#i have spent upwards of like. 10 hours trying to figure out how i want this to look and well. whatever.

[nightowlfury]

~ "With dogs, you're always smiley." - "... There's one dog that won't get to see me smile. What are you doing here? Are you here to consult the dog since you started school three weeks late?" ~ "Just pet the dog. Don't turn into one."

~ "Why are you looking at me? Say what you want." - "... Nothing. The dog is pretty cute, wouldn't you say?"

[modern-day-bard]

Other Duties As Assigned: A Joel Miller Fanfiction

Content Warning: 18+ This story includes mature themes such as drinking, stalking, violence, and explicit smut. Minors, do not interact.

Chapter 7: Invisible Fence

Gwen

Well, my mission was successfully completed. Besides the fact that Ryan, or…Brian? God, I don’t know. Either way, he just wasn’t the best. Eager, but selfish in the end. At least he left early this morning. I hate when I wake up and they’re still here. Or God forbid they want breakfast. I want to wake up in my own bed, in peace. Without some strange guy giving me googly eyes and wondering if I’ll cover the tab for brunch.

And it is mostly peaceful, despite the mild hangover I’ve brought upon myself.

I check the alarm clock on my bedside table. 10:30am, not the worst I could have done. Plus, it’s a Saturday. Plenty of normal twenty-somethings sleep in on the weekends.

After a quick shower, I put on a workout set before taking my time to brush out my hair, which is evidently very knotted in the back. Ryan-Brian sure made a big mess for such a small return on investment. At least on my part. Once that’s done, I pad into the main room to find some food.

I stop dead in my tracks when I see Joel, sitting with his hands clasped together, staring at me.

Right. You’re the peace-ruiner.

It had been surprisingly easy to get away from him last night. It helped significantly that Ryan-Brian had a motorcycle. He might never know, but that’s one of the reasons he was last night’s top contender. It felt like a line he often used on girls in clubs, but he had no idea how much that aided with the logistics of my escape. Knowing what little I know about Joel, walking or using the subway wouldn’t have cut it. I had a brief moment last night where I thought he might storm in and give me an earful, but apparently he wasn’t the type.

He does look exceptionally stoic though…more than normal.

“Good morning, Mr. Miller.”

I walk past the chair he’s propped up in to make myself some breakfast. I have enough time with his silence to take out the yogurt and some blueberries before he responds.

“Morning, Miss Russell.”

I think that’s going to be it, like most mornings. But most mornings he isn’t sitting there, waiting. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him sit, actually. He wouldn't sit down last night, even though the table in that lounge cost upwards of twenty thousand. What a waste of a couch. I could’ve left an hour earlier if he would’ve gotten out of my eyeline.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?” He asks, his tone suspiciously casual.

So it isn’t like most mornings.

“I sure did. Did you?” I pour some granola on top of my yogurt.

“Not really. I spent last night researching sound specialists.”

“Ah. Those old ears struggling to keep up after the club?” I say between crunches.

“A sound specialist to soundproof the walls here. They’re very thin.”

Granola lodges in my throat as I gasp, choking on more than just my embarrassment.

I’m truly sputtering like an idiot. So much so that Joel rises from his chair, double checking that I’m not going to actually pass out and die under his watch.

I figured he came home after I fell asleep. I thought he would be out searching for a couple hours before he got back. Did Nyah tell him where I was? She wouldn’t…and surely Ryan-slash-Brian and I would have been done by then. He was no marathon man.

I try to remain collected. At least the choking can explain my red face.

“Why is that?” I croak, my throat raw.

Joel’s calm countenance reconstructs into something incredulous.

And then he doesn't say anything. He just continues to give me that same, don’t-play-dumb-with-me face.

I roll my eyes, going back to my breakfast.

“Do you think that’s safe?” He asks softly, now leaning against the kitchen island.

“What?” I challenge.

“You know what.” Still soft, still lethal.

“I think it’s normal.”

“I agree. But you aren’t in a normal situation.”

“Well that’s for damn sure.” I let my eyes trail over him for dramatic effect. I’m surprised it took me until yesterday to realize that he works out regularly. Leaning against the counter is certainly helping the look of those arms. I guess bodyguards need to maintain a certain level of fitness.

“Do you carry a gun?” I’m surprised by my own question. But it does put the focus back on him instead of whatever he unfortunately heard last night. I don’t need to be slut-shamed in my own home.

Joel also looks surprised. Or about as surprised as a humanoid security system can muster. “Why do you ask?”

“It seems like something a bodyguard would have.”

“Personal Security Officer.”

“Whatever. Are you packin’ in there or what?”

Once again, I almost choke on my food. Almost. What on God’s green Earth possessed me to phrase it like that? Maybe I’m falling behind on sleep…

Joel, however, doesn't miss a beat. “I don’t carry a gun.”

“Not that I’m in favor of them, but how exactly would you fight someone off then?”

“I don’t carry a gun because I don’t need to.”

