#And when we go I'll try not to be so slow

[ajmakoko]

That's because your thoughts have a real, physical basis and hyperfixation is a special circumstance

If your brain was a town, then making new thoughts and connections would be like adding in roads, pipes, plumbing, and housing in an area. Making a new road is slow and hard, but once the road and city scaffolding is in, as long as there are supplies (neurochemicals) then you can keep building, much faster and easier than when you were putting in the road. Some areas of a city pretty already much have everything ready to go (having been built years ago) and just need large amounts of the right supplies (eg don't need pipes anymore but might need wood, glass, cement, etc). Once that happens, the hyperfixation occurs and everything gets built and put into place. Eventually we might look like that really dense city, Kowloon (doesn't exist anymore).

So yes, over time you can indeed be disciplined enough theoretically to create your own hyperfixations (personally I do not believe much in doing this). That feeling of "ugh," then an excuse to dismiss or ignore the information - that's your brain admitting it doesn't have the infrastructure or supplies to make those connections. You just have to keep at it gradually to help your brain start supplying and developing that area. Sometimes people will feel a rush of histamine (scratchy, often grouchy), a neurochemical responsible for both learning and allergies and wakefulness - and the body might balance it out with adrenaline (anxiety, excitement). Often people will attribute these feelings as meaning something beyond a brain's need for hormones, eg "I'm feeling anxious therefore that means I'm stupid and I'll learn this." That isn't true - you're learning it right then by having those feelings. But breaks are also good.

Of course, brains are neuroplastic! Stuff can change and move. But there is a real physical cost to changing your mind.

Personally, I think being undisciplined is okay. I never liked chemistry but I liked medicine- now I know a lot about chemistry through the scaffolding I had already built from medical knowledge, which was way easier for my brain than trying to build a whole other area of the city for it.y brain was saying, "hey, this is a lot of effort here!" And eventually found a more efficient way to store that information.

it's so wild to me that you absolutely cannot force a hyperfixation to happen. like you'll watch the most perfectly tailor-made-for-you content that everyone says you'll love and feel absolutely nothing, and then the thing you watch on a whim to fill time will reach through the screen and put its damn fingers in your brain and start rearranging the neurons right in front of you and every single time you're like THIS??? THIS??????? and this happens like every 6-12 months forever

[ariestrxsh]

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/angst (in later chapters; this one's mostly just suggestive), mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris spend the night hanging out on his roof after your first day of making sales together.

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

The sun sank slowly below the skyline, and the evening turned to nightfall as you and Chris finished up your last deal of the day. You'd been showing him all the stops, introducing him to your customers, and teaching him the way you did everything.

He got into your passenger seat and sighed as his head fell against the headrest, really wishing he had a joint right about now. "Damn, ma. I can't believe how much money we made today," Chris mumbled, slouching down into his seat. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the wad of cash he'd made for the day.

"I know, and we're only a third of the way through the product," you smiled back, doing the math in your head about the potential profit. "I could never work a 9 to 5," Chris sighed, sifting through the $100 bills. "Can't believe I just made in a day what it would take some sucker to make in two weeks at some office job."

You fastened your seatbelt and turned the key in the ignition, admiring Chris, who brought his fingers to his lips and slowly licked them as he separated the crisp hundreds. "What are you thinking about, ma? My tongue or my fingers?" Chris flirted, catching you staring out of the corner of his eye and giving you a seductive smirk as he ran his tongue along the pads of his fingers again, flitting through his money.

You squeezed your thighs together as you bit down on your lip. For a moment, you were thinking about both at the same time. You hated the effect he had on you, the way he knew how to get inside your head, intrude on your thoughts, and invade your sexual fantasies. "You're fucking gross, Chris," you replied, rolling your eyes and trying to hide how turned on you were.

He responded with a chuckle, knowing that he was getting to you even if you wanted to deny it. "So, am I dropping you off at your girlfriend's house?" You asked, reminding him that he had one. "Nah, can you drop me off at my place? I'm staying home tonight," Chris requested. "I can do that. Just tell me where to go," you replied, your eyes darting around between the road in front of you, your side mirrors, and your rearview.

"So, have you told Daisy yet?" You asked, your gaze flickering over at Chris, who was shaking his head. "I'll tell her, ma, when I'm ready," Chris grumbled. He knew you were right. He knew he had some things to work out, like telling his girlfriend the real way he made his money or dealing with the fact that he was finding himself sexually attracted to his new business partner. He stole another glance at you from your passenger seat as the fantasy he'd had the night before flashed through his mind, praying you wouldn't notice the tent forming in his jeans.

When you pulled into Chris' driveway, he thanked you again for the ride. "I can't believe I've been sober for eight hours," Chris mentioned, bouncing his leg as you parked. "No wonder you've been so uptight today," you teased him. "Maybe you should come smoke with me since you're always uptight," Chris smirked, nudging you in the arm with his elbow, but his offer was genuine.

You gave him an annoyed look, but you couldn't hold back the smile that spread across your lips. "I don't smoke weed, Chris. I haven't since I was a teenager," you replied, fidgeting with the material of your black steering wheel cover. "Why not?" Chris wondered, surprised by your admission. "I like being clear-headed. I don't like feeling out of control," you shrugged.

"We're on a floating rock in space, ma. The idea that you have control over anything is an illusion," Chris laughed, reaching for his door handle. "C'mon. Come inside. Do you drink? I've got a beer with your name on it if you wanna hang out with me for a little."

You were quiet for a second. It wasn't often that people invited you to hang out or just do something fun with them, and for a moment, you thought maybe you could use it. "I could stay for one beer," you responded hesitantly, nervously rubbing the back of your neck. "That's what I'm talking about, ma. Let your hair down once in a while," Chris replied, beaming with a smile.

You trailed behind him, staring down at your shoes as you followed the pattern of the stepping stones that led to his front door. "Oh, shit. I forgot my house key at Daisy's place," he sighed, running his finger through his hair. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. "Do you need me to take you to Daisy's place after all?" You huffed, slightly annoyed at the situation.

"Nah, it wouldn't do any good anyways. She's at work. Plus, this won't take long," Chris said, pulling a pin out of his pocket and fiddling with the lock. You nervously looked around, worried someone was going to see him picking his lock and call the cops or something, but in a matter of seconds, you heard a click, and you watched as he turned the knob. His door creaked open, and he glanced back at you with a mischevious smile.

"Okay, now you're just showing off," you replied, raising an eyebrow. "What can I say, ma? I'm good with my hands. Gotta show you my skillset somehow," Chris playfully winked at you. You scoffed, biting back a smile. A part of you liked the way he couldn't keep himself from making sexual innuendos and flirting with you.

"If you need me to pick a lock on a deal, though, you're splitting the money 50/50 with me," Chris told you, stepping into his living room. "What kind of shady shit do you think I'm up to, Chris? I'm just selling coke. Not robbing people," you joked, following him in. "You never know," Chris peeked back at you over his shoulder with a smirk on his face.

"This is it," he announced, raising his arms to present his place to you. It was a dimly-lit, relatively small place, but it had a safe, cozy vibe to it. "I like it," you told him, your eyes scanning them room. You noticed his sprouting marijuana plants in the corner sitting beneath his grow lights and an old shelf beside it that was littered with comic books and novels you'd never heard of.

His house faintly smelled of weed and sandalwood, like how Chris always smelled, and you found the familiar scent comforting as it wafted through the air. He directed you over towards his couch and motioned for you to sit. You sat down, awkwardly perching at the edge of the couch cushion.

"C'mon, ma. You can relax. Kick your feet up," he told you, heading over towards his fridge to give you that beer he promised you. You exhaled and slowly leaned back into his sofa that was much softer than you imagined it would be. Chris twisted the cap off the bottle and handed it to you. The red and white label that read Stella Artois stared back at you, and you hesitantly reached out and took it.

Chris plopped down on the couch beside you, and you watched as he sprinkled a bit of ground weed into his rolling paper. You peered down at his rings and his fingers at the way they skillfully handled the joint, tucking the paper in and folding it in on itself.

His gaze flickered up at you as his tongue darted out, and he licked a long, slow stripe across the edge of the joint. His lips curled into a suggestive smile as he noticed you watching him, but you acted unamused, pulling your eyes away from his. You held the bottle up to your lips, taking a small, refreshing sip, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you relaxed further into the comfy couch.

You peered down the hall to an open door at the end. The room was dark, but you imagined it was probably Chris' bedroom. You found yourself wondering what it looked like, how comfortable his bed was, and how hard it would be for you to keep your hands off of him if you ever found yourself alone with him in there.

"You coming?" Chris asked, pulling you out of your thoughts and standing to his feet as soon as you'd gotten comfortable. "Coming where?" You wondered, giving him a perplexed look. "To the roof. The view's great up there," Chris responded, making his way towards the back door.

You hesitantly followed him back out into the cool air of the backyard where he had a ladder propped up against the side of his house. "C'mon, ma. I'll hold your beer. You start climbing the ladder," Chris told you, extending his arm to take your bottle from you. "Yep. Just smoking and drinking on a roof. What could possibly go wrong?" You muttered under your breath as you wrapped your fingers around the cold, metal rungs.

"Don't worry, ma. I'll be right behind you, so if you fall, I'll catch you," Chris' breath tickled your neck as he pressed his warm body into yours. Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. It was the closest you'd ever been to him. You were just glad you were faced away from him, so he couldn't see the unmistakable look of desire written in your expression as heat radiated off his skin.

You cleared your throat and regained your composure. "Is that your gun, or are you just happy to see me?" You snarked at him, peering over your shoulder in an attempt to take control of the situation again. Chris chuckled, but he didn't answer you, leaving it up for interpretation. You started to hesitantly climb the ladder, and Chris followed closely behind, keeping his promise to not let you fall as he held your beer in one hand and the unlit joint between his lips.

The two of you made it to the roof, and Chris handed you your beer once the two of you got settled. The star-filled sky hung overhead as you looked out at the horizon. You saw the tops of the other houses, the city lights scattered across the skyline, and the waves crashing on the beach shore off in the far distance. You brought your bottle of Stella Artois up to your lips and took another sip as you took in the view. There was something about this perspective that made your problems feel smaller and less pressing.

"Pretty cool, isn't it, ma?" Chris asked beside you as you heard the flick of his lighter sound as he held the flame up to the end of his joint. You quietly nodded, surprised by how much you could see from Chris' roof. "So, ma. What do you say we get to know each other better and play your favorite game, twenty questions?" Chris smiled over at you with the lit joint pinched between his two fingers.

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't have an excuse this time. There was no work to be done, and there was nowhere to go to avoid his questioning, so you took a deep breath and another swig of your drink. "Okay, fine. Hit me," you finally replied after a moment of hesitancy.

