#i finally got off my ass to finish this guide which i started back in August right before I got extremely sick and ended up in the hospital

[armoricaroyalty]

Film Grammar for Simmers

What is film grammar?

"Film grammar" refers the unstated "rules" of editing used in movies and TV. Different types of shots have different associations and are used by editors to convey different types of information to the audience. Many of these principles were first described in the early 20th century by Soviet directors, but they're used consistently across genre, medium, and even language: Bollywood musicals, English period dramas, Korean horror movies, and American action blockbusters all use many of the same techniques.

Because these rules are so universal, virtually everyone has some internalized understanding of them. Even if they can’t name the different types of shots or explain how editors use images to construct meaning, the average person can tell when the “rules” are being broken. If you’ve ever thought a movie or episode of TV was confusing without being able to say why, there’s a good chance that there was something off with the editing.

Learning and applying the basics of film grammar can give your story a slicker and more-polished feel, without having to download shaders or spend hours in photoshop. It also has the bonus of enhancing readability by allowing your audience to use their knowledge of film and TV to understand what's happening in your story. You can use it to call attention to significant plot details and avoid introducing confusion through unclear visual language.

Best of all, it doesn't cost a dime.

The basics: types of shots

Shots are the basic building block of film. In Sims storytelling, a single shot is analogous to a single screenshot. In film, different types of shots are distinguished by the position of the camera relative to the subject. There are three big categories of shots, with some variation: long shots (LS), medium shots (MS), and close-ups (CU). This diagram, created by Daniel Chandler and hosted on visual-memory.co.uk illustrates the difference:

Source: The 'Grammar' of Television and Film, Daniel Chandler, visual-memory.co.uk. Link.

In film, scenes typically progress through the different types of shots in sequence: long shot, medium shot, close-up. When a new scene begins and the characters arrive in a new location, we typically begin with a wide establishing shot of the building’s exterior to show the audience where the scene will be taking place. Next comes a long shot of an interior space, which tells the where the characters are positioned relative to one another. The next shot is a medium shot of the characters conversing, and then finally, a close-up as the conversation reaches its emotional or informational climax. Insert shots are used judiciously throughout to establish themes or offer visual exposition.

Here's another visual guide to the different types of shots, illustrated with stills from Disney animated films.

This guide is almost 2,000 words long! To save your dash, I've put the meat of it under the cut.

Long shot and extreme long shots

A long shot (sometimes also called a wide shot) is one where the entire subject (usually a building, person, or group of people) is visible within the frame. The camera is positioned far away from the subject, prioritizing the details of the background over the details of the subject.

One of the most common uses of long shots and extreme long shots are establishing shots. An establishing shot is the first shot in a scene, and it sets the tone for the scene and is intended to give the viewer the information they’ll need to follow the scene: where a scene is taking place, who is in the scene, and where they are positioned in relation to one another. Without an establishing shot, a scene can feel ungrounded or “floaty.” Readers will have a harder time understanding what’s happening in the scene because on some level, they’ll be trying to puzzle out the answers to the who and where questions, distracting them from the most important questions: what is happening and why?

(I actually like to start my scenes with two establishing shots: an environmental shot focusing on the scenery, and then a second shot that establishes the characters and their position within the space.)

Long shots and extreme long shots have other uses, as well. Because the subject is small relative to their surroundings, they have an impersonal effect which can be used for comedy or tragedy.

In Fargo (1996) uses an extreme long shot to visually illustrate the main character’s sense of defeat after failing to secure funding for a business deal.The shot begins with a car in an empty parking lot, and then we see the protagonist make his way up from the bottom of the frame. He is alone in the shot, he is small, and the camera is positioned above him, looking down from a god-like perspective. All of these factors work together to convey his emotional state: he’s small, he’s alone, and in this moment, we are literally looking down on him. This shot effectively conveys how powerless he feels without any dialogue or even showing his face.

The same impersonal effect can also be used for comic purposes. If a character says something stupid or fails to impress other characters, cutting directly from a close-up to a long shot has a visual effect akin to chirping crickets. In this instance, a long shot serves as a visual “wait, what?” and invites the audience to laugh at the character rather than with them.

Medium Shots

Medium shots are “neutral” in filmmaking. Long shots and close-ups convey special meaning in their choice to focus on either the subject or the background, but a medium shot is balanced, giving equal focus to the character and their surroundings. In a medium shot, the character takes up 50% of the frame. They’re typically depicted from the waist-up and the audience can see both their face and hands, allowing the audience to see the character's facial expression and read their body-language, both important for interpreting meaning.

In most movies and TV shows, medium shots are the bread and butter of dialogue-heavy scenes, with close-ups, long shots, and inserts used for punctuation and emphasis. If you’re closely following the conventions of filmmaking, most of your dialogue scenes will be medium shots following the convention of shot-reverse shot:

To keep long conversations from feeling too visually monotonous, consider staging the scene as a walk-and-talk. Having two characters move through a space can add a lot of dynamism and visual interest to a scene that might otherwise feel boring or stiff.

Close Ups

Close-ups are close shots of a character’s face. The camera is positioned relatively near to the subject, showing just their head and shoulders. In a close-up, we don’t see any details of the background or the expressions of other characters.

In film, close-ups are used for emphasis. If a character is experiencing a strong emotion or delivering an important line of dialogue, a close-up underscores the importance of the moment by inviting the audience to focus only on the character and their emotion.

Close-ups don’t necessarily need to focus on the speaker. If the important thing about a line of dialogue is another character’s reaction to it, a close-up of the reaction is more effective than a close-up of the delivery.

One of the most iconic shots in Parasite (2019) is of the protagonist driving his employer around while she sits in the backseat, speaking on the phone. Even though she’s the one speaking, the details of her conversation matter less than the protagonist’s reaction to it. While she chatters obliviously in the background, we focus on the protagonist’s disgruntled, resentful response to her thoughtless words and behavior.

In my opinion, Simblr really overuses close-ups in dialogue. A lot of conversation scenes are framed entirely in close-ups, which has the same effect of highlighting an entire page in a textbook. The reader can’t actually tell what information is important, because the visuals are screaming that everything is important. Overusing close-ups also cuts the viewer off from the character’s body language and prevents them from learning anything about the character via their surroundings.

For example, a scene set in someone’s bedroom is a great opportunity for some subtle characterization—is it tidy or messy? what kind of decor have they chosen? do they have a gaming computer, a guitar, an overflowing bookshelf?—but if the author chooses to use only close-ups, we lose out on a chance to get to know the character via indirect means.

Inserts

An insert shot is when a shot of something other than a character’s face is inserted into a scene. Often, inserts are close-ups of a character’s hands or an object in the background. Insert shots can also be used to show us what a character is looking at or focusing on.

In rom-com The Prince & Me (2004) (see? I don’t just watch crime dramas…) the male lead is in an important meeting. We see him pick up a pen, look down at the papers in front of him, and apparently begin taking notes, but then we cut to an insert shot of his information packet. He’s doodling pictures of sports cars and is entirely disengaged from the conversation. Every other shot in the scene is an establishing shot or a medium shot or a close-up of someone speaking, but this insert gives us insight into the lead’s state of mind: he doesn’t want to be there and he isn’t paying attention.

Insert shots are, in my opinion, also used ineffectively on Simblr. A good insert gives us extra insight into what a character is thinking or focusing on, but a poorly-used insert feels…unfocused. A good insert might focus on pill bottles on a character’s desk to suggest a chemical dependency, on a family picture to suggest duty and loyalty, on a clock to suggest a time constraint, on a pile of dirty laundry or unanswered letters to suggest a character is struggling to keep up with their responsibilities. An ineffective insert shot might focus on the flowers in the background because they’re pretty, on a character’s hands because it seems artsy, on the place settings on a dining table because you spent forever placing each one individually and you’ll be damned if they don’t make it into the scene. These things might be lovely and they might break up a monotonous conversation and they might represent a lot of time and effort, but if they don’t contribute any meaning to a scene, consider cutting or repurposing them.

I want to emphasize: insert shots aren’t bad, but they should be carefully chosen to ensure they’re enhancing the meaning of the scene. Haphazard insert shots are distracting and can interfere with your reader’s ability to understand what is happening and why.

Putting it all together

One of the most basic principles of film theory is the Kuleshov effect, the idea that meaning in film comes from the interaction of two shots in sequence, and not from any single shot by itself. In the prototypical example, cutting from a close-up of a person’s neutral expression to a bowl of soup, children playing, or soldiers in a field suggests hunger, worry, or fear, respectively.

The Kuleshov effect is the essence of visual storytelling in a medium like Simblr. You can elevate your storytelling by thinking not only about each individual shot, but about the way they’ll interact and flow into one another.

Mastering the basics of film grammar is a great (free!) way to take your storytelling to the next level. To learn more, you can find tons of guides and explainers about film grammar for free online, and your local library doubtless has books that explain the same principles and offers additional analysis.

Happy simming!

[81sainz]

DIET PEPSI ★ L. NORRIS

★ PAIRING: boyfriend!lando x female!reader

★ GENRE: NSFW

★ SUMMARY: in which lando pulls over to watch the sunset with you in his porsche; things take a turn from there.

inspired by “diet pepsi” by addison rae

★ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

★ WARNINGS: car sex, semi public sex, nasty kissing, making out, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, teeny bit of praise cause I can’t help myself, cumshot. lando is soooo sweet. I think that is all! please be noted this is only semi proofread.

★ AUTHORS NOTE: finally! making my formula 1 fic debut! I hope you all enjoy this. I started writing this somewhere before summer break and unfortunately just got to finishing it. life…am I right? I guess the lyrics hold true because my boy has won 2 times since then! I know this one’s a bit short, but feedback is appreciated!

“Are you sure no one is up here?” you asked your boyfriend as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

Lando reached over slightly and gave your thigh an affirmative squeeze. “It’s fine, I was looking around.”

The two of you were on a drive in his 911 carrera and pulled off to a small spot up on a hill that overlooked the city. It was later in the evening and the sun was setting; casting an orange glow over Lando when he turned to you.

“You look so pretty in the light. Come here.”

Lando adjusted his seat before helping you over the center console and gearshift of his vehicle.

“I don’t want to break anything.” You spoke out loud with a laugh as Lando had his hand on your leg to help you.

Lando shushed you. “You’re fine, I’ve got you.”

You were in his lap within seconds; adjusting the skirt that you were wearing slightly to get more comfortable.

“Comfortable?” Lando brushed your hair off of your shoulder before planting a few kisses softly onto your skin near your collarbone.

You hummed in response, nodding before combing your fingers through his soft curly hair as his mouth made its way up to your neck.

You let a small whimper escape your lips when Lando’s teeth scraped your skin slightly.

Your hand tightened in his hair as you rocked your hips into his lap; feeling his bulge through his jeans.

“Fuck.” Lando swore under his breath as his hands roamed your thighs and to the curve of your ass underneath your skirt.

“I want this off of you.” Lando glanced up at you quickly for any sign for him to stop before unbuttoning and unzipping your skirt, removing the item of clothing from your body and throwing it into the passenger seat.

You mentally thanked yourself for the outfit choice of yours.

“Wow.” Lando let out a sigh, leaning to kiss you again as his hands returned to their place on your thighs, and moved up to your waist.

You were eager for him, grabbing a hold of his white button down shirt for any way to get him closer to you.

Lando shifted in the driver seat, his hands holding your hips as his jeans brushed against your cunt.

You let out a moan into his mouth, and Lando took that as an opportunity to tongue kiss you; reaching up to grab the nape of your neck with one of his hands.

Pulling away slightly with a hum, you noticed Lando’s breathing to be slightly more erratic than before.

“Baby, I need you..” Your voice faded when Lando kissed you again. You knew you didn’t really have to say anything; Lando knew you like the back of his hand.

“I’ve got you.” Lando mumbled, guiding you to rest your knee up onto the door panel of his porsche. “Stay like this for me, ok?”

You nodded, biting down onto your bottom lip as he locked eye contact with you.

Lando quickly glanced in his rearview mirror to check if anyone was around; still nobody.

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, audibly groaning at how easily his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you.

You let out a whimper, squeezing onto his bicep for some stability.

“Oh my fuck, why didn’t I take you home?” Lando was talking to himself, because there was no way you were going to answer him.

There was absolutely no space between the two of you, as this car was not ideal.

You could hear the squelching noise coming from underneath you, making you look down; covering your mouth to stifle your moans. There was nothing that Lando hated more than when you hid from him.

“Get that hand off of your mouth, sweetheart.” Lando spoke, slipping a third finger into your cunt; knowing you’d react.

“Good girl, gonna cum for me?” Lando asked, kissing your jaw and down towards your collarbone. “Hmm?”

You were breathless, but still managed to use your words. “No.” You paused, your voice sounding like a whimper, grabbing onto Lando’s shirt as you tried not to fall apart. “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Fuck, are you sure?” He asked, his face centimeters from yours. Lando was taken aback at your forwardness, but willing to do anything you wanted.

You hummed, nodding before kissing him. You moved your hand down between your legs; feeling the now very prominent bulge in Lando’s jeans.

He let out a deep throaty groan at the contact. “Fuck.”

You tried to unbutton his jeans really fast, but with your position on his lap it wasn’t working.

“I got it, I got it.” Lando’s larger and more steady hand replaced yours as he worked his pants down to leave enough room for his cock.

You let out a sigh when you felt him teasing the head of his leaking cock against your folds. “I can’t believe we’re doing this here.”

“What?” Your voice was breathy as Lando gripped your hips to lower you down onto him. Your question was instantly replaced by a moan of his name.

“Nothing.” Lando grunted before throwing his head back. “God, how do you feel so fucking good?”

He still had a grip on your hips; hitting all of the right spots that drove you insane.

“Hmm- Fuck!” You cried out. “Right there, right there.”

“Shit.” Lando swore, letting go of you with one hand to have you look at him. “You’re cumming already?”

You eagerly nodded before Lando suddenly crashed his lips with yours. The kiss is sloppy; messy.

You could feel your thighs starting to ache, and a tinge of overstimulation when Lando applied pressure to your clit with the pads of his fingers.

Gasping, you pulled away from the kiss, swearing under your breath as Lando was pulling another orgasm from you so quickly as you still fucked yourself on his cock.

“You can give me one more, yeah?” His voice was low as his hot breath ghosted your face. “Make a fucking mess out of my car.”

In your attempts to slam down onto him harder, your rhythm faltered as you came again. Your legs were now shaking as you clenched around Lando’s cock.

The sun was almost down, making it somewhat difficult to see his reaction; but you had an inkling that he had to be close.

“Lando…” Your voice was a slight whimper again, making Lando wince. “Cum in me, please.”

“God im close, im really fucking close.” Lando spoke, sucking in a shallow breath through gritted teeth.

It wasn’t too long after that he finally reached his peak, nearly holding you down on his lap as he grunted expletives as he tried to be as quiet as possible.

“Lando…” you winced as you already felt the mess between your legs. “Stay inside of me like this.” You leaned into him, resting your head on his heaving chest.

“We can’t stay here.” You could tell Lando was smirking by the way his voice sounded. One of his hands smoothed out your hair before he kissed the top of your head. “I know you’re tired, but we can’t.”

“I know.” You huffed, exaggerating a pouty attitude. “You’re so warm.” You kissed Lando near his mouth a few times, making him scrunch his nose.

Finally you sat up, letting Lando help you off of his lap and into the passenger seat. The two of you fixed your clothing before Lando leaned over the center console to kiss you.

“Okay, take me home.”

[joonie-beanie]

Hat Guy's ASMR Commissions: S Tier | [Scaramouche/Wanderer x Reader]

Summary: Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session] In which your asshole best friends order a commission from your favorite ASMR artist, and it's a lot more NSFW than you were expecting. "From this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy. But fair warning–I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.” Content: Smut, Guided Masturbation, Toy Use, Name Calling, Degradation/Humiliation, fem!reader Word Count: 6.5k Note: this is kind of an untraditional smut, so just keep that in mind lol

“Sweetheart…you really need to find some way to relax.”

“I agree. If you don’t release your tension, it’ll do a number on your health.”

You really appreciate Lisa and Yae being so concerned for you, but…

“I know. It’s just…not that easy for me.”

By now, in theory, you should have figured out some better coping mechanisms and ways to destress, but alas.

Taking a book from the return bin, Lisa scans it, and then places it onto the go-back cart.

“Well, have you tried getting off?”

Her suggestion makes you jerk, your head swiveling as you glance around the library to see if anyone nearby has overheard. At your side, Yae giggles.

“Calm down…finals have just ended. No one is in the library anymore—they’re out partying.”

You sigh. 

You suppose she’s right. The only reason you three are here is because Lisa is working the closing shift, and because Yae had insisted that you come along to the library with her to keep Lisa company.

“Traditional porn, a good adult novel, ASMR—all would be good options,” Lisa continues.

“I’m not really into porn right now, and I don’t think I have the bandwidth to focus on a book,” you say, resting your cheek in your palm. “As for ASMR…I’m not a big fan. I’ve really only discovered one creator that I like…”

“Oh?” 

Now that piques their interest. 

“What’s their name?”

“He goes by “Hat Guy” on twitter,” you tell them. “He mostly just…posts audio responses to dumb takes, or makes ASMR mocking other ASMR trends, but his voice is nice, and he has a small fan base…despite him kind of being a little shit.”

“How cute,” Lisa laughs while Yae pulls out her phone.

“Well, then…since it sounds like he doesn’t have any relaxing content, maybe you should just go home and take a nice bath. Did you ever use that bath bomb I got you for your birthday?”

“No,” you mumble sheepishly. At your side, Yae taps your knee.

“Lisa is right. Go home and have a bath. I’ll keep her company until she’s done.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you sure…? I just got here like half an hour ago and now you want me to go home?”

“I just think some “you” time would be good,” she tells you with a smile. You pout your lips, but ultimately decide that…maybe she’s right.

“Fine, I’ll head home and rest, then.”

“Good girl,” Yae responds, patting your ass when you bend over to grab your backpack. You narrow your eyes at her, but aren’t truly mad.

“Be careful on your walk home~,” Lisa says as you start towards the exit. You wave at them both over your shoulder, and then leave the building.

A few seconds after your departure, Lisa turns to Yae.

“Alright, what did you find that you didn’t want Y/N to know about?”

Yae grins, loving that Lisa has already caught on.

“Look—”

She gets up from her seat and leans over to show Lisa her phone screen.

“I found Hat Guy’s twitter and saw that he’s accepting commissions, and look at one of the options~”

She points to something, and Lisa’s eyes hurriedly scan the text in front of her. 