I squint, hoping it will help me see through the mild hangover haze. “Are you speaking in riddles on purpose?”

He leans forward, just a little. “If you were in harm’s way, I would neutralize the threat.”

“Okay, so, that was equivalent to the previous riddle.”

Joel just shrugs, leading us to have what must be our daily stare-down. Suddenly, he claps his hands together, pulling back from the kitchen entirely.

“Obviously you’ve been in need of your space, Miss Russell. I’m going to give you a day off.” He takes in my bewildered expression. “I would ask that you return home by nine, but I can’t enforce it.”

“You’re kidding,” I scoff.

“I don’t kid.”

“That checks out.” I put down my bowl, walking around the counter to get a better look at him. “You’re serious?”

Joel nods. “I think it’s time we try to compromise. You can do what you want today and if you have any engagements tonight I’ll accompany you to them. Seem fair?”

Mental note not to make any engagements tonight then. Or at least none that Joel will hear of. “Fair enough. For what is essentially a hostage situation anyway.”

“A hostage situation?” His voice is full of discontent….or possibly humor.

“Yep. You’re holding me here and making someone else pay for it.”

“I’m hardly holding you here.”

“Well, not today,” I strut off towards my room to change, now choosing to forgo the gym entirely, “Thanks, Mr. Miller.”

He mutters something that I don’t care to clarify. I have texts to send out, and places to go. It’s only been two weeks, but I feel like I’m being granted time out of my cell for good behavior. Shocking, because if anything my behavior has been less than favorable.

When I’m all dressed and ready to go, Joel isn’t even waiting in the living room. I feel a flicker of suspension in the back of my mind, but I ignore it, dancing in the elevator on my way to freedom.

- - -

“It symbolizes a struggle for power. The two pillars on either side are made up of different material, but they’re equally as strong. The strings between them are fighting to gather as many shapes as possible so their respective pillars can come out victorious. The irony is that they’re actually building a bridge, helping each other, learning from each other. It’s really…” Landon sighs, tilting their head slightly at the painting before us.

A painting that, to me, looks like a colorful mismatched collection of shapes. Still pretty, but I never would have gotten all that from what is hanging on the wall.

“Yeah…it really…is.” I say.

Landon laughs. “This one doesn’t speak to you?”

“I don’t know if art has ever spoken to me, honestly.”

They gasp. “Even after all my translating? I’m hurt.”

I giggle. “Do you ever wonder what your parents would have done if they had someone like me as a child, instead of you?”

“I mean they probably still would have forced fed art down my throat. I would just have to pretend to like it. Luckily, I actually do.”

I bump my arm into theirs. “And you’re good at it. Lucky them.”

They smile. “I am good at art. Wise words, Guinevere.”

“You know what I mean,” I roll my eyes, walking down to the next row of the gallery.

Vizual was the newest of Landon’s parents’ ten different galleries in New York. The first that Landon has fully curated. Simply the biggest dream of theirs coming to fruition. Walking through the doors alone I felt a huge sense of pride. I can’t imagine how excited I’ll be when it actually opens, and we won’t have to wait long.

“How many more pieces do you need?” I ask, strolling down the next section of white walls.

“This is it. At least for the opening. I’m leaving one area roped off in hopes that one of the artists that comes to the opening will want to fill it.”

“Oh, they’ll want to fill it. Look at this place. It practically smells prestigious.”

Landon rubs the back of their neck. “Let’s hope.”

“If not, I’ll just threaten them.” I shrug.

“You can sic your hot bodyguard on them.”

“Sure. If he’s still here by then.”

“It’s only a week away.”

“Why else would he ask for a break, Lands? He’s exhausted.”

Landon considers this for a minute, walking us back toward the front desk. “Maybe. Or maybe he’s testing you.”

“Testing me how?”

“You said he gave you a suggested curfew, right? Maybe he’s trying to see if he gives you an inch, will you take a mile, or are you capable of following his rules.”

“Capable and willing are two completely different things.”

“Gwen. All I’m saying is maybe get home on time tonight. It could grant you more time ‘off’ or something.”

I lean against the desk, twirling one of the golden pens around in a circle.

“Harper has actually been sort of worried, you know,” Landon says softly.

I glance up at them, “Really? Why?”

“I mean a quick scroll through your comments would make anyone who actually cares about you a little concerned. Also, it’s Harper. She could be convinced you were in danger even if your following wasn’t growing every damn second,” they rush to add, “We’re proud of you, obviously. Just maybe a…don’t tag everywhere you go before you’re even home type-of-thing would be good.”

I take a moment to think about it. Harper has always been the resident worrier in our group, but I still feel guilty that some of my comments were the reason behind her unease. They could be brutal, even though I keep blocking new keywords from being used. Turns out when people threaten to kill you and ‘your entire filthy-rich family too’ they can be pretty creative in how they phrase it.

