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petite-phthora · 10 months

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Da da da... he’s dead

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 6]

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Part 1

Ao3

---

In-chat nicknames:

OGnerd = Jason

---

Miss Harleen Quinzel had been having a relaxing evening on the couch with Bud and Lou when she gets a message on her phone. Seeing it’s from Red Hood, who barely texts… well anyone, she quickly opens it.

All he sent her is an image. There’s no text accompanying it and Red Hood already went offline. Harley looks at the selfie Red Hood sent her.

It doesn’t seem like anything special until she sees the body on the floor next to him in the picture.

She freezes.

A big grin stretches across her face and she starts laughing. Not a giggle or a cackle, just a full-blown belly laughter full of happiness and relief and with tears gathering in her eyes.

From another room, her girlfriend’s voice sounds.

“Harls? Are you alright?”

---

An announcement had just been made of the Joker having escaped Arkham once again. And just when Tim thought tonight couldn’t have gotten any worse, Jason sent a message in the groupchat.

---

28 days without the Joker breaking out of Arkham

OGnerd: Due to personal reasons I won’t be patrolling Crime Alley tonight

OGnerd: Don’t follow me.

---

And, Jason being Jason, immediately turned his phone off after sending the messages.

So of course, Tim immediately went to follow him. After updating the groupchat name…

Fortunately for Tim, and unfortunately for Jason, Jason has not been informed of Tim’s stalker tendencies yet. Jason knows he’s nosy, but is unaware of the actual following people around and spying on them aspect.

It was child’s play for Tim to follow the tracker in Jason’s helmet to see him visit… a flower shop?

Tim’s first thought is that he might be following a lead of some kind seeing as he’s in his Red Hood outfit and all. But that thought evaporates the moment Jason walks out of the flower shop with a bouquet of… are those sweet peas?

Slightly bewildered, Tim continues to stalk follow Jason from a safe distance as he steps onto his motorcycle and leaves the flower shop.

He follows him to an apartment complex, where he sees Jason proceed to knock on someone’s window, flowers in hand, rather than just breaking in.

Tim watches as someone opens the window and after a while gets led outside by Jason and eventually down onto the ground and to the motorcycle.

Perplexed at how gentle Jason seems to be with the random dude, Tim barely remembers to move after them when they leave again on the motorcycle.

---

Tim could hear the yelled question from outside.

“THAT CLOWN I PUNCHED WAS THE JOKER?!”

That sentence leaves Tim with so many questions.

Not only has Jason’s friend— date? — interacted with the Joker. But he has also punched him, and all that without even knowing that it was, in fact, the Joker.

Watching as the guy put his head on the table in embarrassment, even making Jason concerned for the guy, Tim can only think that damn, Jason really knows how to pick them, huh.

Tim decides to leave them alone. It seems likely that Jason and his mystery boo had something to do with the Joker still not having made an appearance, but he’ll interrogate Jason about it later. He’d rather not be found out and killed for stalking Jason on his date, thank you very much.

While he’s moving further away from them, his coms crack to life with B’s voice.

“Everyone. Meeting at the clock tower in 10. Don’t be late.”

Tim swallows as he changes course to head to the clock tower.

Now, how to keep everyone off Jason’s back so he doesn’t commit familicide?...

---

Once everyone minus Jason was at the clock tower, they got the debrief.

The Joker had escaped Arkham two days ago, and no one has heard anything from him since. Not only that, but they didn’t even know he was gone until a day later.

It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, even Dick came from Bludhaven to help out on the search.

After the debrief is done and they’re about to start the search, B suddenly speaks up again.

“Where’s Red Hood?”

His response is silence as no one speaks up, just awkwardly glancing around. Dick almost started whistling but got elbowed in the gut by Damian. Steph, does, start whistling quietly.

B wasn’t deterred, however. With a sigh, he talks into the coms.

“Oracle—”

“Already on it. I’m currently trying to trace the tracker in his helmet and remotely turn on the cam and audio footage.”

There’s a pause in her speech.

“It looks like there’s some strange interference. The cam footage is being corrupted, and so the is audio.”

B’s expression stays stoic as always.

“The tracker?”

“Glitching. It almost looks like it’s teleporting around the map. It won’t give me one specific location and even disappears entirely every few seconds.”

B lets out a grunt before Babs continues.

“Though it looks like the places the tracker appears are all quite close to each other, so I might be able to interpolate the coordinates of the teleporting tracker and determine a general area for his location.”

“You know,” Tim speaks up foolishly, “in my personal opinion, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. We should probably just leave him alone for the night“

Tim sweats as he can feel B’s gaze on him as he replies to Oracle. “Keep us updated”

---

They had split up and searched for two hours so far, stopping some minor crime on the way, but they hadn’t been able to find any clue as to where the Joker might be.

Oracle has managed to find the moment of his escape on the cameras, but after a while the files start to glitch and the rest of them are completely missing. Someone wiped the files.

They decided to regroup at the clock tower to discuss some more strategies.

“Oracle, report on Red Hood’s location.”

“I tried to get the general location of the tracker and I traced it all the way back to a restaurant, but I’m almost certain it just started moving. I’m currently tracing its path to try and extrapolate the new location.”

“Good. Keep us updated.”

Tim tries to speak up when Oracle starts talking again.

“Oracle here. I think the tracker is moving towards… the Gotham Observatory?”

“What the hell is Jason doing at the observatory?” Duke wonders.

Going on a date with a mysterious twink who’s definitely not a native Gothamite and seems to randomly punch clowns?

At first, Tim couldn’t believe Jason going on a date with someone seemingly so oblivious/naïve.

But when he puts it like that… yeah, ‘mysterious twink that punches the Joker without knowing it’ sounds like it would be Jason’s type…

“No real names.” Is B’s response, evoking some eye-rolls.

“Nightwing, go check on Red Hood at the observatory. Observation only, but step in if necessary. Report back”

B probably sent Nightwing cause he’s the least likely to get maimed by a pissed-off Red Hood.

Before Dick is able to take off, Tim nervously speaks up “You know guys, I think we should just leave him be for tonight and focus on finding the Joker”

The silence on the roof and across the coms speaks volumes.

B is the first one to speak up.

“Why are you covering for him?”

“I’m not covering for him!” is Tim’s immediate response.

He is, but if he revealed anything he has found out, Jason would murder him when (not if) he finds out.

B raises an eyebrow at him.

“Ohhh, Timbo’s been keeping secrets~— Ow!” Steph is heard saying, before being elbowed by Cass.

The others stay silent as they watch the exchange.

Damnit, why did Alfred have to teach B that eyebrow raise?

Tim caves.

“Alright, I am covering for him. But I can’t tell you what for. He’ll kill me”

Damian scoffs “Todd probably bribed Drake to keep his mouth shut. Don’t worry, I can make him talk”

Damian tries to step forward, katana raised, but gets held back by the scruff of his Robin costume by Dick.

“Richard, let me go!—”

“Nope, Little D. Let’s not commit fratricide today”

B doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Red Robin, if you have information on Red Hood and the Joker—“

“It has nothing to do with the Joker, I swear!” Tim tries. “Jason is just… having a relaxation day! He’s taking a uh, small break.”

Well, it probably has something to do with the Joker, but Tim has plausible deniability.

“So we shouldn’t bother him today, uh, at all. He really needs this, uh, self-care day. I mean have you seen the amount of grey hairs he’s been getting from the stress lately?”

The sound of Damian’s struggling against Dick’s hold is the only thing he hears.

B is just silently glaring at him.

“He’s on a date!” Tim bursts out.

…

Fuck.

The only sounds that break the silence are the small ‘oompf’ from Damian as he is dropped by Dick and Dick’s excited squeak of “Little Wing is on a date?!”

Uh oh.

---

Somewhere far away, in another realm, a manic cackle echoes across an expanse of green.

---

Taglist (for now, I’ll probably stop if I cant keep up):

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing

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soleilandpeaches · 1 year

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mi mariposa esta con mi

KeigoxFem!Reader

synopsis: Keigo just wants to unwind after a long day and it seems you do too. Why don’t you help each other out?

warnings: use of drugs, handjobs, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), toothrotting fluff

song title inspo: Painted Lady by late night drive home

@keikiri-kitten: ask and you shall receive

Puffs of smoke billow from between pink lips and flared nostrils. Eyes swimming in warm pools of honey now rimmed red, his long eyelashes flutter against his sun-kissed cheeks, dotted with starry freckles after a long day in the sun. Pushing back his messy, windswept hair, short strips of blonde gently falling back into place the further up he drags his hand.

A short joint rests gently between his pointer and thumb, he pulls it away from his face to let out another sigh of smoke and bliss. Slumped against the couch you share, he’s still dressed in his hero attire, his jacket hanging off one of your dining chairs. A movie plays in front of him but he feels too lost in his high to continue watching, besides, he knows you’ll be home soon anyway.

The shutting of your car door alerts him before the vibrations of your footsteps or the click and turn to your door. He feels a smile creep its way across his cheeks, dimples following in its wake. He’s been waiting for you all this time; he can’t wait to have you.

“Hey Babe…” your exasperated sigh signals him of your long day; you’re ready to unwind for the night, he concludes.

“Hey Baby,” he all but slurs in your direction, his body too heavy to stand and greet you with a hug and a kiss like he usually does. If you notice, you refuse to comment on it, causing him to frown. Don’t you miss him? He supposes you’re too overworked to notice or give him attention.

To his surprise, you make your way over to him, sandwiching his face between your hands and pulling his face to meet your lips with his own. He can’t hold back his satisfied grin as he attempts to kiss you back. He feels the vibrations from his chest as he purrs happily, he feels you smile against him in response.

Once you pull away, he eyes you carefully, his unoccupied hand coming to rest upon your waist as his other dabs the ashes of the joint onto his spare asher.

“Long day, pretty girl?” He better get quick into buttering you up if he plans to have you moaning for him later tonight. Not that he doesn’t find you beautiful—of course not. Your hair is pulled into a claw-clip, strands of hair that were once tucked away now framing your pretty face. There’s definitely a reason he keeps himself in line to satisfy you.

“Yeah…” You let go of him and pull away, much to his dismay. You turn away to saunter towards your bedroom, “I’m gonna go wash up; I’ll be right back to join you.”

Pleased, he relaxes back into the cushions, ready to patiently wait for your return. He entertains the idea of joining you but his weighted body decides against it.

“Make sure you think of me.” He teases just before you leave him to his own devices—you chuckle. Happy he at least got to make you laugh, he turns his attention back to his movie, giggling a lot more than he usually would.

You re-enter in your little tank top and snug booty shorts, you smell of vanilla and strawberries; his dick twitches in anticipation. Silently cursing at the effect you have on him, he reaches for you, wordlessly inviting you to lay on top of him. And you do, slumping sleepily into his arms, you reach for his joint to take an inhale of your own.

Absentmindedly rubbing at your arms, he feels you relax into him. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, placing a gentle kiss upon you. He really has the prettiest girl.

“Keigo?” He feels you mumble into his chest.

“Hm?” He blinks open his eyes to gaze at you, nothing but love reflecting back to you.

“You’re hard.” You state matter-of-factly with a short giggle.

“You always make me hard.” He plays along, hands roaming down to hold you by your ass, giving a playful squeeze.

You let out a loud laugh, your giggles echoing throughout the living space and his head. He laughs along with you until your breaths even and your hands unclutch from his arms.

He hums thoughtfully as your nails trace patterns into his skin, watching as your eyes remain enraptured with his body. You wiggle your hips, your eyes trailing upwards and dancing between his as he lifts his hips to meet yours. His hands remain low on your hips, thumbing at your waistline as he stares down at you, daring you to make the first move.

He feels your body start to warm in your abashed state, you bite your lip to cage the nervous giggle threatening to escape. He wonders how long you’ve been together—how long you’ve been sleeping together, and how shy you still get when he attempts to fluster you. Though he guesses he can’t say much. After all, butterflies still beat their wings in his belly when you tease him.

Abandoning your previous state, your hands trail up his chest and around his neck, creeping up to his cheeks just as you did before. Your body moves upwards just as your hands do until you’re fully seated on his lap, grinding your hips into his.

“Mmf—“ Keigo lets out a short moan in surprise, choking it back as he purses his lips. It’s his turn to grow hot, once golden cheeks tinting red at your subtle attempt to dominate him. You thumb at his lips, pulling them back to lean in for a kiss, continuing to grind against his hardening dick.

He’s fully moaning into the kiss as your tongue prods for entrance. He allows you—of course—whimpering as your hands card through his hair, twirling the wheat-colored strands as you fight back a smile. He wants to pull away, flip you over and teach you a lesson, but damn do you feel good.

It’s been a long day. He decides, content to let you use him as you please. You don’t seem surprised at his submission—you knew he liked it. You needed something to take your frustration out on, and he was obedient in letting you.

Clothes were quickly discarded as you pump his cock unhurriedly. He squirms in pleasure beneath your hardened gaze, his breath becoming shallow as he moans helplessly, his brain foggy as he begs for you.

“Please Baby…” His moans choking off into silent whines as his hips continue to desperately rock into your fist. “Please!”

You refuse to tease him any longer, your own patience dwindling swiftly. Leaning forward, your chests and lips meet in fervor. You grip him by his base, quickly guiding him to your dripping pussy before easing him inside. Your lips part as you groan into each other's mouths, hands hopelessly pawing at each other as you situate yourself on his cock.

You moan at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, immediately rocking your hips back and forth to chase the pleasure. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allow your forehead to rest against his as your noses brush against each other. You both smile, letting out happy chuckles as your lips meet over-and-over for sweet pecks. You can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Slowly rising and falling, Keigo’s hands rub attentively up and down your waist, occasionally coming to grope at your breasts.

“Keigo…” The sound of his name never sounds as beautiful as when you moan it for him. He responds with gasps of your own, arms reaching to entangle themselves around your middle to coax you into his chest. His face buries itself into your neck, teeth coming to clamp down as he uses his feet to push himself into you.

He’s groaning into your neck, teeth tightening as he pummels his cock into you repeatedly, eyes sewn shut at the overwhelming pleasure of your hot and sopping cunt. You’re practically wailing into his ear as he peeks an eye open to admire the milky ring at the base of his cock, watching in bliss as he fucks you.

“Oh my God! Fuck! Attagirl!” He’s leaning back against the coach, hand coming down onto your ass for a loud smack!

“Yes! Ride that cock, Angel.” Your head bobs back-and-forth as you nod, your hands balancing themselves on his chest. He grips your wrists tight, holding you down against him as he peers up at you, gaze hard and stern.

“Look at me.” He demands, hips roughly meeting yours, jolting your body forward as you yelp in surprise. You blink your eyes open to oblige him, squirming underneath his cold glare.

“Feels good, huh? Feels—hah—good, Dove? Hm?” His tone attempts to sound grim, yet his whimpers of pleasure fail to accommodate.

“Yes! You—you make me f-feel so good, Keigo.” He smirks at your admission, gleefully watching you keen, your body convulsing as he forces you against him. He can feel himself reaching his climax, permanently keeping his hips lifted to pump into with swift, short strokes.

“Gonna cum inside you, Baby. Gonna fuck my cum inside you.” He lets his head fall back, lewd cries falling from his raw and red lips, his tongue daring to slip from his mouth.

“Please please please please!” You beg shamelessly, he knows your thighs are probably burning so he goes back to forcing your hands in his, using them as leverage to ram himself into you. He’s beaming at the sound of your slutty pussy squelching noisily through the room.

“Shit! Cumming!” Letting out a final groan, he forces you down all the way on his cock as he feels your pussy twitch around him.

“Holy shit, Babe, yes.” You whimper softly as he pulls out, cum spilling out of you and onto his pants but he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises, planting kisses along your neck and up to your cheek. He watches curiously as you reach over to grab the forgotten joint to relight it. You flick the lighter one, two, three times before a tiny flame flickers to light, illuminating your face in a delicate glow. Placing the lighter down after taking a long inhale, you lean forward, nudging your lips to part his as your empty hand reaches to caress his face adoringly. You blow smoke into his mouth and into his lungs, grinning as he pets you.

“You’re so sexy…” Peck. “I love you so fucking much.” Peck. “My slutty girl.” Peck. Your kisses turn sloppy and careless as you sink back down onto him. He chuckles deeply, quickly scooping you up by your ass to carry you back into your room.

“Can’t get enough of me? Hm?” Your silly giggles provoking those frivolous butterflies to dance inside him. He buries himself into your neck again as he hugs you close, hopefully willing them away but your hand is in hair again, stroking tenderly as you place a careful kiss on his forehead. He smiles, finally beginning to fully embrace them instead.

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homosociallyyours · 1 year

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I WANT TO YELL ABOUT ALL OF YOUR WIPS!!!!!!!!!!! Can I be greedy and pretty please ask about Tax Preparer Marcel/Stripper Louis, Cinema/cinnamon 80s- times square red, times square blue, AND Upper West Side (girl direction)???

OMG YES of course Maggie!! Thank you for asking!!

Tax Preparer Marcel/Stripper Louis: This was actually supposed to be part of last year's Reverse Bang, with art/prompt by @becomeawendybird and it's. SO GOOD!! I basically just took on too much and couldn't make the deadline, but the fic kinda just needs another ~500 words and final editing.

It's based on a tweet by H&R Block saying they can help strippers figure out tax write offs (but in a cute, catchy way), and I set it in SF with Louis dancing at the worker owned, union-led Lusty Lady (which is closed, sadly). Here's a snippet, and the rest of the answers, behind a read more:

“I just wanted to say it’s been a real pleasure working with you, Lou. And if you have any questions you can call me any time and I’ll help you out if I can.” She slid a copy of her business card across the desk, her personal number written carefully across the top. “I hope I’m not overstepping, I just--”

“Oh, you’re not at all! I was actually taking my time with these papers trying to figure out how to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime. Or a drink, whatever.” Louis swiped her hair across her forehead, letting it fall artfully back into place. Her smile was soft and delicate, and Marcel felt like anything she could say in return would come out clumsy and awkward, but she had to try anyway.

“I’d do whatever you wanted.” Her glasses slid down her nose as she looked down at her desk, not wanting to meet Louis’ eyes. “At least once tax season is over.”

“So-- after April 15th, then?” Marcel nodded. “I’m going to hold you to it, Marce. Might even drag you to the Lusty one night since you said you’ve never been.”

“Oh!” Marcie’s cheeks flamed, the thought of sitting in a booth with Louis in her lap filling every available space in her mind. “I did tell you that, didn’t I?” She was pretty sure if she saw Louis actually dancing she’d spontaneously combust, but that was the image that came to her mind next. She widened her eyes, trying to bring herself back into the moment.

“You did, and you said you’d been meaning to do it for years.” Louis tightened the strap of her messenger bag, swinging it around to her back. Marcel refrained from staring at her tits, even if the strap pressing between them made them that much more prominent. “And honestly? I’ve told everyone I work with about you, so they’re all dying to meet you.”

Cinema/Cinnamon/Times Square Red, Times Square Blue: So this is one that's just a fleshed out idea, but I REALLY wanna write it, so I hope I can make it happen. Basically when I first heard Cinema my first thought was that it sounded like Harry was saying "this enema" or "the cinnamon" instead of "the cinema" and of course that "you bring the pop" was about poppers. All of that plus cinema had me thinking about Samuel Delaney's Time Square Red, Times Square Blue, which talks about 1970/80s Times Square NYC and the porn theaters there as a gay space (I'm definitely oversimplfying; it's been years since I read the book and would wanna re-read before writing!)