When she has finished reading, she grins.

“Oh, my…well, that’s certainly tempting.”

“I was thinking maybe we can give it to Y/N as a… “you survived finals! Use this to relax” type present. Since she’s always doing thoughtful things for us when we’re swamped.”

Lisa smiles, putting a thoughtful finger to her lips.

“I agree. She’s brought us so many cups of tea over the last few months. It’s the least we can do.”

“Good,” Yae says with a nod, immediately clicking on the commission link.

“She deserves a little…fun.”

Between the end of the previous semester, and the start of the new one, your University has generously given you a long weekend. 

4 days, to be exact. 

Most of this long weekend you spend doing the chores you’ve put off, and working a few shifts at your job. 

It’s only by some grace that you end up with Sunday off. One final day to try and relax before classes begin tomorrow…

You do your best to make the most of it—mindlessly scrolling tiktok, folding some clothes, debating if you should order food out, and ultimately deciding against it, since you just went grocery shopping…

All in all, it’s a pretty mundane day.

…at least, until the icon for your email app appears at the top of your phone screen, and you swipe down the notification to see the title:

Subject: Your Commission For [Guided Masturbation Audio - 30 minute session]

Immediately, you freeze.

Surely, this is a spam email that’s somehow made it through the cracks. Because you definitely haven’t ordered such a thing.

Yet, despite your doubts at the validity of the email, you still click on it—wanting to read the contents before banishing it to your spam folder.

Dear Recipient,

Attached to this email is an mp3 file available for you to download. This file was requested and paid for by “Fox and Witch”, and is being sent to you directly at their request.

Please do not distribute this anywhere else on social media, as this is my copyrighted content.

If there is any issue with the quality of the file, please let me know.

Have fun.

-Hat Guy

Note:

Toys Needed = Dildo, Clitoral Vibrator or Wand

…you must have knocked your head on something earlier and are currently hallucinating.

Because there is NO WAY there’s an email from HAT GUY in your inbox. And that said email is for…for…

Well, you remember seeing a link on his profile about commissions, but you’d never clicked on it to see more than that. There’s no chance he’s out here telling people how to get off, though, right…?

With a warm face, you scan the email again. And then a third time.

You can only assume “Fox and Witch” are Yae and Lisa. And you did just tell them that you like Hat Guy’s content…

You bite your lip, staring at the mp3 file. 

There’s just no way…

Hesitantly, you click on it.

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

Oh…fuck. 

Something in your tummy flips.

That’s him, alright.

You’ve never heard him talk like that before, but it’s definitely him…you could never mistake that haughty, belittling tone.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your gaze once again finding the title of the email.

Guided Masturbation.

If you’re not wrong, that means if you hit play, and keep listening, it’ll probably be a lot of Hat Guy telling you what to do…how to touch yourself.

Just thinking about such a thing makes more blood rush to your head—embarrassment blooming in your chest.

Sure, the idea of him bossing you around isn’t exactly unappealing. You’re sure he’d be…less than nice, and maybe even a little sadistic, and perhaps call you a few rude names, but—

You groan and place your phone face down on the table beside you.

“Nope, I can’t—I—”

Standing up from your couch, you trudge into your kitchen.

It’s dinner time—you need to make dinner.

You try to keep your thoughts from straying to your temporarily abandoned phone, and the email that’s sitting in your inbox—but it’s literally impossible.

Still, you manage to cook yourself a meal, and even partake in a little alcoholic drink. (Just because you’re treating yourself, and definitely not because you want to ease your nerves a bit.)

Once you’ve finished eating, you clean all your dishes, and then return to the couch. Your gaze strays to your phone, but you don’t pick it up—instead deciding to grab the TV remote.

You make it approximately 25 minutes into a movie before you can’t take it anymore.

Hitting the pause button, you throw the remote on the couch beside you and then snatch up your phone—alighting from the couch.

You grab your headphones on the way to your bedroom, and pop them into your ears only after you’ve gathered your dildo and vibrator.

Maybe this audio won’t be as hot as you’re assuming, and you’ll end up not wanting to touch yourself, but…better to have everything prepared just in case, right?

Taking a deep breath, you hit play.

The track restarts from the beginning. 

“Hmph. You must be really desperate if your friends were willing to pay for a half hour of my time. Most people are satisfied with 10-15 minutes, but no…they knew you’d need longer than that.”

“I also hear you’re quite the little masochist—but I could have assumed that, considering it’s me that you’re soaking your panties over. Just another slut who wants to be bullied, huh.”

You huff at his words, glaring at your phone screen. 

Did Lisa and Yae tell him your kinks or something?? Those bitches.

“Well, you’re in luck, because from this moment on, you’re going to follow my directions. I’d say “if you fail to, you’ll be punished” but we both know you’re probably just another people pleaser who will do whatever I say, as long as you know it will make me happy.”

Dammit, why is he right—

“But fair warning—I won’t be happy until you’re so fucked out you can’t speak a coherent word.”

With a shaking finger, you pause the audio.

You hate to admit it, but his words—the way he’s speaking to you—is already making you wet. 

You really, truly want him to bully you, and use you like a little toy.

So, guess that means you’re doing this.

Throwing any caution and shame to the wind, you hit the play button again. 

“Now…where to begin? I always like to start with an inspection. Take off your clothes, but leave your panties on. I’m not going to bid your needy pussy any attention just yet.”

You obediently do as he says, stripping yourself of your clothing until you’re left only in your panties.

“It’s unfortunate I’m not there to survey those titties in person, so you’ll just have to feel them up for me. Go ahead and grope yourself. Take a minute and massage your chest…I want to see if you’ll get wet from that alone. Although, you’re probably wet already just from my voice, aren’t you, slut?”

You click your tongue at that last part, (hating that he’s right), but nonetheless bring your hands to your chest. 

You cup your titties, and begin squeezing them—feeling the soft flesh beneath your fingers. 

“Good, keep going—squeeze a little harder now. Ah…I bet your nipples want to be touched, huh? Start teasing them, then—just enough to get them hard. I’ll give you 10 seconds—that should be enough.”

For some reason, the challenge of accomplishing a task within a certain time limit makes your pussy throb, and very quickly, you move your pointer fingers over your nipples—rubbing them lightly, and coaxing them to a peak. 

You’re ashamed to admit it, but they manage to get hard in the 10 second pause he gives you…

“Wow, look at that…what greedy titties you have—responding as I say, eager to be played with. Pinch your nipples and roll them between your fingers. Find the motion that feels best, and do it over and over again, until I tell you to stop.”

Resting your breasts in your palms, you pinch your nipples between your fingers—rolling and tugging them. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you touch yourself, each purposeful little tweak of your nipples causing your spine to twitch, and your pussy to clench.

It’s been too long since you’ve touched yourself like this…

By the time Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once more, your nipples have started to get sore.

“Okay, stop there. I bet your cunt has started quivering, but I hope you know it’ll still be a while before I give you the chance to cum…unless, you somehow managed to orgasm from playing with just your titties? If that’s the case, congratulations! You’re the most needy and pathetic whore I’ve played with. So pathetic that I’ll give you a pass, and won’t even punish you for cumming without permission.”

The thought of being able to cum from nipple play alone makes you feel even more aroused, much to your chagrin—

“Now, let’s inspect that dirty pussy of yours. Spread your legs, and pull your panties down to your knees. I want you to stare at the crotch of your panties and feel ashamed at the wet spot I know is there.”

Taking a deep breath, you hook your fingers around your panties and tug them down your thighs.

As you spread your feet apart, you end up staring at the crotch of your panties—your lips pressing together when you notice there is, indeed, a very noticeable wet spot.

“Next, bend over. As low as you can go, with your legs still apart. I want to see everything.”

Locking your fingers together, you hesitate for a brief second before you bend over—feeling a strain in your leg muscles as you hit the point where you can’t bend anymore.

In this position, you know that you’re on full display.

“Look at you, presenting yourself to me…you really don’t have any shame, do you? If I were there, I’d be grabbing you and forcing you open wider, but since I’m not, you can do it for me! Grab your ass cheeks with both hands, and spread.”

Breathing a little shakily, you do your best to reach behind you and spread yourself. You feel your asshole clench as you do so, and the involuntary action maddens you, considering Hat Guy’s next words are—

“Such a tight little hole…I bet it’s twitching.” 

“Is it nervous, or hoping for an intrusion? Either way, anal is not the objective of today’s session, so let’s move back to your pussy. Go ahead and spread your folds with your hand. You have permission to bend over with your chest to your bed, if you feel your blood rushing to your head from bending down so low. And if you're not by your bed…where the fuck are you listening to this audio? In your car, or a bathroom stall? Pervert.”

That little quip at the end makes you smile, even as you stand up and move yourself to your bed.

You find it a little endearing how he’s bossing you around, but still managing to be somewhat considerate. You suppose maybe there is more to him than just being a brat on the internet.

Anyway—

Reaching one hand back between your legs, you slide your fingers between the folds of your pussy and spread them—opening yourself up as if he were there to inspect you.

“Now, rub your fingers at your entrance—feel how slick you’ve gotten…honestly, you should feel ashamed. Getting so wet for a no-face internet stranger.”

Sure, your panties were a little wet, but that doesn’t mean—

You move your fingers to your entrance—freezing at the amount of sticky arousal you feel. 

You...honestly can’t remember the last time you’ve gotten this wet.

“Smear the slick around your pussy, and make sure to get your clit. That’s where we’re headed next.”

You do as he says, perhaps a smidge overly excited that you now seem to be entering the main course.

As your fingers ghost over your clit, your pussy shudders.

“Bet you just clenched in excitement, huh?”

How does he fucking know—?!

“I'll be nice and will let you use two fingers. Press the pads of your fingers to your clit, and start making circular motions. Slow. 1…2…3…just like that.”

Breathing deep, you begin rubbing your clit with your fingers—repeating his count in your head, and following his pace. 

With each pass of your fingers, your walls squeeze tighter.

“You probably want to rush, or grind your hips on your fingers…but you shouldn't be acting so desperate just yet, so be a good girl and keep going.”

Huffing, you obey his command,

He goes silent for a few beats, really giving you a minute to continue hopelessly teasing yourself. 

By the time he next speaks, a needy exhale is leaving your lips—heady arousal truly being to pool in your lower tummy.

“Now you can go faster. Rub your clit to the beat of your heart. I assume it's racing, so you should be moving your hand a bit faster than before.”

You haven’t really noticed before now, but your heart is certainly beating much faster than normal…

The steady, yet swift thump of your heart is felt throughout your body the more you focus on it, and you quickly adjust your pace. 

A breathy little sigh leaves your lips—your brows pinching together.

You want to cum. 

“I wonder if you're close already, just from your fingers on your clit…haha. If you are, remember—you don't get to cum until I say so. So if you're close to cumming, edge yourself. Get right to the edge of your orgasm, and then stop. I'll give you 10 seconds after that to collect yourself, but then you have to keep going.”

Oh, fuck…

You suppose you should have realized that edging might be part of the equation, especially during a 30 minute session.

And, unfortunately, the thought of edging yourself for him makes you even hornier—pushing you closer to your first climax—or, well, edge.

“I bet you're probably thinking that 10 seconds isn't very long…that when you start again, you'll still be right at the brink of your orgasm, and will have to keep edging over, and over…hah, well…that's your own fault for being so hopeless.”

“Now, I'll let you set the pace. Find the rhythm and motion against your clit that makes you feel the best…you're going to keep that up for 1 minute—and remember, no cumming.”

Dammit—

By now, your lips are fully parted—quick little breaths fanning in front of your face and warming the sheets of your mattress.

You don’t want to edge, you want to cum, but he won’t let you—

“Also, why don't you go ahead and count aloud? I assume you're in private, so it shouldn't be an issue to let out your voice. And if you're not, well…I guess people will get to hear what a debauched whore you are.”

If this were 10 minutes ago, you’d surely blush and hesitate to follow his command.

But now…now you’re a little closer to being the debauched whore he’s calling you.

“I'll count with you so you don't rush it. 60…59…58…57—”

With headphones in, you hear your own voice in your head—mingling with his. 

His, unwavering, with a hint of mockery. Yours…quiet, and struggling to stay on beat.

You clit throbs beneath your fingers, and there’s a familiar flutter of your walls, despite your pussy currently being empty. 

You’re getting close. 

“I can only imagine how sinful you look right now…oh, right. Where was I? Hmm…let's just pick up from 30.”

Motherfucker—

You let your face drop into your sheets, your thighs tightening and knees shaking.

Fuck, you wanna cum. You know you can’t—know it’s not allowed yet, but—!

“5…4…3…2…1. Stop moving your hand.”

Perfect timing. Right at the edge of an orgasm—you pull your hand away.

You take a second to try and catch your breath while ignoring the unfulfilled ache between your legs.

“Your pussy must be throbbing, huh? Lucky for you, as your benevolent master, I’ll let you stuff it full. Grab your dildo and get on your bed on your knees.”

“Also, I assume you're soaked by now, but if not, and you need additional lubrication, use lube.”

You glance behind you at your dresser, where your bottle of lube sits, but ultimately don’t grab it. 

By now, you’re sure you can do without.

Grabbing your dildo, you climb onto your bed, and obediently get on your knees.

“Now, sit up and position the dildo beneath you. Rub the head between your folds, and then settle it at your entrance.”

You do as he says—a shiver of excitement raking up your spine as the tip of your dildo unexpectedly flicks against your clit while you get it into position.

“I'm going to give you 3 seconds to take it fully inside of you…What? I did say we'll be stuffing you full, and with how needy you clearly are, I figured I'm doing you a favor by letting you take it all in!”

Oh. That’s—

“So, I'll count to three. Oh, and if your dildo is too big, and you're scared to sink down onto it all at once, well…that's your own fault for biting off more than you can chew. But, I'm sure that greedy pussy will take anything it can get.”

It will.

“Ready?”

You take a trembling breath.

“3, 2, 1—!”

In one swift motion, you spread your thighs and sink down onto the dildo.

When the head bumps against the deepest part of you, you can’t help but gasp—the sound positively lewd.

“Ahhh…fuck. You made a cute sound, didn't you? How precious…now you're stuffed to the brim with dick, as you should be.”

Yes, this is exactly how you’re meant to feel…just a little slut who will do anything to cum for him.

Yet, despite his harsh instructions, he seems to pause for a second, giving you a chance to acclimate to the intrusion.

How cute.

“Why don't we start slow…I want you to lift your hips until just the tip of the dildo is inside of you, and then grind back down on it. Up…and down…up—”

To aid in the motion, you place your hands flat on the mattress in front of you, and then begin moving your hips.

Up…and down…

Your walls clench around the dildo, practically begging for more, but the man currently using you as his personal toy clearly isn’t inclined to give you such a thing.

At least, not immediately.

If you had to guess, he makes you continue at this slow, teasing pace for at least 2 minutes—your muscles beginning to strain as you resist going any faster.

Then, his voice fills your ears once again. You nearly sigh with relief.

“I hope your thighs aren't burning yet, because now we're going to pick up the pace. Imagine the gallop of a horse's hooves. I want you to grind on each downbeat. No need to make big motions—just grind on your dildo how you'd grind your pussy on my cock if I was there.”

If he were here, you’d wanna grind on his dick until he’s moaning louder than you are—

“Fuck…”

Fingers curling into the sheets, you find your new rhythm—the sound of your wet pussy beginning to fill the quiet room outside your headphones.

Sweat starts to bead on your brow—the arousal inside of you searing hotter, and your muscles getting tighter.

“I wonder if you can cum from internal stimulation alone…try to find your g-spot if you haven't already. I want you to bully it with your dildo.”

You can practically hear the grin in his words. 

Repositioning yourself, you find the angle that better allows you to rub that sensitive little spot inside you.

Almost immediately, a whine rips from your throat.

“Now…I'm going to issue you a challenge. I'll count down from 60 seconds again. During that 60 seconds, you're free to cum. So try your best, okay, slut?”

Please, you want to cum, but you don’t know if 60 seconds will be enough—

“60…59…58…”

Dammit—

With his challenge invigorating you, you continue messily grinding your hips.

Each pass of your dildo against your g-spot causes your pussy to shiver, and your thighs to shake—your orgasm creeping closer.

“33…32…31…”

A desperate sound slips past your lips, your eyebrows knitting together.

You want to cum.

You want to cum.

You want to cum, but—

You drop down onto your dildo roughly, almost in a pouting manner.

You need more time.

As soon as your climax finally begins to build—your walls clenching down on your dildo—Hat Guy reaches the end of his countdown.

“3…2…1…so…did you cum? Either way, I'm sure your legs are shaking. I wouldn't doubt that your sheets are getting soiled by your arousal, either.”

“Well, whether you came or not, don't worry—there's still more opportunities to orgasm yet to come! That being said, set your dildo to the side, and grab your vibrator instead.”

Exhaling, you manage to lift up your hips, and your dildo slips out of you. 

It flops onto your sheets, glistening with your arousal.

Your pussy mourns the loss.

Setting your dildo to the side, you grab your vibrator instead.

“You can go ahead and lay on your back. I'll give your knees a break…isn't that nice of me? You should say “thank you”.”

You clench your jaw as you roll onto your back, your eyes squinting at the ceiling.

There’s no way he’s serious, right? Counting is one thing, but thanking someone who isn’t here?

“Huh? Did you think that was just a suggestion? Go on.”

You wet your lips with your tongue.

“...thank you.”

There’s a brief second of silence, and then—

“...pfft, hahaha! If you actually did just say it aloud, you're more of an obedient people pleaser than I thought. What a precious little cock-sleeve.”

You want to punch him—

“Anyway, I haven't let you cum from your clit yet. I bet by now it's engorged and begging for attention…go ahead and put your vibrator on your clit. Turn it on low.”

The fact that even just touching your clit causes you to jolt proves that his words are correct.

Hitting the power button, you turn your vibrator on a low setting, and almost instantly—the orgasm that had started to fade away flares back to life.

“Good…I'll let you keep it there for a little while. Actually…I'm gonna go get some water. God knows how upset you'd be if my voice suddenly gave out and I couldn't give you permission to cum—”

You hear the sound of a chair being alighted from, and footsteps padding away from the mic.

“This little motherfucker—,” you pant, your chest heaving. 

You gently rub your vibrator around your clit—hoping that doing so will help you delay the orgasm that’s building—but it’s impossible to avoid.

After another minute, you can’t put it off any longer.

Your body tenses, your pussy tightening, and—

You tear the vibrator away from your clit.