“Do you…think it’s dangerous of me to bring guys home?” I’d never asked anyone that before. I figured I should just do whatever I wanted, the way other women my age do within reason. I knew if I asked Harper she’d say yes in the name of anxiety, and I know Nyah would say no in the name of anti-slut-shaming. Landon, however, would tell me the truth. And they don’t even flinch.

“You’re in your right to do so. And at the same time, as your friend, it makes me feel better knowing that a bodyguard is in your house. If I were you, maybe I’d just slow it down by a night or two. Vet them a little, or ask Miller to do it.”

“Ask Miller to vet the men I’m going to sleep with? He’ll love that.” I pause. “But thank you…for caring. I’ll take it into consideration.”

Landon grins. “I love when we talk emotions. It’s one of the only times I get to see you cringe.”

“I never cringe.”

They just raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, sometimes. And it might have happened this morning with Miller.”

I had texted all three of them earlier to figure out who was around today for some freedom plans. I told them I was released for the day at the price of the most uncomfortable conversation I ever hoped to have with Joel. Nyah asked for details, though she had a photoshoot today and couldn’t meet me. I told them that he basically flat out admitted to hearing me doing the deed. That’s when Landon replied, saying I could come visit them at the gallery later on if they got the full story first. I was so in awe of everything they built here that we still hadn’t cracked into it.

Harper answered three hours later, too tired and hungover from her birthday shenanigans to provide any coherent response. Though from where I left her last night, I had a feeling she would have her own affair to tell us about later.

“Yeah, about that. He heard you? What did he say?”

I put my face in my hands, muffling my words, “He said he looked into soundproofing my apartment. Apparently the walls are thin.”

Landon bursts out laughing. “You didn’t think he’d come home during it?”

“No! If I was trying to leave him, why would I go back to the place he has access to? I thought it would take him way longer to catch on…”

“And you thought it would take Motorcycle Guy way quicker to finish.” Landon says with a shaky voice, trying not to laugh again.

I bit my lip, but I can’t contain my own laughter anymore. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’m also correct.”

We catch our breath after a minute before Landon continues. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

This morning I went on a walk so long, I was worried I would end up in Brooklyn by accident. Then I did some antique shopping. I have a vision of filling a home with pieces I’ve curated over the years, and I like to go as often as I can. The catch is it's one of the only activities I prefer to do alone, so I only go when none of my friends are available. And I haven’t been able to do it while Joel has been shadowing me. I walked all the way back to SoHo once Landon was at the gallery. I check the clock on my phone, and I’m pleased that I’ve successfully made it to dinner time.

“I don’t know. I sort of checked everything off of my freedom-day-bucket-list. Though I am hungry…” I wiggle my eyebrows at them.

“Aw, I’d love to, but I can’t. I’m seeing you-know-who again.”

“Ah, the mysterious Elijah. Will I be meeting him at the grand opening?”

“It’s too soon to tell. I feel like two months isn’t long enough for that sort of thing.”

I eye them suspiciously. “Not that I’m the commitment expert but that seems plenty long enough for him to come celebrate your work.”

Landon waves a dismissive hand. “We’ll see. I’m sorry I can’t have dinner.”

“No worries,” I give them a quick kiss on the cheek before grabbing my bags, “I’ll see you later. And I will be meeting that boyfriend of yours at some point!” I point at them as I make my way to the exit.

“Don’t call him that!” They shout before the door closes behind me.

The early fall air is cool without sending a chill down my bones. I inhale as much of it as I can, reveling in my last few hours without a chaperone. It’s comforting, being around so many people doing their own thing, living their own complex lives. I smirk to myself as all the people I pass pay me absolutely no attention. The opposite of what Russell Corp and Joel seem to think is happening to me everyday. The sun is low, and I text Rodney to meet me after dinner. Taking Landon’s advice, I decide it will be best to make it home before Joel’s appointed curfew. But I can at least walk to dinner first.

I keep walking without a plan, enjoying the classic architecture. I haven’t been down to SoHo in a long time, probably since before Dubai. Juggling the few shopping bags I did acquire makes things slightly less enjoyable, but I’d guard these things with my life. I found a lamp from the fifties that was made to look like a carousel. Someone would have to knock me into the street before I put this thing down.

Eventually, I make it to Little Italy. I let the aroma of mozzarella pull me into the first place I see. Another thing I haven’t enjoyed in a long time? New York pizza. My mouth waters before I’m even seated, and when the waiter comes, I order two full pies. I can always save some for later, or Joel can have it. I freeze mid-chew with that thought. I’m not bringing it back for him, I just won’t be able to finish all of this myself. That’s all. If it was Mateo, Rodney, Aria, or Amari I wouldn’t be giving that a second thought.

So I scarf down another slice, and try not to wonder how my unwanted houseguest occupied himself today.

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

[istra-ish-sucha-geek]

A story:

I have an anxiety disorder, at times it can be really severe. One of the ways this manifests is an internal timer, that calculates about how long it takes to do things and adds on travel time. When the “time” is up, I am alerted to this process with “Where are they? They should be home by now.”