Soooo. The plot is that Harry goes to the Times Square porn theaters regularly to anonymously get off with men there, but there's one guy in particular who it's always really good with-- a guy in a cap with long-ish hair who manages to keep his face hidden but who's always chewing cinnamon gum. It gets to the point that even smelling that warm cinnamon scent makes Harry's dick interested. Meanwhile, he takes a job in a restaurant kitchen in midtown. It's grunt work, and he mostly just keeps his head down until a new guy gets hired as a dishwasher. They strike up a friendship, and while walking downtown together after work, Louis pops in a stick of cinnamon gum as they pass the theaters (definitely a Pavlovian response).

Immediately Harry realizes that Louis is his cinnamon guy, but when he points it out Louis kinda freaks out and bolts. They do work it out, and it's not long before they're really getting to know each other/dating. After they've been together a minute they re-create their anonymous hook ups in the theater with Louis bringing poppers and the two of them fuck in the back. THAT'S ALL I'VE GOT

Upper West Side: This is a VERY old wip/start of a fic that's based on the King Princess song of the same name. It's set in NYC in the 90s. Here's the start of it:

They met at Clit Club on a Thursday night, the room more crowded than it should’ve been and “Push It” pounding out through the shitty speakers. Louis was high on the success of her drag show and covered in girls, but all she really wanted to do was dance. Find someone with a tight little ass and grind against her, taste the sweat rolling down their neck before she sucked a kiss there. Her favorite kind of calling card.

She was about to go to the middle of the floor and let herself get lost in a sea of dykes, maybe find someone for a quick fuck in the bathroom, when the door opened, bringing a rush of cooler air from outside and grabbing her attention. A woman stood there, backlit by a streetlight and with long curls that made Louis want to get tangled up and pull. Louis squeezed her thighs together, thinking about getting this woman-- tall, femme, over-dressed for a bar like this, --up against the graffitied walls of the bathroom and finger fucking her until she was an absolute mess.

There was no use wasting time. She walked over to the woman, who was still standing in the doorway, her eyes searching the crowded club as if she’d be able to find anyone she knew in the shadowed mass of dykes, and introduced herself.

“You look lost. Like you might need a guide for the night,” she said, going on tiptoes to reach the woman’s ear. “I’m Lou.”

“Harry,” the woman said, giving Louis a sidelong glance. “Don’t need a guide, but maybe you could get me a vodka soda? And a dance?” Her smile was a coy stretch of her wide, cherry red lips and a dart of her tongue, and fuck, that was enough to convince Louis she’d made the right move talking to this woman.

#this is so long #!!#my wips #wip game #1d #my fic

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chainbunny-export · 2 years

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[VENT;こだわり;жалуется] The only thing paywalled custom creations hurt is your fweelings, sense of entitlement (and EA's wallet[s])

I'm still trying to figure out who does perma-paywalls hurt.

You? They hurt you? Or AAA billionaire studio EA?

Who is this hurting, why does someone putting their work (not made with EA's meshes/textures) your problem and why are you so personally offended by it? It's not mandatory for you to buy that CC so why... you so mad for?

Who's lives are being affected by not owning someone's CC? You? You on life support because Miss Lucy Lou put her 2 polygon count perfume deco behind a $5 dollar Patreon tier? What, you mad that some people (With talent) decide "Huh, y'know I have a skill... I can make some money with this, pay my bills, gas stuff like that."

What. Does that piss you off? That artist... want to be paid? For their very optional, not required or QoL, fan-made work? That they didn't have to make? That they also enjoy as a hobby and wanting to make money from a hobby that they're good in... doesn't make them greedy, evil cruel assholes that're only in it for the money?

You've got fuckers like Cowbuild, a thief, a doxxer. And then you have people who put real effort into original meshes, original textures, original designs just because they enjoy something. That something becomes profitable.

You are not a selfish, psychopathic greedy prick for wanting to be paid for your work.

If this drama was in any other community, hell just a typical none-mod related fandom, and you replace mods with fanart then suddenly calling fan artist greedy assholes for putting their work behind a paywall (work that's original, takes time) is an asshole move. You wouldn't go "AKSHUALLY that work in fan art and use characters from ABC so your PROFITING from other's work, greedy asshole. ACKSHULLY I'm going to tell the company that publishes this series on you." Because you know how fucking dumb that sounds.

TL;DR Reiterating that EA is a mass multibillion dollar company that will fight tooth and nail in a court of law to fuck people over who don't know any better (a.k.a you, by-the-by) for their own corporate interest, cutting off potential revenue syphons "or how they see modders" is easy if they get an already biased community they control on their side, so they re-push their once dormant anti-paywall rule that was so irrelevant that their own customer support can't fucking remember if you can or cannot; Stop sucking EA's dick, quit fondling their nuts and get some perspective. For a woke crowd—you sure sleep a lot.

#ts4 #ts4cc #sims4 #sims4cc #sims #simblr

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tllthesundies · 3 years

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prompt idea...more of a guide rather than a specific moment though! stoic dom harry who completely melts for his cute boyfriend lou :)

tags: non au, mexico city hslot, dom/sub, daddy kink, degradation kink, feminization, spanking, coming untouched(?)

"Great show, Harry!" one of his crew says to him as he passes down the stadium hall.

Harry's sweating underneath his suit, red lightning bolts zapping through his veins and blood as he takes steady steps to his dressing room. He nods to each crew member he passes, thanking them and blessing them, continuing on. There's a ringing in his ears that's constant. Every loud step he takes, the clack of his heeled boots, feels important as they knock against the walls and echo through the hall; his hips are walking first, guiding him; and it takes him a good five minutes to find his dressing room, ignoring everyone that passes by him, and when he approaches his door and grabs the knob to push it open, he peeks his head in first.

Louis's sitting at his small vanity, playing with something red in his hands.

Harry stays still.

"I know you're there," Louis then says.

A corner of Harry's mouth twitches up. He walks into the room and closes the door behind himself, coming closer to Louis. "Yet you ignored my presence," he comments, and snatches the red tube out of Louis's hands. It almost looks like lipstick. "What is this?"

Louis stands from his chair and snatches it back.

"Lipstick."

He walks away from Harry to a settee, and Harry tilts his head. He doesn't like that.

"Are you being difficult, baby?"

Harry had the intentions of preparing himself as he walked to his dressing room, for when he entered it, of starting it. But Louis's energy is coming off a little too commanding for the position he knows he's supposed to be in; like he thinks he's going to successfully challenge Harry. So, Harry breaks his character a little, and he smiles at his own words; and he knows Louis hears his smile, because he turns around to look at Harry, a secretive glint in his blue eyes.

"No," he answers, plopping down on the green velvet settee. "I would never, daddy."

Daddy is code.

Harry eases the smile off his face, and, shrugging his fringed suit jacket off of himself, he throws it gently onto the other side of the settee, leaving him in his mostly unbuttoned white shirt and trousers. He picks up a leg and sets his foot on the right side of Louis, all while Louis stares at him, and he leans forward to pluck the lipstick out Louis's hand again.

Louis doesn't protest.

Harry uncaps it, twisting the button to reveal the cool-toned red colour. He assesses it, then uses his free hand to reach and grab one of Louis's and places the lipstick in his hand and looks directly into Louis's gaze, unblinking.

"I want you to put this on," he commands quietly.

Louis blinks.

"Okay."

He does as Harry says--slow and sensual with his movements; it's a little messy in the corners, but it's perfect.

"Now, give it back to me," Harry says, reaching out a hand. Louis complies, but Harry keeps it in his own hand. "Now"--he uses a hand to pull at his collar--"I want you to kiss me right here, darling." Louis gets on his knees to match the height of Harry's shoulders, and Harry points to a spot right before his collar. Louis leans in, carefully leaving a stained kiss, and pulls away. "Kiss me here." Harry uses his same fingers to point to his right jawline. Louis repeats the process. "And, now, kiss me here, princess." Harry trails both hands down to his belt, and undoes the zipper. He puts his foot back on the ground, pulling his trousers and underwear with it just enough to expose his hard prick and balls. His cock is standing tall, blood having rushed from his thrill of the stage and the anticipation of seeing Louis afterwards straight to his dick. He places a hand underneath his cock and moves it up to expose his balls; he uses his other fingers to tap it lightly.

Louis raises his eyebrows at him, but, slowly, lowers himself and angles his head to get close to his ballsack.

Harry feels him leave the imprint of his lipstick kiss, lips cooling against his warmth and musk; but as Louis's head starts to come back up, Harry grabs a handful of his hair.

"Not so fast."

Louis meets his gaze, eyes glistening as he keeps peeking at Harry's cock that's so close to his face.

"What, daddy?" he asks--and his voice is so shy and soft, it almost makes Harry's cock twitch.

Harry tilts his head.

"You know what to do."

He roughly lets go of Louis's hair to see what he'll do.

Louis straightens his posture as Harry lets go of his cock; it bounces right in front of Louis's face, and Louis's caught in a sudden daze at the thickness; at the length; at the girth that he's choked on so many times before.

Harry's hoping he'll choke on it right now.

Louis's lips ghost over the tip of Harry's cock, his gaze flickering up at Harry and what's in front of him. Slowly, he opens his mouth to suck the tip in only. His cheeks hollowing out, he makes sure to treat it like an actual lollipop; Harry's head tilts back slightly at the sensation of Louis's tongue digging and swiping between the slit, then looks down with hands coming to grip his own hips to stare directly into Louis's eyes. He's going to watch him take Harry all the way; and Louis proceeds to: he slowly slides down Harry's cock halfway before re-emerging to his tip, his red lipstick smearing all over Harry's cock; then he slides forward more than he did; and it's a game of taking Harry further down his throat, easing himself on it. And Harry just watches. He doesn't give Louis the satisfaction of moaning and groaning; he holds it in.

Harry grabs a handful of Louis's hair once again as he starts to fasten his pace--he becomes so fast he chokes in between, but that's exactly what Harry wants.

"Stop," he commands, voice stern.

Louis instantly stills.

Harry pulls him off his red-stained dick, shoving him backwards on the settee. Louis doesn't bat an eye as Harry uses one to grip himself and wipe all the lipstick remnants off onto his hand, then he leans forward and, with rough pressure and slow movements, Harry smears the remnants over Louis's face. He starts at Louis's jaw, going anticlockwise, fingers and pad of his hand rubbing over his cheeks, mouth, and nose.

He's smearing Louis's actual lipstick simultaneously.

When he lifts his hand, Louis's looks like a tragedy: smeared, pink and red swollen lips, with smears of lipstick over his nose and cheeks, eyes bright and a deeper blue.

He sneaks a hand behind Louis's head, at his nape, and lowers his head to connect their lips.

It tastes like cosmetics, like dick, but there's still the taste of Louis in there; a little minty, a little sweet; and Harry tears apart his lips. He gnaws at his bottom lip, biting into it, then he slides his tongue in--and Louis's doing his best, trying to match harry, but they're both aware Louis can't keep up with Harry's movements; Harry's too unpredictable and disastrous: the opposite of Louis.

Louis loves feeling helpless under the hands of Harry.

He pulls back.

"Take off your pants and get on your knees facing the back cushions," Harry demands.

"Yes, daddy," Louis says, soft and quiet.

Louis takes his trousers and underwear off together, kicking his shoes off, as well. His small cock is hard and a little red, and Harry feels slight pity for it, but he displays no emotions externally. That's not his part of his job as Louis' dom. Louis gets on his knees and faces the back cushions, arse on display, and Harry bites his bottom lip at the sight.

He gets close to run his fingers over the plumpness of his cheeks, then whips his hand back to strike a hard smack against them.

Louis whimpers.

"Shut up, whore," Harry commands. He lands another smack that echos in the room, and a red spot begins to blossom on the exact spot. Louis hangs his head, whimpering again, and Harry scoffs at him. "Look at you. Crying over a spanking. How pathetic." He uses his other hand to pull Louis's hair, yanking his head back, and keeps smacking him with the other, eliciting groans and soft cries from him. He uses the back of his hand a few times, so, that his rings cause a bigger reaction from Louis's skin. "You're so easy, baby--is this all it takes? A little spanking, a little sucking cock? You choke on my cock and then expect to be rewarded. Whores don't get rewarded. They get punished."

This specific smack is with his fingers, and it's so hard that it elicits a cry from Louis he only releases when he's coming.

Harry lets go of his hair, Louis's head falling forward, and Harry kneels onto the settee beside him to see come oozing from his dick, covering some of the cushions and Louis's hands. It's a bunch of white goopiness.

"Harry," softly, weakly exhales Louis.

That's cue to break character.

"Oh, baby," instantly coos Harry, brushing gentle fingers against Louis's hot cheek. He quickly grabs his own underwear from the floor, the closest thing to a flannel in this dressing room, and starts wiping Louis and the settee off. "I love you so much; you did incredible, my love." Louis's so pliant, it's incredibly easy to bring Louis down into his arms and embrace him, bringing comfort and peace to him. "I could do everything and anything for you, Louis, and it still wouldn't be enough. You deserve the sea, the sunsets, the lakes, the gems found under rocks, and all its bliss trapped within, yet you're too bright for it all. You're an angel sent from above."

Louis lowers his head onto Harry's chest, and Harry can feel him smile.

"I love you, too," he giggles. "Now, wipe this fucking lipstick off my face that you caused."

#drabble #I tried? :D #i hope this is close to what you wanted. i haven't done in depth smut like this in a while

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bopbopstyles · 4 years

Text

2. Birthday Kisses

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 8.1k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love on this story so far!!!! i’m so happy that so many of you are loving Y/N and Harry as much as me. shoot me messages about your thoughts and feelings - i want to hear them!!! xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Harry had spent days trying to figure out where to take Y/N for their date. She said he would get one date, and so he was going to make sure it counted. After speaking to his mum and Gemma, as well as James Corden because it’s always good to have a grown man’s opinion, and the entirety of his band. On James’s recommendation, he found a drive-in movie theater on the outskirts of LA. Perfect because it was simple, would allow them to talk, and most of all, it was private. He would drive his own car with the tinted windows and he wouldn’t even really have to talk to anyone. Y/N had made it perfectly obvious that she wasn’t interested in dating a musician, so Harry wanted to keep their date as low key as possible as a result—he wanted her to forget what his job was and just get to know him as a person.

Deciding what to wear for their date was possibly harder, though. Did he just wear jeans and t-shirt? A button down? It was January, so did he go for a sweater? He had Harry Lambert on FaceTime for two hours going through outfits before Lambert told him to just pick something comfortable and that he had to go to bed. So Harry settled on a black button down and black jeans—simple, but he felt good in it. Confident. And he thought he looked good too—he had been working out, partially for Dunkirk filming back in the 2016, but also just generally. Since the band had broken up he had had more time to actually dedicate to himself, and he enjoyed it. Before, exercise had always been something squeezed into the day on the road, him half exhausted and barely alive enough to focus, and now he had energy and the motivation. It was a completely different experience. (It also helped that the other guys weren’t distracting him the whole time.)

At five thirty, he drove over to Y/N’s place—she’d moved out of her dad’s house after the renovation a few days ago. She had told him over text and he had to admit, he felt honored that she had shared facts of her life over text with him after how hesitant she was to go on the date with him.

I’m here, he texted her when he pulled up outside her building. It was an older style but in a nice neighborhood, a light brown brick exterior and not too modern. Can I come up?

Sure, she answered, Just finishing getting ready. Apt. 3C

He pulled on sunglasses, his lame attempt at a disguise, and headed inside, entering the gate code she sent over. He bounded up the stairs, thankful for the exercise to keep his brain busy. If he had taken the elevator he would’ve just stood there panicking. A welcome mat sat outside her door saying Welcome Home! and he smiled at it before knocking softly on her door.

She opened it a few beats later, shoeless and only one earring in. “Hi,” her voice breathless. “Sorry I’m a mess still, come on in.”

“No problem,” he answered, stepping inside. “Shoes on or…?”

“On is fine,” she replied. “I’m not as anal about it as my Dad is.”

Harry nodded, leaving his shoes on, and glanced around her place. There were some things still in disarray, probably from the recent renovation, but all in all it looked perfectly lived in and homey. He missed London and his house, the feeling of having a home base and someplace that felt like his own. He liked the house he was renting for the time being, but it wasn’t his, the bed wasn’t as comfortable as his one in Hampstead, and he desperately missed his expensive blender for morning smoothies. “I like your place.”

Y/N glanced around the space before back at him. “Thank you. Um, make yourself at home? I’ll be just a few.” With that, she was gone into a bedroom, Harry left in the kitchen. He wandered into the living room and explored her bookcase. She had a great selection of stuff, everything from classics like Zora Neale Hurston to The Hunger Games, which Harry had secretly adored and read three times. The walls were laden with picture frames of her and friends from what seemed like her time in college—kegs and Halloween costumes featured prominently, as well as some with her friends at the beach. He tried not to think about her in a bikini for too long. There was also a framed sheet of paper and when he looked closer he realized it was the lyrics to her father’s most famous song, one which he realized was definitely about becoming a father to Y/N. He had listened to all of her father’s music in preparation for their songwriting session and this one was one of his favorites, the raw emotion in it breathtaking.

“Okay,” she aid, entering the doorway of her room. “I’m ready.” She had a different top, the soft purple chiffon falling in vents, swishing as she moved. A pair of loose but flattering denim jeans on her legs, black booties giving her a few more inches in height. A pale red lip and light eyeliner that made her brown eyes pop, the same kind that had been done on my own eyes for many a photoshoot. She looked perfect, gorgeous, like words he didn’t even have.

“You look…incredible,” he said, struggling to speak.

Y/N glanced down at her clothes and then back at him. “Uh, thank you. You too.”

Harry smiled at her and then nodded to the door. “C’mon, we don’t want to be late.”

“You have’t even told me where we’re going!”

“It’s a secret.”

“I don’t want it to be a secret,” she said when they got in the elevator. Harry didn’t want to make her climb down stairs in her boots.

“Well, you’ll have to live,” Harry replied. He hoped she liked the date. If not, he was truly fucked.

When he pulled into the drive-in, Y/N laughed and the sound made Harry’s heart soar. It wasn’t too packed, it being a Wednesday night and all, so they were able to get a spot without too many cars around. He pulled the popcorn bags and bars of chocolate he had brought out from the backseat and handed her a bottle of water.

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” She said, accepting the bottle with a smile. “What’s the film?”

“The Birds,” he replied, “hope that’s okay. I love Hitchcock and assumed everyone does, but if it’s not your cup of tea we can go—“

She shook her head at him, fingers coming to grip his thigh in a way that set his skin on fire. “It’s perfect. Love this film—Dad and I watched it together years ago and I’ve been meaning to re-watch.”

Harry smiled at her, settling back into his seat. “Candy or popcorn?”

“Popcorn definitely,” she answered, taking the back he handed her. “What about you? Sweet or salty?”

“Depends on the sweet.” He raised the chocolate bar. “This, for instance, is an always. But something like Dum Dums? No thank you.”

“Who even eats Dum Dums?”

Harry chuckled. “Not me.”

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and Harry went to fiddle with the radio, turning the channel to match the one for the film. “I’m glad you persuaded me to come,” she said softly, voice barely audible above the sound from the radio as the previews started. “Been a while since I went on a date.”

Harry looked at her in surprise. “I’m happy you came,” he replied. Clearing his throat, he continued, “truth be told, I wanted to ask you out the moment I saw you. Mainly just to get to know you better. I also, honestly, loved how comfortable you were in the music scene—a lot of girls I’ve dated in the past aren’t and it becomes an issue.”

“I get that,” she said. “It’s not the easiest for outsiders.” Before Harry could respond, the film started, and their attention was redirected to the massive screen in front of them.

Even though he was supposed to be watching the screen, his eyes kept flittering back to Y/N. Her side profile entranced him, the curl of her hair perfectly coiled—he wondered what products she used, maybe he should try them? Lou had been telling him to actually get a grip on his hair care routine, but most days lately he couldn’t be bothered. It’s not like he was doing press anyways. When Y/N gasped, hand reaching from the popcorn back to grip his thigh, he tensed and not from panic, but from desire. He wanted to kiss her lips, her lips with faded red lipstick from eating popcorn, her lips that curved up when she smiled and looked soft and utterly delicious.