"Where do you go to clear your mind?" Chris wondered, his gaze locked on you. "The beach. I like the waves. The sounds of the seagulls. Feeling the sand between my toes. It's peaceful," you shrugged. Even though the question wasn't a very personal one, you felt vulnerable answering.

"What about you, Chris?" You wondered aloud. "You're looking at it," Chris said with his joint tucked between his lips. He didn't need to explain anything further. You could tell why this was the place he went to sort out his thoughts.

"Alright. What kind of music do you listen to?" You blurted out, not sure of what to ask him next. "Anything, really. But I prefer indie over everything else," he told you. "Okay, play me your favorite song," you told him, gesturing towards his phone he had sitting beside him. He picked it up, staring back at you as he thought about it for a moment. "Alright," he responded, scrolling through the saved albums on his phone until he came across AM by Arctic Monkeys. No. 1 Party Anthem started playing through the speaker of his phone, and you nodded in approval as the melody filled the space between you.

"If you could have dinner with anyone, dead or alive, who would you choose?" Chris asked, turning off his phone screen and letting the song play softly in the background of your conversation. You thought about it for a moment. "See, I wanna say Pablo Escobar or something, but I think I'd want to have dinner with one of those druglords who flew under the radar so well that we don't even know their names," you replied. "Damn, ma. That's a good answer," Chris mumbled with the joint hanging from his lips.

He glanced up at you as if silently reminding you it was your turn to ask a question. "What did you think of me when you first met me?" You wondered aloud. You gave him a look like he should be careful about how answered this question. He cracked a smile, remembering the first time you'd approached him and threatened him for selling his weed on your block and trying to steal your customers. "I thought you were tough. Not the kind of woman you want to mess with. I also thought you were super hot," Chris admitted. You blushed, hoping Chris couldn't tell in the glow of the moon.

"What's one thing you don't leave the house without?" Chris asked you, pulling a long drag from his joint. "My keys," you sharply responded, subtly teasing him for having to break into his own place earlier. He let out a laugh. "And my gun," you told him. You sipped on your bubbly drink, noting that the song had changed.

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High started to play as you glanced back over at the blue-eyed man beside you. "If you could change one thing about yourself, what would you change?" You asked, peeling the label off your beer bottle. "Nothing," Chris smirked over at you. "Nothing?" You reiterated, furrowing your brow. "Nothing," he repeated. "You're a little cocky, aren't you?" You shot back. "I prefer confident," Chris chuckled before he pulled from the joint again.

"What do you think the most important quality in a friend or partner is?" Chris asked after a few seconds of silence. "Honesty and loyalty," you said without hesitation, and Chris nodded in agreement. "You?" You asked. "Probably just someone who isn't going to bail when things get hard," Chris sincerely responded.

"What's your biggest fear?" You asked him, the questions getting deeper and deeper. "Losing the people I love," he answered, staring down at the build-up of ash on the cherry before flicking it off. "How about you, ma?" He returned the question. "Trusting the wrong person and getting hurt," you responded almost immediately. "I get that," Chris answered, his gaze still fixed on you.

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Chris asked you, his luscious lips curling into a smile as he awaited your response. "Probably those dumb reality shows," you admitted, your cheeks growing warm. "Really? Never took you for a girl who likes trash TV," Chris teasingly nudged your arm. "Daisy loves that shit, too."

"What's one of your guilty pleasures?" You asked Chris. He bit down on his lip as he looked you up and down. He knew what he wanted to say, but he knew it would be crossing the line of just playful flirting and venturing into uncharted territory, so he came up with something on the spot.

"Watching the trash TV with her. I'm always making fun of her for watching The Bacholorette and shit like that, but then I find myself watching it with her and getting all invested," Chris confessed.

"I totally get it. Like, I started watching it as a joke at first, and then you get to know the people. Then you start wanting them to end up together," you said, glancing up at him, and his eyes met yours. The song changed again, and you listened as the lyrics came through:

🎶 If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots, babe. I just wanna be yours. 🎶

The two of you stared at each other in a comfortable silence for a moment, Chris taking a puff of his weed as you took a swig of beer. "So, what does Daisy think you're out doing all day when you're working?" You wondered, raising an eyebrow at him. "As far as she knows, I work in sales, which isn't totally a lie. She just doesn't know about the drugs," Chris shrugged. "Yeah, she doesn't know about the most important detail," you scoffed, tapping on the glass of your bottle.

"Why are you always judging me for that, ma? I've got my reasons. Why are you so pressed about it?" He asked, sounding a bit defensive. "I had an ex who kept things from me, like how much money he owed certain people. He put me in a lot of dangerous situations. Don't want to watch you do the same shit to Daisy," you murmured, letting Chris in more than you had up until this point. "I didn't know, ma," Chris said, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder and relaxing his jaw. "You know, I'd never intentionally hurt her. Or you."

"It doesn't matter, Chris. You can be the most well-intentioned person in the world and still hurt the people around you," you responded. He was quiet for a few minutes, mulling over what you said.

"Your ex? Alex?" Chris wondered, blowing out a cloud of smoke against the night sky as he recalled Joe using that name earlier. "Yeah. My dumb fuck ex. He got himself killed because he owed the wrong people money," you said in a dry tone. "Holy shit. Ma, I'm so sorry," Chris whispered. "Don't be. He deserved it," you muttered under your breath.

"Hey, I have a question. Why do you always call me ma?" You chimed in. "It's just a sign of respect. That's all," he shrugged. "Why? Does it bother you?"

"No. It's fine. I don't care what you call me. You gotta stop looking at me like that, though. Looking like you're gonna kiss me or some shit," you accused him, following his gaze that danced between your eyes and your lips as you took another drink of your beer. The song changed again.

🎶 How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow, and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep. 🎶

"I'm not looking at you any type of way! Maybe you're projecting because you wanna kiss me," he shot back. The sexual tension between the two of you was thick, and for a moment, you each thought about it. The temptation was there, and it was strong. You wanted to pull him as close as you could, passionately press your lips against his, and tangle your fingers in his soft, brown hair, but you didn't want to ruin your business relationship with him.

Chris thought the same, wondering what it would be like to kiss you, but he didn't want to screw up what he had with Daisy, and he didn't want to give you the wrong impression. He diverted his eyes, glancing down at his joint that had burned down to the roach, and he put it out. "Get enough of the view, ma? I'm getting kind of tired," Chris chimed in as you admired his profile in the moonlight.

For a moment, you forgot he was talking about the scape of the city from the roof. "Oh, right. Yeah, of course. I should probably go," you said, fiddling with the empty bottle in your hand. "You can stay the night if you need to," Chris motioned towards the alcoholic beverage you'd finished off, but he knew he was playing with fire the moment the words left his mouth, inviting you to stay the night.

🎶 Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways? Sad to see you go, was sort of hoping that you'd stay. 🎶

The two of you exchanged a look like you both knew it wouldn't be a good idea. Even with you both sleeping in separate rooms, you each knew deep down that a closed door wouldn't be enough to deter you two from the temptation. "It's cool, Chris. It was just one beer. I'll just grab a glass of water, sit on your couch for twenty minutes, and I'll be fine to drive," you told him. Chris picked up his phone and paused the song. "I got you, ma. I'll help you down."

You felt elated once you were finally sitting back down on Chris' couch, sobering up. You weren't sure if it was a buzz from the alcohol, an adrenaline rush from being on the roof, or just the way you were starting to feel around Chris.

Chris gave you some crackers to help "absorb the alcohol," because he had "heard somewhere that it does," and even though you'd only had one beer, it was sweet that he cared enough. You also both just knew that you had to sober up, because staying the night wasn't an option unless you were both prepared to give into the force that was pulling the two of you together and end up doing something that could hurt Daisy or hurt your business relationship.

So you were munching away on Ritz crackers on Chris' couch after your single beer, and once you felt like the effects of the alcohol had worn off, you made a comment about how late it was getting and about how you should probably get going.

You left, following the same stepping stones you'd used when you walked up. When you approached your car, you reached into your empty pocket for your keys just to remember you'd left them on Chris' coffee table. "Shit," you whispered, realizing you were going to have to do a walk of shame back up to his front door after giving him shit for forgetting his keys earlier.

Chris had already started to get ready for bed, shedding his layers and slipping into a pair of flannel pajama pants when a soft knock sounded at his front door. He peeked through the peephole to make sure it was you, his heart racing and secretly wondering if you'd come back to kiss him or confess your feelings for him, his mind swirling with half a dozen possibilities.

He turned the doorknob, and when you saw him, your eyes were immediately drawn to the fact that he was shirtless. "Uh, sorry. I forgot my keys," you told him, unable to conceal your smile at the irony of the situation. "Oh, you mean, the keys you don't go anywhere without?" Chris asked, leaning against the door frame and indulging in the fact that you were doing nothing to hide the fact that you were checking him out.

"Yeah. Those ones," you smirked, biting down on your lip. "I'll go get 'em, ma," Chris chuckled at you as he turned to retrieve your keys. You found yourself holding your breath as your gaze danced over the definition of his back muscles in the soft lighting of his living room.

He handed them to you, and as you took them from him, his hand brushed against yours. You both exchanged a look that was heavy with the words unspoken between you, but you also both silently agreed it was for the best. "Okay, goodnight," you said, unconsciously batting your eyelashes at him. "Goodnight," Chris smirked, eyeing you up and down as you turned to walk away before closing his door again.

