinary for the two of you.

It was partially due to his boyish charm that never faded, and your relationship that was like brother and sister. You were friends, but it also felt like you were family.

Your comment drew a cold response from Ghost, a side-eye that you had grown used to when in his company. At this point, you hadn’t even known if he was aware of what he was doing, or if it was some natural reaction to the people around him.

However, if Ghost had given you a dirty look, then Soap was almost gleeful about the comment.

He had laughed, as he usually did, and shook his head, flipping you off over his shoulder. He was eased, far more than you were, yet not as calculated as Ghost was at the moment. He was the neutral point between the two of you, the balance between your anxiety laced anticipation and Ghost’s cold composure.

The drive away from the compound and base was quick. The trip toward the hills outside the city, that had been overrun by the Cartel and had been the hiding place of Hassan, had taken less than twenty minutes. The overhanging cliff side and rolling hills had come upon you, with a single road in and out of the encompassing stronghold.

As the vehicles had come to a stop, Colonel Vargas voice came through the earpiece in your right ear, the order firm. “Team leaders circle up on me. Weapons hot Vaqueros. Let’s move.”

You had followed Ghost out of the humvee, your medical bag and supplied thrown across your shoulder to drape on your hip. The XM7 rifle was heavier than you anticipated now that you were on the cusp of the first assault to find Hassan.

“You’re with me, private.” Ghost addressed with his usual calculated and neutral tone, an order that you couldn’t disregard.

You regarded his order with a nod of your head, and adjusted your grip on your rifle. You’d been placed here as a medic and your job was to keep them alive, you had the tools and the training to save their lives to the best of your ability in the field.

You had 6 weeks of basic training, you had been taught how to handle weapons. Alex Keller had taught you everything he could in six weeks to prepare yourself for missions like this. It was always a possibility that you would have to lean more into the military training rather than medical, and this was one of the moments you had been trained for.

Regardless of whether you wanted to classify yourself as a soldier or not, you were going to have to defend yourself if someone had come upon you without being stopped by the soldiers that had come before you.

“Where are they holding Hassan?” Soap approached Alejandro and Rudy, and almost immediately got an answer.

“White two-story building. Back of town.” Alejandro raised his hand, directing Soap’s attention to the village tucked behind 7 foot white sun-stained walls.

With the direction given, the soldiers had begun to move, their weapons raised and their guards up. They approached the first gate that kept the village contained, a thick wooden double set of doors that had remained barricaded.

“Todos los vencedores en espera.” Alejandro had spoken into the comm system, his voice echoing in your head as you approached the last soldier, hanging behind like you had usually done.

“Tres, dos, uno...ejecutar.... ejecutar!” The order was given, and the doors had been kicked open, the soldiers pouring into the compound.

A sense of resolve had taken over every sense you had, and your instincts lead you. You tuned out the world, centred your mind, and followed Ghost and Soap as they stormed the abandoned town like planned.

The houses were empty and used as storehouses or labs for whatever the cartel wanted. The civilians had fled the town, no safety within the walls of the village that was now taken over by the Las Almas Cartel.

“Down! Get down!” The first rounds of gunfire erupted, and you ducked behind cover as commanded, the tang of smoke from the ammunition spent stinging your nose.

This, all this around you, was the shadowy underbelly of the beautiful city.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*

You kept yourself quiet, studious as you dug through your bag and compartmentalized the hours between hitting the ground in Las Almas, and the moment you were in now. The gunfire in the abandoned village had resulted in finding out that Hassan had been there in the hideout, until he was moved.

Further up the river and in a secondary hideout is where they had found him hiding, with the assistance of Commander Graves and the Shadow Company. The joint Taskforce had succeeded in securing the terrorist to be questioned; however, there was little to be said about the methods of interrogation he may be hit with.

You had done the task given to you, you had succeeded being a combat nurse after another gunfight. Bullets were removed, gashes and wounds were secured and cleaned, and no one had lost their lives. It was a “success” by the standard; however, there was more to this task than anyone had even known.

You, as you sat on the sidelines and dug through your bag, had rattled nerves. It wasn’t just due to the gunfight you’d survived, it wasn’t just a circumstantial effect of patching up soldiers in the field.

No, this was something entirely different. And when all eyes were off you, you looked at your arms and felt your chest constrict.