If he were here, you think you’d honestly start to beg him for mercy. Of course, you’re sure he’d say that’s practically your first true edge, and you’re just being a little baby, but still.

You start the countdown from 10 in your head, and once it’s done, put your vibrator back on your clit.

Your entire body jolts as the pleasure that had been denied snaps back to attention.

You’re gonna have to edge again—

“How are you holding out? Did you edge at all—just from the vibrator being on low? At the very least, I bet you're squirming and panting.”

“Now, listen closely. I'm going to make you an offer.”

If his offer involves you cumming, you’ll do whatever it takes.

“I'm going to let you cum with the vibrator still on low—assuming you can. This time I'll be generous and will give you 90 seconds, even. But here's the catch. At the end of this session, you will be cumming. So if your begging cunt blots out any logic in your brain, and you decide to cum now, and then feel it's “too much” later, well. That'll be your own fault. Even if you're overstimulated, you'll be cumming again, so choose wisely.”

“Either way, you need to keep the vibrator on your clit for another 90 seconds. You just need to decide if you're cumming or edging. Get ready. To spice it up, this time I'm not counting aloud—I'll just tell you when to stop. So if you're planning on cumming, try not to waste any time. Because if I say stop and you're right there, I doubt you’ll be very happy. Now, begin.”

Risking an overstimulated orgasm after this is a dangerous game, but—

You press the vibrator harder against your clit. 

You need to cum—you don’t care about anything else right now.

Your free hand grabs at your breast—your toes curling, and your heart racing.

Your back arches off the bed, a symphony of miniscule whines and gasps falling from your lips.

Then, the tension inside of you reaches its limit, and snaps.

Your voice catches in your throat—your body spasming as waves of pleasure rock you.

You keep the vibrator on your clit to draw them out as long as you can, but after a few long beats, Hat Guy’s voice fills your ears once again. 

“Stop—that's time. So…did you cum? I wish I could see the state of you…I bet you're starting to look all fucked out. We're already at the 20 minute mark, after all.”

You can’t believe it’s already been 20 minutes. Yet, at the same time, can’t believe you’re not already closer to the end.

“Now, I did say you'd be cumming again, so why don't you go ahead and put your vibe on high? Let's try and force it out of you.”

It’s fine…it’s totally fine. 

Turning your vibrator on high will be totally fine.

You move the toy back to your clit and push the button until the vibrations are much more intense than before.

Almost immediately, heat rushes through your body—stemming from the still recovering nerve ending on your clit.

You’re over-sensitive. Fuck.

And yet…your pussy still flutters—your muscles tensing once again as another orgasm begins to build.

“Ahh, I bet you're squirming like a pathetic little worm. Is it too much? Do you want to beg me to let you stop?”

“Your toes are curling, aren't they? I wish I could hear you and see you panting like a bitch in heat. Should I throw you a bone? Would that satisfy that sad cunt of yours?”

You are writhing, and panting, and every other filthy thing he’s pegged you as. But—you don’t want to stop. You’re too far in now—your whole body shaking, and your breaths coming quick as the vibrator on your clit overwhelms you.

It’s overwhelming, but you can’t stop chasing that high. You—

“Actually…that's not a bad idea. Stop—now.”

Despite not wanting to, you immediately yank the toy away.

You hear yourself whining, unable to help it.

“Hopefully you didn't cum in the last 30 seconds. If so…whoops~”

You wish you could kick him.

“This final orgasm is going to be our grand finale, so we should really let the sparks fly. And maybe your juices, depending on how hard you cum.”

“Grab your dildo—shove it in.”

You scramble to grab it—your arm darting to the side to recover the dildo you’d discarded a short while ago. 

As soon as you have it, you spread your legs and press the head at your entrance—stuffing it in without any preamble.

A pleasant sigh leaves you as that full feeling returns.

“You're going to fuck yourself with it—however fast or slow, I don't care. And at the same time, turn your vibrator back on high.”

You can tell where this is going, and you honestly think it may kill you, but you follow his instructions nonetheless.

Turning the vibrator on high, you place it back on your clit and then begin fucking yourself with the dildo. 

Almost immediately, involuntary sounds slip out of you—your body writhing against the sheets.

The overwhelming strength of your vibrator on your clit now partnered with the messy rubbing of your dildo between your walls…you’re truly becoming the mess he promised to make you.

“Oh, and just so things don't end too soon, you need to hold out for at least one minute. I'll let you know once you have permission to cum.”

You hardly think it’s fair that he’s saying this now, considering you’ve already started fucking yourself, but even so, you want to listen—want to be a good girl who does what he says, and only cums when permitted.

Holding out for a whole minute when your cunt is already starting to spasm—your clit feeling like it’s on fire—is certainly going to be a challenge, though.

“You know…I bet if this were a live call, I'd be able to hear how wet your pussy is. You're probably gripping onto that dildo so tightly…as if it's a real cock that you're begging to properly breed you.”

If he were here you wonder how he’d fuck you. Certainly hard enough that you’d be able to hear the slap of his balls against your pussy—

“You must be panting, huh? So ready to cum…I wonder if you’d be obedient enough to cum when I say. Why don’t we try? We’re getting close to a minute, after all.”

Oh, fuck. 

You’ve never cum on command before, but you want to for him.

“C’mon, princess, I know you can do it…keep going…get yourself right there—”

Your chest shudders, and tears blot your eyes.

You’re trying. Everything feels so hot. 

The arousal in your tummy swells—tightening up, and searing your insides.

“Cum.”

A sob rips from your chest, and you grind your dildo against your g-spot one final time, before your body obeys, and releases.

With the vibrator on high, this orgasm is much more intense than the last. 

Your breath catches, your spine curving, and your hand releases the dildo in favor of grabbing onto your sheets for dear life.

Despite the clamping of your pussy around the silicone cock, it still manages to slip out of you after a few seconds—flopping onto your mattress, and poking wetly against your ass.

When the pleasure on your clit starts to turn to pain—you finally tear the vibrator away. You turn it off, and weakly discard it onto the bed beside you.

Despite no longer having any toys in or on you, your cunt and clit continue to twitch with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath. 

Hat Guy is still talking in your ears, but your brain is too scrambled to process what he’s saying. So, you just continue to lay there until his words sound more like words again.

“Alright, you must have cum by now. Take a minute to breathe. And when you’re done catching your breath, make sure you get up and go pee, and then get some water. Because I’m not about to be liable for any after-effects of this session.”

Despite being exhausted, you can’t help but quietly laugh.

“Good job making it through. I’m sure we’ll meet again soon…mostly because I’m sure you’ll be opening this file again to get off to, haha.”

“Later~”

The audio ends.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Then, you roll onto your side, slowly get up, and head for the bathroom.

Can’t let Hat Guy be liable for you, after all.

The following morning, you wake up with sore muscles, and a determination to go and beat up Yae Miko and Lisa Minci about their “gift”.

Yeah, maybe you are a little less tense than before, and the stress that had been clinging to you after the end of the previous semester is now gone, but still. They deserve a good scolding.

First, however, you have to go to your 9AM lecture. After that, you’ll have time to run to the library.

Despite the soreness in your thighs, you manage to trek across campus and make it to your class with time to spare. You chose a seat somewhere in the middle, and then set your bag down in the chair beside you.

With nothing to work on yet, considering today’s the first day, you entertain yourself with social media apps on your phone as the lecture hall slowly continues filling up.

When there’s only a minute left before the class is set to start, there’s a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, realizing they’ve probably been trying to get your attention, you immediately take out one of your headphones. Before you can even turn to face them and apologize, they’re talking.

Except…the voice of the person beside you is…eerily familiar. Scratchy, attractive, and perhaps a little annoyed—

“Do you mind moving your bag? There aren’t very many seats left.”

Without saying a word, too stunned to speak, you reach over and move your bag to the floor at your feet. The man grunts, and takes a seat beside you.

As he pulls out his laptop, you finally build up the courage to look at him. 

Dark hair and eyes to match…slim fingers, but veiny hands…a black shirt and oversized jacket—

“Do you need something?”

Oh, fuck—you’ve been openly staring.

Your eyes meet his for the first time, and you open your mouth, but no words come out. The beat of your heart starts to get faster.

He cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

This is just too much—there’s no fucking way this is happening—

Unfortunately, before you can finally pull it together and try to redeem yourself, your professor takes the podium at the head of the room.

“Class! Welcome! While it might be a little unconventional to start the semester out on this note, I just want you all to know in advance: this class will heavily rely on cooperation with others. There will be many team projects. In fact—the person you’re sharing a table with will be your project partner for the whole semester!”

…what.

Beside you, the man sighs—clearly unhappy to hear about there being group projects, or you being his partner, or both.

“Great, looks like we’re stuck together.”

“Yep…,” you mumble in response, the first word you’ve managed to speak since his arrival.

He obviously notices, because his lips pull into a teasing little grin, his eyes remaining trained on your still-speaking professor as he whisper—

“Oh, would you look at that? She speaks.”

Your pussy clenches.

Mhmm, yep! 

You’re gonna go jump off a bridge.

[humanitys-strongest-brat]

Kintsugi - ch.7

Pairing: Coach!Levi x Injured fem!Reader

CW: themes of injury, depression, and hopelessness. 18+ minors and ageless blogs dni.

wc: 5.6k

a/n: surprise !!! I finished this chapter a lot faster than I usually do, so I'm dropping it early 💗 Also for this chapter I made a figure skate anatomy / jump&spin guide to help you guys follow along with some of the technical language! @ackerbootytobbi thank you for all the help on this, i know it was a long one 😭 unrealistic starting now bc i want it that way

previous / masterlist / dividers

“I can’t.” You heave from your seated position on the ice, struck with pessimism by your last fall. Levi had you working on perfecting jumps starting today, the beginning of your first week with him as your coach. The days of physical therapy were now behind you but it only took one day to discover the real challenge starts here. Before today’s session you were informed of your first schedule change, which Levi made clear was subject to change as you got comfortable. What was previously three days of physical therapy was now six days of training. On and off ice sessions are now an extra hour in length along with your Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays being designated gym sessions for strength training on your ankle. 

“I don’t want to hear that. Get up.” Levi strides up behind you, leaning over and giving your shoulders a gentle nudge as motivation to stand back up and try again. Over an hour on the ice and you were sure that you’ve met your match. Your feet were on fire, no doubt you’d have to face several angry blisters when you finally get your boots off. 

As you slowly rise back up onto your skates, you wonder how this was ever your life. Before the accident, you spent countless hours training your ass off and went on with your day like it was nothing. You dust off the back of your pants as you watch Levi demonstrate the jump again, emphasizing where you went wrong. You didn’t miss feeling like this. You know how to execute the jumps, but you’re only landing half of them. Despite it all you go again, and again, until Levi calls it for the day. 

*** 

Once you sit down on the benches you couldn’t get your skates off fast enough. There was only a moment of relief before you felt the pain sink back in. Levi leans against the wall of the rink checking his phone as you wipe the snow from your blades and reflect on today’s session. How can you do better next time? You mentally go through the things you can do at home or at the gym to prepare yourself for the next time you’ll be on the ice. 

“Change of plans,” Levi says as he sits down right beside you. “They’re sending out your rep next week. I want to keep this week on ice, aside from Wednesday.” Levi shows you the email glowing on his screen. 

Shit. 

You grab Levi’s phone and skim over the email quickly before handing it back to him “They’re just going to watch me train?” 

“Correct,” Levi nods. “I’m going to make a mock-program showcasing the level they want to see you back at.” 

“So I have to perfect a program in less than two weeks?” 

“No. In fact they’re barely observing your skillset, they want to make sure you can perform properly on that ankle.” Levi explains. “Besides, I asked if I could have you do the program for them because I know you can do it.” 

“You asked- Levi I've been falling on my ass all day. That’s not quite selling it for my recovery if you ask me.” 

“Everyone falls.” 

“You don’t.” 

“Don’t be dense, of course I fall.” Levi rolls his eyes, methodically wiping down his own skates as he takes them off and carefully slipping them back into his bag. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t even run that by me.” You scoff lightheartedly. 

“Yeah? You’ll thank me when you get the acceptance letter.” Levi stands, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “Plus, we got lucky..” 

“What, how?” 

“See you tomorrow.” Levi waves, winking before turning and walking away. 

***

The next day you show up early again, quickly falling back into your routine with Levi even if it meant more time on the ice that you weren’t used to. After you lace your skates up you stand, testing each boot with a gentle kick against the padded floor outside the rink with your toe pick. The dull ache radiates through both of your feet. 

Once you’re on the ice it’s like nothing has changed. The two of you picked up right where you left off. Though Levi hasn’t thrown out directions the two of you quickly blend together. It’s far from being synchronized. For a while it’s you just gliding beside him and throwing in a light spin. Just barely lifting your boot off the ice as you make a single rotation, to which Levi would follow up with a polished version of that spin. Each time he seemed to add another rotation. Levi was showing off, you know that, but it didn’t feel competitive. 

You were quick to switch up on him. The next time he out-spun you, you followed up with the exact same maneuver. He watches you exit the spin with a dramatic pose, both of your arms extended out with your back leg straight behind you. 

“Nice trick..” At that moment you could see it in his eyes, it became a game to him. Levi picked up speed around you, taking one last glance to make sure you were out of the way and positioning his skates facing away from each other. In one calculated motion he bends backwards while balancing forward on the inside edges of his skates. Reaching his hand back to dance his fingertips just above the ice before gracefully lifting himself up and into a standing position.��

A Cantilever is something you haven’t attempted since long before your injury. It was never something you were able to master, especially not as well as Levi just displayed. That didn’t stop you from at least trying to show him up. You make your way across the ice and circle back to pick up speed, lining yourself up just the way he had done before you. Once you bend your knees and slowly lean back you could feel the tremble in your ankles just from not being used to the position you put yourself in. When you push past it anyways and attempt to lay back further your right leg flies out in front of you, sending you sliding across the ice on your back. You quickly sit up and roll over onto your knees, not being able to help laughing at yourself. 

“That was low, even for you.” When you look up you see Levi approaching you, he’s laughing too. 

“It was a good attempt, we’ll practice it after your assessment.” Levi grabs your hand, his grip firm as he lifts you up effortlessly onto your feet. In one motion he pulls you by your hand to the left, turning you away from him. You don’t even have the time to process before you feel him brush your hair out of the way and quickly swipe the snow from the back of your shirt. 

***

Before your session, Levi stands at the wall with you. He unfolds a small piece of paper that was in his pocket and sets it out between the two of you. You scan the words and quickly realize it’s the program Levi promised to craft for you. 

“It’s short, I know it might look intense.” Levi comments when you don’t say anything. 

“No, It’s good.” You shake your head. Going over the list of jumps, you take note that you’ll be working on triples. That’s why Levi said it might look intense, because it is. At some point you need to stop being afraid. If you only had two weeks to get it down, then you have no time to worry about it. Levi pauses, clearly skeptical of your change in attitude but decides not to press further. 

“We’ll break it up into chunks this week, really get them down, and then next week we’ll blend them together.” He explains, folding the paper back up and slipping it away again. 

You step out onto the ice with Levi and immediately the atmosphere is different. Earlier you had allowed yourself to be carefree, to have fun, but now the clock is ticking. It’s cruel the amount of times your brain reminds you just how little time you have. 

“Edge or toe jumps, what do you prefer?” Levi asked. 

“I can do both.” You reply quickly. It was the truth but in that moment you didn’t realize how silly of a response that was. 

“Not what I asked. What are you more confident in?”

You take a second to think back on it. You’ve worked on both with Levi and excelled at everything before your accident, so you weren’t sure why he was asking now. 

“Edge.” If you were honest, you picked it because failing a toe jump caused your injury. 

“Salchow and Loops today. Lutz, Flip, and Toeloop on Thursday.” Levi adheres to your preferences, knowing that giving you the choice ultimately would only aid in your confidence. “Strictly Axels on Friday.”

The difference between your sessions with Levi now versus before is that you’re executing the moves at competition expected levels. With several rotations in the air rather than just one to ease you back into comfort on your ankle. It requires more precision and confidence starting now. 

Salchows were one of your favorites. Like the Waltz, it’s a jump that takes off on one foot and lands on the opposite. Where you struggle now is shifting the weight from your back inside edge to the front of your boot to take off. On your bad ankle it feels unnatural, like you’ve never done it before. All of your jumps still felt like that. Salchows during your therapy were fine. Now you needed to add the force required to propel you high enough in the air to make three rotations, compared to the single rotation you had just gotten semi used to. 

Needless to say, it didn’t start off well. 

You pick yourself up after your third failed attempt, jaw clenched tightly. Not daring to look at Levi because you didn’t want to hear a comment on your attitude. You knew you were getting frustrated, you didn’t want to hear it too. 

“You’re not leaning into that edge enough.” Levi says with his usual cool demeanor. 

“I’m trying.” You reduce your feelings to that, thinking it would satisfy him. 

“You’re not, because you’re scared.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Unfortunately, you’re not being evaluated on your pride.” Levi quips. “I haven’t seen you go for more than two rotations.” He goes around you, having you watch again as he pushes himself into the same jump. Moments like this are starting to make you wonder why Levi changed his mind. In your eyes it’s an ugly cycle. 

You attempt, you fail. You attempt, you land it but you miss a crucial mark. Ultimately rendering it a fail. 

This wasn’t the work of a professional figure skater, he should know it just as you do. When you go again, Levi stays alongside you and verbally guides you through the jump. As you hook your foot around to make it onto your edge you hear him call out a quick ‘Send it.’ 

And you do.

You ignore every urge in your body to take it easy, to focus on how your ankle feels as you work through the swift motion. You bring your arms into your chest as you thrust yourself upward, counting in your head as you twist your body to the left.

One.

Two.

Three.

When you touch back down onto the ice on the outside of your blade you wobble, startling yourself out of the position in a desperate attempt to balance. You slip backwards, grunting as your hip makes contact with the ice and immediately roll onto your elbows and knees. You smack your palm down on the ice and curse so loud that it echoes throughout the small arena. All the anger from earlier rushing back tenfold. 

Levi watches from the same position he called out to you in, even he was slightly stunned at the outburst. “What happened? You had it!” He sounded more surprised than anything. 

You ignore him, getting back up and running your hands down the front of your pants before moving to try it again. Before you can push off on your skates you feel Levi’s hand wrap around your wrist

“Nope.” His grip was light. It wasn’t even enough to stop you from slipping from his hold if you decided to ignore him again. He still prioritized your safety. “Take five.” 

“You and I both know I don’t have that kind of time.” You gravel, finally allowing yourself to exhale and relieve some of the tightness in your chest. 

“Don’t care. Five.” 