As soon as you made it to your car, you reflected on the way you acted and how stupid you must have sounded, silently kicking yourself. You didn't harp on it for long, though. Your embarrassment was quickly overshadowed by the intoxication and bliss you felt from being around such an attractive man who was beginning to make you smile more than he made you roll your eyes.

taglist: @skye-44 @faiyaz555 @idrk2292 @chrisclean @drewswife @trevorsgodmother @sofisturns @milo-the-dog @rockstarchr1s @bluetalia @xaristhings @nomusic-nodreams @birkinbratsworld @wastelandzella @bsturnzmtts @sturniolo-girl @theyluvme-2315 @jassturn @brookiecookie-18 @maggot3647 @slut4chriztopher @strnlslvr @sleepysturniolo @lvrsturniolo @sofieeeeex @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @matts-myloverboy @witchofthehour @whoahoahoahoahoa @ilovechrissturniolosposts @smt-obsessed @sturnioloxlver @that1fangirll @hrtz4alex2211 @drewstarkeys @sp3ncerslvt @sturniolo-munch44 @jakewebberswifee @ssturniolooss @thenickgurl @sturniolo-fann @sst7niolo @babysturniolo @chestersturniolo @riowritesitall @camzeecorner @mattsturnixlo @annedebeijer @scorpioosworld @mattlover-00

[malsmind]

so good

''if i could quit my job and fuck you all day, shit i would"

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: basically what the lyrics say.

warnings: smut, oral (m recieving), unprotected sex, p in v, cream pie, quickie (kinda), pet names (baby)

wc: 630

english is not my first language!

matt held you hair up, watching you bob your head up and down, lips wrapped around his dick, sucking him off so good. he watched you suck his dick, listening to the gags you'd choke out whenever your head moved down, his tip hitting the back of your throat. your head bobbed up, down, then up again. he threw his head back with a groan, feeling your lips on his tip, tongue swirling around it. "so fucking good, baby."

he was supposed to get ready for a meeting with his brothers, but you just looked too good, and to be honest, he couldn't be bothered with it today. he let go off your hair, gently pulling you up from you kneeling position, standing up with you. "need to be inside you." he whispered, placing hungry kisses on your neck, turning your bodies around and laying you down. matt tapped your hip with his finger, making you lift them up so he could pull your pants off. his hands roamed over your bare thighs, spreading them apart and moving to sit in between them. "so wet f'me." he spoke, mostly to himself as he rubbed his tip along your wet folds, teasing you. "matt" you whined, desperate to feel him inside of you.

your needy whine made a smirk spread across his lips, his hungry eyes darting up to meet your needy ones. he inched forward, slowly pushing himself in. your head fell back against the matress, eyes fluttering shut with a moan leaving your lips, louder than you intended. "shhh baby, we're not home alone." matt cooed, moving his hips back and forth, fucking in and out of your needy hole at a slow pace. he pressed his lips to your neck, placing soft, delicate kisses on the skin, hands finding your hips, pressing his fingers into them. your legs locked around his waist, pressing him deeper into your body.

"wish i could fuck you all day" matt whispered against your neck, picking up the speed of his movements, his hips snapping into yours faster now. he muffled his own moans, burying his face in your neck, "so good.." you bit your lip, trying your best to hold back your moans as his tip repeatedly hit your sweet spot.

you could feel your orgasm build up, walls tightening around matt's dick as it moved in and out of your pussy, your moans getting harder to hold back at the feeling, and so were matt's. matt moved his head to look down at you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "want me to fill you up, hm?" you nodded, teeth digging still into your lower lip, like it would actually help prevent the noises coming from you.

matt picked up the pace again, pounding into you faster, praying nobody would hear the sound of skin slapping and muffled moans coming from you both. your hand flew over your mouth to cover it, eyes squeezing shut as your orgasm waved trough your body, your legs hugging around his waist tightly, leaving no room for him to pull back. not that he would. watching your face wash over with pleasure as your pussy spasmed around him, breathy moans left his lips, trying to keep them as quiet as he could when he felt his dick twitch, his release coating your walls, hips never stopping as he fucked his cum into you.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

matt threw the napking in the trash, smiling at you as you pulled your pants back on.

"matt are you almost ready? we gotta leave in like, ten minutes dude!"

matt rolled his eyes, buttoning his jeans up. "i'll bring back food" he smiled, placing a kiss to your forehead before heading out.

an: womp womp, don't like this one tbh, sounded better in me head

@middlepartmatt @emely9274 @impossiblecollectorcat @staargazr @sllutty-sturniolo @shadowthesim237 @sturns-mermaid @courta13 @grace-sturnz @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @ncm9696 @rcklessheavn

[mybelovedsylus]

Another day another smutty drabble. You know the drill, no minor interactions please. I’m a Sylus girlie who still quite enjoyed the unhinged Caleb - so I got to thinking. Sylus would definitely want to make sure Caleb knew that you were taken - granted a little OOC cause he likes these intimate moments to be private, but I couldn’t get the idea of him calling Caleb while fucking MC to prove a point… so well that’s what this shit is and that’s your warning. Hope you like it - not edited as always. I'm still working on my smut writing too so forgive me

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sylus knew he was a possessive motherfucker. Of that he had no doubt, but if he did he knew for sure when he had your ankles draped loosely over his shoulder as your phone dialed next to your head on speakerphone.

"You can not be serious right now," you gasped, hands clutching against nothing as Sylus' evol kept them pinned to the bed. Couldn't have you hanging up prematurely now could we? Not when there was a point to be proven.

"Pipsqueak, what's up?"

Sylus sneered as soon as he picked up, like that wasn’t exactly what his intention was. He looked from the phone to you and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to respond. As you opened your mouth, he slammed all the way home causing a moan to rip out of your throat, which you were quick to try and muffle by biting down hard on your lip. Sylus looked downright gleeful, the red of his eyes practically glowing.

"You okay over there?" Caleb's voice came through gentle but questioning.

"Ye-yeah, just stubbed my toe?" you gasped out but it sounded unsure. Well now that wouldn't do. Sylus leaned down, essentially folding your knees into your chest, which in turn pushed him even further into you which you couldn't help but groan at. His mouth latched on to your peaked nipple, flicking and tweaking it as his hand reached up to lavish the other with similar attention.

"You must have really stubbed it good, do you need me to bring dinner and some medical aid?" Caleb offers sweetly.

"NO!"

There's silence on the line and you glare as Sylus chokes back a laugh as he leans back, resuming a lazy pace and wiping the hair out of your eyes. The sweet gesture is a stark contrast to the debauchery happening here. Sylus is drawing it out, giving slow lazy thrusts that drag every vein and inch over your sensitive spots, dragging you closer and closer to that precipice. You need Caleb to hang the fuck up before that happens.

"I appreciate the - fuck - offer, but really I'll be okay."

You know it comes out like phone sex, airy and deep, but that's because it's like Sylus can read my mind and is trying to get me over the peak as quick as he can - like he wants Caleb to hear just what he does to me. This possessive motherfucker - but also what does that say about you that you find yourself getting wetter at the idea?

"Uh, okay, was that all you called to tell me? That you stubbed your toe, but otherwise you are fine?" Caleb asked. You could tell he didn't believe a word of what you were trying to sell.

"Mhm," you gasp out as Sylus draws tight circles over your clit, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You are starting to wonder if the slap of skin and the rough slide through your wetness is echoing on the phone like it is in your ears.

"Okay," he draws out, suspicion evident in his tone, "I'm just gonna let you go then."

It's too late though. Between the bruising and pistoning pace,and the flicking of your clit, there's not much you can do to hold it back. You try to bite your lip to hold the noises at bay, but Sylus pulls it free with his other hand. He holds your cheeks in a grasp that holds your mouth open, and you cry his name out as your vision goes white and everything in your body pulls taught with your orgasm. He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to suck at the skin of your neck. He turns his head slightly towards the phone, groaning out your name as his hips stutter and he meets you at the peak. He leans more deeply on you, keeping the two of you joined as he reaches over for the phone.

"Aw, looks like your “gege” hung up," he mutters, tossing your phone off the bed as he looks down at you with what you can only say is a boyish smile.

"You are such a possessive asshole, oh my god, how am I ever supposed to look him in the eye again?"

"You can protest all you want, but you were gushing- looks to me like my kitten might have a bit of an exhibitionist in her," Sylus responds with a sly grin, his hand giving a lazy tweak to your overabused clit that makes you jump. You try to pull away and he makes a tsk noise as he follows, ensuring he remains firmly within the snug confines of your walls.

"Where do you think you're going, when did I say I was done with you?"

[leashybebes]

fic: blue and gold (10/28)

today's @bucktommyfluffebruary prompt is sleepy cuddles and my fill is here

note that it picks up directly from yesterday! tumblr version below.

The conversation takes hours in the end, and they sketch out the beginnings of a plan. It's too early to do it now, Tommy doesn't want to give up the square footage that comes with his house ('or the walls, Evan. Call me old fashioned, but I would like at least a couple of internal walls'), Buck doesn't want to give up the location of the loft, Tommy doesn't want to backslide from homeownership to renting. So they'll take their time and they'll do it intentionally and they'll find somewhere that works for them both. It's…honestly a little terrifying to think about it in these terms, but if they're going to make it work long-term, then it makes sense. Buck doesn't say it, because he doesn't want to spook him, but he is so proud of Tommy he could burst. For all the ways they click together, they're quite different here. Buck rushes in; Tommy runs away. Knowing that Tommy's trying not to do that for him, for them, makes Buck feel unbelievably warm.

Hours later, with a pause for food, they're finally done, crashed onto the couch together and Buck is exhausted. He turns his best pleading eyes on Tommy who lifts his arm, letting Buck snuggle up against him. For all that Tommy is constructed almost entirely of muscles, he's also absurdly comfortable. Buck can feel sleep tugging at him as soon as he settles. The documentary on the TV doesn't have a hope compared to the comfort and safety he feels tucked in under Tommy's arm.

"We can just go to bed," Tommy offers, eternally reasonable.

"M'not falling asleep," Buck lies.

"Uh-huh." Tommy sounds amused, presses a kiss to Buck's hair. "Sure you're not."

"I'm not," Buck insists, eyes firmly closed.

"Okay, Evan. Whatever you say."

Tommy sounds fond, indulgent, gentle. He wants to live with Buck. Buck smiles and nestles closer. They'll need a bigger couch, he thinks, imagining something large enough they can both be horizontal, where he can tangle all their limbs together. Sometimes, when they're sat like this, he makes a genuine effort to stay awake, asking Tommy questions, requesting that Tommy scratch his back, or scrolling on his phone. Tonight though, he doesn't even try, is comfortably aware of his own breath slowing and evening out as he melts into the gentle, secure grip Tommy has on him.

"Honey," Tommy says an indeterminate amount of time later, pressing a kiss into his hair. "Let's go to bed."

"I am in bed," Buck argues, refusing to open his eyes. He lifts his hand, gives a groping squeeze to Tommy's pec, the one he isn't currently snuggled into. "See? Comfy pillow."

Tommy laughs. "C'mon. Wouldn't you rather cuddle naked?"

Buck whines. He's so comfortable. "Take y'r shirt off, then."

"You'll have to move for me to do that. We might as well go to bed if you're gonna have to move."

"Ugh. Fine."

"I'll make it up to you," Tommy promises.

"You better."

[accio-sriracha]

@bradleysass SNIPPET TIME

(Thank you for the tag darling <3)

This is a little long, but it's from my Jegulus fic called "A Hostage Situation"

"Let go of him!" James shouted, holding out his wand, "Step back! Now!"

The man jumped backwards, holding out his hands. They were filthy and covered in a layer of grime,

"Can I help you?" He asked, eyes narrowed.

"Yeah, you can start by walking your sorry arse out of those doors." James tipped his wand towards the exit.

"Auror scum." The man scowled, shoving away from the bar and elbowing through the crowd to the door.

James turned to the other, slipping his wand back into its holster, "Are you alr-"

He froze.

It was Regulus.

"Potter?" Regulus' voice sounded far away, his eyes unfocused as he stared at James, "What are you...?" He trailed off, looking confused.