I had a roommate/best friend for decades (roomies 13 years, friends 20), and usually, she would text me if she was gonna be late, or plans changed.

Except when she didn’t.

And she would refuse to answer my calls or texts asking where she was, sometimes for HOURS.

She knew about my anxiety; she knew I panicked, and she just wouldn’t let me know she was safe.

When she would arrive home eventually, I would be a shaking, weeping, hyperventilating, heart pounding, full panic attack* mess.

And she would tell me she did it for my GOOD.

She claimed she was training my brain to realize the worrying didn’t do any good, so I would stop worrying.

This did not work, as anyone with knowledge of the brain would know, and in fact, made me MUCH WORSE.

I used to have 30-40 minutes of “anxious but coping” time, and by the time I met the Hobbit, it was down to 5-10 minutes.

Enter: the Hobbit.

Who. Always. Called.

Always.

Even when he spent a year working as a flagger, and often would not know how long he would be on a job, or if he would have service, for upwards of 12 hours, he ALWAYS called as soon as he got service, and was coming home.

And slowly this consistency FIXED MY BRAIN.

It also never mattered to him how freaked out I was when he was able to call, he was just so calm, “Hey, I’m okay! I’m really sorry that took so long. You got really nervous, huh?” As I’m *panic crying*.

He never shamed me. He just CALLED.

And now I don’t get anxious about where he is or when he is, or spend anxious minutes trying to figure out if I should or shouldn’t call - I can call whenever I feel like it, as much as I want; he won’t be even slightly upset.

And this consistency soothed my brain, and I don’t get anxiety when he’s late anymore.

*Technically, a panic attack has no known triggers, and an anxiety attack has known triggers, and ramps up in intensity. Colloquially the terms often refer to intensity, as opposed to the technical definitions, ergo, my explanation. I was technically experiencing an anxiety attack, but wanted to communicate Re: intensity.

I’m a “message me when you get home so I know you’re safe” kinda person.

[coffee---bean]

mostly done!

hey,

yesterday i spent a few hours and mostly finished the cardboard construction. i still have two weeks, so we'll see what happens!

i'll talk about three things

the process of making

what i want to do next

why i'm doing this

1. the process of making

lots of standing on chairs, hanging off the staircase, holding onto something with one hand, using my thighs to lock myself onto something, etc. sweaty work!!!!!

cardboard pulled out of bins. zipties bought at newtown mitre 10.

2. what i want to do next

i want to keep building upwards, either getting thinner and thinner, or getting thicker again, or just staying in a little cylinder.

i want to maybe integrate more lights, or carve little windows into it.

i want to put a little sign up that says "go ahead inside!"

i want to keep on sprawling and spreading.

i want to stick flowers in it, i want to do the street-light idea.

3. why am i doing this

i've been thinking about this, since stuart asked me again about my conceptual practice - in a kind of tone that implies he's worried about me or something. like he really needs me to throw him a bone in terms of why i'm doing this.

so i thought about it, and i had a lot of people came past and ask me why i'm doing it. it's really big and it's in public, so i did get a lot of people asking me stuff. a theatre professor person really liked it and was glad i was using the space. they described it as "intriguing", i think?

some people compared it to a house, or a fireplace, or a tower. i think when asked about what it is, the best i could do was say:

"have you played dark souls?"

("no")

"it's kind of a big tree thing"

but i've finally figured out a really really good title, finally. i'm calling it manifesto. why?

i like the idea of a manifesto not being words but actions. and i think this work as an object is cool, but the actions of making it have been so fun, and the actions of interacting with people through it have been so fun, and i just love having this little space to do something stupid. i love the idea that the way a painting can communicate a complex feeling and narrative, the way a poetic phrase can hold within it so much information and feeling - i love the idea that this kind of simple rudimentary object can stand in place for my "manifesto" --

it is my thoughts and feelings and beliefs. i pour it into the work, i do it wordlessly. a wordless manifesto -- isn't a manifesto made to be clear? to communicate exactly what you mean? to communicate something?

this work doesn't communicate with any words at all -- even the word "manifesto" only really means "trust me, this means something important to the artist" -- there's nothing linguistic to use when interpreting this work.

and why the fuck are you interpreting my work? no, really. why are you trying to put this thing into a box? it could be anything - STOP asking me what i meant by it.

i think i've broken through this annoying fucking question a little bit. i'm so sick of trying to figure out what something means. if i have something to say, i'll say it. if i don't, i won't. making shit up for an artwork is stupid, it's self-defeating, it's dumb capitalist logic of trying to get your money's worth out of art school. i don't want to participate in that.

go ahead. look at this big thing. let it grow and get inside you and annoy you and wonder what's inside it, and don't bother going inside it because the work of getting on your knees is inconvenient. seriously, do whatever you like. it's your work, do what you like.