“Maldito cabrón,” had been harshly yelled through the gunfire by the leader of Los Vaqueros, a fact that hadn’t hit you until you had a moment to think.

“Maldito hijo de puta,” had come through the communication system, something spoken by a voice you thought was Rudy Parra’s.

Both men, both Mexican special forces officers, had spoken the keywords to solidify themselves as your soulmates. And those key identifying words were ensconced in thick black lines, emboldened and complete. It was a moment that was life altering, coming at the worst possible time for you, and for them.

Still, you remained quiet about this revelation, and you distracted yourself by paying attention to the brief interrogation of Hassan, and the sound of his feet being dragged across the gravel. The only light had come from the yellow hued headlights of the truck and humvee that were driven here, one of which was Hassan’s escort.

“On your knees.” Soap had grabbed Hassan’s right arm, escorting him to the focal point before a camera as Alejandro removed his hood.

“Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves crouched under in front of a truck, adjusting the angle to get Hassan completely unveiled by the camera.

“Crystal.” General Shepherds voice echoed through the comm, and you leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, hands tucked under your chin.

“All set.” Laswell was the next to speak, the next to address in this interrogation effort, while Hassan was kept hostage.

“Alright. We are live, folks.” Commander Graves stood straight and walked toward Hassan, almost arrogantly, before stopping in front of him.

You were aware of Ghost’s position near the back of the truck, a position he took as a guard in case Hassan decided to bolt. Soap and Alejandro were standing behind Hassan, far enough away not to distort any recognition tactics.

“You speak Arabic?” Hassan’s hands were held behind his back, a set of stiff cuffs keeping him bound.

“No.” Graves stopped in front of Hassan, hands on his hips and a look of compressed disapproval on his face.

“Farsi?” Hassan’s lips began to form a smirk, another arrogant expression that was almost fitting for the mad bastard.

“No.” Graves replied with annoyance, and as he did, you could hear howling coyotes and the noises of nature at night in the background.

It was another reminder that although beautiful, there was more wilderness to this place than you realized.

“Of course not. Then I’ll speak your bastardized Medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” He looked around at you all, that same cocky half-smirk on his face, even as Graves stepped closer.

“Ahh, see...we’re getting off to a bad start, Hassan.” Graves, ever disappointed, kicked some gravel toward Hassan and shook his head.

“You’re talking to a Quds Force officer.”

“You're the commander of a foreign terror organization.” Graves continued the interrogation, a sight that you had briefly tuned out when you looked back at your wrists, and the soulmate identifying words that had now become a reality.

Fate had decided that it was time for you all to be intertwined. Fate, the fickle bitch, was not going to wait any longer and this was the time for you three to come together.

Regardless of circumstances or opportune timing.

Wildlife and coyotes yipped again, signalling more scurrying from the distance as the night carried on. You had lifted your head, directing your attention from the soulmate marks to the man being questioned. The terrorist still on his knees while Soap and Alejandro were nearby.

“I’m a hostage here, this is illegal.”

“You’re a prisoner of war.” Alejandro’s accent and husky voice had drawn your attention to the fearless leader, and dull heat boiled in your stomach as the recognition re-centred itself.

“Iran is not at war with Mexico. I’ve broken no laws. These men and their commanders are the lawbreakers.” He pulled against Alejandro’s hand, tugging twice before he was settled back into a place of submission at the colonels hands.

“You and your beloved general Ghorbani broke every—“ Soap had spoken, and a physical and verbal reaction from Hassan had made both men nearly lose their hold on him.

Hassan had stood with rage, he spoke with fury as he cut Soap off. “DO NOT SPEAK HIS NAME!”

“You executed him, and you will pay for your crimes—“ Hassan had looked at Soap, at all of you, like you were the scum of the earth.

You averted your eyes and shifted positions where you sat, just as heat blistered your stomach from the inside out. It was a visceral reaction to the settling bond that had been melded. Nothing more complicated than breathing, it was almost as natural.

The curse words in Spanish, inked on your skin as a gift from Fate, had now been completely visible and strengthened after being spoken. You wondered if you had managed to say the trigger words for them. If you’d managed to give them what they needed to feel this same heat.

“—without proof, we need to turn him loose, see where he leads.” Shepherd spoke again, a kind of finality in his tone.