James' looked down at his drink,

"Shit." He took it from Regulus' hands, "He put something in this, didn't he?"

Regulus frowned, eyebrows furrowed, "I haven't seen you since Hogwarts."

James set the drink down, holding out a hand as Regulus swayed on his feet, "Come on, let's get you outside."

Regulus giggled, "You look different." He whispered.

James tried to smile, it didn't come out right, "And you haven't changed a bit."

"Potter, where are you?" Frank's voice came from his earpiece. James cursed under his breath,

"I got a situation. Give me a minute to sort it out and I'll be right there."

Another click in his ear, Frank's voice was irritated now, "If it isn't life or death you need to drop it and get over here. The target's missing."

"Missing?" James repeated, "Are you sure?"

"He's not here. We're spreading out to search. We could use the help."

James helped Regulus to a bench just outside of the restaurant, "Okay, I'll be there as soon as possible."

He turned to Regulus, "Can you wait here for a bit? I'm calling your brother to come pick you up."

"No." Regulus groaned, his words slurring slightly, "Sirius doesn’t like me."

"Okay, well I can't take you with me, so you need to-" James cut himself off when Sirius picked up the call,

"Hey, brother. What's up?"

"Actually, that's exactly what I'm calling about. I need you to come get your brother."

"What happened?" Sirius' voice switched instantly to concerned. James sighed,

"I'm on a mission right now, I found Regulus at the Draught of Happiness. Someone spiked his drink." He explained.

"What's going on?" Remus' voice came from the other line. Sirius cursed,

"I'm on my way. Hang tight."

James looked up at Regulus, who seemed less and less conscious by the minute, "We'll try. Get here fast."

The call disconnected.

Regulus' eyes widened, "Potter-" He whispered. Before James had the chance to respond he felt something hard press into the back of his head.

"Set the wand on the ground and stand up."

James closed his eyes, this was not how he wanted this mission to go.

"Potter...?" Regulus started again. James let out a slow breath,

"It's okay. Just stay right there." He held up his wand so the other person could see it and set it on the pavement in front of him, "You have me, alright? Just let him go."

Fingers curled around James' wrist and he was yanked to his feet, spinning around to come face to face with the man from the bar.

James' stomach sank.

He knew that face.

He'd been studying it on the case files for the last twelve hours.

"I think we should have some fun first, don't you agree?"

[impyssadobsessions]

DP x DMC interaction

haha okay so i have an interaction idea for my dmc and dp crossover with Patty and Danny with how they meet. (probably be only for me but hehe >w<) Danny after being stranded in dmc world, is living with Dante and being a part-time employee. They specify part time since he's still a minor. (just by a year and that's not even fully correct just easier to keep same birthday due to time shenanigans... Danny mostly upset because he was a four months away and now he has to wait eight. Not important just thought it be funny for Danny to fuss over it a little.) Dante is off on another gig not long after Danny starts crashing at his place. Danny had just gotten his citizenship started thanks to Morrison, and now settling in. He's borrowing Dante's clothes and cleaning up the place (since its still a mess from last Dante was there despite Lady n Trish having dropped in while he was stuck in underworld ) Imagine Dante actually giving Danny his better clothes, and they're baggy on Danny. Nero and Nico having promise to drop by at the end of the week, tying off loose ends to take Danny in for a bit.

Anyways. So Danny just finding something to do, since he isn't in a school ( and he doubts he will), and the business is slow, so he cleans the place. He gets it looking really nice and clean. That's when Patty drops in, expecting to go give Dante a piece of her mind for not checking in or answering her calls ( she's just worried about the geezer) then is shocked when she walks into the place and its SPOTLESS. And there in the middle of the office is someone in Dante's clothes but clearly not Dante. Which she exclaims in shock. And Danny, being Danny like.. uhh yeah I know. Need me to take a message? Wondering why a girl closer to his age looking for Dante. Did she have a job for them? Patty just shocked but then bombarding Danny with questions, suspicious of him. Which Danny just holding his hands like AHH chill chill =w=''' Then Danny explains the situation. Patty still suspicious if not a bit jealous or at least upset Dante never told her. Danny explaining how its pretty new. That's when someone else comes in fretting with an actual Job request. Immediately distraught when hearing Dante isn't in. Danny saying he can take the shift if its nearby- but the guy not wanting to hear it. Dismissing Danny before even knowing him, crumbling into the floor wailing. That's when Patty jumps in both curious of Danny's ability, while also not wanting anything to discourage going to Devil May Cry for services (pride in Dante's business). Patty convincing the man in almost scary manipulative way. She also insists on accompanying them. Danny learns more about Patty on their way over, she driving him up to the spot. Patty learning a little bit about Danny too. He goes into the infested manor, only to turn out the guy was the reason it was infested having made a deal only to turn tails... on more than one demon. Danny gets roughed up, still trying to get a hang of his limitations and powers here, but still manages to pull off a cool fight- especially if Patty ends up in direct line of fire. He sends all the demons packing. Leaving the asshole who started this mess, who tried not to pay them. Making a fuss about the destruction of the mansion, and how long it had taken Danny, as well as letting the demons get too close to him. (They never touched him) Patty is the one to give the guy hell, as well as scare him into paying Danny with bonus. Mentioning how upset Dante would be learning that he jibbed his son, and how next time a demon be hunting him down he won't be able to call on DMC for help. Danny's a bit shocked but pleasantly so with how fast the guy changes his tune as Patty offers to drive Danny out to get milkshakes, since they just got paid. "We?" "I did the negotiating, so I'll be taking a cut. Dante won't mind. uwu C'mon, I'm going to show you all the best hang outs around town. You're going to love them." Thus starts Danny and Patty hanging out. >w< Patty tries not to show it, but she was very impressed at how Danny handled things. Yeah he's not as cool as Dante, but he had his own flare. Plus he's closer to her age.

I did a doodle on paper too =w=' I was going to do something epic and cool but uh... nothing came to me

also a repost of this so you can get a better look at their designs.

[disgruntleddemon]

i've racked my brain trying to figure out an in character way for Shifty to be integrated into the better world timeline main cast, but i'm throwing my hat it. they can be a little ooc for this. this is pretty long, so i'll put it under a cut:

sometime after Fiddleford moves in, but before him and Ford are officially together, the trio goes to check on the bunker (ford mentions planning on doing this in j3, so yayyy, an excuse for them to be there)

they quickly realize the cryotube is broken, and shifty has escaped (how did this happen? is that when shifty escaped in cannon? i have no idea, man) anyway, Fiddleford needs to go in with them to fix it, so Ford and Stan are on shifty hunting duty. meanwhile, shifty saw them, and assumes Stan is another shapeshifter

at some point, Ford and Stan get separated, so Shifty goes to Stan like "idk what that guy told you, but it's probably a lie. lets help each other escape!" Stan uses this to lure him to Ford lol

this is where we get the big confrontation/conversation between everyone. shifty wants out cause he was taken by Ford and Fiddleford for the sole purpose of being experimented on and being used to test the cryotubes. he wanted the journal to get new forms as a defense, and to use it as a guide for escape and life on the outside.

he's been playing nice at the moment and not attacking anyone to prove he'll be fine now. he just wants to go to the surface and live his life like he was supposed to if Ford had never found him.

every one else is not sure what to do. well, mostly Ford and Stan. Fiddleford is pretty set on the "put him back in the tube" approach

Ford is really flip flopping, he has a lot of trust issues after Bill, Shifty's original betrayal affected him, and it hurt Fiddleford (which was probably the worst part to Ford). but, he does see Shifty's perspective and feels kind of guilty.

i think i've spent like a week trying to figure out how they settle things, and i'm kinda calling it quits with that too. my best idea is a microchip. basically, Ford points out the cryotube thing really was unethical, and it broke before so it might again. plus, if they just leave shifty down there, he might tunnel his way out anyway, he's already forming some. and finally, killing him would also be unethical, and also a waste of an incredible scientific discovery .

so they decide to chip him and keep him at the cabin as a trial run. not great that shifty's still a prisoner, but i couldn't see them just letting him go. the chip, made by Fiddleford obviously, alerts them when shifty changes shape, if he manages to get it out, and prevents him from going too far out of a certain radius.

as time goes on, shifty is allowed to go further and further, and they trust him more. it's a very slow transition, that's mostly a matter of shifty becoming part of the daily routine. one of those "you can pretty much get used to anything after awhile" things.

i think they realize also, that shifty's still a juvenile. he's true form is still growing and changing. i put him somewhere in the 12-14 range. i haven't decided how they go about raising him just yet, but his human disguise is pretending to be Stan's son. between the mystery trio, stan having a random son makes the most sense.

shifty likes to keep his form kinda close to looking like himself, so if ppl ask about his appearance, he just says he's albino.

the transition period from not trusting him and being a prisoner, to being a proper member of the cabin is one i'm still very undecided on. but for now, i think the summery works well enough. once he's more comfortable with himself and his place in the house, shifty becomes very mischievous and adventurous! he likes doing pranks and getting into stuff

anyways, if anyone has any suggestions about him, i'm very open to it!! he's a hard character to figure out/integrate

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Update 2025/2/10

I was really hoping to never have to update this post again, but...

Yeah.

TLDR: my partner's medical issues in the previous post have come back, and we now know that it's genetic and incurable. It can be managed with medication, so if they make it through the next several weeks, their prognosis is good.

I'm not taking a formal hiatus, but I will be much less active, and I can no longer commit to any kind of posting or writing schedule. I'll update if and when I'm able, but right now I don't have the mental or emotional energy to create, nor do I feel any spark of inspiration.

More info below the cut for anyone who's curious.

My partner noticed a recurrence of one of their symptoms on Feb. 2. They set up an appointment with their doctor as quickly as possible, and unfortunately confirmed that the problem was back and once again life-threatening. They ran a battery of tests over the next few days and also confirmed that in my partner's case, this is genetic and will never resolve. All we can do is try to get through the immediate danger in the next few weeks, and once those are past, we'll transition to a treatment plan for the rest of their life.

The medication has side effects of its own, but since the alternative is basically a death sentence, we don't really have an option.

In some ways, it's almost a relief to have this diagnosis: it means we can take precautions to avoid it becoming life-threatening in the future, and it reassures us that it was entirely outside our control. Lifestyle and environment are not factors in this case; it's purely a matter of genetics. Which sucks, but at least it makes us stop questioning ourselves and asking What could we have done differently to prevent this? The answer is nothing. It was always going to happen.

All of this comes at a time when we are trying to navigate a massive life change that requires an intense amount of planning and coordination, so we were already stressed from that. On top of which, as I am a federally funded employee and a member of several minoritized groups that are being actively targeted by the incumbent administration, the past three weeks have been a nonstop barrage of executive orders that directly affect the safety and livelihood of myself and/or my loved ones. It feels like I wake up every single day to a reminder that I am unwelcome in this country.