writing this, i realize i am angry with how much of a waste of time i feel like art school has been. the only thing i've been given is a little bit of knowledge and been allowed to sit in the cold water and let it get a bit warmer. i'm more comfortable with the idea of a gallery, i had a degree which gives me street-cred.

but i am angry. i'm angry that i can't control when my classes are, i'm angry that i'm required to be at a certain place at a certain time. and i don't think that's reasonable, i don't think i'm being righteous. i just don't think i'm very happy with where i'm at. i'm making something beautiful and i love the feeling of making it. leave me alone, forever, please. i just want to make it until it's abandoned, i just want to grow until i stop growing, i just want to breathe until i stop breathing. i just want to explode.

i ate a lot of haloumi cheese, i have a lot of energy right now lmao. i want to see my boyfriend and laugh and have sex with him. i might go for a walk.

i stand by everything i've written, in the sense that i have written honestly, although i suspect i'll feel better about the whole thing in like 15 minutes. i'm happy to have gotten this out.

i'm not really happy with myself when i'm angry, but someone recently told me the world was ending in a way that felt genuinely convincing, and it really shook me and made me feel like everything i'm doing is pointless. i felt quite shattered after that interaction. i thought i'd gotten over it, but i still feel really shattered. i don't know what to do about that.

maybe i should make this work clear. maybe i should write a manifesto and put it inside the big tower.

[savventeen]

Hi! This is really random but I just wanted to let you know how much I LOVE break the curse, break my heart. It’s just one of those fics that has been FUSED INTO MY BRAIN. I just randomly remember it and have the urge to reread it - I must’ve read it upwards of 10 times now. I’ve lost it a couple times and just remembered the main beats of the story and spent HOURS trying to find it. All this to say, thank you SO MUCH for writing the fic!! It’s honestly so good!! One thing I’ve always wondered is how the boys would figure out something was wrong, how they would react, how they got Mingyu and the MC out of there etc - did you have any thoughts on this when writing the fic or have you ever considered doing a follow up? Thanks!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ANON I'M GIVING U THE BIGGEST FOREHEAD SMOOCH WITH CONSENT SLDKJFLSKJDFL

when i first got the notif for this i smiled so hard my face hurt and then had to just. lie facedown on the floor sldkjflsdkjf this fic ended up becoming so special to me like, i had to stop myself from creating an entire dnd-esque character sheet for mingyu when originally it was just supposed to be a little drabble prompt fill lmao

it makes me so so happy to hear that you love this fic too <333333

[putting my answer to your question under the cut bc it got just a lil long oops. and for anyone curious, you can read the fic we're talking about here!]

and now for your questions!!! let me start this off and say that i have def considered expanding this universe in some way before, mostly because i just love the universe but also bc someone a while ago asked about how mingyu and reader got together, i think? (it's been awhile, so i don't remember what the exact question/'what if' was oops) but basically that made me think it would be fun to write something about their training days or something similar.

having said that, though, you asking about how the other boys would react and how they'd get MC/Mingyu out has me REALLY tempted to write a follow-up for that... like. i now really really want to write it and will most likely work on it between other wip obligations slkjdflk

also bc i feel bad not giving you any real answers, as for the how they figured out something was wrong, it has to do with the magic in their weapons!

so in this universe, a lot of the magic is done through runework and enchanted items. their weapons specifically are crafted for fighting magical creatures as well as channeling/detecting magic through the runes embedded in them. the weapons are also magically connected via runes to what would be considered the guild headquarters.

without going too in-depth about everything, the part we see in the story is when the glow goes from teal to red. you can think of the different glowing colors as kinda like a magical geiger counter, where different colors mean different things, and in this instance we learn that red means the presence of a curse.

since curses are a Big Fucking Deal and Very Bad, the moment a guild weapon detects a curse, an alert is sent to the guild headquarters. this is why mingyu and mc are able to get helped in time, bc their weapons basically sent out a distress signal via magical means lol. as for how the rest of the boys specifically found out, whoever was on duty at the time would have gotten the alert, and the rest would have been told by the others at some point.

i hope this is a satisfactory answer for now and know that when another fic in this universe is posted (bc it is a when now, not an if lol) you will be a big part in having made it happen <3333

out of curiosity, is there a specific member you'd like to see in this au? like, is there anyone's POV that you'd really want to read?

[starks-hero]

Right a Wrong

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You, Sam and Bucky get to work repairing Sam’s family boat. Turns out the boat isn’t the only thing in need of fixing. But with help from you and Sam, Bucky figures some stuff out.

Word Count: 3,745

Warnings: a bit of a make-out session but not enough to be classed as smut, tfatws spoilers! 1x05

a/n: This is a direct result of watching episode 5 too many times. Spoilers below!

|| Part Two ||

Small waves lapped gently against the dock and the afternoon sun warmed your back as you worked on the old boat.