“He’s right here, you can’t be serious.” Soap had taken an approach you knew was palatable, one that even you had felt.

If they let him go, would they find him again?

“Did we get anything from his phone?” Ghost spoke after looking down at the phone in his hands and then glancing toward the camera.

Laswell had remained silent for a single moment before she replied with something good, something minutely hopeful. “Affirmative. We got a hit.”

“Good, now take him back and let him go.” Shepherds order was forcibly accepted, and with a nod of his head, Ghost had signalled to Alejandro.

The bag was pulled, with force, over Hassan’s head and the terrorist was yanked to his feet. “Hasta el culo. vamos.”

He was being led away by Alejandro, the interrogation over. With this whole incident wrapped up open-ended, you had also risen to your feet. You yanked your medic bag up from the gravel road and slung the strap over your shoulder, feeling the thud against your hip.

“You really have to let him go?” You questioned Ghost, glancing slowly from Soap to himself, stepping toward the vehicle. “That’s bullshit.”

“That’s an order.” Ghost spoke plainly, matter-of-factly, tugging on the door handle to the truck. “Get your ass inside.”

“Todo puede ser lanzado al aire al menos una vez.” You muttered under your breath as you got into the truck, sliding to the rear driver's side.

“English, L/N.” Ghost took the rear passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

“Everything can be airdropped at least once.”

#Alejandro Vargas x female!Reader #Alejandro Vargas x reader #Alejandro Vargas x nurse!Reader #Alejandro Vargas x female!Reader x Rudy Parra #Rudy Parra x reader #Rudy Parra x female!Reader #Rudy Parra x nurse!Reader #Rudy Parra x female!Reader x Alejandro Vargas #Rudy Parra x reader x Alejandro Vargas #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #COD fan-fiction #Happier Than Ever #Happier Than Ever series #Happier Than Ever masterlist #Happier Than Ever part 4 #soulmate au #soulmates

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wigglebox · 1 year

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Not a copypasta do you know any good resources for knitting I have been trying to learn and I don't understand what I'm supposed to do even though there are instructions 🫠🫠

Sure nonny! I'm more experienced with crochet but I do have my favorite places to go for knitting stuff lol.

So I'm not sure if you're right handed or left handed — if you're left handed just come back and tell me because learning how to knit as a lefty is a little harder, only because you have to read patterns a little differently.

But, to get started, Very Pink Knits is my favorite youtube channel, she's really great at showing how to do stitches. She's how I realized I was accidentally knitting twisted stitches for three years!

This is her YouTube channel.

She has MANY videos on how to do certain techniques for knitting and how to get started, even how to cast on!

Scrolling through, looks like she's starting on Crochet tutorials as well!

But she explains things very well and has a good tutorial lighting set up and everything. However, if you don't find her videos helpful, just keep typing in stuff into youtube and see what video tutorials are out there because there are many! Yarn companies, pattern writers, etc etc, they all have youtube channels. And, in the future, if you pick a pattern and find yourself getting stuck, a lot of the time the pattern maker will have a youtube video for you to follow to help.

I'm useless as making a video to help get started because I'm left-handed and I primarily crochet lol.

ALSO: SIGN UP FOR RAVELRY

There are communities, you can see notes people make on patterns to see if they had any issues you had, you can sign up to test patterns once you're getting good enough, and a lot of patterns are on there and you can really filter what you wanna find even down to the kind of yarn you have and how much of it you have. You can also save them as favorites and when you buy the pattern you can keep it in your library for safe keeping!

But here are some things to know that sometimes they don't tell you in these beginner videos:

When buying your knitting needles, don't use plastic for plastic yarn. If you're getting acrylic yarn, using plastic needles won't provide a kind of smooth working motion you need. Metal needles for plastic yarn. Slippery yarn like bamboo yarn or cotton or baby alpaca/merino wool can go on wooden/plastic needles. If they go on metal, you may have some issues keeping tension. If you google what kind of needles you should buy for what yarn you can also find this advice!

Buy shit yarn to practice with. If you have a Dollar General around you or anything, assuming you're American, get some of that yarn to first practice on. It's polyester/acrylic but it's so cheap that it's good to practice on. Don't get black! Not when you're first learning!