It's probably no surprise, then, that I have been unable to write or draw for some time now. I'm not sure if or when I will feel inspired again. That said, I'm not going to take a formal hiatus. All of these stressors appear to be of indefinite duration, and I don't want to give up something that brings me as much joy and escapism as Star Wars and this fandom. So I'll still be around (albeit in a significantly reduced capacity), and hopefully I'll still have some stories in me in the future. I will likely be slow to respond to messages and tags, but I will do my best. I only ask that you be patient with me if it takes several days for me to get back to you.

Big hugs to you all, and I hope life is treating you kindly. 🩵

Hiatus announcement.

Hi friends. I've got some stuff I need to focus on in my personal life right now, and I'm not able to balance that with keeping up with Tumblr and Discord. I'll be taking a hiatus starting immediately. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but hopefully it won't be too long. If you have submitted a request for a fic, design, or artwork, please know I'll do my absolute best to fill it when I'm back, but for now, I need to be present in my real life.

I love you all, and I'll miss you, and I can't wait to come back! I'll put a few more details below the cut in case you're interested. CW for medical issues.

My partner has been unwell recently, and this week, we discovered that they have a blood clot in their leg. Further testing revealed they have a serious heart condition. Unfortunately, they also have a preexisting vascular condition that makes blood thinners risky, but their PCP went ahead and prescribed a three-month course of medication for the clot since it's an immediate issue. We are waiting to hear if insurance will cover the meds; apparently this prescription gets rejected by insurers frequently due to the cost. (Thinking about the fact that some analyst in a cubicle could decide that my partner's life is worth less than a three-month course of medication is making me feel absolutely sick.)

They have more appointments scheduled with a cardiologist and a vascular surgeon, so for now, we're just kind of stuck in limbo. Their PCP gave us a long list of, "If x happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If y happens, go to the emergency room immediately. If z happens - you guessed it - go to the emergency room immediately."

At this point, I'm still trying to come to terms with it. My partner just turned 44. We have an active lifestyle; we eat healthfully; we don't drink to excess. We just got fucked over by genetic risk factors.

The scariest part is that we wouldn't have found out about any of this if they hadn't gone to the doctor for a completely unrelated issue. I'm trying not to think about it too hard, or my imagination starts to send me into a spiral.

Please allow me to get sappy for a moment:

If you've read much of my work, you probably know my partner better than you might think, as they inspire a lot of my characterization, either directly or indirectly. If you enjoyed the way I wrote Waxer in "The Sixth Language" or Jesse in "In Which Jesse Gets What He Deserves," then you have a good idea of their personality. They are extraordinarily kind and patient, funny and sweet. They have been here for me consistently for twenty years, first as my friend, and later as my everything. They've held me when I cried, and they've made me laugh every single day since I met them. They know me better than anyone in the world, and I trust them with my soul.

They are the only person IRL who even knows that I write fanfiction, and they have read every single fic I've ever written. They've served as my guinea pig when I needed to work through the physical mechanics of a scene, and they've listened to me ramble for hours on end about plotting and characterization. They've supported and encouraged me in this and so many other areas, and now it's my turn to support them through this.

If you've read this far, I just want to say thank you for all the love, support, encouragement, and kindness you've given me over the past year. This fandom community has truly changed my life, and I am more grateful than words can communicate. I hope to see you all again very soon, hopefully with good news. But in the meantime, please know that I love you all.

May the Force be with you. 🩵

[pascalislove]

THE CALL: Han Jeong-Won x Fem!Reader~15

Summary: Your arrival would change everything, even if Jeong-Won didn't know it yet.

Warnings: female reader, piv, , age difference(unspecified), creampie, bathroom sex unprotected sex.

The days following their first night together were full of complicit silences, intense glances, and an intimacy that broke the barriers carefully constructed by both of them.

Jeong-Won and Y/N looked for each other without realizing it, as if their bodies had forgotten the rules they had once imposed.

The kitchen, the living room, the patio, even Jeong-Won's office, became scenes for furtive encounters. Nothing new, just the way their moans broke the heavy air, the slight creak of the marble countertop under their movements, and the whisper of promises they never dared say out loud.

That morning, the sun was barely peeking through the bedroom windows when Y/N began to stretch among the rumpled sheets. Beside him, Jeong-Won was still lying, with his eyes half-closed and an expression he rarely showed: serenity.

She tried to get up, aware of the clock marking the start of a day, but before she could move away, a firm hand stopped her by the waist.—¿Where are you going? —Jeong-Won murmured, his voice hoarse with sleep. Y/N smiled, without needing to respond. He knew perfectly well that duty called him, but at that moment it seemed irrelevant. Everything fell apart when he pulled her close, burying his face in the crook of her neck, where he left a slow, lingering kiss.—I don't want to get up,— he murmured, his voice hoarse. Y/N smiled lightly, turning to him.— "If you don't get up now, you'll be late for work," —she said in an amused tone, giving him a little push on the arm. —What if I don't go? —Jeong-Won responded, without moving. —Don't be irresponsible. You're the Producer, and you have a meeting, remember? —she laughed. —Then I'll stay with me—he whispered close to her ear.— Just this morning— Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but her words caught in her throat when Jeong-Won looked directly at her, his eyes reflecting something warm and vulnerable.

—Although now that I remember, I have a meeting, I want you to accompany me—. Before she could say anything, he pulled her even closer, his lips gently brushing hers in a gesture that turned into a slow, deep kiss.

Later when the shower water finally started running, steam filling the bathroom, Y/N tried to regain some composure.

—This was your fault, we'll be late,— she said with a laugh, but Jeong-Won, already in the water, was watching her with that calm smile that made her heart beat faster. —There's still time,— he replied, offering his hand. —Are you joining?—She rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation, but couldn't resist. She took his hand and went under the water next to him. Warm drops fell on their bodies as the world seemed to fade around them.

Y/N felt Jeong-Won's hands gently slide around her waist, pulling her towards him again. Steam filled the bathroom, creating a warm and enveloping atmosphere. The water fell steadily, sliding down Y/N's skin as she settled under the stream next to Jeong-Won.

The closeness between the two seemed almost inevitable, as if the water was pushing them to stay together. —“We should hurry... we've already wasted enough time,”— Y/N whispered, although her voice lacked any real conviction. Jeong-Won, with a serene look and charged with something deeper, let his hands rest gently on her waist.

—Maybe it's not so urgent,— he replied in a low tone, slowly approaching, the water sliding down his face. The heat wasn't just coming from the shower. Y/N felt her breathing become irregular as he placed a slow kiss on her shoulder, barely grazing her skin. Her hands, firm but gentle, moved down his back as the water ran between them, creating a silent, intimate connection. —“Jeong-Won…”—she murmured, trying to sound firm, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her. —Shh,—he asked softly, capturing her lips in a kiss that left no room for doubt. It was slow at first, loaded with contained sensations, but soon it became deeper, as if time did not exist and the world was reduced to that moment between them.

The water continued to fall, mixing with their soft laughter and labored breaths. Y/N leaned lightly against the shower wall, letting Jeong-Won get even closer, his warm body pressing against hers without reservation. Their fingers intertwined as he continued to kiss her, running down her neck slowly, as if he had all the time in the world to discover every part of her. Y/N closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment, feeling any barrier between them melt away under the heat of the water.In a moment he lifted her up making her wrap her legs around his waist. Without wasting any time, he lined himself up and pushed himself inside of her.

They both moaned into each other's mouths. —God, you're so tight,— he grunted, forcing himself to move faster so they could both reach their orgasms quickly. He was thrusting into her hard and fast causing her to slide back and forth, making her back hit the wall from time to time. He tilted his hips to hit her G-spot and it worked, perfectly.

Eyes wide, he could feel his stomach tighten; by then his entire body was contracting. Jeong-Won could feel it too, starting to contract inside her too, as he got closer. Y/N screamed his name as she clenched around his cock and came hard.

That triggered her orgasm, growling her name breathlessly as he came inside her. He relaxed on top of her as they both tried to catch their breath.The intimacy they shared needed no words; It was a language of its own, made up of soft caresses, intense kisses and the perfect synchronization of their movements. Y/N felt safe, wrapped in that connection that brought them together in a way she had never imagined possible.

When the water finally began to cool, neither of them seemed willing to part. Jeong-Won placed one last kiss on her forehead, breathing deeply as he held her close.— “We will definitely… be late,”— Y/N murmured with a shaky smile. —It's worth it,— he replied, his voice soft but firm, as if nothing in the world could be more important than this moment together. The bathroom was filled with the murmur of water and soft laughter, as they both got lost in a moment that, to them, seemed eternal.

Finally, the outside world claimed her attention and as they both headed to the Big Hit Records building, since he had asked her to accompany him for an important meeting. Impeccably dressed, they looked the perfect image of a professional couple, although the spark they shared remained burning beneath the surface. The elevator arrived, empty and silent.

As soon as the doors closed, Jeong-Won grabbed Y/N by the waist, bringing her closer with a determined gesture. —"Someone can come in,"—she whispered, without much conviction. "Let them look," he replied before kissing her deeply, not caring about the possible risk.

The elevator rose slowly, but for them time stopped. Y/N slid her hands around Jeong-Won's neck, while he kept his firm grip on her waist. A sudden "ding" announced arrival at another floor. The doors opened and two employees entered, smiling politely without suspecting anything. Y/N and Jeong-Won quickly separated, trying to regain their composure. Standing on opposite sides of the elevator, their hands discreetly searched for a point of contact.

The tips of their fingers barely touched each other, trembling, but none of them dared more.When they reached his floor, Y/N got off first, shooting him an amused look over her shoulder. —"We have to be more careful,"— he whispered as they walked down the hallway. —I don't promise anything,— he replied with a barely perceptible smile. And although they didn't say more, they both knew that this was far from just a contract relationship.

This story does not follow the plot of the series, tell me if you like it and if you want me to tag you in the chapters🫶

Tag list:

@anamiad00msday , @czarinera , @beebeechaos, @muchwita , @otakusimp1

THE CALL MASTERLIST

[writing-whump]

A Sick Man’s Patience

Have Arnie visiting a still recovering Isaiah while in a not-so-quiet argument with Hector. Angst ensues.

"How could we not notice you were sick?" Arnie asked for the umpteenth time.

Arnie had come to Isaiah cause he wanted a change of scenery under the pretense of getting help with an exam question.

Isaiah did the exams of the first law school year as a side thing next to his psychology master degree. What Arnie was struggling with was something Isaiah did with a shrug and nearby, like it wasn't difficult as hell.

Arnie knew he wasn't stupid, but moments like these made him feel like Isaiah was on another level of genius.

Really, the youngest Wolfson thought it would be easy. He would surprise Isaiah home, get some questions answered and inconspicuously asked about his opinion about the dorms. Easy.