When he saw she was fidgeting, not able to figure out where to place her legs, he snatched her ankles and dragged them over to his lap. It was a reflex and one that earned him a “What are you doing?” but when he started rubbing her calves in circles, a soft murmur left her mouth and she looked back to the film. Harry loved her feet in his lap, allowing him the ability to notice the daisy chain tattooed around her left ankle. A gasp tumbled into the car when he ran his finger along the skin, her eyes meeting his and suddenly the air in the car changed completely.

It was an hour into the film and other than brief conversation about the film, Y/N saying how much more fucked up it was than she remembered, it had been mostly silent. Harry wondered if she was as preoccupied with how much she wanted him as he was with how much he wanted her.

Then suddenly, her kicked off her boots so she was just in her socks, and with her eyes still on the screen, she rubbed her foot down on his dick. Harry let out a hiss, unable to process what was happening or the shiver that went up his back at the pressure. “Y/N,” he said in a warning. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” she said, innocent as hell except for the smirk on her lips.

“You little minx.” He tossed her boots into the backseat and tickled the bottom of her feet, the squeak that left her mouth allowing him to feel like he’d gotten some form of revenge. “Bored or something?”

Y/N giggled and the sound made Harry’s heart soar. “No, just interested in something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Harry trailed his fingers up her leg slowly, basking in the soft moan that filled the car. “Y/N, I really want to kiss you,” he said, not even fearing her response to the words. She’d started it. He wanted to finish it.

Y/N looked back at him, eyes finally leaving the screen. “Then kiss me,” she said bluntly and Harry didn’t waste another second. He leaned over the center console and tugged Y/N to him with his fingers at the back of her neck and when their lips met Harry kicked himself for not doing this earlier. Her lips were soft, just like he’d thought, and salty from the popcorn, a butter sheen making them delectable. Her fingers wound through his hair, tugging gently, a hiss falling from his mouth and into hers. He ignored the crink in his neck from the position and instead focused on the way Y/N pressed soft kisses to the corners of his mouth. Her hand slid down his front, tucking her fingers between the buttons of his shirt, goosebumps raising on his skin.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, her name a plea and a question all in one. He didn’t want to overstep her boundaries, the memory of her rule—No musicians—echoing loudly in his brain. But he also wanted to kiss her until the end of time.

“Can you move your seat back?” She asked, brushing her thumb along his jaw. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, but he did as she asked. And then she swung her legs over the console, one knee on either side of his waist, and he understood. And he was not mad in the slightest.

Their lips reconnected as a scream came from the radio, but neither of them paid it any mind. The movie was a forgotten memory, their entire focus on where their lips met, nipped at one another, and battled for dominance. Y/N’s hands scrambled all over his body, curling into his button down and leaving wrinkles Harry didn’t give a fuck about. The way her fingernails dug into his skin through the fabric made him buck into her and he loved the gasp that left her mouth, the way her thighs tightened around his hips. He wanted to hear her sounds on an endless loop, noise cancelling headphones on and the world drowned out around him. All he wanted to hear, to see, to smell, was Y/N. The subtle, clean perfume she had put on, her lavender shampoo he could smell when he nestled his nose below her ear to lick her lobe, the faint scent of marijuana and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she’d smoke with him sometime.

Harry squeezed her hips, ruching her shirt up so he could brush his fingers across her skin. A whine escaped her lips and he chased it with his lips, wanting to hear more. He licked into her mouth, their tongues meeting. Y/N sucked hesitantly on his tongue and he groaned, Y/N giggling against his lips at the sound. “You menace,” he said, kissing a line down the column of her neck. “Driving me mad.” He nipped at the skin at the base of her neck and Y/N’s fingers curled into his hair, holding him there as she bucked her hips against him.

Kissing Y/N was everything Harry had been dreaming about since he met her. He had had actual dreams of kissing her, of knowing what it felt like to touch her skin, of her running her fingers down his arms like she was doing right in that second. He had woken up wondering if her lips would taste as good as they did in his dreams. In reality, she tasted better than he could’ve ever imagined. Sweeter, like a dewy English morning.

“Harry,” Y/N said, pulling away slightly from him. He tried to chase her lips but she just giggled and shook her head.

“What? Miss your lips.” He pressed a litter of kisses across her cheeks and her jaw, earning him gasps until Y/N tugged his head back from her.

“The seat buckle,” her words breathless, “it’s digging into my knee.”

Harry looked down and found that it was, indeed, digging into her kneecap in a way that was most definitely not comfortable. “We, uh, could go in the backseat?” Her face was unreadable and panic seized him—had he crossed a line? “Or we can stop—either is fine with me, I just want to be around you, we don’t have to do anything more and we can stop what we’re doing, I don’t—“

She shushed him with a finger to his lips. “Can we just stop for right now? I…I don’t want to rush into anything.”

Harry nodded quickly, running his hand up her back, desperately wish he could touch her bare skin under her shirt. “Of course. Wanna sit in your seat?”

Y/N looked at her seat and then at him. “Um, not really.”

His eyebrows quirked in response.

“Can I sit with you?” Her voice was small, hesitant. This Y/N was so unlike the one he had met, the strong and fierce girl who told him no. Here, Y/N was cautious in a different way, wanting to make sure what she did was okay with him too, and it warmed his heart that she cared about making him comfortable in the same way he did.

“ Of course, love,” the pet name slipping from his lips without a second thought. “C’mere.” With some difficulty, they adjust so that he was holding her, reclining his chair back slightly. Her body curled up, head resting on his shoulder, legs hooked over his in the small space between his seat and the door. Harry held her knees so they didn’t slip with one hand, the other trailing up and down her back. Y/N’s fingers traced circles on his abdomen and Harry tried to restrain from moaning, but he could feel the singe of her touch through his shirt and it destroyed him. “That better?”

“Mhmm,” she answered, eyes on the movie. “You’re comfortable.”

Harry chuckled, loving the way her mouth curled upwards at her little joke. He loved the feeling of her body against him, her weight pressed into him. A calm washed over him that he hadn’t felt since he was in London. With lips pressed to her hair, he settled in to watch the rest of the film, deciding he wouldn’t move her unless she asked, no matter how much his thighs ached.

After the movie ended, they drove to get ice creams, Y/N running inside to grab them so they didn’t run the risk of anyone seeing Harry. He drove down I5 to get back to her apartment, the lights of the city passing by them as they drove. Y/N told Harry about her work, the recent projects she was on, her co-workers who she adored, especially Jamie, the other strategist on her level. Harry listened intently, wanting to absorb every piece of information she told him like he was going to be tested on it later.

As he pulled up to her building, Y/N leaned over and turned down the volume of the music that had been playing in the background. It was Harry’s driving playlist, a lovingly curated collection of his favorite songs, one that was always a test for him of a person’s musical likeness. Y/N bopped her head along to all of his favorites, softly singing the lyrics to The Chain, so she officially passed the test.

“I had fun tonight,” Y/N said, looking over at him.

Harry threw the car in park and met her eyes. “Me too.” He wanted to ask if he could take her out again, but he didn’t want to rush her—he’d promised to take it at her pace, and he would keep that promise.

Y/N picked at her fingernails, the blue varnish chipping at the tips. “Would you want to do this again?”

A grin crossed Harry’s face, his highest hope realized. “I’d love to. I’ll text you?” Y/N nodded, and Harry took her hand in his, raising it to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss to her knuckles. “Text me when you’re in, okay?”

Faster than he could process, Y/N leaned across the console and kissed him. A quick, albeit deep kiss to his lips that left his mind scrambling as she pulled away and opened the car door. Her top swished in the wind as she walked away from him, the light from the street-lamps illuminating her figure in the dark night. Harry watched as she walked away, fading from sight, The 1975’s Somebody Else coming on shuffle.

His phone illuminated with a text from her a beat later. Inside. Thanks for tonight! :)

I’m happy I could get a second date, he replied, trying to be funny. Can’t wait to see you again xx

She replied with a heart and Harry tried not to read too much into it as he drove away with the windows down, Matty Healy’s voice filling the night air.

It had been two weeks since Harry took Y/N to the drive in, and since then Y/N’s days had been filled with texts from Harry at all hours of the day. He would send her memes he found on Twitter or Instagram, sometimes a photo of his lunch for the day, and ask her about work. She’d send him a selfie of her work outfit when she was feeling particularly confident and he’s text back a heart eye emoji, and one night after a few glasses of wine they FaceTimed, both in their pajamas in bed. Those quiet, soft moments, were the ones that kept Y/N feeling close to Harry in between hours here and there watching films and making out on their respective couches.

Curled up on her couch, Harry holding her close, fingers threading through her hair as they watched The Good Place, Y/N couldn’t remember feeling this at ease this quickly with any other men she’d dated. But with Harry, she felt comfortable in her oversized sweatshirt and ratty sweatpants, hair tossed into a messy bun and her glasses perched on her nose, a glass of wine in her hand. There wasn’t a part of her who felt like she still had to impress him, he was just…Harry. And that was the part that scared her, because if she forgot about his job, about his popularity, did that mean she would let him get too close? She had made her rule for a reason, and this moment was a prime example of how important it was.

The episode ended, Netflix asking them if they were still watching, and Harry squeezed her shoulder. “Want some more?” He asked, nodding to her wine glass.

“Sure,” she answered, sitting up and handing it to him. “We might need to open a fresh bottle—there’s more—“

“In the pantry, I know,” he said, cutting her off with a smile. He’d spent many nights with her on this couch and at this point she didn’t need to tell him where the forks were or where here recycling bin was.

Y/N tugged the blanket around her shoulders, cold from Harry leaving, and pressed pause on the TV. “Another episode?”

“Obviously,” Harry responded from the kitchen. She rolled over so she could watch him prepare the wine glasses, the sight of him standing in her kitchen, opening the wine on her marble countertops made her stomach flutter with butterflies. Every day that passed made it harder to hold him at a distance. “Are you free on the 1st?” He asked out of nowhere, pouring the wine into their glasses.

“Not sure,” Y/N responded. “Why?”

Harry looked up at her with a devious smile, the one Y/N had grown to enjoy. “It’s my birthday. Having a party and I was hoping you’d come.”

The idea of being in a room full of Harry’s friends, most of whom she would’t know, made Y/N’s head spin. But then again, she thought to herself, it wouldn’t be much different from going to an industry function with her dad and she’d been doing that since she was in diapers. She could hold her own. And plus, it was Harry’s birthday and the prospect of seeing him drunk and happy and eating cake was worth some discomfort. “Sure.”

His face lit up, eyes sparkling under the low lights of her kitchen. “Brilliant. Can’t wait for you to meet everyone—you’ll love them.” He brought over the wine glasses, tugging her back into his chest, arms a secure safe haven. “Now press play, wanna see what Eleanor and Chidi get up to this time.”

“I just want them to get together already,” she said, pressing play and settling into him, her face on his chest.

“Mhm,” he agreed, fingers scratching her scalp in the way she loved, and she tried not to let her eyes drift shut to the sound of his heart beating and the TV going.

With a gin and tonic in her hand and a forced smile on her face, Y/N wove her way through the crowd, trying to find Harry. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but he was her safety blanket of sorts—she didn’t know any of these people. Harry seemed to run in different circles from her dad and the people she’d grown up around, and the prospect of having to be a leech to Harry all night wasn’t exactly comforting. She didn’t want to be that annoying new girl that he had to introduce to everyone.

But then she heard her name from somewhere around her and she knew immediately that it was him. “Y/N!” Her eyes swept around her surroundings until they fell on his smile. He had his hair pushed back by a pair of sunglasses—despite that it was dark out—and he was in a velvet top with a crewneck underneath it. It was impossible, she thought, not to notice how stunning he was. She also wondered how much effort it would take to get him to take that crewneck off, because after the other times he had worn an unbuttoned shirt around her she knew it was one of her favorite things for him to wear.

She decided she would ask him when she gave him his birthday present.

Cutting through the people around her, Excuse me and I’m sorrys falling from her lips as she made her way over to the birthday boy, Y/N considered what he would make of her gift. She’d thought about it long and hard, called her best friend Hanna and Jamie on FaceTime to make sure she wasn’t being too presumptuous, but they’d reassured her she was fine. Overdue, even.

“Happy Birthday,” she said when she reached him, his hand immediately slipping around her waist. From the gleam in his eyes, she assumed he was a few drinks in and she wondered what silly dance moves he would whip out tonight. He’d shown her some earlier in the week after she had made them dinner and he’d had her giggling in seconds.

Harry’s hand squeezed the flesh at her hip, sending tingles up her spine, his eyes not leaving hers. “Thank you, baby.” It was the first time he’d used the nickname and Y/N tried not to think about the way it made her heart constrict with desire. “You look gorgeous.”

Jamie and Hanna had persuaded her to wear the outfit, despite her fears it was too much, but with Harry’s eyes on her and the way his hand curved into her body, she decided it was the right move. The short skirt and knee high boots she had been wanting to break out for ages, a silver top tucked loosely into the waistband to emphasize the curve of her waist. “Thanks,” she replied. “Now you going to introduce me, or will I have to do that myself?”

Harry blinked and the man and woman he was talking to chuckled. Y/N was happy she had made a good first impression—maybe making a joke or two at Harry’s expense would be her ice breaker. Not too many to where it hurt him, but enough to show people that she didn’t care about his fame, that to her he was just Harry, the idiot who did the Macarena in her living room to ABBA. “Oh, this is Mitch and Sarah,” he said, “they’re in my band. Mitch, Sarah, this is Y/N.”

“Pleasure,” the woman said, reaching out to hug Y/N. The display of affection warmed Y/N—maybe she wouldn’t have to be alone all night. This woman, Sarah, seemed lovely, and if she was in Harry’s band then she’d probably be seeing more of her at some point. “Harry mentioned you the other day. Said you have a sweet little place in Atwater?”

“Yes!” Y/N replied, her neighborhood one of her favorite topics of discussion. “I love it—moved in right after I graduated and it’s been perfect.”

“And what do you do, Y/N?” Mitch asked, taking a sip of his beer in his hand.

“Brand strategy,” Harry answered for her. “She’s utterly brilliant at it too—Y/N can you tell them about the project you were talking about at dinner on Tuesday?”

His words caused Y/N to glance at him with shock. She’d never had a guy answer for her before, but she could tell it wasn’t from a place of Harry trying to speak over her, but a place of pride—and support. “Yeah—it’s for a new ethical clothing brand out of Seattle, they’re working on size-inclusive athletic attire for women. The models for the campaign are going to be super diverse and I’m really excited to see it in the industry, since it’s been few and far between, especially in the fitness space.”

Sarah nodded along and Y/N could tell that she got it. “I’d love to know the company—could you text it to me?”

Harry gave Y/N another squeeze and she swallowed the smile that threatened to stay plastered on her face if Harry did that one more time. “Sure thing.” Sarah typed her number into Y/N’s phone, a little sunflower next to her name that reminded Y/N of Harry. It felt good to have a connection to one of Harry’s friends, especially someone as lovely as Sarah seemed.

And Sarah didn’t disappoint. She made Y/N her pet project for the evening, taking over when Harry had to talk to someone, keeping Y/N entertained and introducing her to people. By the time she had finished her second drink, she fonud herself deep in a conversation about a new art exhibit downtown that Jamie had mentioned to her. The thought of Harry’s presence hadn’t even popped into her head and it was nice to be independent in the space, to hold her own in the crowd. She realized that she fit in with his friends, despite her fears.

Harry kept on coming over though, grabbing her hand and leading her to talk to someone he worked with or was close with or he thought she’d find interesting. He refilled their glasses when she asked and kept an arm wrapped around her waist, a smile beaming down at her that filled her with joy. To be so supported by a man she’d only been seeing for a matter of weeks felt unreal, but she wasn’t mad about it. The newest conversation was with an up and coming photographer who Harry had taken a liking to, Harry explained to her.

“And this is my girlfriend Y/N,” he said, gesturing to her.

The title of girlfriend almost passed her over completely, but when she processed it, it stopped her dead in her tracks. They hadn’t talked about titles, about officially being boyfriend and girlfriend, as silly as the term sounded. Every other time he’d introduced her , it was just Y/N, although she assumed the way he held her close probably gave away their relationship to anyone who had eyes. After all, it had only been a few weeks, so they were still infatuated with touching one another. Y/N couldn’t keep her hands off of him either, fingers slipping into a belt loop absentmindedly or creeping up his back and rubbing circles there while he talked.

And maybe it was for those reasons that the word girlfriend didn’t affect her as much as she expected it to. It felt somewhat right, even, she thought. It wasn’t like she particularly wanted to be seeing anyone else, after all—Harry had swooped into her life and she’d become obsessed with spending time with him, despite her rule and her objections to the idea of him. He had shocked her with his charm and honesty and intellect, the way he listened to her and asked her questions, how he held her close and murmured his commentary to films in her ear, willing to jump up and get her ice cream anytime she asked. Even though he was the definition of the man she had always promised herself she would never date, the idea of ending things made her recoil.

So she let the term slide. She smiled and shook the man’s hand, listening intently to him describe his newest exhibition and tucked his business card into her purse when he handed it to her. Later, she told herself. She’d talk to Harry later.

She cheered when Harry blew out the birthday candles on his cake, laughing along with everyone else when James Corden tried to shove his face into the cake. When Harry kissed the top of her head chastely, lips sweet with icing, she reveled in the moment, taking a bite of her own slice. It was late and she was getting tired and she desperately wanted to give Harry his gift with the more time that passed and the more messy his curls got and the more drinks she had. And then Harry started dancing with Sarah and James and a dozen other people, and suddenly he was dragging her onto the dance floor, holding her close and shimmying his hips along to Ariana Grande with her. Her head tipped back and a laugh rang through the night and she decided there was simply no way she could break it off. Harry had proved her wrong and she was going to let him continue.

Their kisses were heavy when they stumbled into Y/N’s apartment, the door slamming shut behind them. It was after midnight and they were both quite tipsy, maybe even drunk. Harry more so than her, but not to the point where he couldn’t tell her how everything she did made him feel.

“Your lips are heaven,” he said, pressing a line down her throat with her pressed up against the door. “How are they so soft? Do you have some special scrub or somethin’?”

“It’s from fresh,” she answered. “Fuck, Harry.” His hand had wrapped around her thigh and tugged it up around his hip so that he could press himself into her center and the friction had her sweating. The combination of his weight against hers and the wetness of his tongue on her collarbones as he sucked a kiss into her skin left her squirming in his hold, hands gripping his coat tightly in her hands. “Get this off,” she said, pushing at his coat.

“Bossy,” he chuckled, shrugging it off, the material falling to the ground. “Want me out of anything else, ma’am?”

Mischief twinkled in his eyes and Y/N wanted him completely naked, but that was a bit much for the entryway to her apartment. “Shirt.”

He unbuttoned his velvet shirt, pulling it off, but Y/N caught it in her hands. He looked at her quizzically, trying to understand what she was doing.

“Want this on,” she explained, holding up the velvet top. “And that one off.” Her fingers pulled at the neck of his crewneck and Harry’s eyes trailed to her fingers and then back to her face.

“I like your brain,” he said simply. And then complied with her request, crewneck over his head and on the ground. Y/N’s fingers were on his chest immediately, drawing patterns over his tattoos that she knew were there from seeing him in tank tops and thin t-shirts, but it was another thing entirely to be able to touch the ink on his body.

When he tugged on his velvet shirt, Y/N smiled, touching the fabric. “Should’ve just worn this.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Her hands slid under the material, desperate to touch him again.

“I’ll make sure to get your approval next time.”