Plastic/budget yarn is okay to make things out of, and don't let any knitter try to tell you otherwise. There's more forgiveness in the crochet community when it comes to yarn type because we use so much of it and make bigger things than knitted things usually are. Therefore, we can't always afford the big fancy wool and baby yak yarn blahblahblah. So don't let anyone shame you for using yarn from Joann Fabrics.

When you're done with your knitted project, BLOCK! Always block your things, even if you just make a hat or a scarf. It helps with the drape and it helps with being able to see the stitches you just made! If you're using plastic yarn, buy a handheld steamer [mine was like $30 on Amazon], rust-free pins, and knitting block foam squares. You don't have to buy them specifically for knitting like you can buy children's foam play squares, but i like the ones specifically for knitting bc they have 1-inch x 1-inch grids on them so i know how much to stretch my blocking out lol. There are tutorials online for blocking. It's tedious sometimes, but it makes a world of difference and IMO, as you're learning, always make a habit of blocking your stuff. I didn't do it consistently until recently and boy oh boy

Always make a gauge swatch. Once you're starting looking for patterns to make, you're going to see stuff that's like: 10 rows x 10 rows stockinette stitch = 4 inches ... or something like that. And sometimes they'll tell you whether or not your gauge should be blocked before measuring. If you get into crochet this is even more crucial because crochet is less forgiving when it comes to measurements especially after you wash and block stuff. I made a cardigan once and didn't gauge swatch and essentially it'd look great on a woman who is 7 feet tall but not so much on me lol.

That also being said, if your gauge is off, sometimes you have to change your needles. It depends on how tightly you knit. I am a tight knitter so I usually have to go up a needle size lol. If you're struggling, google how to correct your gauge and it'll tell you what to do if you have too many rows going up or going left to right. Or, too little rows.

WEAVE IN YOUR ENDS! With crochet, people have found workarounds [even tho i still think weaving in ends with crochet is vital] but it's really vital when it comes to knitting because the fabric is thinner and it's more unforgiving and it's always good to have some extra yarn stashed away between the stitches just in case you ever needed to go back and adjust something. there are videos out there on how to weave in your ends without them showing in knitting. It's tedious if you've done a lot of colorwork especially but it must be done!

Be gentle with yourself - knitting can be hard to learn at first bc you're learning how to work both hands essentially at the same time. Same with crochet. Knitting takes a little longer because your stitches are smaller so use knitting as a meditative practice and just get in the zone.

When it comes to knitting, I find that working on circulars helped me with my hand-eye coordination and my tension. However, that may not be as easy for you to start off with. And yes you can knit flat pieces on circular needles. The weight of the straight needles sometimes made my hands tired. However, there are tutorials out there on how to get started on both! Also, circulars are great for teeny tiny decreases in the round like for sleeves or socks — instead of working with double-pointed needles which are my nightmare lol.

But — you're not gonna be making a sweater likely as your first thing so here are some patterns that I think would be simple for a beginner knitter!

You will be making a lot of squares first lol. But it's good practice, and it's good to do! These are all free:

CARON SIMPLE KNIT OMBRE BLANKET SCARF

I have this yarn and it's very lovely, and the scarf itself is very simple to make and will be good, especially to learn stockinette stitch!

LILY SUGAR'N CREAM GET LOOPED KNIT DISHCLOTH

This is a cotton yarn available at most craft stores. This is a free pattern and you're essentially making garter stitch squares. I actually recommend this first because garter stitch is essentially the first stitch you learn, THEN you learn stockinette. The different being stockinette is when you learn how to purl. Garter stitch is when you're just doing the knit stitch on both sides so you get the little wavy-looking thing.

SEAFARING SCARF

This looks cozy lol and it'll help you with practicing ribbing! And this one is FANCY ribbing called fisherman's rib! This is a little more advanced but they have videos in the pattern explaining things like "knit one below."

If you're done scouring the internet for free scarf patterns and have looked at tutorials on how to work in the round, here are some simple and basic tops you can make [I'm unsure how you like to dress or your gender or your presentation so I'm linking sweaters that are on the more feminine side just because it's what I have in my list lol]

GINGERBREAD SWEATER

This is a basic, simple, top-down raglan sweater. Raglan sweaters are ones i prefer to do lol i like the slant at the arm.