Except Isaiah had been sick, the apartment was a mess and Arnie's surprise turned out to be more of a bother. Like he came demanding study sessions from sick people.

How was he supposed to know?

Isaiah changed out of pyjamas at the sight of him, but he wasn't feeling well enough to forgo a bathrobe on top of the sweater he was wearing. To be fair, the bathrobe was nice, huge and super formal looking, but it was still a glaring reminder Isaiah wasn't 100% yet.

Isaiah was also leaning heavily with both elbows on the table supporting his cheek on one palm— which was something unspeakable under normal circumstances. "We were handling it."

"Oh, we were handling it," Matthew repeated sarcastically behind them. He was putting dishes out of the dishwasher with excessive strength. "Shame I didn't notice that sooner."

Isaiah just sighed.

Arnie turned around to face the red wolf. "Then why didn't you let us know? We would have...done something."

Matthew scoffed in Isaiah's direction and continued washing the sink like it personally offended him.

And Seline was an entirely different problem. She actually yelled when he came, only in her PJs on the extended sofa, unwashed hair in a loose ponytail and had been throwing lighting bolts at Arnie since.

"You could have at least called if we are in a shape for a visit." She was clumsily trying to fold the blankets and return the sofa to its normal stare. Arnie was tempted to go help her, cause it still seemed to have been a straining tast for her, but also didn't dare to get closer.

"Or asked if we didn't need anything to buy," she continued. "This isn't a train station you can just barge into whenever you want. People have their privacy."

Arnie chewed on his lip, feeling stupider by the second. So he did the usual thing, when he was feeling guilty. "Jesus, aren't you overdoing it a little? It's not such a big deal. So your hair is greasy and you have a bathrobe. Get over it. No one cares about it anyway."

Seline's cheeks heated up and she threw the pillow against the sofa. "You are so rude-"

"Alright," Matthew interjected, positioning himself between the two. "Arnie didn't know. He will be more careful next time. You can crash in our room...?"

Seline rolled her eyes. "I can get up the stairs again, thank you."

Arnie turned away from her stomping her way upwards. "Was she always this bitchy? It sure got worse after the break up-"

There was painful wet impact against the back of his head. Matthew smacked him with a wet kitchen towel.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

Matthew gave him a nasty glare. "Don't talk like that about her or I'll give you an actual problem to worry about." He threw a look over Arnie's head towards Isaiah, scoffed and stomped off as well.

Arnie looked towards Isaiah who was strangely quiet through it all. Was he supposed to feel guilty or look for sympathy?

Isaiah sat in the same position, leaning against his hand, though now his other was massaging the left side of his chest and frowning.

"You okay?"

Isaiah opened his eyes at him with slow, deliberate effort. "I'm not really in shape for conflict right now. I'm happy to help you out with this and all, but be a little gentle with me today?"

"O-okay." Arnie was stunned by the request as much as the admittance. Was this a win for them that Isaiah was finally admitting when he wasn't feeling well or a cause for worry it was that bad for him to do it? "Was the...the fever that bad?"

Isaiah gave a tiny shrug, still rubbing at the sore spot at his chest. "Puts extra strain on the heart. I guess it's the most exhausting to me." His lips were pressed together in a thin line.

Arnie nodded, swallowing down. He had wanted to discreetly ask Isaiah about his dorm moving idea and get support from him against Hector's fussing...but it seemed today just wasn't going to be his day. "We can also forget about the studying thing too, if you are still feeling tired."

"Nah, it's alright. I can do these just fine." Isaiah leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes. "Read the example out loud and then find the corresponding section in the crime law that fits it the best."

Arnie looked back at the textbook he brought with him, simultaneously opening the law book as well, squinting at the tiny letters. "Yeah, but there are so many of them to choose from..."

"It doesn't matter as much what you choose but how you can argue about it."

Arnie rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "But shouldn't you look for like...objective reality?"

Isaiah chuckled, eyes still closed. "There is no such thing as that. But read the example again. Every word in that report matters. It gives you hints on the most likely law to apply."

Before Arnie could question that further, the front door suddenly slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls.

"So this is where you snuck off to," Hector said, amber brown eyes glistening yellow with anger as he stormed in.

Isaiah opened his eyes, straightening in the chair. "Was it a secret?"

"Of course not!" Arnie hunched his shoulders. "Not like I didn't message him where I was."

Hector stopped halfway through the living room, raising a blond eyebrow at the mess. "What the fuck?"

Arnie cringed, but this really wasn't on him was it?

Hector went white with realization but then took a deep breath and bit down the anger, going almost red from the effort. "I'm not gonna ask why you didn't call us when you were sick, cause you keep doing the same mistake and expecting an idiot to change is mine."

Arnie felt Isaiah freezing next to him, but Hector didn't wait for his answer. He shrugged off his jacket and shoes and started to wrestle with the blankets and pillows to clear the sofa, before attacking the mess on the table.

Isaiah tiled hsi head to the side at that, looking more curious than offended. "What is he doing?"

Arnie leaned closer conspiratively. "I think he is proving the necessity of his presence by cleaning."

Hector's head jerked up at that, like a wolf's ear turning towards a sound. "Where exactly are your manners, huh? Why are you giving him tasks instead of helping out? Honestly out of the three of us, only I was given common sense..."

Isaiah actually laughed at that. "When did he become so mature?"

Arnie had to join in on the laughter. "Oh, it's all the mysterious girlfriend's fault. Half a year later and Hector is getting the hang of his temperament."

Isaiah's eyebrows shot up. "Girlfriend? Since when? What?"

Arnie was immensely enjoying himself being the most informed. "I'm not exactly sure, because he keeps hiding her like she will turn into sand if you look at her, but she is definitely an influence. Quite the soft power." Arnie smiled in Hector's direction with a dreamy sight. "I'm so happy for him! For real, the best I can do for the lovebirds is to clear the space and move out, isn't it?"

He meant it as a joke. Maybe a subtle hint. Wasn't Hector supposed to be glad their life circumstances aligned so much? Arnie wanted to try out college life at the dorms, and Hector wanted to have his girl over. Ideal.

Except Hector didn't find it amusing. He dropped the dirty mugs into the kitchen sink, almost breaking them to pieces, before whirling around. "What did you say?!"

Isaiah looked perplexed like an owl. "You want to move out?"

Arnie focused on the undecided party like a good politician. "I have been thinking about it? Like the semester is going well, but because I live so far away I have to commute a lot to campus and I can't really take part in the social life if I'm constantly locked up at the pack building, right?" He was aware he was speeding up, but he couldn't stop. "So I wanted to move into the student dorms on the way. That should be possible, right? It'll still be in Hector's region, but it will be closer and I'll get to meet actual students of my age and-"

"Not a chance," Hector cut in. "Too dangerous. Forget about it."

Arnie looked at Isaiah. "What do you think? Would it be possible?"

There was a long pause heavy with tension as the blond and dark-haired wolf stared at the human between them.

Isaiah looked up as he thought, rubbing at his chin. "I mean...I wasn't expecting that, but it should be possible. It's not like they will know who you are and those that will should be too scared of both Hector and me to actually try anything." He met Hector's burning eyes. "With some safety measures in place, I think it's doable."

Hector’s hands curled into fists at his sides. He returned his attention to Arnie with a death glare he used to remind wolves under him of how small and insignificant they were. It was very much an authority move in wolf terms.

Arnie returned it without hesitation.

"How could you say it's because of Olive? You can't possibly-" Hector deflated a little at the words, hurt flashing in his eyes. "You think I would ever choose a girl over you? That I would kick you out just to give her room? How could you think that?"

Arnie swallowed, surprised by the change of tactics. Instead of getting angry, Hector was getting emotional. "Hex. Geez. You are not a divorced father who has to convince his kid to forgive him interests in other people. We are adults. You like that girl and I'm happy for you. It doesn't have anything to do with me wanting to move out."

Hector's brows furrowed. "Then why? Why are you insisting on this nonsense?!" He hit his closed fist against the counter.

Isaiah looked very unimpressed. "I don't quite understand the problem here. Socializing and trying out new environments is a good idea for him. I like it."

A muscle twitched in Hector’s jaw. "You. Stay out of it."

"Why should he?" Arnie said. "He can judge the risks well-"

"Oh yeah, Isaiah is so great, does everything right all the fucking time." Hector's voice was rougher now. "Very easy for him to be perfect when he was never there long enough to mess anything up."

Arnie's eyes went wide. "Hex, that’s just unfair—"

"Don’t you think you’re overreacting?" Isaiah’s said, voice low and controlled. But there was something new in his eyes. A warning.

Hector bared his teeth. "I don’t want to hear the opinion of someone who left us the first chance he got. What would you know?"

The chair scraped against the floor as Isaiah pushed to his feet, towering slightly over Hector.

"Say that again."

Hector stepped closer. "I said-"

"Sorry, I was busy taking the physical abuse of our father at the time so that neither of you would get hurt." Isaiah's voice was very calm and quiet compared to Hector's. Didn't stop the room from turning to ice.

Arnie’s breath hitched, caught in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

Hector seemed to have snapped out of his red fog, taking a few steps back. His fingers twitched at his sides like they weren’t sure whether to ball into fists or reach for something unseen.

"And that I left so you could grow up in a safe pack instead of running away while it was tearing itself in half," Isaiah continued. "Truly, I have done nothing but enjoyed getting beat up, cast out, and fucking up my health for good in the process. What would I know about caring about someone, huh?"

Hector was backing away until he bumped against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the edge like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His lips parted in a silent exhale, but no words came.

"For your information," Isaiah continued, his voice colder than Arnie had ever heard it, "it's way harder to hide the pain than to take it out on others."

A ringing silence followed, the air thick with something unspoken, but Isaiah didn’t fill it.

A blue vein pulsed on his forehead. His breathing was steady, but just barely.

Then, finally, he rubbed a hand over his face, as if wiping away the last remnants of the fight. "I told you to take it easy on me today," he said towards Arnie.

He turned, moving past Hector like he wasn’t worth another glace.

The black-haired wolf stopped just before disappearing into his room. This time, his voice was soft. Almost too soft.

"You know why I never call you?"

He didn’t look back, didn’t wait for Hector to answer.

"You always kick me when I'm down."

And the door shut behind him.

[adddddiiii]

hello, can I request a Jameson x reader with a reader who flinches in an argument? (maybe one with Grayson too if you get the chance)

Flinch

Author's Note: Sure, and I'll write one with Grayson some other time 💕

Contents: Jameson Hawthorne x reader

Warnings: Arguing, flinching, slight angst, reader is implied to have trauma from past experiences

Jameson Hawthorne had always been passionate — loud, expressive, full of fire. That was part of what made you love him. But sometimes, that passion burned too hot.