After your break you hate to admit it but you feel better. Levi spends fifteen minutes on strictly edges with you before trying it again. Just a few more shaky attempts later you can feel it becoming more and more effortless. Levi’s only critiques become your exit stances. 

When you move onto Loops the transition is seamless. The only substantial difference is that you land on the same foot with the same edge you took off from. By the end of it, you were landing about 70% of your jumps. 

On the benches after you get off the ice, Levi nudges you lightly with his elbow as the two of you are packing up your skates. “What you’re doing isn’t easy.” He says. 

“What do you mean?” You turn your head in his direction, your eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Levi hesitates, biting his upper lip as he thinks of how to say it. 

“I mean, to show this much improvement in just a couple days is…” He trails off. “You did great today.” 

“I just barely got it, I’ll do better on Thursday.” You look away and shake your head.

“I shouldn’t have said you weren’t trying.” 

You blink a couple times, not even knowing how to respond to that in the moment. You didn’t even think twice about it when he said it. “You were right. I was scared.” 

“Scared, but you still did it.” He says. “You don’t see what I see. Your situation is one of a kind, impressive.” You look away as your throat tightens, biting down on your cheek to stop yourself from stuttering. 

“Thanks, I have a good coach.” 

***

Wednesday night you were restless. Anxious again about how quickly the days were seeming to pass. You check your phone for the time.

7:52 p.m. 

You’ve never called Levi for anything other than arranging your first meeting to schedule your recovery plan, you barely even texted him. Every cell in your body screamed to give it a try. The worst thing he could say is no. Pacing your living room you quickly tap the call button and hold your phone to your ear. 

“Yes?” Levi answers the call almost as quickly as it went through.

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

Levi pauses, and you hear rustling on the other side of the phone. “...Nothing?” 

“Is there any way we can train right now?” Your heart pounds in your chest as you ask.

“Did you forget we had a session this morning or?” Levi says, sarcasm lacing his tone. 

“No, but it was off-ice and-” You stop talking and grin when you hear the sound of keys jingling as they’re being taken off a hook. 

“I’ll be at Sina in fifteen. Drive safe.” With that he hangs up the phone. 

***

Wednesday night and Thursday morning go smoothly. You almost think you should have chosen to go with the toe jumps first, based on how quickly you were adjusting to the extreme version of everything you had to relearn over the past few months. 

You wish you could say the success followed through on Friday. 

“Axels are hard.” Levi tells you. He watches you as you stand with your head down, knuckles white as they clench in their rested position on the ledge of the wall. You opted for a break yourself this time, not saying a word to Levi as you abandoned your training to collect yourself at the edge of the rink. 

“Something’s wrong with me.” You whisper. Your words shake as the tears threaten to shed from your eyes. 

“No, there’s not.” 

“I hate this stupid ankle. It doesn’t even feel like it belongs to me anymore.” You continue, mostly to yourself. “How can I expect to compete again if I can’t land an Axel?” Levi glanced back down at your balled up fist, his hand only a few inches away from yours. His pinky twitches lightly. 

“Look,” He starts, gently placing his open hand over your fist. “I’m not going to let your injury take anything from you.” He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before pulling back, just missing how yours relaxed under his grasp. “We’re done here today. I want you off the ice, now. We’ll do the rest upstairs.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a huff, turning away from him and getting off the ice without another word. 

Over the weekend you ask Levi to meet you for training two extra times, he agrees to both. 

***

Monday morning when you get out onto the ice, you’re so nervous that you feel sick to your stomach. Today is your first day with the rep. Levi is just as collected as he always is. Your extra rink time over the weekend didn’t do much to ease the pressure you felt to get this right. Levi was more than happy with your progress on axels, but to you it wasn’t good enough. Not with your progress being tracked and documented. 

“They’re just observing.” Levi reminds you again, picking up on your worries. “No scores, no points for making it look good.” 

Today you’re taking it easy until the rep arrives and working on spins. Those have been the easiest by far to get down. When you hear the ping indicating that someone has entered the arena you and Levi both snap your heads in that direction. In walks a man in business casual attire with a guest badge clipped onto his right breast pocket. You watch him as he walks alongside the rink. He’s a little older than you expected, maybe mid-forties. His gaze quickly falls in your direction but he’s not looking at you, he’s looking at Levi. 

“Stay here, work on something light for a minute.” Levi says quickly.

Your eyes narrow as Levi skates away from you, wouldn’t he want you to introduce yourself? Curiosity gets the better of you. You don’t work on anything, just watching as Levi steps off the ice and waits for the man to approach him. When he does you see the immediate change of his expression. He looks completely captivated, awestruck even, at the sight of Levi. The rep places both hands on Levi’s shoulders, doing a once over. He even looks like he’s getting emotional. Do they know each other? 

The two of them converse for a moment as if they’re catching up. You watch as the rep asks Levi something, you can tell it didn’t sit well with him as he averts his gaze and shakes his head. Only a second later he looks up at you and nods you over. You quickly make your way over to the pair, reaching your hand out to the rep and introducing yourself.

“Gregory Scott,” He takes your hand, wrapping the other overtop of yours as he gives it a gentle shake. This is way too casual for an ISU rep. “A pleasure. You did wonderful last season.” 

“Thank you.” You can’t stand the feeling that you’re missing something here. The name sounds familiar but you can’t think of where you’ve ever heard it before, if at all. You glance over at Levi hoping he would fill in the blanks for you. Levi can see the confusion written all over your face, a small smirk pulls gently at his lips. 

“Greg was my coach.” 

Finally everything clicks for you, the casualty, the look on his face. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” You say, relieved. You glance over at Levi. “That’s a nice coincidence.” 

“I requested him.” Levi clarifies. “Turns out a permanent injury has its perks.” You don’t laugh. You’ve never heard Levi joke about his injury. Hell, he’s never even brought it up on his own before. 

Coach Scott, as Levi still calls him, explains that he’s just here to watch and to act as if he’s not even there. He’ll observe for an hour each day and you’ll get an email by next week with the verdict. 

Back on the ice Levi has you working on combos, taking two jumps or a jump and a spin and meshing them together into one consecutive move. You practice them in the order you’ll be performing them for Coach Scott at the end of the week. After a few attempts you notice Levi won’t move from his position with his back facing the benches, which is odd considering he is usually pretty hands-on. You think about it for a minute before the lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Levi, are you nervous?” You almost laugh when you’re met with his shocked expression.

“No- shut up.” Levi replies quickly. 

“You so are.” You grin, finding it precious that Levi wants to do well in front of his old coach.

“He’s here to watch you, dumbass. Why would I be nervous?” 

*

Over the next two sessions, your hard falls gradually turn into slips that you’re easily able to recover from by putting your hand down on the ice. Normally in a competition this is something you’d avoid at all costs to prevent points being taken, but for now Levi welcomes it as progress. 

You feel a bit odd on Wednesday with Coach Scott watching you practice off-ice in the studio. The space is much smaller and it’s harder to pretend he’s not there. Levi is comfortable around him again too by now, back to adjusting your positions by hand. You assumed he wouldn’t want to mess around with throws in front of Coach as it wasn’t a part of your recovery plan, just something you and Levi did. To your surprise he still initiated it, explaining that it helped you to practice air time. 

After the session as you and Levi reorganized the studio, Coach Scott asks you if you ever considered pairs skating to which you reply no. 

“You’d be a natural.” He complimented. 

*

By Thursday Levi had a song for your program picked out. It’s a French one you’ve seen many people casually skate to before. It was perfect for the length for the short program Levi put together. You spend the entire session practicing the routine back to back. By the end of it your feet are on fire. Everything was memorized, your timing was perfect even with the falls and the jumps you still couldn’t seem to get down. The only concern left is, was all of this good enough? Have you truly recovered enough to compete again? You felt decent enough in the program but your thoughts still take over more times than not. 

That night you call Levi, and against his strong recommendation not to, he still agrees to meet you at the center for training off the record. 

“I don’t know why you felt this was necessary.” Levi says after your third run through. “You’re doing fine.” 

You’re standing in front of him, your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath. “‘Fine’ isn’t gold at Worlds.” 

“Neither is working yourself half to death.” He scoffs. 

“It’s not perfect.” 

“It doesn’t have to be.” 

“It’s just.. You keep saying it’s not being scored, he’s not looking at my skill set,” You pause and drop your head. “But out there if I take off wrong because my ankle is shitty, if I land wrong, they take points. At the end of the day that’s what he’s looking for. They really might not let me compete.” 

“They will.” 

“Levi.” Your voice is quiet, vulnerable. “If they deny it, are you still going to be my coach?” 

“You already know the answer to that.” Levi’s expression softens, not able to retort back with his usual sarcasm. That’s the last thing he wants you worried about. “Two more times, then we’re leaving. Make it count.” 

*

You wake up at five a.m. to the sound of your phone buzzing under your pillow. Groaning, you pull it out and squint at the screen as the light pierces into your eyes. You almost hit the lock button thinking it was your first alarm until you saw Levi’s name come into focus. You shoot up into a sitting position and answer the call. 

“Hello?” You try your hardest not to sound like you just woke up. 

“Sleep in. Coach Scott has a meeting and rescheduled for six tonight.” Levi says. 

“Wait, can we still do our session? I could use the time to-“ 

“No. Rest.” Levi cuts in. “I already told Erwin not to let you in if you show up.” 

“Fine.” You roll your eyes at the empty threat. 

*

You’re warming up with Levi when the rep walks in for your final assessment. In a moment you went from nervous to terrified. You could almost swear your blood ran cold just at the sight of him. You meet him at the wall with Levi and he goes through his usual script before sitting on the benches, setting his laptop up to document today’s session. 

“Breathe. I’ll be right there.” Levi says, handing you your water bottle to take a quick drink from. The look on his face suggests he wants to say more but he doesn’t. He just gives you a supportive nod before walking away and taking a seat next to Coach Scott.

Striding to the center of the rink you suddenly feel small under the gaze of Levi and Coach Scott. You look down at your skates and realize this is your first time on the ice alone, without Levi. It’s a testament to how far you’ve come, but at the same time you hated the feeling. As you lower yourself into your entrance pose you silently will your ankle to behave for the next two minutes and thirty seconds. 

The second the music starts something else takes over entirely. All the nerves instantly wash away, replaced with adrenaline as your arms and legs begin to move as if they had a mind of their own. If you could see anything besides the way the arena blurred in your vision as you spun, if you could see Levi, you would see just how hypnotized by your routine he is. This wasn’t anything like the training sessions the two of you repeated the past couple of days. You took the technical aspects of the program and turned it into an art piece without even trying, and he couldn’t take his eyes off you.  

Halfway through the program you were still holding out. For once, you could feel how well you were doing. Seamlessly checking off every jump and spin. For the first time in weeks you didn’t feel weighed down by the shackles of your injury. The freedom was near intoxicating. You come up fast on your triple toe loop, swinging your leg behind you and striking your toe pick into the ice, using the force to throw yourself into the air. An instant later your chest is heaving as you desperately try to catch your breath. Reality comes rushing back into consciousness.

You just fell. Hard. 

You wait for the searing pain you vividly remember to shoot up your leg again. When it doesn’t come you finally grasp that you fell chest first onto the ice. You pick your head up off your arm and see that you instinctively braced yourself for the fall, narrowly avoiding your face from following suit. 

Immediately you get up, your heart still threatening to drill a hole through your ribcage, and you continue. You only see for a split second that Levi had moved from the benches straight to the wall. You don’t know how, but you manage to finish out the performance. You lacked the same grace you harboured before falling but you did it, and you were glad it was over.  

When you step off the ice your body is instinctively drawn towards Levi, forgetting for a moment the rep was even there. You had no idea what you were doing, just seeking out the only comfort you knew. 

Levi firmly grabs your biceps, effectively halting you. He reaches up and gently grabs your chin with his thumb and index finger, turns your head to the right and then the left, scanning your whole face. Your breathing is still rapid as he moves his attention lower, running his thumbs over your ribs with gentle pressure. It finally clicks in your haze that he’s checking you for an injury. After he checks the elbow you landed on to cushion your forehead he closes his eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. “You’re okay.” He whispers, but he wasn’t talking to you. 

You exchange pleasantries with Coach Scott to the best of your abilities, doing your best to present yourself as if you weren’t on the verge of a complete meltdown. When he leaves with the promise that you’d hear back on Monday you sit down on the nearest bench and drop your head into your hands, knees supporting you as you finally give yourself time to breathe through everything. Levi hasn’t said a word, you’re too scared to even look at him. What was he even thinking? 

The last time you messed up, Tarasov was disappointed in you. You could tell. You remember the look on her face clearly, realizing that you had wasted away the whole season and possibly your entire career. You wouldn’t be able to handle seeing Levi look at you like that, too. 

After a few minutes of silence with only the humming industrial sounds of the arena, when Levi could tell that you were coming back down from wherever you were in your head; He stands up from his seated position beside you. 

“Skates off, you’re coming with me.” He says. 

Wordlessly you drop your arms, leaning forward and unlacing your first boot. Levi takes it from you and starts wiping down your blade himself, kneeling down to slip it neatly in your bag. He does the same with the other and carries both yours and his bag as you walk out of Rink 3. He walks ahead of you through the sports center, looking down at his phone as you make your way through the hall of the Ice Wing. 

“Pick out whatever you want, it’s on me.” He stops in the general lobby, handing you his phone. You take it and look down at the screen. It’s a Chinese take-out menu for a restaurant downtown. Staring at it you wonder in what world Levi would think you wanted to eat right now. 

“I know, but it will help.” He says knowingly. “Trust me.” Nooding, you add something small with a drink to the cart before placing the phone back in Levi’s hand. He submits the order, slipping the phone into the pocket of his joggers and leads you out into the parking lot.  

The two of you walk through the nearly empty lot until Levi pulls out his keys and unlocks his car, popping the trunk and setting both of your bags in gently. You stop dead in your tracks and scan over the car. It’s jet black, sleek. It’s about as nice of a car you can get without it being a staple ‘luxury car’. The interior is just as nice. All black, spacious leather seats and a screen that controls the media. You immediately feel out of place while climbing into the front passenger seat. 

The drive to the restaurant is relatively quiet besides the low volume music playing from the speakers. During the drive you watch the night lights of the city through the window, occasionally glancing over at Levi as he drives. As upset as you were, you still couldn’t deny that he was a sight to behold. 

After picking up the food he drives you some place out near the water, pulling into a parking space. You look at your surroundings and don’t see any benches, it’d be too dark even if there was any. 

“Are we eating in your car?” You ask, shocked. It seemed uncharacteristic of him. 

“Yeah, I don't care.” He glances over at you as he pulls the seat back, shifting a little so that he's turned towards you.

“You’re not worried about a mess?”

“There's nothing I can't clean.” 

Minutes pass by as you slowly pick at your dinner before Levi finally brings up what happened tonight. “You scared the hell out of me. That was a nasty fall.” 

“Yeah well, we’ll have a whole year to work on my uncooperative ankle now.” You sigh.

“It wasn’t your ankle.” Levi’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.  

“What?” You blink at him a couple times. Thinking back on it you couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what happened. One moment you were in the air and the next you had the wind knocked out of you. 

“You over-rotated. There was no saving that landing.” 

“Still, it’d probably look silly to let me back in after that.” You hum and lean back into your seat. Levi shakes his head. 

“Falls happen. People fall and still end up winning.” He doesn’t have to say it. The decision isn’t solely up to Coach Scott, but there's still a chance.  Even if it’s small. 

You’ll let yourself hold onto it until you can’t anymore.

aa/n: yall i swear it's getting better I'm just mean to my barbies

Tagging: @amywritesthings @littlerequiem @humanitys-strongest-bamf @hideandgopeep 

@thechaoticarchivist @sixpennydame @saccharine-nectarine @martins-rx 

@levisbrat25 

@yukithestar @reive-1 @h0neylevi

[aishnico]

so ummm... is the slash angst ready? 😶‍🌫️

#𝙎𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃: 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦

» summary: slash finally realizes that he caught feelings for his friend with benefits. does he really think so, though?

» word count: 2k

» warnings: nsfw content [implied smut, nudity], smoking, angst with no happy ending, that one gossip girl reference, grammar issues

» a/n: i’m truly sorry for posting this after so many months, actually i was writing two more different versions of the promised angst but eventually i didn’t like them so i wrote from the start again, also the college life is pretty tiring soo ❤️‍🩹

saul hudson didn’t have many serious relationships. almost all of them ended in an unpleasing way and quickly. 

he is a guitarist from a famous rock band. his and their popularity grow more each day. they tour around the country and the world. that means he spends most of his time on roads and rehearsals. 

so why would he be in an established relationship? groupies and one-night stands were enough for him.

that was what he believed in before spending one particular night with you about a week ago, a one-night stand turned into a friend with benefits later. this situation was still unusual to him.

“i think it’s bullshit,” you commented on his thoughts about relationships while trying to light your cigarette. “you can always find some time for someone, it’s just your ass is lazy, that’s all.”

“you talk like an expert, have you ever dated someone before?” he replied, lying on your messy bed which happened during your sexual activities. he tapped your exposed waist to grab your unsmoked cigarette. you handed it to him then got up to open your balcony door for fresh air. the room was filled with the smell of sex and smoke.

“no, but don’t think about only relationships. think about your friends and family. get it now?” 

he didn’t reply as his eyes wandered on your naked back while puffing smoke, thinking of a possible nth round with you.

you felt his hungry eyes on your body while pouring him a glass of water, and putting it on top of the nightstand next to him. he muttered a “thanks”

“aren’t you tired? you have a rehearsal tomorrow. you can’t be late. i don’t wanna hear any more complaints from your annoying carrot friend.”

“pfft!” he started to laugh as water spilled from his mouth. you just huffed in annoyance as you watched your bed getting dirtier. “what i am going to do with you..?”

you decided to take a shower so you left him alone in your room. just when you turned the warm water on, you heard heavy sounds coming from outside.

you wrapped your body with a towel then rushed to the window to check what was going on. he was already standing in front of it, sighing loudly as he puffed his almost-finished cigarette.

the rain…

“why are you not closing the doors, do you want my place to be soaked?!” you frowned as closed the door of the balcony immediately.

“‘m sorry, it’s just outside looks fascinating. the dark sky, yellow street dim lights, the rain…”

a soft sigh left your mouth, and then a comfortable silence filled the room while you two were admiring the usual, crowded l.a. view. he coughed then walked to another cross of the room, looking for something. 

“what are you looking for?”

he didn’t answer as he put his jeans back on, then his belt. you walked next to him with big steps.