CLASSIC RIBBED BEANIE HAT

I make these so much especially when I don't know what to do with my yarn lol.

If you want to start getting a crack on triangle shawls, here's a good free first foray you can try!

THE AGE OF BRASS AND STEAM KERCHIEF

This has some fancy eyelets but they're not intimidating! I promise!

And here's another basic raglan sweater you can try!

WARM-UP SWEATER

Again, another basic, no fancy stuff sweater that is good to begin with when learning how to make sweaters.

---

I know this is really long, I'm sorry nonny lol.

My favorite knitwear designer is Andrea Mowry who you can find here. She has basic patterns and more complicated ones. I find her patterns very easy to follow and she comes up with fantastic ideas. I was very close to finishing the bee sweater once lol. Find your Fade is a BIG one everyone made but that one is a commitment both of time and money so...

But yeah! If there's anything else I can help you with let me know! I'm more experienced with crochet now since I've been doing it longer and made more things, so if you ever wanted to venture into Crochet I got even more stuff for you xD

Woof this got long. I hope some of this helped!

#long post #knitting #crafts

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cheeriecherrymain · 1 year

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Nyoom

Pairing: Viktor x Reader Rating: G Warnings: None Summary: You and Viktor move in together, and he learns that cats are weird little guys.

When you’d first started dating, most of your dates with Viktor had consisted of hanging out in the lab. It wasn’t a comfort-level kind of thing: the two of you worked together and generally had a lot to do in the day. There simply wasn’t enough time - or a guaranteed schedule - to pick a day to go out on.

It wasn’t something that bothered you. Neither you nor your boyfriend were particularly extravagant in nature, though you did occasionally splurge on gifts. In your opinion, if both of you were happy with the arrangement you’d made, then whose business was it that your relationship didn’t ‘look normal’?

As such, it had taken a good couple of months to venture into each other’s homes. You often found yourself crashing for a night in his dorm room, especially when you had a slew of early mornings at the lab planned, but you never stayed longer than a single evening.

He’d asked you about it once, and if you’d consider staying with him longer, or more permanently, but you’d declined.

“The Academy doesn’t allow pets,” you’d explained to him sadly, “and I can’t just leave Pip behind, or find a new home for her. I love her too much, and it wouldn’t be fair to her.”

Despite his disappointment about keeping your living arrangements separate, Viktor still felt his heart swell in the wake of your kindness.

—

He did eventually visit your home across town, on one of your mutual days off. You’d enticed him over with the promise of a home-cooked lunch; something he - on other occasions - had proven to be enthusiastic about. The little bit of food he’d tasted from you, had always been warm and hearty, and infused with flavour. An entire meal from you was an offer he couldn’t pass up.

Even when he ended up having to share little bites of stew with your ever-persistent cat, it was still one of his most pleasant afternoons in recent memory.

Over time you fell into a routine, meeting up at your place on weekends for lunch, staying over at his place once or twice during the week, and working together during the days. It was comforting and predictable, and neither of you had any qualms about it. Mostly.

Pip had very quickly gotten used to your boyfriend’s presence in your home, and had taken a liking to curling up on his lap. Viktor assured you that it was just because he gave her food from the table, but you shook your head with a smile. “Face it, sweetheart,” you’d said, “Animals like you.” And leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek.

—

Your life went on like this for close to a year, until you’d one morning burst into the lab a total mess. You’d had two suitcases with you, stuffed so full they looked like they were about to explode, and a small handheld cat carrier, overflowing with fluffy black and white fur. You yourself had been covered in tears and snowflakes, and possibly a little bit of snot, and you felt gross.

Viktor had ignored all that, and had set his work down to come to your side in an instant.

“I got evicted,” you’d sobbed, as your boyfriend took you in his arms to hold you close. “The building got sold, and the whole apartment complex got kicked out this morning. Something- something about- I don’t know, we only had a couple of hours to pack up, and- and everything else was forfeit-”

You break into tears again, and hide your face in Viktor’s sweater. “I don’t have anywhere to go, Vik. There aren’t many places that allow pets, and I can’t afford any of them on my salary- I can’t give Pip up…”

The choice had been clear to him, though he knew you’d never ask such a thing of him. “We’ll find a place,” he’d promised you, without hesitation. “There’s a complex not far that allows smaller animals in the building. The walk would be slightly longer than what I’m used to, but eh…it would be nice to sleep next to you every night, and have breakfast together in the mornings.”