Tonight was one of those times.

The argument had started small. Something about him taking risks, pushing limits, not thinking things through. You had voiced your concerns, and Jameson, in his usual way, had brushed them off with a cocky grin.

“You don’t get it,” he said, throwing his hands up. “I need to do this.”

“No, Jameson. You want to do this,” you shot back, frustration creeping into your voice. “And you’re not even thinking about the consequences.”

“Since when do you care so much about playing it safe?” he challenged, stepping closer.

And then-

He moved too fast. His hand lifted. Not toward you, not even in anger, just a gesture as he spoke. But instinct took over before logic could catch up.

You flinched.

It was small, barely a second. But Jameson saw it.

The air between you shifted instantly. The fight disappeared, swallowed whole by something heavier.

His expression dropped, all the fire in his eyes extinguished in an instant. He went completely still.

“Did you just…?” His voice was quiet now, careful.

You swallowed hard, looking away. “It was nothing, Jameson. Just reflex.”

But it wasn’t nothing. You both knew that

Jameson took a slow step back, like he was afraid of getting too close. Like he was afraid of hurting you. “Have I ever-?” He stopped himself, shaking his head, as if the question itself was unbearable. “Has someone else?”

You exhaled shakily, arms wrapping around yourself. “It’s not you,” you murmured. “It was never you.”

Jameson’s jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration laced with something deeper, something like guilt.

“I would never,” he whispered, almost to himself.

“I know.” And you did.

For the first time since the argument started, Jameson wasn’t trying to win. He wasn’t pushing or teasing or challenging. He was just there, his green eyes searching yours for something. Reassurance, maybe. Forgiveness.

Then, without thinking, he dropped to sit on the floor, crossing his legs like a kid. The suddenness of it caught you off guard.

“What are you doing?” you asked, furrowing your brows.

Jameson looked up at you, softer now. “I don’t want to stand over you,” he admitted. “Not if it makes you feel like that.”

Your chest tightened.

Carefully, you sank to the floor too, sitting across from him. For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Jameson reached for your hand, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted. You didn’t. His fingers curled around yours, warm and steady.

“I don’t care what we were arguing about,” he murmured. “Nothing is worth making you feel unsafe. Ever.”

A lump formed in your throat.

Jameson Hawthorne — reckless, wild, untouchable — was now sitting on the floor with you, holding your hand like it was something delicate. Like he would never let it go.

[lightofraye]

In Memoriam

Before I proceed, I want to put warnings--content/trigger warnings. In this post, there will be references to cancer (also, fuck cancer), death, biological processes, grief/loss.

When we think of cancer, when we speak of it, I've noticed often times the phrase "evil", "monster", or some other dark term is used. Because it seems to be such a merciless, cruel thing to happen to people. It seems to strike without reason, taking the best and worst of us, young or old....

Today marks 18 years since my mother passed away from cervical cancer. She didn't have to die, not really. In a way, she chose to.

You see, my mother had an intense mistrust of "mainstream" medicine. I'm not sure where it came from, honestly. It was... it was a slow conversion. She kept turning to alternative means to treat problems, mainly our day-to-day diet (lord, we went vegan, Atkins-like before Atkins was widely known anyway), and various other kinds to "cure" our ailments, never accepting that some things can't be fixed by diet alone!). Then she kind of went off the deep end....

When she learned she had serious fibroids, she decided to try different "healing" creams to balance out her hormones, convinced it'd "dissolve" the fibroids. When she began to have heavy, intense bleeding, she chalked it up to the fibroids and not other issues.

Such as an abnormal pap smear test result... that she never followed up on.

It'd continue for years.

She even turned to an alternative doctor who told her yes, he saw the fibroids... but he also saw some seriously bad stuff. This doctor told my mother to go see her ob-gyn and get this checked out.

She wouldn't... up until she collapsed from the heavy bleeding in a grocery store bathroom stall. She finally turned to mainstream medicine, got it checked, got the biopsy....

It was Stage 2 cervical cancer.

She was referred to an oncologist. He, of course, brought up chemo and radiation. She refused, wanting to try alternative treatments first. He accused her of having a death wish (I was there, I wish I was joking!). He basically burned that bridge with that approach.

I can't help but think that... if he had said "Okay, I'll work with you. How about we monitor the cancer as you try it for a couple of months? If there's no improvement, will you try chemo and radiation then?"

Maybe she would've accepted it. I don't know.

So she turned to "mistletoe extract" injections. For a little bit, it looked like it was working. She was doing better.

Then... she developed increasing pain in her right leg. The doctor who originally told her to go see her ob-gyn stressed to her it was likely her cancer growing and getting worse. She didn't listen.

Then... she had increasing pain. Increasing issues. She got thinner... paler. She was so stubborn. There's numerous trips to the ER where they just prescribed her pain killers and sent her on her way. It took a referral to a specialist (I can't remember what they handled, maybe a different oncologist?)... and the blunt message.

"You're terminal."

I wept. My mother... she was just resigned. She transferred to home hospice care. She didn't want to die in a strange building. So my elder brother and I--we were living with her at the time--took turns caring for her.

She stopped eating. Stopped drinking. She's put on IV fluids and a kind of controlled dilaudid treatment. One night... it's as if she's aware. Her mind was going. She said her final goodbyes.

Then it's just her shell, her body, for two and a half weeks, that lingers, stubbornly. I'm the only one who was there who witnessed her last passage, the "death throes".

February 8, 2007. Just a few weeks shy of my 27th birthday.

She never got to see me graduate from college. She never got to see me married.... or divorced. She never saw me become a mother. She never saw me become a survivor, a fighter. So many things.

I have her eyes, I'm told. A deep brown with a starburst iris. My son has those eyes too. I resemble her greatly, I'm told. I don't have her curly hair... or her thinner nose.

Instead, she gave me her creativity, her love of art and writing. She loved books and reading. She loved cats as well, which I definitely inherited.

She had a lot of regrets... and sorrows.

I don't know if there is an afterlife. My relationship with God (or the Divine or whatever you want to call it) is complicated, to say the least. If there is, I hope I see her... and have the conversations we never had but should've while she was alive.

I miss you, mom. So very much.

[midnightlizard]

Can I request an Amelia Sheperd x reader where they get stuck in the elevator together?

Stuck

Amelia Shepherd x gn!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: hi guys...I kinda disappeard didn't I...I'm sorry for all the requests but I literally couldn't put words on a page (also life happened so...) hope you like this

Word count: 1.8k

-

-

"do I get to scrub in?"

"scrub in in a surgery that doesn't exist?"

"yea but it will, his liver is completely useless now so he will soon give in and accept a transplant" it always surprised you just how eager interns were to participate in any surgery they could get their hands on. Someone should probably teach them to be considerate of the patients' fear and distress. But to be completely fair no one taught you that when you were an intern yourself, so you weren't the right person for the job. "I mean, it's awful but I've never done a liver transplant"

As your eyes were busy looking at the tablet in your hands, you heard quick footsteps approaching you from behind; you wouldn't have given them any thought, had you not heard the familiar voice you were dreading to hear.

"where are you headed?" Amelia slows down once she reaches your level, leaning her shoulder slightly against your arm.

"hi, hello" you greeted, your voice a little too high, making it a little too obvious she caught you off guard "uh E.R., see if I can be of any help. You need something?"

She took a minute to answer, glancing at the intern on your right "killing time, I have surgery in a couple of hours. Can we talk?"

You stammered for a bit, trying to come up with a believable excuse "I uh, I can't, because Yasuda-" you pointed towards her, who seemed surprised by the attention "won't leave me alone until I let her assist in a liver transplant, you know how interns are" you topped it off with a forced smile.

It didn't take long for Amelia to detect the surprise on the intern's face, and a smile took over her lips. She got behind you, putting her hands on your shoulders "Yasuda? I'm sure Dr. Y/L/N would love to have you in their O.R. Now, can you leave us alone?"

"sure! yea, of course" she wasted no time in taking the neurosurgeon's word for it and happily got out of the way.

When you turned around, you were met with Amelia' s winning smile.

She shrugged her shoulders when your own slumped; as soon as she opened her mouth however, your finger in the air stopped her "nope, I still can't talk. I have to go to the E.R."

"I'll come with you, you might need a neuro consult" she started following you to the elevator, having trouble matching your fast pace.

You dared stopping only once your feet stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button that will take you all the way down to the first floor "why don't you just enjoy your break?"

Unfortunately, the doors weren't as fast as your body, giving the brunette enough time to sneak in, keeping the victory smile on her face.

Her back was leaning against the wall, opposed to your body standing anxiously in front of the doors, itching to get out of there as soon as possible.

To be fair, you knew this was coming, you knew what she wanted to talk about. You just wished she could forget about it.

"So.."

"It's April" you quickly interrupted her, announcing your obviously not beeping pager "she says a patient will probably need surgery. There goes my break"

"Then in the meantime we could-"

"I'll let you know if we need you, okay? You should rest, you have surgery in an hour right?"

"two hours, but that's not-" and if she was that stubborn to have that conversation in here, you were just as stubborn to avoid it.

"ugh can't this thing go any faster" you muttered under your breath. You tried pushing the button several times, hoping it'd go faster despite knowing better. And the ticking was much easier to bear than whatever the brunette had to say.

The motion however completely backfired, as the ticking sound was replaced by a much louder one, and you found yourself almost losing your balance.

It took you half a second to realize the elevator stopped.

"Did you stop the elevator?" Amelia came up behind you and looked over your shoulder.

You quickly retracted your hand, as your eyes moved between the panel and the surgeon, the first time you looked at her since you got into the elevator.

"No I didn't. It wasn't me"

She gave you one last look, before shrugging her shoulders "either way, we're stuck"

You closed your eyes shut and let out a low groan, surprising Amelia when your forehead collided with the wall.

Apparently, all the other elevators stopped altogether - unknowingly relieving some of your guilt - and Bailey assured you she'd try to get you out asap.

But the chief was probably walking around with a broken watch, since it has been almost half an hour and you were still there.

You'd soon gotten comfortable on the floor, leaning back against the wall with your legs stretched forward. Amelia sat next to you, legs crossed.

While this closeness would normally make you feel all kinds of ways, now it just made you feel one thing. Uncomfortable

"We might as well talk about it, you know. We don't know how long we're going to be stuck in here for" her characteristically low voice filled the empty air, as the white coats filled the empty space between your bodies.

You sighed, not giving in "there's nothing we need to talk about"

She furrowed her brows, showing an incredulous smile. "You kissed me"

"pfft barely"

"oh I remember a tongue"

You looked at her, mouth agape and cheeks red. There was definitely tongue. You shut your mouth.

After your lack of response you could see Amelia getting restless, bouncing her leg and looking all around the small space.