“Good.” Then, she pulled his lips back to hers, the touch of his mouth on hers leaving her humming. He ate it up, tongue licking into her mouth, the taste of tequila and cake filling her senses. His hand drifted up her side, squeezing the skin next to her breasts. She knew what he wanted and she didn’t want to say no to him. “Bedroom?”

Harry’s eyes widened, dropping to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “You sure?”

“Positive,” she answered. Then, she leaned in so she could whisper in his ear, “I have a present to give you.”

With that information, Harry swept her up in his arms, ignoring her pleas for him to set her down, and carried her into the bedroom. Dropping her onto the duvet, he crawled up her body like a cat, head nuzzling into her skin in a way that was so sweet Y/N didn’t know what to do with herself. “I want my present,” Harry mumbled. “What do I have to unwrap, baby?”

Y/N mewled at the last word of his sentence and he winked at her. Baby. “You said that earlier.”

He lifted his head and looked at her. “And?”

A smile wormed its way onto her face. “I like it.”

“Good,” he said, tucking his face back into her body, blowing hot air over her breasts. She could feel the sensation through the fabric of her top and it tightened her nipples, begging for more. “You like anything else I said tonight?”

“Hmm?”

“When we were talking to Eric,” he said, not meeting her eyes, instead pressing wet kisses down her tummy, rucking the hem of the fabric up slightly so he could touch her skin. “Called you something.”

Girlfriend. She knew where he was going and she couldn’t help but chuckle at his coyness. “I caught that.”

He licked into her bellybutton, a yelp escaping her mouth at the sensation. “Thoughts?”

“Can you take my shirt off already, boyfriend?” She didn’t even pause—she’d thought about it for the rest of the night, toying with the terms. The time had allowed her to process and now she knew what she wanted—she wanted him. She’d figure the rest of it out later, but first she wanted him.

Finally, Harry met her eyes. His face was illuminated by the light from her bedside table lamp, the soft glow showing the light tan to his skin, his green eyes popping up to hers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He kissed the soft skin above her belly button. “We’ll talk more about it later. But first, I want to see you.” Y/N leaned up and helped him take her shirt off, then shimmy the skirt down her hips. She kicked her boots off somewhere in the process. Lying in just her underwear for him, she tried not to squirm under his gaze as he took inventory of every inch of her exposed skin. “Beautiful,” he finally breathed out, eyes glassy and lips wet. “So fucking beautiful.”

“Your turn,” she said, tugging at his pants. “Get out of these.”

“Give me a second, Jesus woman,” he said, batting her hands away so he could get the button undone. The jeans were tight, which Y/N didn’t hesitate to make fun of him for, and Harry just rolled his eyes at her. “You love them,” he countered and he wasn’t wrong. When he hovered over her in just his boxers, Y/N decided he was positively delectable. Her hands pushed off his top that he had kept on just for her, the fabric falling somewhere on her floor.

“Roll over,” she directed, pushing at his torso so he would lay down in the space next to her.

He was compliant, completely under her spell. In just their underwear, there was far more skin to explore and Y/N planning to take advantage of her opportunity. She ran her hands over his skin, every tattoo earning a kiss from her lips, mumbling how pretty he was as she went down his body. It was like a map, and a map she wanted to know by heart. When he bucked into her core, Y/N smirked at him, Harry groaning as she ignored what he needed.

“Quite bossy, aren’t you?”

“It’s my birthday present, ain’t it?”

Y/N pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him as she had before and yet again, it worked. “Haven’t even told you what it is.” Clamoring off his body, she made her way lower, resting next to his knees. She brushed a finger over the outline of him in his boxer, a guttural moan filling the room at her touch. “That’s your birthday gift,” she told him, words falling soft in the space around them.

“Yeah?” He choked out as she gripped him harder through his boxers. “Please, Y/N, please.” His begs did something to her, his desperation pulling the same from her. She wanted to touch him, to have him in her mouth, to know how he tasted.

Her fingers pulled at his boxers, tugging them down his long legs and letting them fall to the end of her bed. His cock sprung up against his belly, hard and heavy, the tip pink from his desire. “Needy, hm?” Y/N didn’t usually do dirty talk, but with Harry it just fell from her mouth without another thought. The comfort of being with him made her usual worries about what she said collapse, her only thought his pleasure. “What do you want, baby?”

The pet name seemed to do something special to him because he bucked up into the air with a hiss. “Hands. Mouth. Anything.”

Y/N could do anything. She slid back into the spot between his legs and licked a solid stripe up the underside of him, the growl that left his mouth music to her ears. Taking the tip into her mouth she bobbed down as far as she could—she wanted to surprise him, start strong. None of this slow and steady crap. She wanted Harry to know how good she was, how good she could make him feel. She wanted to rock his fucking world.

And she did. She built a steady tempo, taking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth in her hands, rubbing him up and down, the slick of her saliva making the work easy. Harry’s hand found her hair, thumbing through it to keep it out of her face, the sweet motion making her heart sing. Every once in a while she would push down so that he hit the back of her throat and keep him there as long as she could, inhaling through her nose, the choked groan from his chest making the feeling worth it. When his hips popped up, his tip pressing deeper, she let him do it, loving the feeling of him in her mouth. She loved the moans filling the air and the way he rasped her name like the chorus to his favorite song, how he tugged on her hair and wound the strands between his fingers.

She decided that going down on him was her new favorite past time. She would make it a fucking national sport if that meant she could do it every day, because seeing him falling apart from her and her alone brought her a kind of gratification she had never felt.

“Close?” Her words pulled him from a daze, tongue darting over his lower lip.

“Yeah.”

That made Y/N double down her efforts. She wanted him to cum, she wanted it so badly she felt it in every bone of her body. “Want you to come,” she mumbled against him, the vibrations of her voice sending shocks through his body. “Come for me, H.”

He gasped, bucking into her mouth. “You—your mouth? I—“

“Come for me, baby,” her voice a beg, a plea. She wanted to taste him, to know how what he tasted like, to kiss him with the taste still lingering on her tongue.

When he came, she had to wonder if this was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The way he tossed his head back, mouth in a silent scream as he emptied into her mouth. He held her head in place lightly, just enough so there was weight but not too much where she couldn’t move, his other hand gripping the duvet cover in a tight grip. And his taste—he tasted a bit salty, but she didn’t mind. It was tangy, a taste that was him, and she loved it. She held him there on her tongue until he stopped, the ropes of his orgasm stopping finally, and she slipped him from her mouth. As he settled, his chest rose and fell quickly, regaining his breath.

She pressed her head to his thigh, out of breath too, her eyes on him. Watching him regain composure was a sight she would dream of, his hair scattered across her pillow in disarray, the flush to his cheeks, the pants from his parted lips.

“C’mere,” he finally said, voice raw. “Want a kiss.”

Y/N didn’t make him wait. She crawled up his body, legs on either side of his stomach and pressed her lips to his. The idea of him tasting himself on her tongue made her hot, her center clenching, but it was all about Harry tonight. “Happy Birthday,” she mumbled against his lips and he chuckled. “Hope it was a good one.”

“Best one yet,” he told her, smoothing her hair behind her ear. “Tired?”

She nodded, face held in his hands. “Stay?”

Harry smiled and pressed a kiss to her nose. “Course. Got an extra toothbrush?”

In the morning, she woke up in his embrace, arms curled tightly around her frame. He’d kicked some of the covers off overnight, but thankfully he was as hot as a furnace so she wasn’t cold. Without even thinking about it, she cuddled against his chest, shutting her eyes to hold onto the moment a little longer.

“I know you’re awake,” he whispered and Y/N rolled her eyes at him.

Turning over so she could see his face, she murmured, “Sleep well?”

“Perfectly,” he answered. “These sheets are cozy.”

“Target.”

“Huh. Maybe I’ll have to get some.”

She chuckled, pressing her face into his chest. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“Then don’t,” he replied, brushing her hair back. “Wanted to talk to you, though.”

“Hmm?” Her eyes were closed against his skin and it was blissful. He smelled like sweat and his cologne and the distinct smell of Harry, a scent she was quickly growing to adore.

Tucking a leg between hers, he said, “This is a busy year for me. The album’s coming out in May, then Dunkirk in July, then tour in the fall. And I know that you don’t want to date a musician and I know it’s early days, but I—I can’t imagine losing you, you know? So I want to have a plan for how we’re going to do it. Cuz it won’t be easy.”

Y/N looked up at him, the morning sunlight hitting his cheekbones perfectly. “The fact that you even want to have that conversation means so much.” Her words were honest—they showed he cared. He wanted to try, to make it work. “Let’s figure out the specifics when it comes time for that, but for now you’ll be here, yeah?” He nodded and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Let’s make a promise to each other. We talk. All the time about everything and anything. Don’t bottle it up, just share what’s going on in your head. I think that’ll make it somewhat easier. And we visit as much as we can.”

Harry’s fingers ran across the bridge of her nose and then up, a line across the tops of her eyebrows. “I like that.”

“But it’s a continuing conversation, okay?” She added, wanting to make sure this was clear. “We have to keep talking about it, even though it’s harder than it is to ignore it.” It was something she knew from watching her dad over the years and from her own relationship with him. Once she told him that he was gone too much, that she wanted him home, he made it happen. He prioritized her, she just had to remind him that she wanted him there.

“Okay.” Harry kissed her forehead, and then across her cheeks, soft kisses pressed to her skin that left her in giggles. “Now let’s eat something—I’m starved.” Y/N groaned, but let him pull her out of bed. They brushed their teeth together, him pressing toothpaste kisses to her lips, and she let him use her face wash and moisturizer. It was perfect, and for that moment, Y/N’s worries of the future fell away and she hoped she could hold them off. At least for a while.

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myonechicagoworld · 3 years

Text

CHICAGO FIRE – FIREWORKS (S01E18)

[car door shuts]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, Chief. I just thought I’d… catch you before

shift started.

Chief Boden: You caught me.

Gabby Dawson: Uh, good morning, first of all.

Chief Boden: Morning.

Gabby Dawson: So obviously I heard what I heard last night. And I

guess I’m just trying to figure out what to do about

it now that it’s kind of out in the open.

Chief Boden: It’s not out in the open.

Gabby Dawson: Well, I mean it’s out in the open for me, because I

don’t know if you’re aware or not, but Pete and I

are dating.

Chief Boden: I’m aware.

Gabby Dawson: So you may also be aware that Pete’s become

increasingly convinced that people are keeping

secrets from him about his dad, vis à vis…

Are you gonna tell him what’s going on before he

hears it from Kelly’s dad?

Chief Boden: Benny Severide is not gonna be coming around 51

anymore.

Gabby Dawson: Still, Pete is gonna keep digging until he finds out.

Chief Boden: Gabby, your dogged inquisitiveness…is one of the

qualities that makes you such an effective paramedic.

But it is of no use to you in this matter, which is a

private one.

If you care about Mills like I think you do… drop it.

I’ll see you back at the house.

cutscene

[food sizzling in pan]

Benny Severide: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Morning.

Benny Severide: Morning. We got scrapple and we got eggs.

Grab a seat. There you go.

Kelly Severide: Thanks.

Benny Severide: So, um… Whoritsky’s offered me a teaching post,

and I’m-I’m thinking about doing it. Figured I

could come down and see you ever couple

weeks, hang out. What do you think?

Kelly Severide: Sounds good.

Benny Severide: Will probably have to spend one more shift at the

house. Kind of re-familiarise myself with a couple

of things. So why don’t you tell Boden I’ll be there

about noon.

Kelly Severide: What the hell’s going on with you and Boden?

Benny Severide: Look, Wally and me, we go way back. He and I,

one minute we’re at each other’s throats and-and

the next I’m helping to put a new deck on his

house, okay? This is nothing new.

Look, I promise you, I-I’ll be a choir boy, okay?

A mute choir boy.

cutscene

Chief Boden: Keep that 2 ½ on the roof line. I don’t want a flare-up

spreading to other buildings.

Kelly Severide: Oh, hey, sir, sir. You’re gonna want to stand back,

okay?

Man 1 (Owner): It’s my restaurant, are-are my employees safe?

Kelly Severide: (into radio) Hey, Casey, you got a search status?

Matt Casey: (into radio) Building’s clear, just opening up the ceiling.

Pop a couple of these tiles.

[tiles breaking]

Kelly Severide: Building was empty, your people are out.

Man 1 (Owner): Son of a bitch said I’d pay. I never thought he’d go

this far.

Kelly Severide: Yeah?

Man 1 (Owner): Ten years without a grease fire. I opened four

restaurants in the union, suddenly he sees money.

I refused to sign. They send this thug!

Kelly Severide: Sounds like you’re gonna want to talk to CPD.

Man 1 (Owner): What good would that do? This guy’s not gonna

stop until I’m-I’m ruined or dead.

Lady 1 (Owner’s Wife): [sobbing]

Matt Casey: (into radio) Okay, Chief, we’re almost done. Send in

engine for the wash down.

[ceiling crashing]

Firefighter: Whoa!

Joe Cruz: Casey!

- title -

Peter Mills: Lieutenant!

Joe Cruz: Mills, get out of here!

[grunts]

[glass shattering]

Joe Cruz: [groans]

Chief Boden: Hit him with the hose!

Joe Cruz: Come on!

[water spraying]

Joe Cruz: Lieutenant!

Matt Casey: [grunts] I’m okay [pants]

Thanks, Cruz.

[water spraying]

Matt Casey: Seriously, it’s fine. It didn’t burn through my gear.

Leslie Shay: Then what’s this?

Matt Casey: Ow.

Gabby Dawson: Hold still. It’s just a first-degree burn.

Will you give me that bandage?

Couple more seconds of whatever that was that

dumped down on you, it wouldn’t have stopped

at the jacket.

Leslie Shay: [sighs] It smells like fuel.

Otis Zvonecek: That’s ‘cause it was. Homemade gasoline fire

bombs in the ceiling.

Lady 1 (Owner’s Wife): [sobbing]

cutscene

Matt Casey: Back door was kicked in. It’s not like whoever did it

was making an attempt to hide it was arson.

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): CPD said they’d back seat to my office

on this one.

Kelly Severide: On that union rep who was threatened by the owner

of the diner?

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): Yeah, your owner, Stuart Tuxhorn, filed a

complaint against a, uh, Lou Krinsky

last month. We’re checking it out, but

with a case like this, the evidence is

circumstantial at best.

Kelly Severide: [chuckles] Yeah.

Man 2 (James Whoritsky): Did I say something funny?

Kelly Severide: Yeah, this union guy, if he’s connected to city

politics, you can’t tell me that someone isn’t

already trying to get this buried.

Chief Boden: Look, we’re good here. Just keep us posted.

Kelly Severide: Can I talk to you a sec?

My old man wants to come by the house again.

Chief Boden: Kelly, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

[door closes]

Kelly Severide: Whatever business you guys got, that’s your

business. But he said he’ll be a choir boy and

it’s-it’s one more shift.

Chief Boden: Here’s the deal, Kelly. I don’t know what your dad

has told you…

Kelly Severide: He hasn’t told me dick.

Chief Boden: Some guys when they retire and they come back

around the job, for some reason, they gotta tear

it down. I’m no psychologist, but your dad, he’s

always been really adept at tearing things down.

So that he’s the only one left standing. He has a

take on how Peter Mills’ father died, and it’s

untrue. And that would hurt Pete if that were

thrown in his face. I will not allow your father to

do it. So it would be in everybody’s best interest

if you were to meet your father in another house.

So… you can tell him. Or I could tell him.

[cell phone rings]

Benny Severide: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Hey. Uh, my buddy Jason Baseden over at Squad

One, you remember him?

Benny Severide: Yeah, sure, I remember Jason.

Kelly Severide: Well, he heard you were in town and he was…he

was…he was, like, “get your old man over here!”

It’s a newer house, all the latest bells and whistles

and I can stop by later if we don’t get a call. So…

so stop over there, okay? Jason’s expecting you.

Benny Severide: Yeah, sure, of course. No problem.

cutscene

Gabby Dawson: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey. Um, hey, don’t be jealous, but, uh, Dolores down

at the records department of the academy… I sent her

a gift basket of cookies and brownies, just trying to

butter her up to try and get information on the fire my

dad died in, and… it worked. She sent me over the

Battalion Chief’s original report. And I am starting to

see why Boden and Kelly’s dad don’t want to talk

about it. Two firefighters dying and the other

fire-fighter’s wife was pregnant with her first child.

Gabby Dawson: Tough to relive through, you know?

Peter Mills: Yeah.

Well, Dolores is still searching, she’s gonna send me

anything that she finds.

cutscene

Joe Cruz: [growls]

[dog growling]

Leslie Shay: Hey, guys, what does ‘ebullient’ mean again?

Joe Cruz: No idea.

Mouch: Bull-like. To resemble a bull.

Otis Zvonecek: Means cheerful and energetic.

Mouch: Or that.

Leslie Shay: All right, thanks.

Otis Zvonecek: Why?

Leslie Shay: One of these guys used it to describe himself.

Matt Casey: Any guy that describes himself as ebullient, you don’t

want his sperm.

Leslie Shay: Yeah, right. Thanks.

Mouch: How much longer you gonna be on this donor kick?

Leslie Shay: Until I find the right guy.

Mouch: And you can just look at ‘em on your computer.

Leslie Shay: Mmhmm, like I’m doing right now. Correct.

Mouch: I admire your gumption. Most other people would, you

know, keep that behind closed doors.

Leslie Shay: Every time Cindy gets pregnant, Herrmann plasters her

sonogram images all over the fridge. And what? I’m

supposed to hide in a corner?

Mouch: I said I admire your gumption.

[phone vibrates]

Leslie Shay: Well, thanks.

Matt Casey: Hey Heather.

Heather Darden: I was in the neighbourhood.

Matt Casey: Great.

Heather Darden: Hey, um, did you notice an earring in your truck?

I’m missing one.

Matt Casey: Uh, I didn’t see it, but I can… I can take a look.

Heather Darden: Thank you.

Oh and by the way, Saturday the kids are staying

with my parents and I was planning on having

dinner with one of my girlfriends, but her dad’s

not doing so hot so she had to fly out to

Jacksonville. But I’ve already got that night free

so I was thinking, why don’t we grab dinner?

cutscene

[alert beeps]

Benny Severide: (over PA) Smoke eater in the house!

Kelly Severide: God damn it!

Benny Severide: Donut man in the house!

Donuts, everybody! Donuts!

Firefighters: Oh, hell yeah!

[indistinct shouting and cheering]

Benny Severide: Come and get it!

Kelly Severide: Hey, what happened to going to Squad one?

Benny Severide: I didn’t want to.

Come on, you guys, let’s get a donut.

Hi, Wally.

You know, I used to bring those to the ladies

in arson all the time. One of them, Ruthie,

she didn’t have anything personal in her office.

I mean, nothing. Not a family photo, nothing.

All she had behind her desk, right in the middle

of her tack board was this quote, “If you can’t

do anything about it, don’t worry about it.” And

I am, like, “Man, this Ruthie is locked into some

higher level stuff,” right?

Chief Boden: Benny, can I talk to you real quick?

Benny Severide: Yeah, just a second. So anyway, Ruthie retires

and I go in to say goodbye and I look at the

board and the quote is still there. And I say,

“Hey Ruthie, you forgot your quote.” And she

says, “That’s not mine, that was here when I

moved into the office.”

[laughter]

Benny Severide: All this time I thought she was like this oracle

or something, you know? Anyway, I kept the

quote. What the hell? Couldn’t hurt.

Lead the way, boss.

Chief Boden: You’re not welcome here.

Benny Severide: Yeah? Is that why you have my son hustle me

down the road?

Chief Boden: You are not welcome here.

Benny Severide: 25 years on the job, 15 of them in this house.

Nobody tells me when I can come and go!

Kelly Severide: Whatever you two are trying not to bring attention

to, guess what? You’re bringing attention to it.

Benny Severide: We got this, Kelly.

Kelly Severide: No you don’t!