You’d stared at him with wide, teary eyes for a couple seconds, breaking down for a third time as you accepted his offer.

—

From then on, you found that your daily routine was less bothered than you expected - you still went to work every morning, still ate questionable cafeteria food for lunch, still tiredly wandered home in the evening. The only difference was that you now weren’t alone when you were home, and almost always had a warm body to curl up next to when it was time for bed.

It was a beneficial lifestyle for both yourself and Viktor, but the real winner - in your opinion - was Pip. She now had two laps to sleep on, two pairs of shoelaces to chase every morning as you were headed to work, two noses to bite in the middle of the night, and twice as many clothes to get her fur all over.

She’d even managed to scare Viktor real good during the first couple days you’d been together. She was an old cat with a big personality, and not nearly as much energy as she’d had in her youth. But from time to time you still got to see her tearing from room to room like a bat out of hell, acting like she was being chased by demons.

You’d been quietly studying, when Viktor’s confused shout for you had reached your ears. Thinking he’d possibly cut one of his fingers again while working, you’d rushed into the other room.

Only to find your boyfriend trying to corral Pip into his arms.

Pip, who was fluffed up to twice her size, staring at you with wild bug-eyes that could probably see ghosts.

Your laughter draws Viktor’s attention away from the bizarre feline, though his posture relaxes when he sees how unbothered you are by the sight.

“She does that sometimes,” you explain to him, gesturing him away from her to give her some space. “She doesn’t get like this as often as when she was a kitten, but ah…every now again, she finds the will. Watch, she’s gonna take off in a second, and- there she goes.”

The pair of you watch as your cat tears into the hallway, as if she’s running for her life, and wince as her hectic galloping echoes through your home.

Viktor looks at you, perplexed. “What is wrong with her?” he wonders, and you shrug.

“I call it the zoomies. Sometimes pets are just…weird little dudes. Y’know?”

Viktor doesn’t know, but twelve minutes later when Pip comes to a grinding halt at his feet and promptly curls up to fall asleep, he believes he’s starting to.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #i maybe took the prompt and changed it and then ran away with it #whoops #cats are weird little guys #arcane reader insert

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valleydean · 4 months

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SWEET SCIENCE a Heavyweight timestamp by valleydean

Part of 12 Days of Smutmas Now complete on AO3 | Read Heavyweight For River

PREVIEW:

In hindsight, the roar of the 1920s was always bound to be silenced. The ‘30s were more of a whimper.

It was safe to say the glory days of boxing were over.

“Mr. Novak! Over here!”

Half of his attention was constantly on the car waiting for them in front of the sidewalk. He needed to get home to pack. It was late, and he and Dean had planned to get up early to drive upstate.

More than that, he was impatient for it. Logically, he knew rushing Dean wouldn’t bring the morning any faster, but it was worth a shot.

The crowd delighted in that, even though it was the day after Christmas.

He lingered close to Dean’s lips while he said, “Congratulations.”

The car started moving.

Dean was no stranger to living with limited funds. He’d done it for most of his life. But Castiel had thought those days had been over for him. Dean deserved to not have to worry about such things.

“We can have a nice dinner at the inn’s restaurant. My treat,” Dean finished with a grin.

Castiel tried to smile at that, despite the guilt mixing inside of him at the reminder of their limited funds.

There was something Castiel had wanted to tell Dean during their trip, but he didn’t know how Dean would take it. After all, it wasn’t exactly the ideal time to retire.

He was getting old. At least, too old to be a professional athlete. It had taken a long time for him to let go of his pride and admit that to himself. After that, it was easy to make the decision.

He’d already told Michael and the rest of the Garrison team: next year would be his last.

It was time for a new champion to take his place.

“Well, then I’ll buy the most expensive thing on the menu,” Castiel attempted to joke.

Dean scoffed out a laugh. He squeezed Castiel’s leg and let his hand rest there, high up. His thumb stroked the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel became even more impatient to get Dean alone for days.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #dean winchester #dean #castiel #cas #SPN Smutmas #SPNSmutmas #heavyweight #my writing #boxing au #my post

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