"I'm sorry" you uttered, catching Amelia's gaze in the corner of your eye "I shouldn't have kissed you" ignoring the small -hopeful- part of your brain that remembers her kissing you back "I wasn't thinking, I shouldn't have gotten in the way of your relationship with Owen" they're married fo god's sake, what the hell were you thinking?

Another silence fell between you two, before you heard muffled giggles coming from the brunette.

"Wait, are you laughing? There's nothing to laugh about" you looked at her with a scowl, but you couldn't deny the fluttering of your heart at the sound.

Amelia removed her hand from her mouth, revealing cheeks almost as red as your ears, and the cutest smile on her lips. "I'm not with Owen anymore" The embarrassment left space for you confusion, prompting the neurosurgeon to continue "we're not quite divorced yet because the procedure takes so so long-" she clarified with a sigh "but we broke up months ago. Did you seriously not know?"

You were once again at a loss for words "uh well, I guess I haven't really been paying much attention" since you started avoiding Owen too, it made sense you didn't know.

"yea because you were too busy running away from me" she remarked, with only the tiniest bit of anger "but why?" she whispered, examining your side profile "why kiss me and run away?"

"because I wanted to, kiss you" you confessed, it took a lot of willpower, but it felt good to finally let it out "you were looking at me with those big eyes and you were smiling and you looked so pretty, so I went for it. And god it felt so right. But by the time I realized what I had just done and took a step back- you weren't smiling anymore. So I ran away" your voice had gotten quieter, but before Amelia could respond, you continued "in my head you were with Owen and that meant instant rejection. But now that I know you're not-"

"It doesn't mean instant rejection" she finished your train of thoughts. She licked her lips "do it again"

You turned your head to find Amelia sitting on her knees in front of you, closer than before "what?"

"kiss me again" she stated, as if it didn't affect her at all "let's see if you're met with rejection"

It was impossible to misinterpret that look, as much as you wanted to. It was the same look she gave you after the first kiss, full of vulnerability and desire. Although you were too engrossed in your own mind to see anything but a mistake.

Before you could overthink it even more, you felt Amelia's warm breath on your lips, as she was just mere inches away from you. Waiting for your next move.

You slightly lifted yourself off the ground and met her halfway.

Just like the first time your lips danced in sync with each other, Amelia's hands through your hair acting as a warm welcome. It wasn't as short as the first time though, this time none of you dared to step back, air be damned.

Your hands moved from off the ground to grip her waist under the white coat, causing a surprised whine to erupt from her mouth . She put her hands on your shoulder to steady herself so she could easily climb onto your lap.

Just as you were about to ask yourself if it was justifiable to have sex in an elevator after being trapped for over an hour, there was a ding in the small space and suddenly Amelia got off you and you were blinded by the new light coming in.

Several people were now looking at you, including Bailey and Karev.

"Thank you for your work boys" she thanked the technicians, before looking at you up and down and changing her whole demeanor "now my doctors can finally go back to work" you smiled at her, trying to make up an excuse of what she saw but she shut you up instantly "get up you two, before I lock you in there again."

You and Amelia scrambled to your feet and quickly fixed yourselves with a low chant of 'sure thing' 'of course' and 'sorry'. Bailey gave you another pointed look, before going away with the two men. Amelia ran away in the opposite direction, not before smiling at you, light blush still on her cheeks.

You turned around, only to meet Karev's smug face. Honestly, why was he even here?

"what?"

His laugh clashed with your deadpan expression "nothing. I mean, almost having sex in an elevator? When they could open the door at any second? That's some risky fantasy" there was some evident amusement in his statement, in what seemed like a compliment in his own twisted way, but before you could shut him down your phone buzzed. And the heat returned to your face.

from 'Amelia':

-my shift ends in four hours

-I'll see you in the locker room, to talk

-don't run away this time <3

You put your phone in your coat pocket before Alex could see it and tease you even more "yea whatever, at least I score" you could feel him stiffen slightly beside you "bye Karev" you showed a polite smile, before disappearing from his vision.

to 'Amelia':

-I'll be there

-promise

Amelia Shepherd Masterlist - Grey's anatomy Masterlist

General Masterlist

[naga-raja-suresh]

They were slow and thoughtful games. A new move, a new gambit. A dance that changed tempo. Suresh would use each and every gift in his inventory to come out on top. There was no shame in winning by any means necessary. But there was also not the same rush with the witch as with some of the others. Give something, get something, show something, discover something... Flattery and acknowledgements of a well put together scheme were just as important as actual attacks. A wink and a nod rather than a punch to the face. Listening to Corvinus speak about Mathias was amusing though. He couldn't wait to tell the young Leader how well he'd done. "Don't tell me that you're surprised that Callum told his people the moment you showed your face to him? The Deathrunners leader, like the Nameless', likes to keep themselves more anonymous." Suresh shrugged at Corvinus' mention of Mathias, "That one is just very young and untested." Complete truth. Because Corvinus wasn't the only one that knew how to use the truth to lie. "But he has a very pretty face."

At the feel of the other's power Suresh made a soft, calculated gasp. Because it cost him nothing to let the other know he could feel him. Aura's touching was a different type of intimacy. An invisible press of something. Rage... So much anger. Hate was a burning desire. Just like love. And even a small whisper of it was thick like tar on fingers. Suresh's eyes glittered eerily in the low light as they drew themselves back. "It's yours to keep..." He flashed a grin and laughed at the comment about the jacket coupled with the self-maiming statement, a touch of fang visible for only a moment. "I'll give it back. Don't worry, you won't need to open up a vein tonight. At least not on my account." When Corvinus didn't move away Suresh leaned forward a little , but kept his hands to himself for now. "Careful?" Suresh said with a grin, knew exactly why Corvinus had warned him, but he was going to push until he met real resistance. His tail gently and playfully tugging on the other's ankle. It came back to the fact that Suresh felt more secure the closer he was to others, either for the comfort or because he was lightening fast and strong enough that close gave him a distinct advantage, "I already promised I wouldn't harm you again tonight... I'll be hurt to hear you don't believe me. You know... Since we aren't lying to each other."

Suresh's focus was on the witch. The way the other leaned back, crossed his legs, Suresh let his tail slide off the ankle that moved. The Naga loved watching the ancient witch. Trying to pick apart each and every move. Layers and layers. Eyes moving away, fingers tapping. Impressions and the truth. The word grant caused one of Suresh's eyebrows to lift in curiosity. The two of them looking at each other again. And Suresh nodded. Plausible. Tasted the way everything tasted from the other. But the Nameless leader not being in the city made a great deal of sense. And put quite a few things into perspective. The sense of waiting. The facelessness. It also aligned with what Callum had spoken about, that Corvinus' had been hunting. It fit very neatly together. But it also didn't answer the question that Suresh had asked.

Suresh leaned forward slowly, placing his hands softly on Corvinus' knees. He coaxed the witch's legs back apart as he slid towards the witch. But didn't move his hands any farther than just above the other's knees. His strength and the length of his body letting him lean forward much farther than a human would be able to. "Yes, you've rather been like a rock in a pond... So many ripples..." The Naga hummed softly. "I'll see about the meeting. So we can get you on your way back to Ireland."

Half truths and lies of omission were where he worked best. To twist something poisoned and corrupt so that it resembled beauty to be offered was a skill all on its own. There was no need for spells to charm of hypnotize save for some here and there when he had the power of words at his fingertips. Gaining desired information, turning others against their closest allies, stirring up battles in times of conflicts, all for his own gain. It was always nice that his hard work was noticed rather than those that bought in to a beautiful lie. Fools only bored him in the end. There were no true games if there was no challenge or perhaps he had simply become jaded in more ways than he thought. As for play acting, "Fior was smart to play along, though I am a little disappointed he knew already. I put quite a bit of effort in to that one. The necromancer boy, though...all it took was a drink. The Deathrunners leave a lot to be desired if they make someone so foolish their Underboss. I felt bad for him, truly."

To be brought into a lie so easily, there had been a touch of guilt when Mathias had left. Just barely, he had certainly done far worse in his long life. But now likely, his games wouldn't work any longer save for perhaps the bottom of the barrel folks. The ones ranked so low that they wouldn't be brought in to conversations of the Blood Witch. A true shame. Seeing the games come to their conclusion was always a bit disappointing but there were things to do before he found out what a deity could do to an insubordinate blood witch.

As he felt the small push towards himself, Corvinus wasted no time pushing back with his own aura of magic. Letting it seep through just slightly, pressing against the naga. But while the other radiated desire, his own was tainted with rage. Not towards Suresh, not right now, but often how his magic displayed itself. It was hatred and spite that allowed him to obtain his powers and still the powerful motivators that kept him going rather than secluding himself in his estate and watching the world fade away through the windows. But he was quick to pull his back and draw the small taste back into himself. They toyed with different weapons. "I think I'll just keep this one. Though it is adorable how keen you are to keep my jacket away. I'm not above self-maiming to get blood I need if pushed." Suresh had seen how quickly he had healed, there was no point pretending as if blood draw wasn't a tedious task. He felt the tail loosely wrap itself around his ankle though he didn't pull away. "Careful now," he gave a soft warning. The touch was fine so long as it didn't descend into violence and fighting again.

Still at the topic of the Nameless leader, Corvinus gave a sigh that was annoyed. As if it was a topic he didn't much care for. His lips pursed, leaning back into the couch with his arms stretched over the top and legs crossing. An image of openness and walls at the same time. His eyes moved to the windows, a long silence as he focused on the scenes down below. Fingers of one hand were tapping, dancing on the couch as though he were trying to come up with the perfect words. "...I'll grant you another trust," he finally spoke and attention rounding back to Suresh, "I said before you were the reason I came here. True in a way, but you weren't the one that initially drew my attention to the city. Just a happy perk." He thought about how far he should go, how careful to be. Whatever story he gave for the Nameless was a truth in a way considering where he was, so was the other. "I've been hunting while exploring the lovely city. The reason you haven't been able to reach the leader is because, well...he hasn't been here."

He'd been traveling, giving orders from afar, while gathering supplies and powers since his binding to the god. And trying to find a way to sever that same bond. "He came in to my country a few months ago. While I don't claim her lands, I ensure that my isles, my homeland, is safe. You wanted to know why I was here, I was drawn out. Forced into a game I had no intention of getting involved in to ensure me and my own are left alone. You want to know why I chose you three over the Nameless? You didn't interrupt my peace of mind. So I provoked, I taunted, all to create more noise to lure out what I wanted. Honestly, you lot did most of the work for me. And once I'm certain this is handled with the meeting, I will return home to my domain and continue my own works." Everything was stated so bluntly with that hint of annoyance on the topic. It was truths....though it was more the deity itself had lured and forced his involvement rather than any Leader in the shadows.

[scottofchromia]

I’m so sorry Jimmy, I’m so sorry. I love you.