He wants to stay here one more shift, that’s it.

Can you keep your mouth shut while you’re

here?

Benny Severide: Who the hell are you to tell me to…

Kelly Severide: It’s a yes or no question!

[knocks on door]

Matt Casey: Lou Krinsky, restaurant workers local 553 is here.

Looking to talk to us.

Chief Boden: We’ll be right there.

Matt Casey: Do I need to turn the hose on you guys?

Chief Boden: We’re good. We’re fine. We’ll be right out.

Hmph. You always had all the answers.

But I’m gonna tell you, this is your only shift. You

try and show up again for a second, I will put an

ass kicking on you 20 years in the making.

Benny Severide: Ooh! You still got it, Wally. I was starting to think

all those bugles had turned you into a big

marshmallow.

It’s the way it’s always been with me and him.

Kelly Severide: You didn’t own this house. You rented it. And I’m

here now, so show me some respect.

cutscene

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Just curious why a report coming from this

house has the arson department trying to

finger me for burning down a restaurant.

Matt Casey: That report conveyed the owner’s statement to us,

that’s all.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Oh, okay. Well then, I would like to make

a report. Tuxhorn… rapes baby seals.

Put that in the report, have him have to

defend it.

Chief Boden: This is between you and the fire investigations.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): Yeah, and it got that far because you

guys took the word of some sweatshop

owner over that of a fellow union brother.

Why don’t you show some courtesy, talk

to me first.

Kelly Severide: We’re not talking about a busboy who got fired,

Lou, this is serious business.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): I know. I’m being accused of starting it!

Kelly Severide: We just wrote down what we saw and heard.

Man 3 (Lou Krinsky): [scoffs]

Matt Casey: Guy’s a skull cracker.

[door closes]

cutscene

Leslie Shay: You’re awfully quiet? Everything all right?

Gabby Dawson: All right, let’s… let’s say that if you knew

something… What?

Leslie Shay: Nothing.

Gabby Dawson: No, no, no. Don’t give me that. What? What

is it?

Leslie Shay: Um…

[chuckling]

Gabby Dawson: Ohh… ohh…

Mouch: Oh, goodness gracious.

Leslie Shay: I’m not here to judge you.

Mouch: [stammers] I didn’t… see, that… when… when the…

what?

Leslie Shay: I’m not here to judge you. I just want to know how

it works.

Mouch: Who else knows?

Leslie Shay: No one.

Mouch: Dawson?

Leslie Shay: Just Dawson.

Mouch: Oh Shay.

Leslie Shay: Don’t worry. She’s sworn to secrecy. But, Mouch, I

gotta ask. Six foot? 175?

Mouch: I aged out. It was my understanding they were gonna

take that down.

Leslie Shay: Fine. Look, I got a million questions I’m gonna ask

you. Can I? Please?

Mouch: [sighs] Okay, I’m ready.

Leslie Shay: Great. First off, the sperm. Did you…

[fire alarm buzzes and blares]

Mouch: Oh!

(Over PA): Truck 81, Ambulance 61. Restaurant fire.

[sirens blaring]

[horn honking]

Kelly Severide: Mr Tuxhorn.

Man 1 (Owner/Tuxhorn): I never should have told you ‘cause

he’s gonna bury me now.

Kelly Severide: Stay back.

Lady 2 (Bus Driver): I’m the one who called. I was making my

stop and I saw a man on fire running

through the restaurant.

Chief Boden: Okay, no one goes in. Hit it from the window. Quick

takedown. If that driver’s right, this is gonna be a

recovery.

[water spraying]

Matt Casey: (into radio) Cleared the dining room and bathrooms.

No bodies. Moving into the kitchen.

Kelly Severide: Guess I don’t need to remind you to keep your

eyes on the ceiling.

Matt Casey: That’s exactly what I’m doing.

Kelly Severide: Hey. It’s the same entry point as the last fire.

Matt Casey: Wherever he is, he’s long gone.

(into radio) This is Casey. Building’s clear.

[door swings open]

Kelly Severide: Uh Casey…

Matt Casey: (into radio) We need a medic.

[indistinct radio chatter]

Gabby Dawson: [grunts] Let’s turn him over.

Leslie Shay: [grunts]

Gabby Dawson: Agonal breathing. Fire may have scorched his

lungs.

Matt Casey: How bad?

Gabby Dawson: I don’t know. Airway looks pretty fried.

Leslie Shay: His arms are burned. Can’t get a line in. He’s got

minutes at best.

Gabby Dawson: We move him or lose him. Give us a hand?

Leslie Shay: On three. Very gentle. One, two, three.

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) 61 to Main, let Lakeshore know we

are two minutes out with a burn victim.

Leslie Shay: Dawson…

Gabby Dawson: (into radio) 61 to Main. Cancel that. Victim is

DOA. We will transport from scene for safety.

Dispatcher: Copy that 61… [continues indistinctively]

cutscene

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): Well, we verified it. Krinsky’s alibi

clears him from the second fire.

Matt Casey: Come on, he’s union muscle. He could have had

one of his knuckleheads torch both places.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): I’m not arguing with that. But as

of now, we don’t have actionable

evidence.

Chief Boden: I got a drawer in the morgue full of evidence. I

don’t care if the man inside is homeless or a

CEO, he didn’t deserve the death he got.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): Oh, and I think he did? Come on,

give me a break.

Kelly Severide: The guy who owns these restaurants is fearing

for his life.

Man 2 (James Whoristsky): We need proof. Do I really need to

explain arson investigation to you

guys? It take a while.

Kelly Severide: Let’s go back to that second fire and look around.

Matt Casey: Yeah. All right.

Kelly Severide: Cool?

Chief Boden: Yeah. Take your dad with you.

Kelly Severide: Chief, he gave his word that he’d keep his mouth

shut around here…

Chief Boden: I know he’s a pain in the ass, but he’s a hell of an

arson investigator.

Kelly Severide: Oh yeah.

[door closes]

Peter Mills: You know, I could cook you up something if you’d

like.

Benny Severide: Oh, that’s all right. Thanks, though.

Peter Mills: I didn’t know that you and my dad were on Squad

together. And um… the other firefighter who died

with him.

Benny Severide: That’s right. Ross McGowan. Two years on

the job. About your age. Had his whole life

ahead of him. Never got to meet his daughter.

A real shame.

Peter Mills: Yeah, I’m sorry to bring that up. I know it must be uh,

really hard to relive.

Benny Severide: Yeah. Never should have happened.

Peter Mills: How do you mean?

Benny Severide: Well, like you said. It’s hard to relive.

Peter Mills: Respectfully, Mr Severide, I get the sense that there’s

something you really want to tell me.

Kelly Severide: Hey. Let’s take a ride.

cutscene

Leslie Shay: So, like the pamphlet says, you just…do it in a cup?

Mouch: No, uh, a…a gossamer-winged stork flies down and…

Leslie Shay: [sighs]

Mouch: Yes.

Leslie Shay: And have you had contact with any of the…

Mouch: With the kids? God, no!

Leslie Shay: Because…

Mouch: I’m Father Flanagan? No way! I treasure my privacy.

Leslie Shay: Damn. It just… seems so impersonal.

Mouch: Let me just stop you right there. My cousin Ted and his

wife, Patty, they tried for a long time, couldn’t conceive.

They decided to go the AI route, that’s shorthand for

artificial…

Leslie Shay: I got it.

Mouch: Okay. So now they have a lovely daughter Elsa who is

the light of their lives. And that family is filled with

nothing but love, despite the clinical origins.

Leslie Shay: That’s beautiful. I…Is that why you became a donor?

Because of them?

Mouch: No. The cash. 125 a pop. That’s what they call a renewable

resource.

Leslie Shay: I don’t know, man. Might have to figure something else

out.

cutscene

[door closes]

Benny Severide: So, Matt, was that Andy Darden’s widow I saw

you with at the academy dinner?

Matt Casey: Yeah, Heather. That was her. She just needed a ride.

Benny Severide: It’s good to see you guys haven’t turned your

back on her. That’s important.

Matt Casey: Yeah. Absolutely. I’ll take the back.

Kelly Severide: Both buildings were broken into from the rear

entry. Gas accelerants were used.

Benny Severide: Okay.

I don’t know about this teaching gig.

Kelly Severide: Why not?

Benny Severide: Job’s changed too much.

Kelly Severide: It’s almost exactly the same. It’s just better gear.

Benny Severide: Well, the people have changed is what I’m

saying. Back when I came up, you fought a

war at 18. You had kids by the time you were 22.

You’d live a life. You were a man. Now these kids

are coming straight out of their parents’

basements to the firehouse. What the hell can I

teach somebody like that?

Hadley: [indistinctive chatter]

Benny Severide: Like him.

Hadley: [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Who? Hadley? He’s fine.

Benny Severide: Yeah. Okay.

Kelly Severide: They still have wars. People still pop out kids. I

don’t know why you gotta piss on everything.

Benny Severide: Rubber. From the sole of a sneaker. That bus

driver was right. Somebody was on fire and

running through here. What was the homeless

guy wearing?

Kelly Severide: He had boots on.

Benny Severide: Then we’re looking for somebody else. It

wouldn’t be him.

Hadley: So this thing collapses and knocks us down… [laughs]

Kelly Severide: Hadley.

Hadley: Yeah?

Kelly Severide: Quit playing grab ass, would you?

Benny Severide: Look at this. You see that? Pry marks. This door

wasn’t breached from the outside. Somebody

had a key. The owner or somebody he hired.

They let themselves in the front door and then

they pried this open. Make it look like it was

broken in from the outside.

Kelly Severide: You gotta be kidding me.

Benny Severide: Inside job.

cutscene

Chief Boden: Thank you. Appreciate it.

15 minutes after the second fire was call in,

18-year-old kid walked into an urgent care unit

five blocks from the scene. He had second and

third degree burns. Claimed it was a barbecue

mishap. Memorial went and picked him up.

He’s there’s now.

Kelly Severide: I want to head down there and check it out.

Chief Boden: Kelly…

Kelly Severide: I don’t like getting lied to. I don’t like getting

worked. And if someone other than that union

guy got that homeless man killed, I want to

know.

Matt Casey: I got him covered.

Chief Boden: Hit it.

[door closes]

[knocks on door]

Kelly Severide: What’s up, Omar? Lieutenant Severide, CFD.

Teen 1 (Omar): Oh geez. Damn barbecue. Didn’t know the gas

was on and boom. Lucky I’m alive.

Kelly Severide: Where were you standing?

Teen 1 (Omar): Right in front of the grill, trying to light it.

Kelly Severide: Then how’d you burn your legs?

Teen 1 (Omar): I don’t know. It was a big ol’ fireball, though.

Kelly Severide: Those aren’t barbecue burns, Omar. I’d know.

I’ve responded to 20 of them.

Teen 1 (Omar): I-I swear to God…

Kelly Severide: And they’re gonna test the shoes you were

wearing against the rubber fixed to the floor

in that diner and it’s all gonna go south.

Teen 1 (Omar): Why? For what? I-I didn’t do nothing.

Kelly Severide: A guy was killed in that second fire.

Teen 1 (Omar): No. No, no, no, man.

Kelly Severide: Look, I’m not a cop. I just want to know

what happened and I’ll help you any way I

can before the cops get involved. And

they’re gonna get involved soon.

Teen 1 (Omar): Okay. All right, mayb… there’s one thing

maybe you can help me with.

Kelly Severide: I’ll try.

Teen 1 (Omar): It was an insurance scam. Tuxhorn and his

wife wanted two of the diners to go down

and they was gonna lay it off on some union

dude who he was beefing with. And he

asked my dad to help him do it. My dad

owes him a lot of money, so he said he was

in to settle up. But my dad, he got a knee

replacement surgery last year and he ain’t

too quick. So I said I’d do it. I was pouring

the gas… I don’t know. Maybe the fumes hit

a pilot light or something. And I was just

running through the restaurant all on fire and…

Tuxhorn put me out and he took me here and

he said to say it was a barbecue accident.

Look, man, I’ll take the ride for it. I just gotta

leave my dad out of it. Can I do that? Can I

leave my dad out of it with the cops?

Kelly Severide: Don’t bring up his name.

Teen 1 (Omar): Okay. Thank you.

cutscene

Mouch: Did somebody change his food, ‘cause there is

something going on here.

Peter Mills: Where’s Herrmann?

Matt Casey: Bar management seminar.

You guys close to opening?

Gabby Dawson: Uh, a few weeks…hopefully.

Joe Cruz: Hey, uh, Shay, where’s your iPad?

Leslie Shay: Put it away for a bit.

Joe Cruz: Did you find a donor?

Leslie Shay: Regrouping.

Joe Cruz: So you’re not going the whole sperm donor route

anymore?

Leslie Shay: What is this, an interrogation? I told you, I’m

regrouping.

Otis Zvonecek: So, um, who asked who out? I’m just

curious.

Gabby Dawson: [laughs]

Peter Mills: Um, wait. You did, right?

Gabby Dawson: What?

Peter Mills: Yeah, you asked me to dinner that one night.

Gabby Dawson: Oh no, that-that wasn’t a date.

Peter Mills: Damn.

Gabby Dawson: What’s up?

Peter Mills: Dolores from Records, she sent me an email

earlier. I just… I can’t open it on my phone.

I’m… I’m gonna try it in there.

[typing]

[tense music]

cutscene

Chief Boden: Hey, Kelly, great job.

Kelly Severide: Hey, thanks, Chief.

Chief Boden: You too, Benny.

Benny Severide: Thank you. I appreciate that.

How about I get a cup of coffee before

I take off?

Kelly Severide: All right.

Leslie Shay: Hey, you got a second?

Kelly Severide: Yeah.

What?

Leslie Shay: So how are you?

Kelly Severide: Um, what’s-what’s going on?

Leslie Shay: So here’s the deal. You know I’ve done

thorough research on this whole

insemination thing. And today I got… well,

I guess, uh, accidental window into how

the whole process works, and it really left

me feeling… hollow.

Kelly Severide: Okay.

Leslie Shay: And you know, I’ve been searching for the

perfect guy to be the father of my baby.

Someone honourable, strong, good looking

[chuckles] I mean, sue me. And maybe even

someone who would want to be part of the

child’s life. And someone who would want to

celebrate, you know, how beautiful it could be.

With me… a cool chick who’s not gonna freak

out and they’ll never have to worry about, you

know, me wanting a divorce or trying to take all

their money, or be a bitch or… [exhales] Kelly I

want to know if you’d like to have a baby with

me.

Kelly Severide: Look, Shay, I…

Leslie Shay: No, no, no. Let me finish. And we’d go through

the insemination process…

Kelly Severide: Um…

Leslie Shay: And… and yeah. Okay that’s it. I’m done.

Kelly Severide: I don’t… I don’t… I don’t know what to say.

Leslie Shay: That’s okay. I just… I just want you to-to think

about it.

Kelly Severide: I…

Leslie Shay: Thank you. And listen, if the answer’s no, I mean,

there won’t even be a hiccup between us. It…

it’s okay. It-It’ll be solid Always you and me.

Okay?

[kissing sound]

Kelly Severide: Uh…

cutscene

Benny Severide: Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.

Mouch: Great to meet you, Ben.

Benny Severide: Good to see you again.

Joe Cruz: Such a pleasure.

Benny Severide: Good to see you.

Otis Zvonecek: Thanks for the donuts.

Benny Severide: Yup.

Matt Casey: Take care, Benny.

Benny Severide: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey. Mr Severide, can I talk to you in private.

Benny Severide: Actually, I’m just taking off. It was nice

meeting you.

Peter Mills: Yeah, please… I really need to talk to you.

Benny Severide: Can you make it quick?

Peter Mills: Sure.

Um, the Lambert Tree Award. It’s the highest

award awarded to a firefighter. My father was

nominated and everyone up the line signed off

on it… except for you. Just curious to why.

Benny Severide: Some other time, kid, okay?

Peter Mills: Is this what you’re trying to say to me? Do you

feel bad about not signing off for it? That even

though my father was a hero… and even

though he gave his life…

Benny Severide: It’s an award for valor!

Chief Boden: Benny.

Benny Severide: He wants to hear it. I’m gonna tell him.

In the middle of that fire, your father

panicked and pulled off his mask, which

would have been his business, except

another guy died trying to save him. So,

no, I didn’t sign it. Because I could not in

good faith reward someone for

demonstrating cowardice…

Firefighters: Whoa!

Come on, man!

Hey! Hey!

Come on!

Benny Severide: Unh!

[panting] You want to know why Boden

thinks your father wasn’t at fault? Do ya?

‘Cause he’s an optimist, I guess.

I’ll see you back at your house.

Chief Boden: Mills… You are off duty until further notice.

Get your gear. Wait for Benny to get off site,

and you go home and you’ll wait to hear

from me.

Rest of you, get back to work.

Gabby Dawson: Hey, you okay?

Peter Mills: No.

Gabby Dawson: Look, I totally get what lead up to that

and I am so sorry, but you can’t just go

around punching people.

Peter Mills: My dad wasn’t able to defend himself. So I did.

[locker door slams]

Peter Mills: [sighs]

cutscene

Chief Boden: We were all real close. Henry and me. Benny.

Our wives. Then Ingrid and Henry, they

separated. My wife left me. It was during that

time. It just happened. Then I realised that

Henry might have still had feelings for her,

and I may have moved too quick, so I

stepped back just to see. And I was right.

Henry moved back in after a month. Ingrid

always says I broke her heart. So if you

think that there’s something that Peter needs

or wants to know, I’ll go to his place after shift.

I’ll tell him.

Gabby Dawson: Is what Benny said true?

Chief Boden: Not from where I was standing.

cutscene

Heather Darden: Matt?

Matt Casey: Hmm?

Heather Darden: You have like, two utensils in this kitchen.

Matt Casey: Yeah, it’s on my to-do list.

Heather Darden: You’ve been busy, huh?

Matt Casey: Yeah, it’s been one thing after another lately.

Heather Darden: Have you been dating? Since Hallie?

Matt Casey: Uh, there was someone for a minute, maybe

less. Wasn’t the right time.

Heather Darden: Sorry to hear that.

Matt Casey: What are you gonna do? Damn that smells

good. First home-cooked meal I’ve had

since… I don’t even know.

Heather Darden: It sucks having to come home to an

empty house, doesn’t it?

Matt Casey: Yeah.

Heather Darden: We don’t have to be alone. We don’t

deserve to be. We’re good people.

Why can’t we be happy?

Matt Casey: Heather… I’m really glad you’re here. And

if it was under different circumstances,

believe me… but Andy was one of my best

friends. And he was your husband, and… I

think we should honour that.

Heather Darden: You know what? You’re right. Let’s just

count our blessings

Matt Casey: Dinner and a movie. Let’s get the movie ready.

cutscene

[knocks on door]

Gabby Dawson: Hey, bruiser.

[door shuts]

[kissing sound]

Peter Mills: What’s the word? You heard anything?

Gabby Dawson: Yeah. I, um, spoke to Boden briefly.

Peter Mills: What did he say?

Gabby Dawson: Well, he hasn’t heard from Benny so

the hope is that he doesn’t raise a

stink. If that’s the case, then hopefully

this thing will stay in house. Boden

says to just sit tight for now.

Peter Mills: That’s all he said?

Gabby Dawson: That’s all he said to me.

Peter Mills: Okay, look… can I just say that even though

I’m… maybe in a jam right now, I feel… I feel

lighter. ’Cause since forever I’ve been carrying

around this weight of not knowing. And I could

always just tell that there was something out

there that wasn’t being told to me. At least now

I can… I can move on.

Gabby Dawson: Hey… what Benny said isn’t true.

Peter Mills: I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?

Gabby Dawson: Baby, it’s not true…

Peter Mills: Look, I-I don’t want to talk about it anymore

[exhales]

cutscene

Matt Casey: Heather.