You were standing side by side with Bucky, crowbar in hand as you attempted to pry off the old metal cleats from the boats side, whilst he expertly pulled rusted pipes apart and threw them into a pile. As if on queue, one of the pipes on the opposite side of the ship burst, hissing and spurting out white clouds of steam. You marvelled at how quickly Bucky reacted, quickly crossing the deck and sealing the leak with an abrupt upward turn of the pipe with his metal arm.

"Where did you learn so much about fixing boats?" You teased, motioning to the now fixed pipe with your crowbar. Bucky dusted off his hands.

"I used to work on the docks in Brooklyn before the war." He shrugged, rolling up his sleeves to the elbow and taking a seat on a crate next to you. "I picked up a few things."

He furthered his point by leaning over and pulling at the cleat you'd been grappling with. It came away from where it was attached to the boat's side with ease in Buckys iron grip. He smirked as he tossed the scrap aside and you rolled your eyes.

"Show off."

Bucky chuckled, sitting back as Sam stepped onto the boat. He was carrying a crate in one hand and shook his head when he noticed Bucky's smirk and your dismissive smile.

"Alright, you two." He placed the crate down and pulled out two green bottles, throwing one to Bucky and handing you the other. "Beer break."

Sam took a seat across from you both and you sighed as you opened your beer, raising it up to Bucky.

His annoyance was discredited by the fond smile that broke through his expression as he begrudgingly clinked his bottle with yours. You reached over and did the same with Sam as the three of you relaxed under the heat of the Louisiana sun.

"It's starting to look good," you noted as you glanced around the boat and Sam smiled.

"Yeah, it's coming together." He took a swig of his beer. "You know, Sarah and I were talking." He started and both you and Bucky glanced up at him. "And we could use the help. Don't suppose you two would consider staying around a while? Just till we get a lead on Karli."

The offer caused a noticeable smile to pull at your lips whilst Bucky shifted beside you at Sam's words. His agitation grew and he stood.

"I've got my plane to catch tomorrow, a hotel room for the night," he said, raising his bottle to his lips to hide his doubt. He really didn't have that much of a plan beyond that.

"You're just gonna set me up like that, huh?" Sam asked and Bucky shrugged.

"Well, I don't want to make it weird for your family."

"Just stay here," Sam said and you couldn't help but nod subconsciously. The truth was you really didn't really want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's and spending the day fixing up an old run-down family boat that made everything seem so normal. It gave you a sense of home, a sense of normality that you hadn't had in a long time. For a while, it even made you forget about the flag smashers, Walker, all of it. It was a much-needed break.

"The people in this town are the most welcoming in the world. They don't care if you wear small t-shirts or if you've got six toes or if your mom is your aunt-"

You laughed and Bucky barely hid a chuckle behind a huff of breath and a bright smile.

"Okay, I get it. The people are nice."

You placed your bottle aside and turned to Sam.

"You're sure Sarah doesn't mind?" you asked and Sam's smile only widened.

"She's the one that offered."

Grinning, you sat back and nodded. "Then I don't see why not."

"See?" Sam pointed to you and then Bucky. "Just stay, man."

Bucky shuffled his feet for a moment before finally answering with a begrudging, "Okay. Alright." He didn't say anything else as he turned and walked down the boat.

"He'll come around. He probably just wants his space." You said, picking up your beer. Sam nodded, taking a swig of his own drink.

"I hope you're right."

You woke up feeling more refreshed than you had in a while. Your hands and back hurt slightly from the tiring work on the boat, but it was a dull ache compared to the constant throbbing that came after a mission. Your cheeks were warm, surely as a result of the hours spent out in the sun the day before.

Both you and Bucky stayed the night. Sarah had offered you the spare room and after a solid fifteen minutes of bickering, you finally conceded to Bucky and agreed to sleep in the guest bed. He took the couch.

The sun was just beginning to rise up over the water when you and Bucky both headed back out to the boat. Sam joined you not long after. You worked until mid-afternoon, reluctantly taking short breaks. You fell into a quick rhythm as you worked around the boat. Surprisingly, the three of you seemed to make a pretty decent team off of the battlefield.

"Hey, can you pass me a 12-300?" Sam asked from under the boat's control panel. Bucky reached into the toolbox and placed the wrench in Sam's outstretched hand. A few seconds later Sam was rolling out from under the controls and glaring disapprovingly at Bucky.

"What?"

"I asked for a 12-300," Sam stated plainly. "This is a 10-250."

"No, it's not." Bucky bit back.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, geniuses." You cut their bickering short as both men turned to look at you. You held up the grease-slick wrench that had been misplaced and tossed it to Sam. "You left it below deck when you were working on the engine."

Sam muttered a quiet 'thanks' as he got back to work. Silence settled over the three of you for a few minutes until Sam decided it was getting awkward.

"So, are you still planning on leaving tonight?" He asked from under the station and Bucky nodded, before realising Sam couldn't see him.

"Yeah," he said loud enough for Sam to hear. "I'll be out of your way soon."