“you’re kidding, right? you can’t just leave the house with your sweaty shirt and leather jacket.”

“i’ll get in a cab,” he avoided eye contact while wearing his wrinkled shirt. he pushed you to the side quickly, heading to the door.

“you’ll get sick, saul. you can just stay until the rain eases or stops.”

“why do you care though?” he managed to catch your guard off. you coughed, getting in front of him to face him.

“because we’re friends, and i wouldn’t be happy if one of my friends got sick. c’mon, let’s take a shower together. maybe the rain will stop at that time.” you gently grabbed his hand, then guided him to your bathroom. he couldn’t protest, not when he was taken aback by your words.

friends…

is it a true word to describe your relationship?

could he still continue to call you a friend when you try to be good and sweet for him so he could receive the pleasure he deserves after a tiring day?

could he still continue to call you a friend when you give him the most adorable eyes and smiles both in sex and other times, when you try to be intimate with him as much as you can, when you almost shower him with all of your love, making him feel wanted for a good reason and safe?

he wasn’t used to it, he might fucked some of his girl friends a couple of times -maybe when they were drunk- but it was different with you. it wasn’t just sex,

it was an urge to build a new deep, lasting bond with the right person he has come to love.

he was ready to burn all the old pages so he could create new ones with you and fill them with new memories that deserved to be remembered even in an old age.

however, something was stopping him.

and he knew why.

“you’re a fucking pussy, that’s why.” his bandmate, izzy, muttered between a cigarette on his lips. “you’re just afraid to break up with her afterwards just like you did with other girls before.”

“i don’t know, man, i really want to try this but i don’t want her to feel alone or neglected. i don’t want to screw up things like before.” he buried his face in his hands. his dark, curly hair tickling some parts of his face.

“then call her often, write her letters i don’t know, man! just try to do something beyond yourself for once!” izzy was already done with his shit so he put out his cigarette and then left the recording room, leaving his friend behind with complicated thoughts. 

the next day he was going to ask you out.

he thought there was no point in waiting more. he’s not the most outspoken man but for once he was confident enough to spill everything. hell, he even bought a bouquet of roses for you, nothing could stop him except-

“i have a date today, let’s meet at my place tonight as usual.” was what you said before you left him standing there speechless, the bouquet falling from his hands slowly -glad that you didn’t pay attention enough to see what he bought for you just minutes ago-

where did he go wrong? was he too late? god, he wished he wasn’t too late and your date went awful. unfortunately-

“i don’t want to have sex with you anymore, saul.” you cleared your throat while puffing the smoke from your lips. suddenly, your sweaty naked body felt cold to him.

“why?” he knew the answer, yet he was asking anyway.

you tried to shift from your space but his big arms held you firmly there, even pulling to himself a little bit. “my date went well today so i'm seeing someone now. it won’t be good to continue our… sexual activities, yes.”

he didn’t answer anything, he just held you in his arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck. his curly messy hair tickling you a little bit. 

“it was our last time together. we can either continue to be friends or stop talking.”

“what would you prefer, though?” he asked, voice coming out in a low tone, almost like a whisper.

“i would love to still be friends with you. you’re fun and silly, i like that in you.”

he turned your body sideways so he could face you. his mouth hanging open, calloused fingers tracing on your cheek. the risky words are leaving his mouth finally. 

“can you still see me as a normal friend, even after our most intense moments together? can you still see me as a normal friend when i made you come countless times like no one before? can you still see me as a normal friend when our hands were intertwined while kissing like there was no tomorrow? can you-“

“please shut up?” you suddenly managed to free yourself from him. then got up on your legs, looking at him annoyed.

“i see, you have no intention to move on. well, so let it be. we’re not fucking or friends anymore.” just when you decided to go to the bathroom, he caught your right hand with a quick move, maybe a little bit harshly. he then slowly made you sit on the bed again, releasing your hand. 

“all of this time, i was running from the thing i’ve never managed to experience fully. i was just making excuses to not try to bond with others romantically, but you changed my whole world upside down. i don’t want to let you go, not when i really want, no, need you by my side. let’s start everything from the start, just you and me-“

“no! listen to me, you’re just confused and lying to yourself!” you shouted and interrupted him. “you, you just want everything to be under your hand and reach them whenever you want, that’s all! i can’t be your side piece forever, i don’t want to…”

“me neither! that’s what i’m saying now!” your aggression was passed to him now. “you’re not my side piece and i don’t want you to think like that. you mean much more to me.”

your eyes got filled, still not looking at his breathless face. words coming out of you like a mutter as you covered your puffy eyes with your right hand. “we can’t be together. nobody can be together with a rockstar, not forever. they always end in the most tragic way possible. i don’t want to be hurt by you, nor you hurt by me. i don’t want alcohol, drugs, and girls to get between us. answer me, can you give up on all of them?” 

“yes, i can give up on girls. i don’t want any other girl besides you in my life. you’re all i want and need.”

“what about alcohol and drugs?”

could he really give up on them? he spent too many years with them, so could he just throw them away from his life? he tried to go to rehab a couple of times already, and none of them helped. 

“i-i don’t know,” he was trembling. “but i can surely say that i’m ready to give up on them. it’s gonna be so damn difficult but for you, it worth it.”

you didn’t reply anything to him, not sure what to say. the silence was getting more uncomfortable so he continued.

“i know the distance is gonna be a major problem. i’ll be away often and i can’t spend time with you too much. maybe i can’t be with you even when you need me. but i swear, i’ll call you and write you the sappiest shit you’ve ever read as much as i can.”

he grabbed your hands, leaning his head so he could meet with your gaze. it was pointless to avoid him so you turned your head to him. he started to caress them gently. you inhaled deeply, finally opening your mouth again.

“three words. eight letters. say it and i’m yours.”

“i, i…”

why the words he wanted to say desperately aren’t leaving his mouth? just two more words, what’s stopping him? he is so damn sure of his feelings about you, he has been thinking about it for a while. then what was it?!

then he realized that he was doing it again, lying to himself. to you and himself. 

he can’t give up on girls, he is so damn horny that he can’t keep his hands to himself even when he’s away. he’ll cheat on you. 

he can’t give up on alcohol and drugs. these two have become a part of his life. he’ll go to countless rehabs and still run to them with open arms.

he won’t call you nor write letters to you. his mind will be on something else, maybe girls, maybe alcohol, maybe drugs… you won’t be in his mind when he’s at rehearsals or on tours. 

and finally, he doesn’t love you.

like you said a couple of minutes ago, he just wants everything to be under his hand and reach them whenever he wants.

“thank you,” you let your warm tears fall from your eyes. “that’s all i needed to hear.” before he could reply, you already made your way to the bathroom, shutting the door loudly and leaving him there all alone. 

[bruh-2004]

hi!

i know you’ve done one where xdh walks in on the reader, but would you be willing to write the reverse? like where the reader catches the members getting off?

Hi! Of course I can, the idea gives me butterflies!!!

I hope you like the result, I made it based on the voices in my head 😜🤪

(Sorry for the delay, I had a horrible lack of creativity and busy days) :(

─────────ೋღ 🌺 ღೋ──────

GUNIL

• You had just arrived home from work late at night when you heard sounds and caught Gunil masturbating in the bathroom of your room;

• Both of your first reactions were to be surprised, you saw him reach his climax moaning your name, your gaze fell to his hands dirty with cum and you could feel your own body heating up;

• Gunil was undressed which meant he was about to go into the shower, he started to try to explain himself but before anything you ran up to him and kissed him intensely (obviously ready to give him what he wanted by touching himself and think of you).

JUNHAN

• When you caught Junhan masturbating in the room you were quite surprised, after all he had always been more shy and it was usually you who had these desires more explicitly;

• But his vision with the exposed bottom, enjoying in his own hands and moaning his name with a slightly hoarse voice was extremely gratifying and exciting for you, which involuntarily made you start taking off your clothes;

• Junhan was a little startled when you suddenly approached him already half-naked, you didn't give him time to say anything and just made him lie on the bed, climbing on top of him and saying how amazing that scene was.

JUNGSU

• The sight of seeing Jungsu touching himself, moaning your name and tilting his head back would be the most beautiful in the world, quickly making you hot;

• When you called out to him making him look at you as he was entering the room Jungsu was surprised and a little embarrassed, almost stopping touching himself but you told him to continue;

• You got closer to him and guided the movements he should make, the sly moans that escaped his lips making you even more excited. When he finally reached his peak, his eyes focused on the intense jets that came out and soon you went to kneel in front of him to lick up every drop.

GAON

• You caught Gaon masturbating on the bed, using a pillow while moaning your name softly and biting his lips, your first reaction was a little surprise but then you smiled mischievously;

• He was extremely close to his peak, the pre-cum was already dripping and with that you approached him making him notice your presence and smile mischievously in return;

• He accelerated the pace of his hands as you climbed onto the bed and whispered motivational words to speed up his peak, he also decided to leave kisses on his neck knowing that he was sensitive in that area. When Gaon moaned loudly and finally came in his own hands, his eyes lit up at that wonderful scene.

JOOYEON

• Jooyeon was watching an anime while you were preparing dinner, when he felt bored he decided to play a hentai and that's when everything changed… He quickly became excited and thinking about you started touching himself;

• When you finished dinner and decided to go call Jooyeon you could hear moans as you approached your room, you opened the door slowly and when you saw Jooyeon cumming in her own hands in front of the laptop screen your eyes widened;

• He noticed your presence and was too excited to feel embarrassed, so he continued what he was doing and asked you to come over to him and lick up that mess (which you obviously did).

O.DE

• You were sleeping when you started to feel movement and low sounds of moaning coming from behind you, when you slowly turned your head to look you saw that your boyfriend was masturbating with his member practically brushing your ass through your nightgown;

• You remained silent for a few seconds just thinking about the situation, until it excited you and you felt like you needed to help him relieve himself better;

• So, you lifted your nightie and whispered getting his attention, telling him to stick his dick in you and finish cumming inside. Obviously the opportunity was perfect for Seungmin who wasted no time in doing just that, fucking you from behind until he filled you with his hot cum.

[littlestarbigsky]

finally finished my stats work for the week (ily chatgpt) soooo fic time :))

listen i reallllly love the idea of at least some of the greasers having good parents sooo two-bit and his sister get a good mom ;) also! i realize two-bit’s sister doesn’t canonically have a name but i saw someone call her molly like.. once.. so i’ve just been running with that lol

i wrote half of this when i wanted to write angst and then finished it when i was in a better mood so that’s what that’s about lol

anyways here’s the matthews family helping darry when pony gets sick :)

edit: i wrote a part one for this fic like three months later lol

it was almost midnight when the sound of someone pounding on the front door jerked two-bit awake from where he had been dozing off watching cartoons. he shifted on the couch to look out the window, fully expecting to see steve or johnny needing a place to crash, hell, he wouldn’t have been shocked if a cop was standing outside the door because some socs had blamed some vandalism on him, wouldn’t be the first time. the last thing he was expecting to see was…

darry?

truth be told, it had been a while since he’d really seen darry. he saw pony at school most days, and he would swing by the dx to visit soda when he could, but since their parents died, darry had been busting his ass at all hours of the day to make ends meet, which didn’t leave much time for him to hang around with the rest of their crew.

you’d think darry was trying to break down their door with how hard he was pounding it. two-bit lazily pushed himself off the couch and hurried over to the door.

darry looked a real mess when two-bit opened the door, violet shadows stamped beneath his eyes, his hair sticking out in all directions, and he was in need of a shave and a shower.

“darry, what-”

“i’m sorry, i know i got no business comin’ here this time of night, but i-” he broke off, his breath coming in short, panicked, gasps.

“hey, you don’t gotta apologize,” two-bit grabbed his arm and ushered him into the house, out of the cool, early-spring, air. “what’s the matter? what’s got ya all worked up?”

“i need-” darry cut himself off and immediately started pacing the living room floor. “your mom… is she here? i need to talk to her…”

it was a mark of how badly darry was scaring two-bit that he didn’t crack a joke, just asked again, “darry, what’s going on?”

“it’s pony… he- he’s got a fever. i thought maybe he just needed a day to rest and get better but soda told me he’s been getting worse all day…” darry had to take a moment to gasp in another breath before continuing. “i- i don’t know what medicine to give him… he was real hot when i left, he always gets so bad when he’s sick… none of us have gotten sick since-”

“i know,” darry didn’t finish, but two-bit didn’t need him to, he knew he was about to say that none of them had gotten sick since their parents had died. he felt a lump swelling in his throat as he watched darry pace and panic across the living room floor.

“hey, dar,” he started gently. “how about you have a seat. i think mama’s still awake, i’ll go get her.”

darry nodded, squeezing his eyes shut, but he didn’t sit down, he just stood still where he was.

when two-bit came back with his mother a few minutes later, it was like watching a superhero go to work. he leaned against the doorframe that led to the hallway with the bedrooms, watching his mother envelop darry in her arms and gently guide him over to the couch. she coached him through a few deep breaths to calm him down a bit before starting to ask him what was wrong with ponyboy, how long he had been sick, what he’d been eating, if he’d been sleeping much. darry answered all of her questions quickly and succinctly, rattling off symptoms with painstaking ease.

a door creaked open behind two-bit, and he turned around to see his 12 year-old kid sister standing in her doorway. molly’s pajama shirt and shorts didn’t match, her hair was all messy from sleep, and her gray eyes seemed huge in the dim light shining in from the living room. he didn’t know what made him do it, maybe he was realizing how glad he was that he didn’t have to worry over molly like this, but without a word, he pulled her into his side.

“haven’t seen darry in forever,” molly said sleepily, her words almost slurring together.

“me neither, kiddo,” he answered, running a hand up and down molly’s arm. “he’s got a lot more to worry about now.”

“what’s he doin here then? shouldn’t he be at home sleeping?”

he had to laugh at the innocence of the question, of course darry should have been at home sleeping, he shouldn’t have to be staying up all night with a sick ponyboy, his parents should be doing that. he should be in college. he should be bringing home stories about parties and inviting his family to his football games, not losing sleep over what medicine he should be giving his little brother.

“ponyboy’s not feeling so hot,” two-bit finally answered. “darry just isn’t used to doing it all by himself.”

“so he’s askin mama?”

“yeah, she’s pretty good at gettin us better when we’re feeling lousy, right?”

“i guess so,” molly shrugged, taking a step forward, going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of water.

two-bit tuned back into what his mother was saying to darry.

“it doesn’t sound like anything too serious, probably just the flu. with any luck, he may already be through the worst of it,” she was saying to him, one of her hands rubbing his shoulder comfortingly.

“okay…” darry’s voice was thick with unshed tears, the tension between him and the dam breaking almost palpable. “what- what should i give him to help?”

“maybe some aspirin for the pain-”

“no,” darry practically shouted, so fast he knew he had sounded rude. “sorry, i caught pony takin’ too many aspirins last week, i don’t wanna be givin him that stuff…”

“that’s okay, honey,” she answered, ever patient. “how about some tylenol? that will help with the fever and won’t have aspirin in it. for his stomach, pepto bismol is probably best. and if he starts getting those bodyaches again, the tylenol should help but ibuprofen works, too, it’s an anti-inflammatory. do you guys have all that?”

“i-” darry looked at her with an expression that was so helpless and exhausted and scared. he had no idea if that had any of that stuff, let alone which did what and how much he should be giving his brother. the thought alone was so overwhelming. he felt his eyes glass over just thinking of having to wake pony up to persuade him to take the cocktail of medicine.

she reached up and ran a hand through his hair and over his cheek, “it’s okay, sweetheart, you can borrow what we’ve got. use as much as you need, you can give it back when pony’s feeling better.”

darry took a second before he opened his mouth to stutter out, “h-how much…”

“i’ll write it all down for you,” she answered, patting him on the knee as she stood up and headed towards the bathroxcom. darry’s head fell into his hands, breathing deeply and clearly doing everything he could to keep it together.

he only looked up when molly came over from the kitchen and nudged his shoulder, “shouldn’t you be in bed, little lady?”

molly just shrugged, sitting down on the floor in front of the couch, “kinda hard when you’re bangin’ on the door so loud.”

darry chuckled wetly, “sorry about that, kiddo, i’ll just break in through two-bit’s window next time.”

molly’s eyes widened, “don’t do that! he’ll scream like a little girl!”

darry laughed again. two-bit leaned his head against the threshold and crossed his arms across his chest, watching his sister break down darry’s carefully structured walls without even trying.

“i brought you this,” she held up something in a white wrapper. “it’s a popsicle, mama always tells us that there’s no trouble out there that a popsicle can’t help. might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

“thanks, molly, but i don’t think it’s a good idea,” darry sighed. “pony’s stomach is bothering him, i don’t wanna make it worse.”

“it’s not for ponyboy, it’s for you,” she crinkled the paper and held it closer to him to grab. “it’s strawberryyyyyy.”

darry let out a laugh, a true laugh, and took the popsicle from molly. two-bit pushed himself off the doorframe and grabbed two more popsicles from the freezer before handing one to molly and sitting down next to her on the floor.

their mother came back from the bathroom with the medicine in a bag for darry, stopping dead when she saw molly with him.

“what do you think you’re doing, little miss?” she asked, and molly whipped around. “it’s almost midnight what are you doing with a popsicle?”

molly pressed her red stained lips together and pointed at two-bit, “he gave it to me.”

two-bit pointed at molly, “she gave one to darry.”

their mother’s eyes jumped up to darry on the couch, his half finished popsicle still in his mouth. he shrugged and pulled it out of his mouth, pushing himself off the couch, “is that the medicine?”

“yep, this should be everything,” she smiled, her attention fully back on darry. “i wrote down all of the dosages and what should help with what, but if you need anything else, i wrote down our phone number.”

darry grinned sheepishly, “i know your phone number…”

“well then, you should have no trouble letting us know if things get worse,” she handed him the medicine and grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “because you are too damn young to have to do all this by yourself. pride has no place where help is being offered, darry.”

darry leaned into the touch. god, when was the last time someone had given the poor kid a hug?

“let us know when the kid’s doing better, steve and i will bring over some snacks,” two-bit said, standing up from the floor, ruffling molly’s hair as he got up.

darry nodded wordlessly and took the bag of medicine. he walked over to the door, looking like he was about to leave before he turned around and looked right at molly, who was leaning up against two-bit’s legs.

“you were right, kid.”

molly tilted her head, but darry only smiled and held up what was left of his popsicle.

“might not fix it, but it sure can’t hurt.”