[orchestral music playing on TV]

[TV turns off]

cutscene

Benny Severide: He’s just like his old man. It was Henry

Mills against the world. The guy always

had a problem. So if people want to

knock me for being arrogant or

whatever, let them. At least I was

un-conflicted. And in this job, you

better damn well have that going for

you, or you and your buddy’s badges

will end up on the wall at the academy.

Kelly Severide: Well, I didn’t know his old man, but I

know Peter. And from what I’ve seen,

the kid has heart. He has courage.

Benny Severide: Yeah, well I’ve seen your squad. Maybe

you’re not the best judge of character.

[bag zips]

Benny Severide: Look, Kelly, I…I really did come down

here to spend time with you. I didn’t

mean for any of this to happen. And if

anything I did reflects poorly on you,

I’m sorry about that. I guess your old

man is just a guy stuck in his ways. But

hey… if you can’t do anything about it,

don’t worry about it.

[door opens and closes]

cutscene

[knocks on door]

Kelly Severide: Hey.

Peter Mills: Hey.

Kelly Severide: Listen, I know it’s been on your mind

and, uh, I think you’d be a really great

addition to squad. You’re gonna want

to take Hazmat Tech “A”, Vertical

Rescue and Building Collapse One. If

any of them are full, you let me know I

can…I can pull some strings.

Peter Mills: Really?

Kelly Severide: Really. Let’s push it, see what happens.

Peter Mills: Okay.

Kelly Severide: Great.

[chuckling]

- end -

Definitions:

Scrapple = Also known by the Pennsylvania Dutch name Pannhaas or “pan rabbit”, is a traditionally a mush of pork scraps and trimmings combined with cornmeal and wheat flour, often buckwheat flour, and spices. The mush is formed into a semi-solid congealed load, and slices of the scrapple are then pan-fried before serving

Agonal breathing = Medical term used to describe struggling to breathe or gasping. It is often a symptom of a severe medical emergency, such as a stroke or cardiac arrest. The gasping associated with agonal respiration is not true breathing, but rather a brainstem reflex.

Hazmat Tech “A” = Hazardous Materials Technician course provides the essential knowledge, skills, and abilities to operate offensively or defensively at an incident involving the release of hazardous materials.

Building Collapse One = This course is extensively hands-on and prepares the student to operate safely and efficiently at a building collapse incident. It offers practice in cutting, breaching, lifting, stabilising, searching, shoring, packaging, and removing victims from a simulated collapse environment

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zombierocker17 · 4 years

Text

Date Teasing With Louis, Louis Tomlinson (Smut)

(I had some requests for a Louis smut, thank goodness. I need to let out my sexual needs for Louis with this one. I really hope you enjoy. I had this one written out for a few imagines but I re-wrote it into this )

(Daddy/Princess kink, Teasing, Spanking, light face fucking)

Louis was never really big on the idea of a big fancy date, but tonight he wanted to take you out. You and Lou Teasedale went dress shopping Louis paged for your new gown. He gave you his card and as I "Get whatever makes you feel like a goddess".

You got a long silky dark turquoise dress, it had a floral lace design around the mid section and a slit up the side for your perfect leg to poke out of.

When you got home Lou helped you with your hair and makeup, a simple elegant makeup look, pretty complimenting colors showing your inner beauty. And she curled your hair in perfect loose ringlets. You put on a new piece of lingerie you had bought earlier, a dark red matching set, a strapless lacey bra, and a lacey thong. Matching clothing was a turn on of Louis's , you were excited for when he would see it tonight. Lou helped you into your dress and shoes, before going to finish Louis hair. Louis was wearing a simple Blazer with a black dress shirt under it, with a matching turquoise handkerchief that made his eyes sparkle.

You both smiled at each other, "You look like a goddess Y/N" Louis said brining you outside to your private car. The driver took you two to a very elegant looking restaurant. Everything inside was exquisite, candles lit and the staff dressed beautiful. "Mr.Tomlinson and date" Louis said to the concierge, "Ah yes Arthur will bring you to your table" he says gesturing to a thin man with bright blonde hair and thin-rimmed glasses. Louis held your waist as you both walked into the dining room. It was bright with wooden walls and strange roof, but you liked it.

There was a few other people in the restaurant at the time, mostly business looking people , and important families you would guess. Arthur held out your chair for you before Louis said "let me please" taking the chair from him helping you sit before sitting himself down across from you. "Anything to drink my lovelies?" Arthur said. Now usually you and Louis would go for dates at pubs or places that would normally serve beer by the pint, but this was a fancy restaurant so Louis orders a bottle of their best wine. Arthur nods and leaves swiftly.

You and Louis had been talking for a bit sipping your wine while waiting for your main course. You ordered smoked salmon, with a fresh green salad on the side. Louis ordered a steak with the same salad. Louis was in the middle of talking about something he seen on the telly the other night when you got an idea. Teasing Louis was something you didn't do often but, Oh how much you loved doing.

You reached under the tablecloth and moved your dress to the side for easier moment, mentally thanking your self for picking a dress with a slit up the leg. You started to trace you or foot up the outside of Louis leg, him stopping mid sentence getting a slight idea of what your were doing. "Y/N" just the way he says your name, that stern tone of voice that turned you on so much. "If you continue to do that you'll be punished" he said in a hushed voice, you smiled liking it.

You started doing it again this time going up the inside of his leg putting a bit more pressure near the inside of his thigh, the whole time with an innocent smile on your face. You saw Louis eyes get a little dark with lust before he says "Take off your panties" he put his hand on your bare leg under the table with a medium grip. "What?" You said. "Did you not hear me?" He leaned in closer you "Take off your panties Y/N". You gulped before tracing your hand up under your dress reaching for the hem of your new underwear. You stood up a bit making it easier to pull them down, they reached your knees before you sat down again letting them fall around your ankles.

"Dinner is here, the salmon for the lady and the steak for the gentleman" Arthur said surprising you. Placing the food in front of each of you, "Enjoy my lovelies" he says before leaving. You look back at Louis who's eyes have definitely gotten darker. "Give them to me Y/N" his hand open under the table, you reach under the table and grab the lacey fabric. You handed them to Louis before starting to eat watching Louis the whole time. He looked at them with a bit of s surprised look, "New ones in my favourite color? Your such a bad girl" he says pocketing the underwear before starting to eat.

As your eating you don't feel your close enough to the table so you gently move your chair closer so it's easier to eat. Louis smirks before sliding his available hand under the table to land on your leg sliding up as close as he can get to your regions. His hand stopping and sliding in between your thighs tracing them making you squirm around in your chair. He then pokes your regions lightly teasing you, you squeal loudly, earning confused and judging looks from some of the guests. Of course Louis is smirking in a devilish way.

"Would you two like anything for dessert?" Arthur asks , "I would like the chocolate mousse with extra whip cream please." You say winking at Louis at the end. "Nothing for me I'll just try some of hers" Louis says digging his nails into your thigh under the table. A small whine leaves your pinkish lips.

Arthur gives you a concernd look.

"I'm alright" you say before he leaves and returns quickly with your dessert and two small spoons. "Enjoy" and he leaves. You take a spoon and take a spoonful of 'just' whip cream, and lick the spoon seductively. "Your going to get a whole world of punishment when we get home, you naughty, naughty girl" Louis says.

After your done eating and the bill is paid, Louis helps you into the car home. "Carl,take us home as quick as you can" Louis says. The whole car ride was very quiet, you could tell Louis was trying hard to not pin you down right there. Instead he was digging his nails into the seats. "I know you would rather be digging your nails into my back." you whisper in his ears.

The car stops, Louis practically drags you into the house thanking the driver as he closes the door. Opening the house door pinning you against the door. "Naughty girl, teasing me in the middle of a restaurant." He lifts you up over his shoulder carrying you to your shared bedroom

He puts you down, "Get that dress off before I rip it off princess" you knew as soon as Louis uses your bedroom nickname you must only use his. "Yes daddy" you say taking off your dress.

"Oh so this was a set huh" Louis says noticing the bra that matches the thong. He pulls it out of his pocket then takes off the blazer. "Put these back on THIS is part of your punishment " you do as he says sliding the underwear back on. The fabric feels odd against your wetness. You hate the feeling. You wish he would just take you now.

But that is not how tonight is going.

Louis sits down on the bed gesturing for you to lay over his knees, he was going to spank you. You later over his knees and he pulled you closer. "Your going to count to 5 with me if you miss a number we will start again, got it princess?" He says rubbing your ass. "Yes, daddy"?" you say preparing yourself.

*hit* " one" you whimper enjoying every second

*hit* "two" that one was a bit harder

*hit* "th-three" you moan as the hits get harder with each spank

*hit on both side* "four" you moan out into his pant leg biting your lip

*hardest hit* " f-f- five" you manage to get it out in time.

"Good girl, now your going to take daddy's clothes off" Louis says as you get up. You notice that there is a significant bulge in his dress pants. You blush as you into the buttons on his shirt. Throwing the shirt across the room you get on your knees to start taking his pants off. You slide them off his legs throwing them away. Still on your knees looking up at him, Louis devilishly chuckles " You want daddy's big cock princess?" He says rubbing his dick through his boxers. "Please daddy can I please suck your cock" you say reaching for his boxers. "Yes princess " you pull them off. His dick springs free it hits his stomach it's dripping with precum.

You take his cock in both hands jerking it a bit before licking up the precum. He groans lightly, " c'mon then" he says taking a hand full of your hair pushing your head closer. You slowly suck all the way down till your practically deepthroating him, He groans louder throwing his head back "Just like that princess" he starts lightly fucking your mouth. You gag on it causing Louis to groans louder, "Fuck princess". He takes it out of your mouth a drool strings hanging on the tip of his dick from your throat. That turns him on. You start sucking again slowly then fast and deepthroating it. Louis pulls away before picking you up.

He takes off your bra and underwear, then throws you on the bed. He spreads your legs with force, his eyes are dark with lust, you know he's about to ravage you. "Ready princess? Daddy's going to fuck you so hard you won't walk for a week" your dripping at his words. He rubs your clit in circles, and another finger plays with your slit. "Your dripping all over my fingers" he licks his finger moaning "So sweet"

He leans over you aiming his cock at your entrance rubbing the tip against your clit. You were getting impatient, "Just stick it in daddy I want all of your cock!" And with that Louis shoves his whole cock inside you balls deep. "OH fuck..Daddy! " you moan, he smirks slowly moving still letting you adjust. "FUCK Y/N your so tight" he says moaning. He starts thrusting faster. Both of you moaning messes as you feel your first orgasm starting to build. "Daddy I'm gonna cum" you say , he goes faster helping you cum. Arching your back gripping the bed sheets you orgasm takes control of your whole being.

But Louis wasn't done with you yet. He lifts your legs up so they rest on his shoulders, his cock is now even deeper inside of you. You claw at his back as He thrusts in and out of your tight wet pussy. Halfway he decides to flip you over so your on all fours, he pushes your head down into the blankets

"Keep your head down for me princess that's an order" he says spanking your ass a few times. " Yes daddy" he slides into your wetness again fucking you really hard. He's moaning loud, his thrusts are getting sloppy telling you he's close. "You ready princess your gonna cum with me on the count of 10" he says thrusting hard.

"10" he spanks your ass hard earning a Loud moan from

"9" spanks again

"8" he runs your clit

"7" your practically screaming at this point

"6"

"5" spanks again

"4"

"3" your orgasm builds so fast

" 2"

"1 !!!" Both moaning as you feel his hot load blast into you as your pussy clenches around his cock.

You both end up cuddling naked in the bed, your tracing his chest tattoo, while kissing his neck. " I love you so much Y/N" that's all you hear before falling asleep.

The next morning you wake up to see an adorable sight, Louis standing on the balcony with one of the bed sheets around his waist. He turns around hearing that your awake, "Morning daddy" you say winking. "Did I not punish you enough last night Princess? It sounds like you still need to be punished ?" He says crawling on the bed ontop of you..

MASTERLIST in bio

#imagine #louis imagine #one direction imagines #tomlinsonedits #one direction smut #one direction #louis tomlinson imagine #louis and harry #louis tomlinson #louis #louis tomlinson smut #louis tommo

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doomandgloomfromthetomb · 4 years

Photo

Lou Reed - Music Inn, Lenox, Massachusetts, September 1, 1973

Back to the Summer of Lou! By September of 1973, The Tots were gone, replaced by a high-priced group of session musicians led by the twin guitar attack of Steve Hunter and Dick Wagner. This is more or less the band that would become FM radio staples thanks to the smash-hit Rock and Roll Animal live LP recorded later in the year. This solid audience tape captures their very first gig with Lou, I believe, which took place in the incongruously bucolic setting of Lenox, Massachusetts. Must’ve been a beautiful late-summer night in the Berkshires — the ticket stub says the show was part of the “Twilight Series on the Lawn.”

The unabashed crunch/wank of Rock and Roll Animal is readily apparent here (as is the iconic “Sweet Jane” intro that kicks things off — it sounds so sweet that Lou manages to blow the opening lines!). Hunter and Wagner often dominate, trading ripping solos and cranking the volume. Subtle it’s not; subtlety isn’t the point. This was Lou seeing how far he could push his songs into the burgeoning arena rock realm. Pretty far, it turns out.

But the Lenox set isn’t all blown out decadence, either. For one thing, once again, there’s a mid-show acoustic set! This is cool. Lou sings a tender “I’ll Be Your Mirror” and croons his way through “Pale Blue Eyes” (the acoustic slide guitar gives it a country Stones flavor). He even starts “Heroin” all alone before the rest of the band kicks in. “Heroin” is a trip here, with one audience member seeming to totally lose his mind, the audience clapping along as the song speeds up ... and even a little kid making noise somewhere near the taper? Would you bring a child to a Lou Reed concert in 1973?

Oh and then there’s also a decent helping of the then-brand-new Berlin. The band seems capable of handling the more baroque stylings of these tunes, even re-creating the tricky segue from rock action to solo acoustic in “Oh Jim.” I’ve read that Lou really wanted to present Berlin in full at this point, with a stage set and everything. But the not-so-raving reviews of the album must’ve made him think twice. It would have to wait another 30+ years for its complete live debut ...

Our night in the Berkshires ends with “Sister Ray,” feeling a million miles away from the Velvets, but generating some of its own White Light / White Heat. Things get scuzzy!

Lou Says (1973): The glitter people know where I’m at. The gay people know where I’m at. Straight people may not know where I’m at, but they find it kind of interesting when they show up and see what is sitting around them. It’s interesting to have a conglomeration of people that covers the strata from A to Z … There’s a certain element of the audience that’s intellectually oriented, into the lyrics … then there’s another element of the audience that’s into a sex trip. I’m into both of them.

#lou reed #summer of lou

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 4 years

Text

The Secret Passion of Ed Asner

Chapter Eight: A Celebration of Friends

Featuring Ed Asner

In 2015, Ed was invited to speak at a weekend event in July in Orlando for the mature gay men’s group, Celebration of Friends and host a Q&A session for a crowd of about 40 men. One of those men will win a private dinner invitation from Ed himself. When the time came, Ed, looking very dignified in his suit, walked out with a cane, electric cigarette, settle into a comfy chair and spanned a dozen topics from his life and career during his hour-long Q&A session. He was extremely friendly and affectionate toward fans. As usual, he was extremely friendly and affectionate toward fans. Humble yet cantankerous, a lovable curmudgeon, much like his character Carl that he voiced in the movie “Up.”

At the private dinner following the Q&A session, Ed and I were introduced to George, the winner of the draw who showered Ed with adulation throughout the dinner.

“I grew up vicariously lusting after Mr. Grant using Mary as my vicarious emotional beard. I wanted to have sex with you Mr. Asner so badly. God I used to jerk off to thoughts of blowing you for hours." He boldly said.

Ed’s eyes widened before saying, “Really?“

"Yeah, I dream about everyday."

Ed re-positioned himself in his chair by scooting his crotch out towards George and with a gaze said, “Well here’s you shot to make you dream come true.”

“Oh, shit,” I thought, not knowing what would happen next.

George suddenly glanced around the room with a confused look on his face.

“Now, don’t play games with me. I thought this was your dream.“ Ed barked with some Lou Grant attitude.

George didn’t know quite what to do as he looked at me for guidance. I just nodded back over to Ed to which half-grins and said, “Come on, you know you want to.”

Then with me watching, George got down on his knees, between Ed’s legs and unzipped the fly of his pants. Then he dug his fingers into the crotch of Ed’s pants and pulled out his thick cock. I felt a little embarrassed, but seeing George with his hands around Ed's cock was giving me a hard on, just when I didn’t need one.

“Damn, never dreamed it was this big.” George said as he pumped the foreskin back and forth over the huge head of Ed's cock.

“Ain’t it a big one?” Ed said as his cock swelled and stiffened until it was standing to attention.

"Definitely.”

“Go on and suck it.” Ed ordered as he reached forward and caught George's head.

“Take it all.” He added as he pulled George's head toward his crotch.

I watched as he swallowed Ed's thick cock up to his zipper as the old man leaned back in his chair and moaned. I was captivated as George deep throated Ed's cock. He took every inch of his cock down his throat and ever pressed his mouth against Ed’s crotch trying to take more. I got so excited watching them that I pulled my own cock out and started masturbating as I watched the two men. I wanted to join them, but I didn't want to ruin the moment for George.

Looking up at Ed, even at 85, I thought he was still handsome man. Suddenly he was staring straight at me with big brown eyes. I could tell he was enjoying me watching him getting his dick suck. So, I just continued watch as George swallow inch after inch of the old man’s dick. By now, Ed was ramming his thick cock in and out of George's mouth; testing him to see how much he could take. But he loved it as the old man forcing his dick down his throat.

“Damn! It feels wonderful.” The old man said as he reached down, grabbed George behind the head and continued fucking his mouth as I watched in glee.

Ed was really enjoying himself at this point as he was rocking his cock in and out of George willing mouth. I reached over and began fondling Ed, moving my hand up and down his chest, occasionally squeezing his nipples though his shirt; all the while George continued sucking him. By the sounds of Ed's moans and the look of his throbbing cock, I knew it wouldn’t be long before one of us would cum.

“I’m cumming!” The old man said as he pulled his dick out of George's mouth.

George slowly began licking and bobbing on Ed’s hard cock. Then as I stared up at Ed, the old man shot his load onto George's face. I watched cum gushing out of the old man cock in one long squirt after another until cum was running down George's face. After a moment or two he was licking the cum off of his face as Ed finished squirting his last drops.

"Oh my god, that was great." George said as he popped up to his feet.

"Why don't we put the cherry on top of this." Ed said as his hand now moved down to George's crotch, slowly massaged his dick thru his pants.

"Sure." George gleefully said.

Then Ed unzipped his pants and removed a nice hard 8 inch dick as continued to jack-off to this.

"Nice piece of meat" Ed said as he licked the head.

As Ed tongued the head of his dick, he glanced back to me with his brown eyes before moving down to George's balls and licked them to. Then he engulf the whole cock and greedily sucked on it with the skill only a few know about. George was now moaning as Ed took inch after inch of George's 8" throbber down his throat until his lips were pressed against the crotch of his pants. The combination of sucking and Ed Asner doing the sucking made George release a gush of cum down Ed's throat. Of course that made me pop my load. Hell, I had cum on me from head to dick when we all finished shooting our wads.

The three of us were quiet for several moments before Ed looked at me, winked and blurted out to George, "Now you know I actually love spunk! I really love it."

[Click here for next Chapter]

#Edward Asner #Ed Asner #asner fan fiction #fan fiction #CILF #actor #american actor #The Secret Passion of Ed Asner #A Celebration of Friends

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larryyouknow · 3 years

Note

F, G, M, and P for the fanfic asks!☺️

I was asked about dialogue scene by @zanniscaramouche before but I chose different one for you. Here's a Narry snippet from Talk to Me fic. I like it because Harry's realising IT as he is re-telling what happened. It's just all wrong and he knows he is being an idiot and having Niall to actually vocalise what he thinks about it anyways is hilarious to me. Harry would laugh too if it wasn't HIS story of HIM being this lame. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter.