You could hear Sam's sigh from beneath you as he clambered back to his feet and stood between you and the super-soldier leaning against the wall of the cabin.

"Well, there's no hurry."

Sam didn't say anything else as he cleaned the oil and grease from his hands with a cloth and stepped off the boat. Bucky sighed and let his head fall back behind him.

"Go," you ordered plainly and he looked up at you.

"What?"

"Go," you said again, nodding your head towards where Sam was walking away. "You both need to talk. Bucky, whatever you're not saying, it's getting to you. So go talk to him."

Bucky hesitated, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He glared at nothing in particular but his gaze softened when it found you and he muttered a quiet, 'fine.' You stepped aside as he made his way past you and stepped up onto the dock, heading after Sam.

"And don't be a smart ass!" You called after him. He didn't reply, but you could only hope that Sam and Bucky's conversation would be somewhat constructive.

"Nice shot!" You retrieved the football from the back of the goal as Cass, Sam's eldest nephew, celebrated his score.

Once Sam and Bucky had left the boat, you had headed back to the house, helping Sarah with any errands or chores, doing anything you could to help out. Sam and Bucky had been gone a little over an hour and you didn't know if that meant their talk was going very well or very not. You'd been sitting rather uselessly on the couch, waiting in anticipation, when Sam's nephews had invited you to play a game of football. And how could you refuse?

You tossed the ball back to the boys who eagerly pounced at it. You were stood in the small goal, allowing both boys to take as many shots as they wanted. AJ stepped forward and kicked the ball, groaning when it flew off to the left, a few meters away from where you were standing and missed the net entirely. He glanced down at the ground, disheartened.

“Hey, it's alright, AJ.” You smiled as you ran to grab the ball and passed it back to him. “Come on, try again.”

With encouragement from his brother, he took the shot and this time the ball planted itself in the top corner of the goal. Both boys cheered as they celebrated and you smiled. You dusted yourself off, your knees and hands covered in dust from the football game as you turned to head back inside the house. Both boys protested as you left but you promised them you'd be back. The more time you spent with AJ, Cass, Sam and Sarah, the more you didn't want to leave. There was something about staying with the Wilson's that made you feel content. It was homely and offered a sense of normality that the last few weeks had caused you to miss.

You entered the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water. Sarah had told you over and over again to help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You leaned against the counter, glass in hand and just basked in the feeling of not having to worry about donning a suit and risking your life at a moments notice. It was something you could get used to.

“That was adorable.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a voice and you found Bucky joining you in the kitchen. He was smirking fondly.

“You and the boys.”

You chuckled softly and shrugged. “They're sweet kids.”

Bucky nodded, pulling a glass of his own from the shelf and filling it with water from the tap. It furthered the sense of domesticity that you were really starting to love. He took a seat at the table across from you.

“So,” you started as you placed your own glass aside. “How did it go? You and Sam.”

Bucky chuckled and you couldn't tell if it was sarcastic or genuine, but something about the grin that lingered on his lips had you banking on the latter.

‘‘Not bad,” he admitted eventually with a shrug. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “We talked. He said if I'm going to fix anything, if I'm going to get what's left of him out of my mind.” Bucky subconsciously ran his hand across his temple. “I'm going to have to put in the work. Help the people I wronged instead of just saying sorry.”

You nodded, silently making a note to thank Sam later on. He always had a way with words, he could always get through to people. That's why he was given the shield.

“He's got a point.”

Bucky scoffed and hung his head at your words. “I should have known you'd be on his side.” There was no hostility in his words. He just sounded amused, and maybe a little tired.

“I don't think this comes down to whose side I'm on, Bucky. We both want what's best for you.” You answered honestly and Bucky glimpsed up at you. He anxiously toyed with his hands as you spoke, looking vulnerable, and slightly lost despite how hard he tried to hide it. You knew Sam had already spoken to him, but it couldn't hurt for you to say something as well.

“Look Bucky, telling yourself that you're okay and that everything that happened doesn't matter anymore because you've made 'amends' isn't going to help.”

He sighed, shuffling his feet against the tiles of the kitchen floor. “I know,” he admitted quietly.

“And I know you're probably tired of hearing this but, you're not him anymore, Bucky. You're not the winter soldier. Everything you did whilst you were him wasn't your choice. Just because you remember it doesn't mean that it was your fault. It's not your responsibility to fix it.”

Bucky sighed but didn't interrupt. He was listening. This wasn't like the therapist that he was forced to sit in front of and lie to every other week. This was someone he trusted, someone whose words he valued. Someone he honestly believed could help. He sighed but nodded to show that he was still listening.

“I think Sam’s right,” you said. “It might not be your responsibility to fix everything that went wrong but trying could help. It could give you that closure that you keep chasing after. You need to let go, Bucky. You need to forgive yourself. Maybe you just need the people who are hurting to forgive you first. Then you can learn how to do the same.”

Bucky's expression was unreadable. So many emotions flashed across his eyes you found it difficult to pinpoint just one.