[homoeroticfisticuffs]

WIP Wednesday - Sambucky Sickfic

Been working on this one on and off for a few weeks now whenever I've had the free time and I keep forgetting to post a WIP!! So here it is finally lol... working title is "There's No Need to Be Brave," from I Will by Mitski :] Once this is finished I'd like it to be maybe closer to/over 10k like the rest of my more recent fics, and I will only be posting the finished version to my AO3 because I just prefer to only post WIPs on here ;w; anyway Sambucky

Word count: 4.1k

He hadn’t even spent two weeks back in Brooklyn before he got the text; not from Sam, no, from Sarah, which made this whole situation all the more hilarious.

“Hey Bucky, I really hate to ask you for yet another favor after all you’ve done for my family, but my stubborn jackass of a brother got himself real sick with a bad cold somehow and I just don’t have the time to take care of both him and the boys. Would you mind maybe coming back down here to stay and watch over him for a bit? I think you’re the only other person he’d let see him like this.”

(The fact that he was actually checking and responding to his texts now was a new development for him, one he was glad Dr. Raynor wasn’t around to see. He really didn’t need to see her sarcastic grin or hear her smug ass voice giving him an “I told you so” or “see how easy it is” or whatever the hell she’d have to say.)

He smirked to himself as he saw Sarah’s text; it was timestamped at 6:47 AM, probably sent out of exasperation while trying to get the boys ready for school and also having to deal with taking care of Sam. The thought of Sam Wilson, the famous Falcon and now the brand new Captain America, lying helpless and miserable in bed was admittedly a little funny. He was probably wrapped up in a bunch of blankets right now with a bulky ice bag sitting atop his head and a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. It really was comical when he thought about it.

“No worries, Sarah. I can come help out.”

He genuinely didn’t mind going back down there to offer his help, and he would have done it either way to help the people he cares about, but he also loved being a little sweet on Sarah because of how mad it made Sam.

He also needed to get out of Brooklyn, as much as he hated it. After offering closure to Yori, things just hadn’t felt the same. It didn’t really feel like home anymore. Part of him wished he could just stay in Louisiana; and maybe he could. The thought wasn’t so bad. 

He sighed for a moment, looking down at his duffle bag that he never really got around to fully unpacking in the first place from his last trip. He could use the travel, really; it’s not like he had any other plans anyway, and it was always a nice treat to visit the Wilsons. Plus, this would give him a lot of ammunition and blackmail to hold over Sam’s head for a good long while. He smiled at the thought of bantering and bickering with him as he packed, looking forward to getting to see him again, though he’d never in a million years admit it out loud.

-

The sun was starting to set over the water in Delacroix, the last few rays of sunlight beaming in through the windows and casting a warm glow over the living room. Sam laid exhausted on the couch, hopelessly flipping through different TV channels in hopes of finding something other than the countless shitty movies and reality shows that litter the guide on the screen. He sighed in defeat before giving up and leaving it on a channel showing a cheesy eighties action flick, tossing the remote aside and curling further into his blanket.

“You feeling any better today?” Sarah asked from the kitchen, starting to cut up some vegetables to prepare dinner for the night: a nice and hearty vegetable stew.

“No,” Sam groaned softly, his voice weak from illness. “If anything, today’s been worse.”

She sighed, and he felt a stab of guilt at the sound. He hated putting all this on her. “Well, we’ve just gotta make sure you’re taking meds at the right times then and try and stay on top of that fever. Plenty of rest and fluids, it’ll be gone in no time. Can’t keep Captain America down for too long.”

He chuckled, knowing she was giving him shit for his new title. It was still taking some time for everyone to get used to, especially himself. No one had exactly seen it coming. 

He hated this, all of it. He hated feeling this sick and miserable, and he hated being so useless and unable to help Sarah out around the house and with the boys. He knew she managed just fine on her own in the years that he was gone, but part of him will always feel a need to help and protect her whenever he can. She had gotten used to having him around lately, and had shared some of her responsibilities with him so that she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with the workload. Now that he was unable to help take some of that weight off her shoulders, she’s been a lot more noticeably stressed out since he got sick.

His phone rang then, and he lifted it to see that it was Joaquin video calling him. He reluctantly hit the accept button; not because he didn’t enjoy talking to Joaquin, just that it was a little difficult to talk at all in his current state.

“Hey man!” Joaquin greeted him through the phone. “Oh, shit, you don’t look so good. You alright?”

“Yeah, just got a cold,” Sam responded quietly. It hurt his throat a little to speak, but he was fairly sure he could handle a brief phone call for now. “What’s up?”

“I was just checking in to say hey. You mentioned not feeling so hot so I just wanted to see how you were doing. Anything I can do to help? I could DoorDash you some soup or medicine or something.”

It earned a good laugh from Sam, possibly being the only real smile he had cracked yet today. “Nah, man, I’m alright. I doubt any sane Dasher would come this far out, anyways.”

“Well, offer’s still on the table if you end up changing your mind,” Joaquin said earnestly. “I’ll let you go for now, though. Rest up buddy, and take care! I’ll be thinking of you. Hope you heal up fast!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam replied, exhaustion clear in his voice. He was on day three of the cold now, with no sign of it improving. He was starting to get really tired of it. “I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for checking in.”

“No problem, man. And seriously, rest up, you sound like shit,” Joaquin laughed. “Okay bye, talk soon.”

“Seeya.”

Once the call had ended, Sam finally let out a couple of coughs that he had been holding in and took a big long sip of his water; engaging that much in a conversation, even if it was short, had rendered him a little worse off than he was before he took the call. Saying a couple short sentences a day was one thing, but his throat was seriously sore, and he sounded absolutely miserable with how nasally his voice was from being so congested. He let out a deep sigh before unwrapping yet another cough drop and tossing it in his mouth, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch.

Suddenly Sam heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching the house. He was a little too fatigued and feverish to connect the dots immediately, but he lifted his head and squinted his eyes at Sarah in confusion, wondering who or what the hell it could be before it finally clicked in his head after a few too many moments.

“You didn’t,” he said around the cough drop, unable to believe what he thought might have happened without him knowing.

“I had to!” she responded, her hands going up to defend herself from Sam’s criticism that she could already tell was coming. She moved quickly around the kitchen, trying her best to get dinner done in a timely manner and avoid getting any more grief from her brother. Sam noticed now that she was preparing five bowls instead of four, and he heard the motorcycle outside turn off.

“You really didn’t,” he said, exhausted. He tried to stand up slowly, grumbling to himself in the process. “Now I’ve gotta deal with his ass. Can’t just have my damn stew in peace.”

“Would you calm down? This is a good thing,” Sarah chastised him, getting irritated with his attitude. “Having an extra set of hands around here will be a big help. Not that you’d know what accepting help feels like,” she added, the last sentence being said under her breath, but still loud enough for Sam to hear.

Dumbfounded, Sam opened his mouth to hit her with another smartass reply, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door. 

Sarah quickly dumped a chopped up onion into the pot of broth on the stove before going over to the door, unlocking it and opening it for none other than the one and only James Buchanan Barnes to enter the house with a bag slung over his shoulder. He moved his sunglasses to rest on top of his head before he smiled at Sarah, and she went in for a hug. Sam could feel his fever rising as his blood boiled at the sight of it.

“Welcome back!” she said excitedly, looking him over. “I’m glad you could make it! Do you need help with your bag or anything?”

“I am too,” Bucky replied through a smile, his voice dropping lower than it needed to. “And no, I should be alright, thanks. Whatever’s cookin’ smells real good, what’s for dinner?” He freely carried himself throughout the space as he responded, and his familiarity and comfortability with the house made Sam feel a little funny.

“Just some stew, nothing fancy,” she said as she went back to stirring the pot and starting to chop up more ingredients. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bucky drawled casually, walking over to where Sam was standing by the couch. He set his bag down and got a good look at him, head to toe. “Not looking so hot, Cap. Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Something like that,” Sam rasped before a cough broke through involuntarily. He sat back down on the cushions, grabbing for his water bottle, but Bucky was faster; he handed it to him gently, and Sam eyed him, annoyed, before reluctantly taking it from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded a little quietly, pursing his lips. Sam knew his annoyance with the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re welcome.”

A door opened down the hall, and Bucky heard them before he saw them. “Is that uncle Bucky?!” Cass yelled excitedly, and both boys ran towards him as fast as they could.

“It sure is!” Bucky beamed back, reaching down a little to meet them halfway, picking them both up in each arm and swinging them around the living room with a big smile. Bucky had always been a natural when it came to the boys, and Sam found himself feeling a tinge of fondness seeing them all get along so well. Bucky used his vibranium arm to lift AJ up onto his shoulders, still swinging Cass around in a circle. “I’m playing doctor for uncle Sammy this week, if you can believe it.”

“No way!! A whole week? That’ll be so awesome!!” Cass exclaimed, as Bucky started to set them both back down on their feet.

“Yeah,” Sam groaned, barely audible. His voice dripped with sarcasm and with dread. “So awesome.”

“Could you pick me up from school one day this week so that everyone will see that I’m friends with the Winter Soldier and think I’m super cool?” AJ asked quickly, looking up at him expectantly. 

Bucky laughed nervously, looking over towards Sam for help. Seeing him look so lost and unsure what to say was endearing and funny enough to make Sam crack a bit of a smile.

“Actually yeah,” he said. “I’m usually the one who picks them up. They’ve had to carpool the past couple days.”

“Well, uh,” Bucky started, “my bike can only really fit two, and I don’t wanna try and stick ‘em both on there. Could I borrow your car?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just get ‘em on time.”

“Alright boys,” Sarah interrupted from the kitchen, stirring the stew and turning the stove down. “Dinner’s ready, come get it.”

Sam went to stand, but Bucky gently put his hand up to stop him.

“Stay put,” he said, “I’ll get you some.”

Sam found the charity somewhat irritating at first; but he couldn’t deny that he really did not want to get up to get his own bowl. So to have Bucky bring one over to him was… nice.

The boys both ran over to the kitchen, grabbing their bowls and waiting patiently for Sarah to be done serving herself before they stepped in to get their own stew. As they did, Bucky moved to the other side of the kitchen and got out four glasses from the cabinet, opening up the fridge to get out the pitcher of sweet tea, filling them all up with ice before pouring the tea in. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion; he remembered Bucky being obsessed with Sarah’s sweet tea the first time he tried it. Why wasn’t he having a glass?

He set three of the teas at the table, then brought the last one over to the couch. He then, though, set the tea down on the coffee table, not in front of Sam but a good ways beside his water bottle, right in front of the other seat on the couch. 

“You don’t need the sugar,” Bucky deadpanned preemptively, already seeing Sam’s glare and knowing he was about to complain. He picked up Sam’s water bottle, making his way back to the kitchen.

“I don’t remember you being a doctor,” he shot back anyway, challenging him with an angry stare.

“Sam,” Sarah firmly chastised from her seat at the table. “Quit it.”

Bucky chuckled, and looked back over to him with a mischievous grin. “Yeah Sam,” he said with raised eyebrows, continuing his trek to the kitchen to get their dinner and fill up Sam’s water.

Sam grumbled to himself, wanting to argue yet again but choosing instead to just grind his jaw and crunch up the remains of his cough drop so that he could eat. With the way things were already going, he swore to himself that he’d kill Bucky before the week was over.

-

Like every night before, Sam’s symptoms got worse once night fell. Blowing his nose every ten minutes and barely able to speak, he was popping cough drops constantly, putting in a new one almost as soon as the last one faded away. He didn’t feel up to doing anything other than laying his sorry ass on the couch with his blankets and flipping through the channels on TV, and he really, really just wanted to be alone; but that wasn’t an option right now, seeing as Bucky had to be here, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He was at the very least thankful that he was being silent (it was easier that way to pretend he wasn’t even there), just reading one of his books while Sam lounged comfortably though unable to engage in conversation. He doubted he would want to even if he could.

He was tired, exhausted even, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night. He never could when he was sick; each night he’d fall asleep, rest for an hour or two, wake up coughing or choking on his own spit, stay awake for an hour, fall asleep for another two hours or so, and repeat until he gave up on sleeping once the sun finally rose. It was miserable, and after several days, he was starting to feel the effects of sleep deprivation as well as the cold.

An alarm went off on Bucky’s phone then, startling Sam out of his thoughts.

“What’s that for?” he croaked, instantly regretting it when he felt the dull swollen ache in his throat and heard how pitiful his voice sounded.

Bucky looked at him with pursed lips. “Your medicine,” he said. “It helps to keep you on a schedule.”

Sam huffed in annoyance, but he was too tired to argue.

Bucky put a bookmark in his book and stood from his spot at the couch, taking Sam’s lack of protest as acceptance. Wordlessly he made his way into the kitchen, sorting through the medicine cabinet because he knew just where everything was, and Sam decided to ignore yet again the way that made him feel. He was tired, that was all. That’s why he was overthinking the way Bucky occupied the space like he belonged there, surely. That was all it was.

Sam turned his attention back to the TV, choosing to focus instead on the rerun of Bar Rescue that was currently playing, even though he had been watching this same damn show for hours now and he had kind of lost interest in how much alcohol this particular bar was wasting every month.

Bucky returned after a few minutes, longer than Sam expected it to take to pour out a little dose of cough syrup, but when he did he saw it was because he was also holding a steaming hot mug in his other hand.

“Made you some tea,” he said, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of Sam. “Should help you sleep.”

Sam just stared up at him, feeling frustration bubbling up in him at the feeling of being constantly coddled like this, but he was too exhausted to put up too much of a fight. He could manage a little bit though.

“I don’t like tea.”

Bucky sighed, irritated but not surprised by Sam’s resistance. “Just drink it.”

Still glaring, he wordlessly reached for the medicine in Bucky’s hand and downed it like a shot, not wanting the taste to linger. His nose scrunched up at the flavor anyway and he reluctantly reached for the tea, blowing on it for a moment before giving it a sip. It actually wasn’t too bad; he could taste the lemon, honey, ginger, and…

“Is that whiskey?”

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky replied, beginning to walk back over to the kitchen to put the medicine back up. “It’s a hot toddy. You’ve never had one?”

“No. Sounds old.”

Bucky chuckled a bit in response. “I guess it is. I used to make ‘em a lot back in the day, they work real well, trust me.” He then came back over to stand by the couch, looking down at where Sam was laying.  He thought for a moment, and his eyes squinted just a bit. “Do you wanna sleep out here or in the bedroom?”

“I’m fine here,” Sam replied, his voice barely registering above a whisper. The drink was helping, though, as much as he hated to admit it. “You can take the bed.”

Bucky nodded, sitting back down in his spot at the end of the couch and picking his book back up. “‘Kay.”

Sam kept sipping on his mug, drinking on it slowly until the last of it was barely warm. He felt his eyes slowly getting heavier as well, also due to the nighttime medicine making him drowsy and sleepy. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t fight to stay awake any longer, finally letting his eyelids fall shut and stay that way, curled up into his blankets.

-

He woke up with a sharp and fearful intake of breath, sitting up straight as quick as a bullet and immediately starting to cough up the phlegm that had tried to choke him in his sleep. As soon as he did, Bucky was at his side in a moment’s notice, kneeling beside the bed and gently rubbing his back while he held Sam’s water bottle in his other hand. It took Sam a few tries, but once he properly cleared his airways, he took several heavy and labored breaths to try and recover from the anxiety of it all and to return his breathing to normal as much as he could. Having Bucky there was definitely a help; whenever this would happen while he was alone, it took him a lot longer to calm himself down, nerves running rampant with the fact that he could have almost died from asphyxiation (or so he convinced himself).

With one last deep breath, he looked over at Bucky, who was closer to him than he expected him to be. He squinted in confusion as he huffed, and looked over to see a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor opposite the coffee table.

“You slept on the floor?” he whispered.

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I sleep better that way.”

Sam understood the sentiment; he remembered having a talk with Steve about it when they first met. Sam also understood but didn’t comment on the fact that it was probably also so that Bucky could keep a better eye on him this way. He decided yet another time that he didn’t want to explore how he felt about it.

Bucky handed him his water bottle, and he drank greedily. He needed to clear some of the thicker saliva out of his mouth so that he wouldn’t choke on it again, at least not for a while. The coolness of the ice-cold water made him sigh with relief as it eased some of the pain in his throat on the way down.

“Lean up a bit,” Bucky spoke softly, his hand leaving Sam’s back as he stood to grab another pillow from the other end of the couch. He slotted it behind Sam, stacking it with the pillows that were already there. “You gotta stay upright.”

Sam leaned back into the new pillow arrangement, and it felt all wrong. He didn’t know if he could sleep sitting up, and when he tried to rest his head, his neck bent at an awkward angle. He scowled and scooted down the cough enough to get comfortable, trying his best to stay as vertical as he could.

“There,” Bucky said, standing up and stepping back. Sam noticed he was only wearing a pair of lounge shorts, his dog tags dangling over his bare chest. “That should help.”

“Why are you doing all this?” he heard himself say, not entirely intending to speak his thoughts aloud. His voice was soft and slow with sleep as the question fell out. “Going through all this trouble just for me?”

Bucky took in a breath before responding. “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.”

Sam would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that; getting Bucky to admit literally anything about his feelings (in any form other than a complaint) was no small feat. He smiled a little at the thought of being the reason for it. “Thank you, Buck. It’s mutual.”

“Good,” Bucky huffed, his discomfort palpable. He clearly was not used to this kind of talk. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Of course. Can’t have people knowing the Winter Soldier’s gone all soft.”

“Exactly. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

Sam laughed again and pulled his blankets tighter to him, getting as comfortable as he could in his new sleeping position. He turned his head to the side and let his eyes drift shut for a moment. “Aren’t you nervous about getting sick, though?”

“Perk of the serum. Haven’t been sick since the thirties.”

“What makes you so good at all this then?” Sam asked, his voice becoming less and less audible as he felt himself start to get sleepy again. “The caring stuff.”

Bucky paused and looked down at the floor for a moment before gathering himself. “I used to care for Steve a lot when he’d get sick. Which was pretty much all the time, so I learned a few tricks along the way. Glad they’re coming in handy.”

“Me too,” Sam mumbled, the words barely coming out. “He was… real lucky.”

Sam didn’t stay awake long enough to hear the way Bucky’s breath hitched at the comment, or see the way his eyes watered ever-so-slightly; but when he fell back asleep, he slept through the night for the first time all week, knowing that Bucky was right there next to him.