“Well, I spent the night at Nick’s," he admitted, the guilt began to weigh heavily on his shoulders. Niall didn’t say a word. He just stared back at him. His face didn’t say much either. So Harry continued. “The date. It was everything. You know. Louis was being his incredible self and...” he shrugged.

“And how exactly did you manage to go from Louis is an angel sent from heaven to sleeping with Nick?”

He cradled his head in his hands, “Tone it down, for the love of God! Not everyone in Starbucks needs to know what I did last night. And I don’t exactly remember so please!"

“I’m not judging. Not yet. But you aren’t explaining shit, mate. I'm confused.”

“It went well with Lou, I walked him home. I wanted to kiss him–"

“I'm sensing some but...”

“But he asked if it was supposed to be a date. And I told him some lame excuse. I dunno why I panicked. He makes me nervous I suppose. All those talks with Zayn how Louis doesn’t date sort of put this fear in my head that he would laugh at me."

Niall shook his head, “Louis would never do that to you. He's in love."

“Don’t say that! Please just don’t. Oh God, why am I such a dick? Gemma’s gonna eat me alive. I told him that it wasn’t a date and ugh! I planned last night for two whole weeks. I'm an idiot.” Harry’s hangover made him all whiny and annoying. “He asked me if I wanted to come upstairs.”

“And?”

“I told him ‘No’ like an asshole.”

“Harry!”

“Clearly, I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“What the fuck, H? He obviously wanted it to be a date.”

No - I'm messy, out of order kind of writer. I was told that it is better to write in order but I just have to write what scene is pressing me the most. Maybe it will change as I get more and more experience. Each time I wrote something I had the whole, linear story ready in my head first, but I tend to rush to the most crucial scenes first (usually some conflict/ angst) while writing.

I just completed draft for my 1DBigBang fic and was quite sad that I ran out of the story. I had nothing new on mind... just the void after mentally wrapping up. And then I heard the new song by Tom Odell... and I'm back to full-speed plotting. So, maybe... someone is about to experience a heartbreak.

Something I already mentioned above. I'd say I’m maybe more of an architect - landscape architect, 'a house' would probably fall on my head. I need to know where the story is going, have an outline - to convince myself it's worth the effort, I need to see some potential. Then I try to harvest the most out of my planned–garden, garden always surprises you. Lol, this is maybe more metaphorical then I would like.

#ask response #fic writing #larry fic

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rhinoswriting · 4 years

Text

A Life On The Road - Part 3 (A Luke Hemmings FanFic)

A/N: Hi, sorry it’s been a while since I posted. I’ve been busy moving home and doing all the admin shit that comes along with it. But anyway, Part 3 is here! It ends a little abruptly because I’ve got writer’s block, but I didn’t want to hold off posting for even longer. Part 4 will be here soon, I promise.

Part 2 Ending Recap: After a great gig you and the boys celebrate on the bus. It’s now the early hours of the morning and it’s just you and Luke left in the tour bus lounge chatting and getting to know each other better.

Part 1, Part 2

********************************************

My drunk get-to-know-you-better chat with Luke was really fun, sweet and eye-opening. We asked about each other’s families, dreams, fears, regrets and fondest memories. And we answered with the truth; bearing our souls drunkenly to one another to build a closer friendship.

It was nearly 5 am and we were still sat asking each other questions.

"What’s your favourite breakfast?” Luke asked.

“If we’re talking sweet, it’s banana pancakes. If we’re talking savoury, it’s anything with a poached egg on top.” I answered before firing my next question at him, “Would you rather visit the moon or Atlantis?”

“Easy! Atlantis; there’d be way more to do there. What’s your biggest fear?”

“Developing some form of memory loss. What do you miss most from your pre-fame life?”

“Not being able to form genuine connections with people.”

Luke’s answer caught me a little off guard and tugged at my heart strings. Before I could respond he spoke again,

“Right now being a much welcomed exception.” He smiled at me with eyelids heavy from a lack of sleep and his head tilted to rest on the sofa.

“Right now being a much welcome exception.” I repeated and mirrored his closed lip smile, “We should probably go get some sleep though y’know. You look shattered and it’s a press day tomorrow. And I mean that in a caring friend way, not a Lou way.”

I forced my tired, stiff body up from the sofa and put my hand out to him. He gratefully took it and used me as a counterbalance as he pulled himself up from the sofa. We kept our hands loosely held together on the short walk to the bunks.

“Goodnight, Luke. And thank you for tonight. It was really nice getting to know you a little better.” I told him as I pulled the curtain of my bunk open.

“Honestly, thank you. I look forward to more late night tour talks.” Luke admitted before pulling me into a lazy, sleepy hug, “Goodnight, Elizabeth.”

And with that we both clambered into our respective bunks for what little remained of the night. Just as I was beginning to drift off to sleep, I heard my phone double vibrate to let me know I had just received a text. I opened one eye and saw my bunk had been slightly illuminated by my phone screen. Too tired to muster enough energy to see who was messaging me gone 5 in the morning I simply flipped my phone over and allowed the mattress to absorb the annoying rectangle of light.

What felt like an hour later I woke up and instinctively reached for my phone to check the time, only to find it had actually been 10 hours since my head hit the pillow. I also saw now that the message I received just before I fell asleep was from Luke. I held my thumb on the fingerprint sensor and opened his message.

Luke Hemmy: Lets grab a coffee tomorrow after we finish up at Oui FM x

Seeing as I’d already left him hanging for 10 hours I immediately typed out my response:

Shit! Sorry! I’ve only just seen this. I’m awake and definitely down for coffee. Meet you where? X

Then I grabbed my toiletry bag from the foot of my bunk, hopped out my bunk and freshened up in the tiny tour bus bathroom. When I got back to the row of bunks I pulled on fresh underwear, my jeans, a t-shirt I’d grabbed from the batch of merch being sold on this tour and then went in search of my docs and jacket.

The tiny coat cupboard was an overflowing mess. Instead of digging around I grabbed one of the many leather jackets stuffed in there. The jacket smelt like Cal, so I knew I’d definitely be fine to borrow it. I quickly glanced in the cupboard door’s mirror. Satisfied with my outfit choice and how well Cal’s jacket added to the look, I grabbed my purse and phone off the counter before exiting the bus and locking up.

Not knowing what direction to head in I checked my phone to see if I had had a response from Luke. I had a few.

Luke Hemmy: Meet you here x Luke Hemmy has shared his location with you. Tracks done about to go in for the interview dk how long Given your name to the station so you can get in the building to wait x

Now having a destination, I made my way to the little red pin on the map.

When I arrived at the tall, plain building I saw a large group of fans patiently waiting outside the entrance on one side of some metal railing the radio station had put up. I did a lap of the block hoping for another entrance to the building. I didn’t want to have to walk right through and in front of all those fans patiently waiting. I knew I’d look like an ass and they wouldn’t like that I could just turn up, in a 5SOS t-shirt of all things, and saunter into the building. But of course there was no alternate entrance; so I made my way over to the crowd again and zipped up Cal’s leather jacket.

“Excusez moi. Excusez moi. Désolée. Excusez moi. Merci.” I said as I made my way to the slight gap between one of the rails and the building and then approached the large, silent man stood in front of the glass doors, “Excusez moi, je m’appelle Elizabeth Phillips. Je suis attendue.”

Fuck I hope I said that right. And if it is right I hope I don’t sound like a dick saying ‘I’m expected’.

I stood awkwardly and blushing before the tall man and surrounded by 5SOS fans as he checked with someone inside over his radio that I was indeed expected and not a fan trying my luck at getting in. Eventually my name was confirmed as valid and the man stepped aside and opened one of the glass doors for me.

“Merci.” I thanked him with a smile then hurried in and over to the reception desk. I’d used up about as much French as I could remember from school so tried my luck in English with the receptionist, “Hiya, is it okay for me to wait on the sofa here or is there somewhere I should go?”

“The sofas here is fine. They should be done soon, but can I get you a drink?” The man behind the desk responded, who was so surprisingly young I assumed he must be an intern.

“Oh no, I’m fine thank you. Thank you for the offer.” I told him with a smile as I sat on one of the two leather sofas and fought the urge to take my jacket off.

To distract myself and appear occupied I pulled out my phone, popped in one earphone and started scrolling through my Instagram feed. Once I was caught up with the feed I went through a couple of stories. When it got to Ash’s story I was greeted by the video he uploaded last night of me, him and Luke dancing and singing to KISS. He hadn’t put my handle on it so I couldn’t re-share it onto my story. I made a mental note to get him to send me the clip later.

I was about to go into my emails when I heard the elevator ding. I looked up from my phone and saw the guys and Lou spill out into the lobby. The portion of fans with a good view through the glass doors also noticed this by the sounds of the sudden fanatic screaming outside.

I made my way over to the guys,

“Hey, hey!” I smiled at them all.

“Nice jacket,” Cal said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into a side hug, “I better be getting that back.”

“Oh you will.” I said before adding playfully, “Although it does look damn good, so maybe not.”

“Honestly I wouldn’t keep it. You don’t know where that’s been or what liquids have been spilt on it.” Michael grimaced which cracked everyone up.

We quickly wrapped up the pleasantries so the guys could go outside and meet their fans. It turns out there was an underground car park with two cars waiting, so I stayed in the lobby with Lou and we chatted about the tour, business and my KPIs. Around 40 minutes later the guys came back in and we were led to the underground car park and the two waiting cars.

“Coffee?” Luke asked as he turned to me while simultaneously putting his hand out behind him to reach for the handle of one of the car doors.

“Coffee.” I confirmed with a nod, then turned to the others to be polite and extend the invitation, “Coffee?”

“Yeah I’d be down for coffee.” Cal said with a casual shrug and began walking towards the car we were stood in front of.

“I’m still feeling a bit rough from last night. I’m gonna head back to the bus and nap, so I’ll see you guys at the restaurant for dinner.” Ashton answered.

“I’ll be honest with you, I just want to go back to the bus and play some games.” Michael said.

So with our next activities decided, Cal, Luke and I jumped in one car and Ashton, Michael and Lou got in the other. Luke asked our driver to drop us off at a coffee shop he’d recommend and with that we were on our way to a mystery coffee shop.

Much to our delight, our driver had an exceptional taste in coffee shops. He dropped us off near a narrow road, that wasn’t quite an alley, and instructed us to go down it until we came to a coffee shop on the right. He also recommended their lattes. We dutifully followed his directions and were rewarded with a small and comfortably busy coffee shop that made an excellent latte.

Lattes in hand, we made our way over to the small circular table right by window. I was sat between Cal and Luke, looking directly out onto the street with the fourth chair opposite me left empty. We chatted a lot about their afternoon at the radio station as well as the press so far on this tour in general. Then, as we were finishing up our lattes, we moved onto trying to plan something to spend the night doing after our big meal out.

“More importantly, should we not actually be on our way to the restaurant now?” I asked after glancing at my watch.

We quickly donned our jackets and headed out of the coffee shops. When we were out on the street Cal looked up directions to the restaurant on his phone and began leading the way.

I pulled out my phone to check my emails as the three of us mindlessly followed Maps. I saw a response had come in from one of the editors at ELLE. After reading the first two lines I stopped dead in my tracks and just stared at the screen I was cradling in both hands.

Luke was the first to notice I’d stopped walking alongside them both,

“You alright back there?” He asked.

I looked up to see him and Cal taking a few steps towards me to close the little distance they had gained. I beamed at them giddily,

“ELLE are interested in running two of my pieces in upcoming months!” I squealed, “They said they like the exert from the Glasgow piece I wrote. They want to publish the completed thing and they’re interested in the idea I outlined for Munich!”

“That’s amazing!” They congratulated me as I was engulfed into a group hug.

“I’m so proud of you, EP!” Cal added as the three of us pulled apart.

“It’s such a relief that this gamble might actually pay off!” I said still smiling from ear to ear, “I need to tell Drew!”

I turned my attention back to my phone and excitedly told Drew the news in all caps.

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS ELLE WANT TO RUN WITH TWO OF MY ARTICLES THIS MIGHT ACTUALLY GO WELL FOR ME ALSO HI FROM PARIS, I MISS YOU WE SHOULD FACETIME SOON XX

After hitting send I put my phone away and continued walking with the boys. After a left and two rights we found ourselves at the restaurant, and being the last to arrive, sat at the table’s remaining spaces.

#luke hemmings #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings fanfiction #luke hemmings x ofc #5sos fanfiction #5sos fanfic #luke 5sos

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mellowdreamer · 4 years

Note

Aang, Yue and Teo for the ask game! (Also hi child ily) -lou

(sudden realisation: i’ve reblogged two atla ask games in the last like,, 24 hours so i’m just gonna go with the more recent one which is dadleaf’s)

hi lou ily!!!!!

aang — what’s something that brings you peace and joy?

peace was never an option... for me to associate with myself, cause i just don’t see peace or peaceful as a word that could describe me. something that brings me joy is probably rewatching favourite youtube videos, blasting music and just vibing to it, crimes, and - this may be really weird - tiktoks or videos of people putting together charcuterie boards.

yue — what’s your love language?

i would have to say physical affection!! i am a very touch-starved person and i tend to leech myself onto people to the point where i get asked if i’m a w**re or if i’m cheating because i’m always hugging or touching someone. it doesn’t bother me because if someone’s gonna presume that kind of shit about me then their opinion is fucking trash. i’m touch-starved and if i wanna drape myself over my friend’s back and fall asleep then that’s my own business. you wanna be a dick about it, no cuddles for you.

teo — what’s a hobby you have?

procrastinating work and then getting stressed out because i feel like i don’t have enough time to finish said work.

send me asks based on atla characters!

#ask game #atla #okay maybe this got a little more personal than i intended but i stand by what i said

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mirai-eats · 4 years

Text

Rewind and Start Over:: Morning

Bingqiu, rated M, 5,677 words, part 1/6, Incomplete

Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, re-transmigration, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rating May Change

Modern science is so good it kept a dead man alive.

Shen Yuan is dragged forward but his feet are stubbornly digging in the ground. Luo Binghe is running as fast as he can to catch up.

read on AO3

Inhale. A mechanical beep rang muffled in his ears. Exhale. There was an unnatural chill to his skin.

Inhale. The room smelled like chemicals. Exhale. His mouth tasted like ash, stuffed with cotton too deep down his throat to the point it burns.

Inhale. It took all of his willpower to make his finger twitch. Exhale.

---

An error message had blared across his mind’s eye during afternoon tea. The System suddenly awakened after almost a year of hibernation with a dozen pop up screens and flashing warning messages. He tried to shift through them but all he got from the glitching screens was that there was a serious problem. As soon as it started it all stopped, and one screen blinked in front of all the glitching windows, simply saying [Thank you for using the System! We hope to see you again soon!]

Before he could fully comprehend what it meant, a sharp pain overtook him and with a gasp, he felt the all too familiar tug of his soul exiting his body. The last thing he heard as his vision fizzled out to glowing long lines of code was the sound of a teacup shattering and Lou Binghe’s startled “Shizun!”

---

Fourteen months. For the twelve years he spent as Shen Qingqiu, his body had laid comatose in a hospital, an empty shell with no soul to host it and yet thanks to modern technology, his body was still breathing artificial air and his heart was still beating artificial pumps. Science refused to accept death, chasing immortality as a cultivator would.

It took him a while to actually wake up, but during his brief spells of consciousness he would hear the voices of his family coming in and out, voices he hadn’t heard in twelve long years. They’d only been whispers of them left in his dreams and he’d woken up with his heart in his throat and his eyes burning with Luo Binghe tucked under his chin.

When he did finally manage to pull himself out of the pool of sleep, blinking his sticky eyes open, he wanted to shield his eyes to the dim lamp sitting at his bedside and the electronic time of the TV mounted on the wall reading it was a little after three in the morning. He fell back to sleep.

---

The System was silent. No matter how much prodding he did it’s mechanical voice never whirred to life in his head.

---

He was officially discharged after a month. He needed physical therapy to get his limbs back in order and psychological therapy to deal with the “depression”. Maybe he was depressed, he was depressed after being pulled from his home away from his family and friends back to his old family and friends. He didn’t dare speak a word about his time transmigrating into the shitty stallion novel during the therapy sessions if they knew they’d cart him off to a very different hospital. He couldn’t bring himself to feel anything but painful longing, a numbing sadness filling his limbs with faux filling.

Shen Yuan was happy to see his family again, to see his two older brothers and younger sister, his mother’s sweet eyes and his dad’s gentle smile. He cried when he saw them once more for the first time in many years. It was a year to them, but a whole lifetime to him.

How could he be okay going back to this wretched modern world where he was nothing but a nobody who mooched off his parents’ fortune, spending his days crassly reading novels and hoarding collections of waifu material and spent the nights tucked into his phone reading raunchy novels and manhua until he couldn’t keep his eyes open only to rinse and repeat bright and early the next day at two in the afternoon? He had been an immortal peak lord! A revered shizun with many disciples in the path of cultivation! He had a husband who loved him dearly and he back.

He had heard his parents whispering sharply to one another about Shen Yuan just going back to wasting their money away on more anime figures, living in an apartment paid for by their money and eating food paid from the allowance they gave him, growing grosser and uglier by the day.

---

Because he had been comatose for so long his stuff had been moved from his apartment and either crammed in a storage unit or back into his old bedroom at his parents’ house. He needed to be under surveillance until he was able to walk down the stairs on his own without pausing to take a break. Right now he could do nothing but rest and recover.

He went back to reading web novels, sank deeper into a Shen Yuan shaped hole in his bed, the LED screen of his phone reflecting off his glasses until his vision blurred and he fell asleep. He had found fanart of Luo Binghe, the face too square and eyes too narrow, the demon mark not quite the correct shape, and the slim shape of his mouth a little too cunning to be his Binghe, but he still set it as his lock screen.

Airplane Shooting Toward the Sky had passed away while Shen Yuan was in the coma. Found dead in his apartment after a neighbor reported the foul odor seeping through the cracks in the walls and the landlord found the decaying body slumped over on the floor. Death by electrocution, the news article said. Proud Immortal Demon Way will never be complete.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan progressed splendidly in his physical therapy and stumped his psychological therapist. There was nothing to say. He was sad, unmotivated to do anything at all besides sink back into his homebody self, pull his head back into the tortoiseshell cage he grew himself. He couldn’t tell the therapist why he was sad. He was prescribed antidepressants. They might have helped.

—-

He took walks, as instructed by his physical therapist, and ate lots of protein.

He wondered if he died again if he’ll be transported back to Proud Immortal Demon Way, die vehemently cursing it until he’s taken back into the novel. But who’s to know if he’ll be put back where he left off, or if he’ll start over and make a whole new timeline? What about his Luo Binghe?

What if he only died?

—-

He was going stir crazy. Before, a lifestyle of him living in his bedroom with nothing but his PC setup and an incredibly powerful WiFi connection would be the dream. Now he found himself unable to look at his computer for too long, his phone left behind more often than not.

—-

He had bought a fan, a cheap one that was beautiful, but the plastic was made to look like wood. The bottom of the fabric was already fraying a bit, but the beautiful cranes and chrysanthemum had caught his eye. He would keep it in his hoodie pocket, or tucked under a pillow. Sometimes he’d snap it open and shut, open again, then shut, alone in his room with his eyes on the faraway mountain peak. He tapped his own head.

He googled how to kill himself in the least painful manner, but Google gave him suicide prevention hotlines instead. He couldn’t self-destruct like the second time nor does he wish to take a dick so massive with so little prep it kills him like the third, but he wants to die quickly and painlessly.