Would love initial opinions/critique on this if you have any !! And again this is only a WIP, I'll probably keep posting more WIPs as I work on it and I'll make a little announcement post whenever I finish it and post it on my AO3. Just wanted to get a little bit of it out there after talking about it for so long. Anyway thank you for reading I hope you have a nice day :]

[meimeislibray]

𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚢 𝚂𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚗,𝚂𝚊𝚖

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

Sam ♪

It has been a year since you and Sam got together and now you were in his room his hands beside your head,his chain dangling cause he is leaned down.His shirt was off and only his sommer shorts and boxers were on.Sams eyes were filled with desires and yours are too you both need this.He breaks the silence with a Passionate Kiss and the rest of his and your close find the Floor.You’re legs were spread and he kisses the inner flesh of your thigh.He reaches to his drawer and retrieves a Condom.And finally both your burning desires are met.As he glides in you moan his name a bit louder which earns you glance from your Boyfriend,his family is home so you two need to do this with as little noise as possible.But with the connection of your Hips with his and how hard his motion was you couldn’t,he felt so good like he was meant for you.Like Puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.Your Hands find his lower back and your Nails dig into the soft flesh of his ass as you hold him in place.Sam places his forehead against your own this moment was perfect.Was cause a Gasp brings you two out of the sexual Romantic moment.Vincent his brother stands in the doorway of his room.”Sam…Stop your hurting the farmer don’t you hear shes in pain” the Child says.But as Sam opens his mouth his mother enters the room.”Whats going o-for the love of Joba-Vincent get to bed NOW” she pulls the Child out of the room and then comes in again.“You two….next time do it at the Farm or be quiet-and use Protection you too are too young” she then walks out.”We are mom i am responsible” Sam yells as shes almost out.After Jodi leaves you laugh.”Its funny to you hm is it Love” he says and shuts you with a hard thrust and you grip harder,leaving marks at his back and ass.Despite the interruption you both are close to finishing and with some more motion you two cum.

After you two cleaned up the mess you made Sam gets you a snack and some water.And after you are done drinking he holds you.Only the Monn Light shines into his room.”Next time we do it at the Farm” you say sleepy.”Good Idea i think Vince has a Trauma now” Sam chuckles and kisses the Top of your head.

Sebastian ☆

The evening had first started with you two making out on his couch but now you are between his legs.“Yes Darling take me good“he says as his Tip kisses the back of your troath and small tears roll down your cheek.As you retreat from his Hard Cock you wipe some precum off your lips and take a moment to get your body to function again.”Was i too rough Darling you know only a pat of my thigh and we stop” he says as he wipes off your tears.You only nod and support yourself on his tigh.He helps you up and you two get onto the bed,his kisses are gentle and soft.You two slowly undress and he takes care of the protection.He spoons you from behind and takes your leg into his hand.His other hand guides his Cock to your Wet Entrance and he waits for your okay to go further.”Are you ready should we stop my Darling tell me” he whispers and burries his nose in your neck.With a quiet yes you grant him permission and he slowly slides into you which makes you both groan.He fucks you slowly but hard,his kisses are still soft and he leaves some marks on your skin.As he picks up his motion you moan out his name a bit louder and you two don’t pay mind to it.His room is in the basement nobody hears.How wrong you are.Just as you two are close to Cumming a knock was heard and then the door opens.Its Maru she just looks at you two in this position.”Uhh-seb have you seen my Wrench——“ she says and looks away her cheeks faintly pink.”No but you can use mine in my tool box in the garage” he says a bit breathless and just as Maru wants to leave his mom stands now there too.Maru hurries up the stairs as Robin stands there in shook.”Seb-i-okay-i will leave you to it” she says but before she closes the door she says “Just tell me when you need a Crib in the farmhouse” and with that she goes upstairs.”Does she think i am that impulsive” he says and looks down at you.He kisses your neck softly and you turn around to kiss him.He continues with the abuse of your wet Pussy and some time later you both finish.

You collapse beside him and Seb gets out of bed to get you some water and then assist you to the bathroom.As you both snuggle skin to skin in his bed Demetrius come into the room.Seb and you just looks at him he doesn’t seem amused.”Maru is too young to see filthy stiff like that-“ behind him comes up a furious Maru.”Dad i am 20 and i have a Boyfriend don’t picture me as a Saint”. Demetrius just stands there and is shooked.A few seconds later Robin comes in and ushers them out of the room to leave you two some privacy.”God i just want to move out” Seb groans.”Move into the Farm then we can fuck every Time of the day on every surface” you say sleepy and snuggle into his naked chest even more.”You swear ever surface” he chuckles.”Pinky Promise” you say and he just chuckles.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

[sturn1olo-ffics]

- INTO IT -

pt. 1 | pt. 2

- Chris Sturniolo x Fem Reader (she/her pronouns used)

- Warnings: kissing (making out), profanity, pining?, use of y/n, I think that’s it

- About: Reader goes on a trip to Florida with Chris, Madi, Matt, Laura, and Nick while trying to hide her feelings for Chris, but soon failing when they get alone.

—————————————————————————————

(Y/N’s POV):

“The sky is so pretty right now.” I paused to take a picture for my Snapchat story. “Yeah, I love coming to the beach. It’s beautiful here.” He said calmly, brushing his arm up against mine for a quick second. The conversation back to the condo wasn’t awkward at all. Everything felt just right with him. We talked about new music we listened to and how we both missed our parents back home a lot. The conversation was so easy until we got into the condo and closed the door behind us. The lights were off and the curtains were open, revealing the huge windows in which the warm sunset came through, lighting up the room softly. Silence over came us as we both walked toward the couch so I could grab my portable charger off the coffee table. I grabbed my charger, which was soon dropped on the floor along with my phone when Chris placed his hands on my waist, pulling me in. “I don’t know why, and I don’t think I ever will know why, but I really, really want to kiss you right now.” He started before my lips crashed onto his, interrupting him. Our lips moved in sync like they were made to fit together. The soft, sweet kiss sooner turned into a rough, passionate kiss as he pushed us down onto the couch. A few minutes of making out pass by and I pull back, gasping for air along with him. “Chris- I don’t know what that was- but I’m-“ I jumbled my words together nervously before he finished my sentence for me. “Into it? Yeah I know baby.” He whispered into my ear seductively before kissing my neck and helping me off the couch. I was so in shock I couldn’t respond. I was so crazy for him and he knew it. “Come on, let’s go back before they get worried.” He picked up my phone and portable charger, then guided me to the door by placing his hand on the small of my back. As we began walking to the arcade, I finally muttered out a response to everything. “Chris, I know this is wild but I think I’m in love with you and I have been since March-“ I started. “I know, sweetheart. The look in your eyes when you look at me says it all.” He laughed. “There is no way-“ I laughed along with him. “You’re my girl.” He said, pulling his phone out to snap a picture of the two of us to capture the moment. He giggled at me leaning into him, then interlocked his hand with mine and laced our fingers together. “Really?” I questioned, heart practically melting into his hand. “Always have been, I just get to say it now.” He responded, rubbing his thumb back and forth on my hand. We made it to the arcade and met up with Matt, Madi, Laura, and Nick. “No fucking way.” Matt said excitedly when he saw us holding hands. “Annoying ass mf.” Chris shook his head and walked past, buying us cards to play the games. Everything in my life after that felt so content. Everything was at ease knowing Chris was mine and I was his.

—————————————————————————————

A/N: Guys! If you haven’t voted on the poll yet for what you wanna see next, do that! I need to know 😭 So far it’s my other planned Chris fic up next (sorry Matt girlies 💔 I’m also hurting over this)

[megumi-fm]

26th to 30th Apr; doa🚲 complete!!

hi. gah. okay. here's my wrap up for the month

📝 prepped for and completed the last set of internal tests for this degree [2/2] (which I got through after much cribbing and whining and quite literally projecting study topics onto my blorbos 👍 ) 📝 started GRE prep!

🎓 got some gradecard related paperwork done 🎓 spoke to my prof regarding my internship deliverables for uni—report format, certificate requirements, etc etc

📥 I voted! it was the first central elections since I turned to an adult and the whole experience was quite interesting

💻 completed a bunch of tasks for my internship

💻 made like a super extensive flowchart about all the work done at my internship which took me like a total of 20+ hours T-T 💻 finished preparing my Uni Internship presentation! 💻 submitted the presentation to the assistant guide, waiting on her response to make changes atm

🍶 7+ glasses of daily water intake 🎵 svt's new single is out and I've been going insane about it and thus this challenge comes to an end... I had started this off as an 18day daily habit tracker but then it kind of grew out into a challenge for the month. Special thanks to Yumi the loml <3 (@thelastneuron) for starting the Days of April challenge (Yumi idk when you'll see this but i miss you and I hope you've been kicking ass during your hiatus). also massive thanks to Zip (@zipstidbits) for leaving the kindest comments/tags on my post during the past week and to Tanishka (@booksbluegurl) who is literally the sweetest and has been sending in asks and keeping me company during this challenge <3

there's a lot more i wanna yap about in regards to how the month went but I'll leave that under the tags xD goodnight besties <3

month end brainrot

april started off with dips and more dips but by the end of the month it feels like I've caught up. productivity is a wave so as long as I keep riding at it i'll be okay.

also. progress is cumulative. even the seemingly inconsequential completion of daily tasks has lead to an overall improvement through the week. things add up

I spent a lot of time this month (and moreso this past week) feeling dejected that I've been leaving my tracker posts (and my digital planner entries) incomplete... but like. the whole point of trackers and planners (and this studyblr) is to get work done. work is the priority and the tracking is a means to an end. so if im getting work done that is already a win. yeah... i've had to keep reminding myself that

there is no one-tool-fix for tracking and journalling. what works for planning out one task will not work for the other. I need to strop trying to fit all my plans into one formulaic strategy box

on that note. it's time to return to handwritten journaling. digital journalling (notion + YPT + discord + tumblr) was fun while it lasted <3 but my brain needs novelty again so it's time i switch back. I think I finally have an idea for a system that could be sustainable for me... although I say that every time I switch to a new form of tracking. but hey. as long as it helps me get work done for whatever duration of time, it's good enough

using kpop and kdrama references to make notes and study really paid off. ngl I only did it cause I was super desperate but incorporating stuff I couldn't understand with a topic I really like paid off. It also gave me the motivation and momentum to study for much longer than I otherwise would have

last but not least. my water intake has been really good this month! I've also been eating healthy and I've been cooking more my phone usage has also been reduced by a lot. sure none of them have had a perfect streak but i started at zero and it feels like I've levelled up quite a bit. the exercise component has been a bit difficult to maintain given my workload :/ i need to figure out what to do about that...

yep. that's it for now. this month really tired me out, I think im gonna lay off daily challenges for a while. For now I guess I'll stick to my (bi?tri?)weekly tracker posts xD

[kittymeow03]

Moonlight Love Pt. 2

A werewolf! Toji x reader fic!

2.6k words Content Warning: Breeding, use of derogatory language (slut is used once), use of the terms 'mama', 'baby doll', and 'baby girl', knotting

read part one here and part three here!

You awoke from your peaceful slumber with the last glimpses of moonlight pouring into the bedroom, the sun beginning to rise on the horizon. Keeping your eyes closed, you let out a little sigh as you leaned back into Toji’s massive expanse of a chest. His warmth keeps you cozy and his muscles make you feel protected. His face was tucked firmly into the nape of your neck, breathing deeply as he slept. You could hear the subtle thump and the slight lifting of the covers from his tail wagging in his sleep, which made you giggle a little. It was cute, seeing your tough boyfriend in such a cute state. Your subtle smile slowly faded, cheeks warming significantly as you felt a thick and heavy heat pressed against your backside. Compared to what you saw earlier in the bathroom, here you could really tell his dick had changed. It felt longer, and it was definitely fatter than normal.

Sex always was fantastic with Toji, obviously. He was essentially a manwhore before you met him, but the feeling of his new wolfy cock pressed against your backside made you drool and subtly grind your ass against him. You felt a deep grumble emanate from Toji’s chest, his hand going and gripping your hip a bit to get you to stop shifting. “Don’t wanna start somethin’ you can't finish baby doll..” His raspy and deep voice against the nape of your neck sends shivers down your spine, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Despite his warning, you continue to wiggle your ass against his throbbing erection, eliciting a soft grunt from your boyfriend. “Mm, fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He rasped in your ear, his hand slipping under your shirt to grab a handful of your tit while he sucked and nipped on your neck. You shudder, a soft moan escaping you as Toji pinched and tweaked your nipples until they were stiff peaks, continuing to suck dark hickies all over your neck. “You smell so good..” he groaned softly, breathing heavily as he continued to massage your breasts. At your soft moans and pants, you could feel his cock twitch almost violently against your ass which made a soft laugh leave you. “You think this is funny, huh? You brat.” He grumbled, shifting to push you onto your front. From there, he moves to sit on the back of your thighs, effectively pinning you in place. You crane your head to the best of your ability to look at him, cheeks reddening when you see the lust crazed look in his eyes. “Always wanted you like this mama..” he murmured, shucking your shirt off before biting at your shoulders again. “Didn’t want to scare off my princess..” he panted, his hands going to slide off your panties.

Once seeing the bare flesh of your ass exposed, a deep guttural groan escaped his lips, hips involuntarily bucking at the sight. He grabbed the swell of your ass in each hand, giving a firm squeeze to which you shiver and moan softly at the feeling. “Like that?” Toji chuckled darkly above you, delivering a firm slap to your backside which made you yelp in surprise. “You slut.” The name made you whimper, pressing your face into the pillow shamefully which made Toji laugh. He slowly shifted off your thighs, using his hands to guide your hips upward. Once he got a clear view of your drenched cunt, he immediately dove face first, groaning at the smell and taste. “Ah! F-Fuck Toji..” You whimper, fisting the sheets as your boyfriend proceeds to eat you out like you were his final meal on death row. “You always taste so good baby girl..” He groaned into your cunt, the erotic sounds of him slurping your arousal almost embarrassing if it wasn’t for the delicious feeling Toji was giving you between your thighs. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you spread to his liking as he continued to tongue at your hole, occasionally going down to deliver a few harsh sucks to your poor neglected clit. Your legs were trembling like a newborn fawn, your soft pants and moans slowly rising in volume as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach begin to tighten. “S-shit..Toji baby..fuck Toji…Toji im close..” You managed to whine out, practically drooling as he continued to move your hips against his large tongue. “That’s right baby, cum on my fucking tongue-” He swallowed, lapping the slick coming from your cunt. “Cum all over my face mama.” Hearing Toji’s absolutely debauched voice sent you over the edge, the coil snapping as you gushed. Your whole body convulsed as Toji continued to practically make out with your pussy, making sure none of your arousal went to waste. When he pulled back, the bottom part of his face was absolutely drenched in your essence. You shiver at the sight, a gasp escaping you as Toji pressed your face back into the pillow.

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

[kajtekmakesthings]

After 2 months of on-and-off work, I have sewn my very first pair of pants!

They are canvas work pants -- specifically the Jutland Pants pattern from Thread Theory.

I knew I'd need to do a bunch of fitting to get the size right, and decided to make a wearable muslin out of cheap canvas. I mostly succeeded at not being a perfectionist about these, but still ended up going a little nuts with the finishing details because I can't help myself.

I printed the PDF pattern at home, taped it all together, and then transferred it to gridded freezer paper to give me a final pattern that was more durable and easier to handle.

I started with their standard size 32, and did a full seat adjustment right off the bat because I could already tell the rear crotch seam was too short for my butt. My actual measurement there was pretty much identical to the size 36 pattern, so I printed that off and used it as a rough guide for making the adjustment before I transferred everything to the freezer paper.

I was really impressed with the instructions from Thread Theory, which are easy to follow and come with an additional sew-along blog that explains everything in a slightly different way. I've never made pants before (or really a garment anywhere near this complex), and it all came together smoothly.

I had some really cute scrap quilting fabric picked out for the pocket flap details, and decided to use it as an inspiration for the decorative stitching on the back right pocket. After some noodling around with different shapes from the print, I came up with a stylized crane I really liked.

Once I'd gotten the initial shape built (everything except the cargo pockets, waistband, and bottom hem), it was time for the first fitting!

Not a bad start. The seat adjustment turned out pretty much perfectly! There just wasn't enough ease in the thighs for freedom of movement (the fabric has zero stretch, and any work pants of mine need to allow for squatting, kneeling, and climbing). Also some tension across the hips was creating a weird... crotch situation.

I spent what felt like an eternity unpicking the outside and inside seams, and then pinning and re-pinning and basting extra fabric into the gaps until I got a shape that worked.

I ended up drafting a couple of long, narrow panels to insert into the side seams. They start about an inch below the waistband and end around the knee, which means I had to get them installed and finished before adding the cargo pockets on top.

This is where I decided to do felled, bound seams. The original pattern calls for flat felled seams, which I love the look of and enjoyed learning how to make. Unfortunately, canvas is bulky and doesn't like to take a crisp fold, and also frays like crazy. It just wasn't working.

I switched to binding each seam with bias tape, and then stitching it down flat so it had the same tidy, smooth, finish as a flat felled seam. I love how this turned out and will definitely be doing it again for future projects with fabrics that tend to fray.

The blue bias tape in the photo is one I had lying around the house and decided to use up for this project. Unfortunately, the panel inserts nearly doubled the number of long seams and I didn't have enough bias tape for them. So I learned how to make my own bias tape out of the gray pocket fabric and the yellow accent fabric. It's not terrible with the help of a bias tape maker, and I love having the ability to make binding that perfectly matches my project.

To adjust the inside seams, I sewed in a long gusset that runs from knee to knee. While the side panels were a pain in the ass and I've adjusted my pattern to eliminate them from future iterations, I think I want to keep the gusset. It's doing a great job of taking strain off the crotch seams when I move, and I'm also finding two smaller, bound, seams on the inner thigh much more comfortable than a single, chunky, serged one like I usually get with jeans.

Here's where I got to with the final fit (adding the waistband, pockets, and hem also changes the silhouette a little). I'm really happy with where I ended up. The pants are fitted enough through the waist and hips that they stay up comfortably without a belt, and make my butt look great. The looser fit through the thighs gives me a full, comfortable, range of motion, and the overall look is much closer to classic men's workwear than the slightly-shrink-wrapped stretch jeans that I've grown accustomed to.

Overall, I'm really happy with this pattern. Aside from adding the gusset, there's only a few changes I'll be making to the original design. I replaced the velcro fasteners for the cargo pockets with snaps (I honestly just hate velcro on clothing). I'll also want to add interfacing to the waistband lining in the future. The soft cotton I used is really comfortable, but adding a little stiffness should make it easier to work with while sewing the wastband and give me a cleaner finished look.