Then again, will it work? His family will mourn again, but he was the third son and they had two much more reliable sons.

—-

There had been a movement not too long ago in China to bring back the traditional flowing Chinese hanfu to everyday wear. He ordered some robes online, exquisite silky white with trims of green, bamboo embroidered on the hems and sleeves, a matching headpiece tied with a pale green ribbon.

Before his coma, his hair had been relatively short with just a swoosh of bangs where at its longest would sometimes tickle the collar of his shirt to indicate it was time to get a trim. Now it had grown shaggy and long past his shoulders. His mother scheduled an appointment to get him a haircut. He didn’t go. He got a green scrunchie to tie his hair half up in a weak imitation of how Shen Qingqiu wore it, but messy and not at all graceful.

He stopped taking his antidepressants. He tries to drown himself in the bathtub with a cinderblock on his chest. The overwhelming pressure of the cement block was nothing compared to the pain in his heart, his lungs screamed for air and his chest lurched and twitched, attempting to throw his body up out of the clear water and save his life. He fought as much as he could until one particularly powerful jerk rolled him over and pulled him gasping and heaving from the tub, water overflowing and flooding the bathroom.

After hanging off the edge of the tub trying to catch his breath, he stood up and cleaned the bathroom. The physical ache of the cinder block digging deep into his ribs left a dark bruise on his chest that took over a week to fade.

—-

His parents were worried, his mother especially. They sent him away to a relatives estate out in the country, thinking the pollution and noise, the crowds and overbearing presence of everything, was too much for him and a nice trip in the mountains would relax him.

It didn’t. He couldn’t bear to ever go outside his little room, the house old in style with the curves roofs and bamboo furniture hand made by his aunt. There was a bamboo forest outside his window. The blinds were firmly shut the whole time.

His uncle tried taking him out on short walks. He went once and refused to go again. There was no WiFi here so he settled to lay on the porch and watched the summer roses sway while eating his aunt’s pickled vegetables.

He didn’t last a week before he begged his parents to take him home. He couldn’t stand the misty peaks, the bamboo forest, the thin, clear air that reminded him so much of home. He couldn’t live like this, crying himself to sleep every night and crying himself awake every morning and crying to nothing tucked under his blankets during the afternoon heat.

---

He stood in front of his mirror dressed in actual clothes and not sweaty and grimy anime shirts, no weak imitation cultivation robes. A pale green button-down with the short sleeves rolled up, a pair of slim-cut black jeans, beige boots with the laces were done up nice. His hair was neatly tied back.

Later that afternoon he came home with a job down at a local department store.

The next day he stood high atop the office building his brother worked in, the wind whipping past him ferociously. He closed his eyes and remembered his self-destruction to save his ass from being turned into a human stick. He was gone before he fell. If he fell now he would feel the fear coursing through him, making his last moment the longest moment of his life.

His breath caught in his throat when he looked down, his sneakers toeing the edge of the concrete border. A strong gust of wind can make him lose his footing. The fall was almost a hundred stories down.

He stepped down and went back down the stairwell.

---

He quit therapy, and physical therapy was finishing up. He passed with flying colors and was deemed fine to go about his business as usual, but to come back once a month for check-ins for the next six months. He re-enrolled back into his university and was accepted for the upcoming semester.

There were more phone numbers than ever in his contact list thanks to his nice coworkers who genuinely wanted to spend time with him outside of work, send him funny memes related to conversations they held whispering behind racks of clothes when the manager wasn’t looking nor when a customer was tracking them down. His feet ached from all the standing he did, his back hurt, and it took every ounce of his Shen Qingqiu patience not to bodily throw himself over the counter and strangle the next customer who asks after they’ve paid if there are any additional discounts they could add.

---

Sun Mei is a coworker of his with hair she’s styled like the California beach waves and wore a bold red lip. There was a beauty mark on her forehead and she was instantly drawn to Shen Yuan’s side when he first stuttered over to the register during his first week. She took him under her wing and showed him the ropes and was usually first on the scene when a customer was giving him a hard time. He couldn’t help be drawn to her because her favorite lipstick is the exact shade of red as Binghe’s demon mark.

She asked him to get coffee sometime. He agreed. Pre-transmigration Shen Yuan would have been over the moon, now he was just grateful he could have another distraction from nighttime eyes that still illuminate his dreams with the star-like tears.

---

Luo Binghe hadn’t come to his dreams. He’s always haunting his dreams, his lips like the softest rose petals tracing his bare skin and rough, large hands tenderly stroking up and down his arms, tracing his clavicle and counting down his ribs. He was a memory, a whisper of what he truly his. Shen Yuan’s hands always messed up the mirage whenever he tried to touch him back.

There were countless nights where his hands would unconsciously trace down his body and under the band of his pajama pants and grasp himself firmly in his hand, slowly bringing himself to completion with his eyes firmly shut, Luo Binghe playing on a constant loops behind his closed lids and Luo Binghe’s name dripping from his trembling lips, his trembling body arching toward Luo Binghe’s body that was so, so far away. He only cried sometimes when he opened his eyes and found the blank ceiling above him and not Luo Binghe’s bottomless eyes.

It happened less often, him waking up with tears dried on his cheeks and pillow. He didn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. Sometimes when he was doing the most mundane things he truly dangerous thoughts ran across his mind- was any of that real in the first place? Was that just a really intense coma dream? He had “died” cursing Proud Immortal Demon Way, so what’s the chance of it playing over again so realistically for fourteen months?

He still had the Luo Binghe lock screen.

---

One of his coworkers also liked reading web novels to the same intensity as he (had). During after-hours recovery, they’ll have heated discussions about novels and tried to thrust recommendations upon each other. They had each other’s forums usernames and he was the only person he physically knew who had his Twitter.

During one such closing shift, the lights in the store half on and buried deep in the clearance rack did his coworker recommend Proud Immortal Demon Way.

“It’s really, really long and there’s a lot of pandering, but the protagonist is pretty OP,” his coworker explained. “So many cute sisters to choose from! And it’s such a twist seeing the protagonist going from the common hero to a black-hearted demon, justifiably so.”

“I’ve read it,” Shen Yuan said. He showed off his lock screen. “Luo Binghe is my favorite.”

Even with strings sawing away at his heart, pulling taut enough to cut it to shreds with just a little more pressure, he still participated in the discussion. After work, he sat in his car in the parking garage and cried until he gathered himself together, cranked up Hatsune Miku, and drove home recklessly.

---

It had been nine months since he woke up from his transmigration coma and started his first day of school. There was a nervousness he hadn’t felt in forever, a tingling to his scalp and his heart danced an uncomfortable rhythm in his chest. His hair was tied back at the nape of his neck in a messy bun, his glasses were brand new with an up to date prescription (a whole new frame style too, going away of his old rectangle plastic frames for a more stylish horn-rimmed shape). He was much shorter than Shen Qingqiu, he figured the top of his head would barely brush Luo Binghe’s shoulder. He had on new clothes he and his sister went out shopping for- nice fitting jeans rolled up at the cuffs, a light army jacket, a simple striped shirt, new sneakers that still smelled the new shoe rubbery smell. The cheap fan was tucked away in his backpack.

He felt daring going out with his ankles bare, then he remembered this is the modern world. He can go out with his whole leg bared and no one would bat an eye. He rolled them back down when he got in his car.

The classes were interesting, the professors genuinely enjoyed their subjects and were energetic for the new semester. He found a spot he liked on campus, a hidden bamboo grove he remembered the tour guide had mentioned offhand during his original campus tour. There was a stone bench and that’s where he ate the lunch he bought at an on-campus sandwich shop. He might have cried.

---

Shen Yuan found it uncomfortably easy to fall into a rhythm of school and work. The few people he’d met since he reverse-transmigrated could probably be considered as more than acquaintances but less than friends. On most days he would have someone to share a meal or go get coffee with, sometimes it was just sitting in the school library doing their work together.

Sun Mei went to his school. She was in a whole different department and thus their paths rarely crossed, but at least once a week they would have a break that lined up just right for them to go sit at the campus cafe and do homework together. She asked him once if he wanted to go to a party a friend of hers was hosting, tucking an artificial curl behind her ear. He declined.

There was a mid-autumn festival on campus. Sun Mei asked him out for the event with a couple of other coworkers. He agreed to go. At the event they had food stalls set up, live music, games, and little wares sold to commemorate the day. Lanterns illuminated the night and for a heart-stopping second Luo Binghe traced the edges of his mind. He shoved him way back deep, deep down into a little box he crafted just for him to sit.

A stand sold hand-painted paper fans, much nicer than the one that had lost a screw in his backpack and held together by scotch tape. He let his eyes linger on them, his fingers traced the intricate paintings on the delicate surfaces. One looked oh so similar to his favorite one- a simple white fan with deep, nearly black wood and watercolor bamboo. It was a little expensive, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay for art. This one, he promised, will stay in his room so it wouldn’t get damaged.

The rest of the event was pleasant. He ate plenty of mooncakes and other delicious sweets. Luo Binghe’s mooncakes were much better.

At one point in the evening, he did a double-take while passing a stall, there on the table were little porcelain figures of animals. Particularly, a little, black, Pomeranian with its pink tongue peeking out caught his eye. It was a little ugly, but it’s big, round eyes tempted Shen Yuan to pull out his wallet and purchase the damn thing.

That night, he placed the tiny Bingpup on his windowsill next to his paper fan, the big, beautiful autumn moon throwing his room into a decadent silver.

---

He moved out of his parents’ house and back into an apartment t. Most of his merch was kept in storage or in his childhood bedroom, but the Asuna body pillow moved with him to the new place. A simple one-bedroom with a kitchen and bath, a balcony that overlooked the city and laid a walking distance from campus (an uncomfortably long walk, but a walk nonetheless) and a few blocks from his work. He furnished it with his last apartment’s furniture and even took the time to go out and hunt for more pieces to build an actual home and not the nerd nest he made before. The bookcase was towering with books, he had a nice coffee table and matching mugs. There was a wall scroll of a beautiful watercolor bamboo forest hanging from his wall. The Bingpup rested on his nightstand that was the same wood as his desk, dresser, and bed frame. He commissioned an artist online to draw his version of Luo Binghe, the eyes softer and glittering with a thousand stars, his cheeks were tastefully angular, the shade of red for his demon mark exactly right. It was yet it wasn’t Luo Binghe because he’s starting to doubt that his version ever actually existed or if he was still dreaming of a canon-divergent storyline. The picture was framed on his desk.

Su Mei came over with a few other coworkers for a house warming. They brought beer and snacks and someone had brought out a Bluetooth speaker to play ambient music. He was not supposed to have a lot of alcohol due to his delicate body, his frame a flimsy bamboo shoot compared to the lofty, full-grown stock of Shen Qingqiu, but he still had a few beers too fast and found himself throwing up, Su Mei holding his hair back as he sobbed into the toilet. He thought he heard Luo Binghe’s name slip from his lips, but the rest of his words never made it past his garbled tongue. The next morning he woke up stiff, his mouth tasting sour, and only a slight headache. He stayed in bed all day rereading the beginning of Proud Immortal Demon Way and cried himself to sleep after eating his one meal that day- cup noodles and leftover guacamole. No chips, just the guac he spoon-fed into his mouth.

He felt he might have kissed Su Mei. There had been lipstick smeared at the corner of his mouth.

—-

Midterms came. He’s never been so stressed out in so long in this specific way. Yes, he had run from his life, been locked in the Huan Hua Palace water prison, found himself chased by blind corpses while dragging an unconscious Luo Binghe behind, had the worst anal sex ever to save the world. Sitting in front of his monitor, eyes tearing up behind his glasses and hands twitching, numb from overwork as he tried to write his analysis paper on old American poetry and its significance at almost four in the morning because it’s due in six hours and he still needed a little bit of sleep made him doubt if everything in Proud Immortal Demon Way could ever hurt like this. Why couldn’t he have the perfect immortal body of Shen Qingqiu where he could not eat and sleep for so long? That would be perfect right now, no need to spend his already meager paycheck on large cups of coffee. His doctor had warned him against large doses of caffeine, but his aching body told him no.

—-

After a majority of his midterms were done, he fell ill with the flu. Curse his weakened body.

—-

He applied to study abroad in America for a year. He wouldn’t hear back until February. He’s smart, he knows he’ll get in. In the meantime, he brushed up on his English by investing time in American TV, movies, novels, and music. It was a neon-bright culture with a gritty feeling in his teeth, the exact opposite of his Xianxia novels and his old Xianxia lifestyle.

If Luo Binghe, all of Qing Jing Peak, Cang Qiong Mountain and its disciples, were truly just a feverish dream he was crazy. If that was really real than he had abandoned his husband (unintentionally!).

It was getting harder to tell as time blended together in a seamless chalked out blur. He nestled himself back into his life as Shen Yuan- or rather, his new life as Shen Yuan. Maybe his twelve years as Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu really changed him

His brother made a point to mention one day over lunch.

“You’re more responsible,” he said, stirring his coffee. “Before you were locked up in your apartment all day reading novels and manhuas and watching donghuas and spending your allowance on useless things.”

He didn’t say anything, his eyes tracing the leaves of his salad. “It’s a little scary how your disposition changed so drastically, but perhaps its for the better. You’re going to America for a year you say?”

Shen Yuan nodded. “I’m setting aside money from my paycheck to pay for expenses while I’m there.”

“No girlfriend yet?”

He nearly choked on a crouton. Of course, I don’t! I have a husband! Is what he wanted to say. “No, I’m still focusing on recovery and getting used to balancing school and work.” And I’m married!

… right?

---

It’s been exactly a year since he woke up from his coma and there was no sign of Luo Binghe sweeping in through his bedroom window and taking him back.

---

Su Mei asked him out a third time. They went to a popular movie and got a nice dinner after. She slid her hand across the table and tapped his with her pink painted nails.

“I want to put a label on us,” she said, her cheeks red.

What label? They’re friends, right?

The look of confusion gave away his thoughts. “I want,” she continued. “To be your girlfriend.”

Taking in her unnaturally curly dark hair, the red lips in an achingly familiar shade of red, dark eyes framed with mascara laden lashes, the black scoop neck shirt with a thin, silver necklace she always wore. It hurts.

He’s married.

He gave her the same spiel he gave his brother, paid his part of the bill, and walked out. She didn’t text him goodnight as she always did.

---

Midterms blended into a calm before the storm and then he suddenly had four exams, three monster papers, and three presentations due in a span of a week. Work was piling on the hours and his days were growing so mundane he’d stopped crying himself to sleep at night as he was too tired to spend it wasting what little energy he had left. The Luo Binghe lock screen was turned into a pretty picture of a sunset he took from the library window.

There was a desperate hope at first that Luo Binghe would find him again, he always did. The days simply continued to wear on as he fell back into being Shen Yuan, or a newer Shen Yuan his parents were much more approving of. They were no longer worried about him being depressed, as he’s managed to bury the sadness away into a chest deep in his heart.

He put on the cultivation robes (fake, itchy) and sat at his low coffee table with a cheap tea set he bought and served himself tea, the little Bingpup stared up at him from the other side of the table with big, glittering eyes. He flickered open the bamboo fan and hid his face behind it.

---

He got accepted to study abroad in Los Angeles for a year. His parents easily paid the tuition and boarding fees. His sister bought him a nice set of luggage.

---

The crane and chrysanthemum fan he kept with him at all times broke completely. Instead of throwing it away he tossed it in a desk drawer.

---

His hair had reached past his shoulders. It was easily tied back into a knot at the nape of his neck, or in a neat ponytail when he needed to clean up. He collected clips to pin back the loose strands when he found himself hunched over his monitor for long hours or with a nose buried in a book. It will never, ever be as long as Shen Qingqiu’s long mane of hair, tracing his knees as he walked and whispering around his arms.

On a day off he went to a barbershop and got it all chopped off. It was long enough to donate. He did so and walked out with a weight off his shoulders and a needle-like pain in his chest.

---

His brother came over and helped him clean up his apartment a little bit. He tossed out the broken fan. Shen Yuan didn’t realize until he opened up his desk drawer a week later looking for a stapler and found it meticulously organized, the scrapped fan long gone.

---

He got himself a betta fish, black and sleek like an ink splot in his tank. He named the fish Bingmei.

---

Bingmei died.

---

During a break from school, he took a weekend off from work and went back to his relative’s house in the mountains. This time, he forced himself to appreciate the whispering bamboo forest, the misty mountain peaks, the tranquil silence that was muted by the pitched hum of the city. He took up piano playing again, tapping the keys awkwardly as if he was six years old again and his mother made him go to be more proactive with his life besides staying home after school every day and watching cartoons and reading comic books. His older cousin could play and she helped him get back on track, his fingers stiff on the keys and his wrists cramping from disuse. He taught himself a song he knew Luo Binghe loved him to play for him on the guqin. It tasted different.

He went home after the break and let his lungs fill with smog once again. He went to a music store and bought a cheap electric keyboard and continued to practice in his spare time. He would always start with that song Luo Binghe liked so much.

---

The fingers he used to caress the monochrome piano keys were used to finger himself wide open, face pressed into his pillow and ass arching up into his hand. Nothing will ever be as big as Luo Binghe unless he wanted to spend a small fortune on one of those embarrassingly large dildos and honestly, he didn’t have a face thick enough to order something like that. Even if he had one in his cart with a credit card held out in his hand ready to type in the numbers, his hand still led him to exit the page and tuck his card back in his wallet. He never touched himself often, maybe once or twice a month the pressure will get too much, a weight shaped like Luo Binghe was only relieved for maybe three seconds at the peak of his orgasm when his name traced his lips like a lullaby.

---

As much as he was letting go of Luo Binghe and everything to do with Proud Immortal Demon Way, Luo Binghe always found a way to nestle back into his chest cavity, make a home amongst his ribs and laid back against his lungs, his curls tickled his throat and his sticky, sticky arms wrapped around his whole heart.

---

The rhythm broke with a crack, a little over a year and a half after he returned to his world.

A literal crack.

He came home from class, one of his last classes before finals kicked in and was going to head to his bedroom and take a quick nap before he had to close at work when he heard a deafening crack echo from his bedroom. He quietly sat down his backpack, a scraping and muted thump followed. He grabbed the umbrella he had by the door as quietly as he could, stepped with care into his apartment. He had his phone out with 1-1-0 already dialed, thumb hovering to hit call at a moment’s notice. A muffled voice sent a lurch from his feet to his throat. He isn’t the powerful immortal cultivator Shen Qingqiu, he can die! Well, Shen Qingqiu did die a few times (oops), but he’s still hard to kill! Not Shen Yuan in his soft, mortal body with fragile bones, paper-thin skin, and a heart so delicate only Luo Binghe’s metaphorical glass heart could be compared. He didn’t have a spare body laying around to launch his soul into nor does he have the System to swoop in and save his ass again with a magic reboot. Once he’s dead, he’s dead.

Shen Yuan stuck close to the hallway wall and tried to peak through the crack in his door. From this angle, he couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t a sound at all and Shen Qingqiu started to lower his umbrella thinking it might have just been a loud neighbor when a definite rustle of clothes could be heard from his room. He tried to back up quickly, smart enough to know that this is something the cops should deal with not him!

He stumbled and fell flat on his ass, the air pulled from his lungs with a sharp gasp. His phone clattered loudly to the ground, screen dark, and the umbrella nailing the hallway wall. Oh no, oh no, oh no the intruder would have definitely heard him!

The door was thrown open and for a half a second all Shen Yuan saw was a dark blur before he pushed his glasses back up his nose, bringing the intruder into full 20/20 focus. Whatever breath he had left in his body left with a sharp gasp.

“Binghe?!”

#scum villain self saving system #scum villain #svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #mxtx #fic #shen yeet #haha idk where im goig with this my plot is vague i just wanna flex my style a bit

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