I learned so much about tailoring over the course of this project, and picked up a ton of new techniques. I feel like I not only have a great pattern that I know fits me well and that I can re-use whenever I want, but I also understand a lot more about how pants come together and how to get them to fit and move the way I want. It's super exciting!

[bddypsn]

LOST BOY — Chapter 10

Jay: Seriously… Your foul mouth is getting worse by the day.

Asch: Mind your own business.

Jay: Here, have some coffee.

Asch: …Tch.

Jay: Huh!? Would you have preferred a cola or something…?

Asch: Sigh… Damn, that really took the edge off.

…You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?

Jay: …………

By the way, do you remember the last topic we discussed today?

Asch: Huh?

Jay: Thirty lives of complete strangers versus the life of the one person most important to you… I’m curious which one you’d choose.

Asch: …No point overthinking it. I’d choose to save as many as possible.

Jay: Even if it means making sacrifices?

Asch: Yeah. If there’s a life that can’t be saved no matter what, then that’s just fate.

Jay: I see… You really are cool-headed, Asch.

But I can easily picture you struggling with that decision if you were actually in that situation.

Asch: …What?

Jay: You’d search for a way to save everyone until the very last second. And if you couldn’t… you’d be haunted by it for a while, wouldn’t you?

Asch: Tch—Don’t act like you know me.

I can make decisions. I can move on.

Jay: Sure, sure…

…Yeah, I guess that’s true. Even while I was away, you kept pushing forward without complaining in front of the rookies.

Sorry for making you worry. And… thanks, Asch.

Asch: …!

Jay: Same goes for Oscar. More than anyone, I know you wanted to go save him.

Not being able to must have been tough.

Asch: …Seriously, what’s with you? Quit making assumptions.

Jay: You probably see that part of yourself as a flaw, but I think it’s one of your greatest strengths.

Asch: …………

Jay: Of course, you still have plenty of room to grow, and there’s… well, a lot to improve.

But as a mentor, I know you can guide the rookies down the right path.

Yeah… You’ve grown into a good hero with a strong sense of justice.

Asch: …………

Jay: Well, now that my mind’s at ease, let’s focus on finishing the rest of this tour properly. You should get some good rest and recover your strength.

…Wait, so was coffee the wrong choice after all?

Asch: Damn it!!

Jay: !? What the hell, Asch!?

Did you just crush the cup in your hand!? If you didn’t want it, you could’ve just said so!

Asch: That’s not it!

What the hell is with you suddenly showering me with praise…? You’re up to something, aren’t you!?

Jay: Huh? No, nothing like that…

Asch: If you act like this, there’s no fun in messing with you! And more than anything, it’s just plain creepy!

Jay: C-Creepy…!?

Asch: Ugh, that was so damn creepy it gave me goosebumps. Never say anything like that again, got it?

Jay: …………

Yep… That foul mouth of yours is definitely the biggest issue.

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

Asch: Sigh…

(Finally, my head’s starting to clear up a little…)

(Damn that old geezer… Spouting nonsense out of nowhere like that.)

Billy’s voice: ——Are you feeling better now?

Asch: (…? Huh? Are they talking with the door open?)

Gray’s voice: Yeah, I’m okay now… Sorry for making you worry, Billy…

Asch: (Geek…?)

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

Billy: So, if you’re feeling better, does that mean Jet took over for you?

Gray: Ah… You mean the tour, right…?

Well… I was thinking of letting Jet handle the rest of it…

Billy: Really?

Gray: Yeah… The thing is… After I collapsed and had to step back, Jet told me, “This is the last time.”

Billy: Huh…?

Gray: Remember when we… um… went inside Asch’s mind? I made a deal with Jet back then… Do you remember that?

Billy: Ah… Yeah. That whole “If you help us out here, I’ll grant you whatever you wish” thing, right?

Gray: Yeah… He finally cashed in on it.

He told me that once this is over, I shouldn’t rely on him anymore… That’s what he said.

Billy: …………

Gray: I had a feeling he’d say something like that sooner or later…

Billy: Same here.

Jet existed to make up for the parts of you that were weak. But from where I stand, you’ve grown strong enough on your own.

Gray: …………

Billy: So… does he at least agree to help finish the tour?

Gray: Yeah… He seems okay with that part.

Billy: I see…

“This is the last time,” huh… That’s kinda sad…

Yeah…

Knowing it’s the last time… It really is kinda lonely…

Gray: …Yeah, it is.

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

Asch: …………

Chapter 9 ⬌ Chapter 11

[roserefrain]

oh shit live a live is 60% off until the end of September, meaning it is only $20. which means. it’s time for the big one

Mar’s Long Ass “Why You Should Play Live A Live Post”

put under a cut because. if you can believe it. I have a lot to say about my favorite video game

so! for starters. live a live is a JRPG made by squaresoft (now square enix) for the super famicom. it never received an official English translation, but it received a fan translation.

HOWEVER. it then received an HD-2D remake with an official translation, full voice acting, and beautiful new graphics. that is what is on the steam page.

live a live is a wonderful game. it’s experimental, with many small chapters taking place in different settings with entirely different gameplay ideas. (the characters for each chapter were also designed by different mangaka!)

no chapter outstays its welcome, and it plays around with a lot of genre tropes. it’s got a little bit of something for everyone. I think the real beauty of it is how it goes along with or subverts typical expectations for each chapters genre. I won’t give specific examples of this, as it would spoil what makes the game so interesting, but. You’ll know the point where the game starts subverting when you get there :) (<-threatening)

the game’s also drop dead gorgeous now with the remake, the music slaps, and-

oh yeah the music. the final boss theme for each chapter is megalomania. “wait like megalovania-“ YES LIKE MEGALOVANIA

Toby fox was actually inspired quite a bit by live a live ! there’s a very fun interview between him and live a live’s composer here, though be wary of spoilers! maybe wait to read it until you’re finished with the game.

live a live’s characters are also. amazing. the writing is top notch, and you really grow to love each and every protagonist.

the battle system is also very interesting and involves positioning yourself around on the map strategically to be out of the line of fire, while also putting the enemy in your line of fire! it doesn’t often get hard, but it feels very cool when it does.

I think that’s all I’ve got for recommending it. so here is a little section of questions I could imagine someone thinking and answers.

“what about the super famicom original?” - I love the original too, and I honestly prefer the fan translation for two of the chapters (the rest I vastly prefer the official one). I’d recommend the remake first, but if it grabs you, you should totally go back and play the original as well. live a live has a few different choices/routes in different chapters, so that could be a fun way to experience them!

“wait what order do I play the chapters in?” - whatever order you want! my personal recommendation is distant future, wild west, imperial china, prehistory, present day, near future, and then twilight of edo japan. (don’t play twilight of edo Japan first. Especially if you’re going for pacifist route without a guide!)

“that sounds cool as hell but. $20 is a bit steep” - if you’re worried about it being too short to get your money’s worth, a completionist run is about 30 hours! if it’s more an issue of just not being able to afford that currently, then. well. if you are okay with piracy literally hit me up.

message me on tumblr and I will walk you through downloading it and getting it running (I can also help anyone who’s having trouble getting the super famicom version running!). I have spent a lot of money on this game and it’s merch officially! consider it me having paid your copy for you. square enix will be fine.

[atearyamallari]

A Turtles Guide to Escaping Midtown Precinct South: Part Two

Click here to start at the beginning!

//

If you find yourself arrested by the NYPD and placed in a holding cell, don’t expect help from the police, don’t start a fight you can’t finish, and whatever you do, don’t panic.

Raph struggled against the four officers who dragged him into the police station. They had his arms locked between theirs so that he couldn’t move them at all. He kicked at their legs, trying to land a hit on their kneecaps, but these officers were well-trained and nimbly avoided his thrashing feet.

“When I get outta here, I’m gonna shove my feet so far up your asses, you’re all gonna be walking on crutches for weeks!” he yelled at them.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, freak,” one of them sneered.

They stopped at a processing desk, where a wiry, middle-age woman stood, accompanied by two armed police officers. One of the officers began patting down his clothes, starting at his chest.

“Hey!” Raph said, kicking about fruitlessly. “Get your hands –!”

Pain erupted in his side, cutting him short. A stun gun. Unlike the taser, which had locked up all the muscles in his body, this felt like a thousand tiny needles digging into his plastron. The pain subsided almost as quickly as it came, leaving him gasping for air.

The officers continued their search. “One cell phone, I think,” one of them said as they pulled out Raph’s shell cell from his belt, “and two… uh, whatever these are,” as he pulled out his sais. Having found nothing else, he ripped off his mask and sunglasses, too. As much as Raph would have liked to protest, he was still struggling just to breathe again. The officers handed his belongings to the woman, who placed them in a plastic bin, then the cops dragged him away to another room.

Ahead of them, Raph could see a wire cage with about ten other people inside. A police officer unlocked the cage and instructed the detainees to step back. The cops shoved him into the cage with enough force to knock him to the ground, and by the time he stood up and bolted to the door, they had slammed it shut in his face.

Raph banged his fists against the wire. “Let me outta here, right now!” he screamed. He knew that yelling at the police wasn’t going to increase the chances of them being nice and opening the door for him, but at this point, he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

“Talk to the judge, slappy!” one of the cops said.

“In the meantime, enjoy your stay at Midtown Precinct South!” another called back as they walked away.

The reality of his situation sank in. Locked in a holding cell with no way out. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the last time he was imprisoned he at least had his brothers with him to come up with an escape plan. Now, he was alone.

Well, not completely alone. Raph wearily glanced at the other detainees. Some of them looked like ordinary people, somewhat disheveled, eyes red and puffy from crying; a few of them had tattoos and mean mugs that screamed “gang members.” Outside the holding cell, a single police officer sat in a chair in the corner of the room with a copy of the New York Times in his hands. Everyone scrutinized Raph, their faces displaying a wide variety of expressions ranging from amazement to fear.

That was another thing that made his detainment different from the one on the Triceraton homeworld: he didn’t exactly fit in. Although no one said a word, he could practically read their thoughts – he was a freak, an alien, a threat.

One of the convicts, a large hulking man with tattoos on his fingers that read “PAIN,” finally got over his shock and stalked over to Raph, cracking his knuckles. “You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya, ET?” he said, smirking.

“Wow, never heard that one before,” Raph said, rolling his eyes. “You xenophobic types come with a script or somethin’?”

The man sloppily swung his fist and Raph dodged out of the way. He threw another punch, which Raph blocked with his forearm. It was enough to make the man lose his balance and send him crashing into the walls of the cage.

Raph quickly glanced at the officer in the room. He had opened his newspaper and was reading it with a bored look on his face. Weren’t cops supposed to break up fights between detainees? This officer didn’t seem interested in the chaos that was erupting in the holding cell, however. Not that Raph needed help defending himself; it simply would have been nice to know that someone else cared about his safety.

His attacker raised his fist again, ready to strike a third time. Suddenly, another convict shot out between them, arms outstretched to protect Raph. “Hey man, leave him alone,” he said.

The larger man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Outta my way,” he growled. Then he shoved him aside, slamming him into the walls.

Heat grew in Raph’s chest. “Hey! Keep the fight between us, ugly!” he shouted. He lunged forward and landed a punch on the man’s sternum, another on his jaw, and a kick to the crown of his head. The hulking man teetered for a few seconds before plummeting to the ground.

A slamming noise came from behind. The police officer had hit his baton against the cage walls. “No fighting in there,” he warned.

“Oh, now you wanna get involved?” Raph grumbled under his breath.

Two of the other gang members helped the man up to his feet, and he brushed them off as if he were embarrassed that he needed help to stand. He glared threateningly at Raph and spat a mixture of blood and saliva at his feet. “I won’t go easy on you next time,” he said.

“Ooh, I’m shakin’,” Raph said. He was playing with fire by making a sarcastic quip like that, but he didn’t care. The longer he was locked in this cage, the more he itched for a fight.

The other detainee who had tried to defend him slowly pushed himself onto his feet, gripping the wire walls for support. Raph grabbed him under the armpit and helped him up the rest of the way. “You okay?” he asked.

The man wiped at the dribble of blood that leaked from his nose. “Yeah, I’ll be alright,” he said.

Raph felt a stab of pity. He doubted he’d get any help from the police officer, but nonetheless he asked him, “You mind getting some tissues for this guy or something?”

“It’s just a nosebleed,” the officer said. “He’s fine.”

There were a couple of choice words Raph had to say to the cop, but none of them were going to improve his situation, so he held back his tongue. Instead, he turned back to the man. “Thanks, by the way,” he said, “for stickin’ up for me.” If he were honest, this guy was about as useful as a pair of wet socks, but he wasn’t going to say that to his face. After all, this man seemed to be the only person there looking out for him, so he deserved to be treated with politeness.

“Don’t mention in,” he said. Then he stuck out his hand. “Norman Brooks, by the way.”

“Raphael,” he said, shaking his hand.

For a few minutes, they stood in silence at the edge of the cage, keeping to themselves and ignoring the side glances that came their way. Raph examined Norman, taking care to not make it obvious that he was staring, for lack of a better word. Norman was a scrawny black man who looked only a few years older than Casey, and he was dressed in a plain t-shirt and baggy jeans. Not the kind of person he would have expected to see in a cell.

“What do they got you in here for?” Norman asked, finally breaking the silence.

“Tax evasion, assaultin’ a police officer,” Raph said. “Existing. You?”

“DWI,” he replied. The disgust on Raph’s face must have been obvious because Norman quickly said, “Don’t give me that look. It was a technicality. I was at a party and had a few drinks alright? Next thing I know, I can’t find my wallet or my cellphone. I couldn’t get a taxi, a subway, a hotel… the only thing I had was my car.”

As he went on, he grew more and more agitated. “I wasn’t plannin’ on driving, I swear. I just needed a place to sleep it off, ya know? It was cold as shit; I had the engine running and the heater on so I wouldn’t freeze to death. A cop came by, took me out of my car, and arrested me. I tried explainin’ everything to him, but he wouldn’t fuckin’ listen, man. Said that sleepin’ in your car with the engine on was technically a DWI. I didn’t even know that was a thing! I promise, I’m not a bad person. Hell, I’m a financial advisor!”

“Hey, it’s alright. I believe you,” Raph said gently.

Norman took a deep breath to calm himself down. “Well, you know how it is. ‘That’s a bear we all gotta cross.’” He looked at Raph as if he were waiting for him to laugh. “You know, from MASH?” Raph shook his head. “You’ve never seen MASH? It’s one of the greatest shows ever made!”

Raph shrugged. “I’ve seen a few episodes on reruns, but I haven’t watched all of it. That show was before my time.”

Right after the words left his mouth, he regretted saying them. “‘Before your time?’” Norman said, peering at him. “Wait a minute. How old are you?”

Raph shifted uncomfortably under his persistent gaze. “Why do you care?” he said, making his voice as deep and tough-sounding as possible.

“You’re just a kid, ain’t ya?” Norman said solemnly. His expression softened to one of pity. “And the cops got you in an adult holdin’ cell. Figures.”

He said it like they had done this before. “Does that happen a lot?” Raph asked tentatively.

“More than it should,” Norman replied, leaning his head back against the wall. “Five years ago, they got my nephew for trespassin’ private property. Held him in an adult holdin’ cell for thirty-six hours. He was seventeen. And back when my daddy was a kid, same thing happened to him, only he was sixteen.”

Same age as me, Raph thought.

“That’s the messed-up thing about the world we live in, I guess,” Norman continued. “The people who see you as a monster never stop to consider that you might be a person, much less a child.”

“Hey, I’m not that young,” Raph said indignantly. “And I can take care of myself. I’ve been in tougher spots. Trust me, this ain’t all bad.”

“Judgin’ by that left hook, I’d say you’re tellin’ the truth,” Norman said. “But take it from me, kid: you don’t gotta go through this sh- stuff alone.”

Raph rolled his eyes at Norman’s poor attempt at self-censorship. “What happens now?” he asked.

“We wait, apparently,” Norman said. “The NYPD gotta process you in. Then you gotta wait to see a judge. Or they give you a ticket to go to court later. Either way, the police gotta take your mugshot and fingerprints before you get outta here.” He cocked up an eyebrow. “Not entirely sure if they’re gonna let the likes of you leave, though.”

“Yeah,” Raph murmured. That was something that had been eating away at the back of his mind this whole time. The chances of the police letting him out of their custody were slim. But he could think of one good reason why they’d release him – to hand him over to the man who had wanted to slice him open with a scalpel ever since they first met. Bishop. Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

Norman kept him company and made small talk, but Raph paid little attention to the conversation. His mind was preoccupied with the grimness of his circumstances. There was no doubt that his brothers were coming up with a way to bust him out, but it was anyone’s guess how long that would take them, or how successful they would be. Either way, he couldn’t afford to be a sitting duck. He would have to bust out as soon as possible. The best time to do that, he figured, would be when the police inevitably took him out of holding to take his photos and fingerprints. The only problem was that he didn’t know when that would happen. In fact, he couldn’t tell how much time had passed since the cops had brought him to the station; the holding room had no clocks or windows.

To his relief, he didn’t have to wait long. It seemed that only a few minutes had passed before a pair of cops came into the room. One of the officers stared down at Raph and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “You ready to cooperate, ET?” he jeered.

“Sure,” Raph said through gritted teeth.

The other officer gave orders to the detainees to back up, then unlocked the holding cell and beckoned for Raph to step out. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than the cops slapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists and firmly held onto his arms. Raph took one last glance back at Norman as they escorted him out of the room. Although he had only known him for a few minutes, he felt horrible about having to leave him behind.

They walked down a dimly lit hallway towards the room where they had taken his belongings. Raph carefully observed his surroundings and mentally noted when they passed a camera, another pair of cops, then another camera. Finally, they entered a blind spot. The nearest officers were on the other side of the hallway.

Raph shoved into the cop on his left, knocking him to the floor. Before the cop on his right could react, he swept his legs out from under him. Then he bolted down the hall – or tried to, at least. He took only two steps before strong hands grabbed his ankle, nearly causing him to trip. One of the cops had managed to nab him. Raph pulled his foot free – just in time for a third and fourth officer to tackle him to the ground.

Between half a dozen cops yelling at him to stop resisting and his own grunts and screams, the hallway grew louder by the second. Out of nowhere, a bright, clear voice pierced through the cacophony. “Gentlemen! Get off of him, right now!”

Raph froze. He knew that voice.

Heels clacked against the tile floor and a civilian stopped right in front of his face. He craned his head upward to see who it was. Black pumps, a pencil skirt, a blazer – then a shock of bright red hair. “Come on, Mister,” said April. “Time to get your photo taken.”

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