“How do I start?” he asked quietly. It just seemed impossible. There were so many people he'd hurt, so many people he'd wronged. He'd left children as orphans, wives as widows and parents childless. How could he possibly start trying to fix or make all those people feel in any way better?

You smiled softly at his question. “Small. One at a time,” you said simply. “Then just keep putting one in front of the other.”

Bucky considered your words, glancing down at his hands as he thought. Before long, a small smirk pulled at his lips.

“I can't decide who'd make a better therapist. You or Sam,” he joked and you laughed, shaking your head dismissively.

“Well, Sam did council veterans so I think he takes that title.”

“I'd say it's pretty tied,” Bucky said, walking across the kitchen and standing next to you as he washed his glass, drying it off and placing it back on the shelf. The room fell into a comfortable silence.

“Thank you, Y/N.” He said after a moment, his tone sincere and his expression genuine as he looked at you. You nodded, gently placing your hand against his shoulder.

“Don't mention it. You know I'm always here if you need to talk.”

The sound of a football colliding with the wall dangerously close to the window followed by two voice's loudly shouting, 'sorry!' in unison drew a quaint laugh from you both.

“Duty calls.” You grinned, patting Bucky on the back as you passed him. “Team Wilson is missing its goalkeeper.”

Bucky chuckled, watching you go. You crossed the kitchen but his voice stopped you just as your hand reached the doors handle.

“Y/N?”

You turned back around to face him and couldn't help but notice that he seemed a little more apprehensive than he had before.

“Yeah?”

He exhaled slowly, willing himself to tell you what was on his mind.

“I was just thinking things over and you know, I’m leaving today,” he hesitated slightly before glancing up at you. “And I guess I was wondering if you’d come with me?”

Your hand slipped from where it was still holding the brass handle of the door. You tilted your head as your mind fully processed his question. The shock must have been evident in your expression as Bucky rushed to continue.

“I know you're planning on staying here and I get why.” He pulled a tattered red book from his pocket which you immediately recognized as Steve’s. He began absentmindedly turning the pages, running his fingers over the paper. “I want to try and start fixing things, making things right. But truth is I have no idea where to start. I thought that maybe you could help me with that?”

“I thought you wanted your space," you admitted after a moment.

“No.” He shook his head. “That's the last thing I want.”

You thought it over, resting your back against the door. Bucky trusted you, evidently a lot more than you thought he did. Not only was he comfortable enough telling you how he felt and admitting he didn't know what to do next. But he also wanted you with him. It was clear he was holding back, not wanting to overwhelm you by admitting just how badly he wanted you to go with him. But the way he eagerly watched you as he waited patiently for your answer was a dead give away.

You wanted to help Bucky, you wanted to be there for him. If that meant helping him right his wrongs and staying with him during that trying time, at least until Sam got a lead on Karli and the Flag Smashers, then you were more than happy to comply.

“You're sure about this?” you asked and Bucky pushed off the counter and crossed the room, stopping just in front of you.

“Absolutely.” His voice dropped down to a hushed whisper. “Come with me.” His hand gently caught your wrist, his fingers running up your arm. His face was inches from yours now, your breaths mingling. “Please?”

His lips pressed to yours before you could answer and you immediately kissed back. Your hand fell against his shoulder, the other laying gently against the nape of his neck. He groaned quietly against you, his arms finding your waist as he gently guided you backwards till your back met the wall. He pressed into you, his hands roaming up your body and you moaned as he deepened the kiss.

“Yes.” You answered when he pulled away slightly and he smiled against you, relieved. Neither of you said anything else as Bucky sighed and pulled you closer, his thigh slipping between your legs as he pinned you to the wall.

God, he'd wanted to do this for so long. Wanted to kiss you, to feel you against him. He wanted you. Your hand slipped into his hair and you pulled him closer, smirking against him. You'd wanted this just as bad. And you both only had your own stubbornness to blame for taking so damn long. It didn't matter now though. Not as he gently bit down on your lower lip and you slipped your hand under his shirt and felt up his chest. It all felt so natural, so right.

“Ten minutes.”

Both your eyes flew open at the all too familiar voice, Bucky pulling away from you so quickly he only barely avoided falling over a nearby chair.

“I left you two alone to talk for ten minutes,” Sam repeated from where he was standing on the other side of the room, his arms crossed. You tried to subtly smoothen out your clothes whilst Bucky ran his hand through his tangled hair.

“We were,” Bucky said, clearing his throat. “We were talking. We...talked.”

Sam nodded, entirely unconvinced, and smirked. He reclined against the counter, showing no sign of leaving anytime soon. A painfully awkward silence settled over the kitchen as Sam continued to shift his knowing stare from you to Bucky.

The humiliation of the entire situation seemed to get to Bucky first as he clasped his hands together after less than a minute.

“You know, what? I'm leaving in a few hours and I've got to pack so I better just go-” Bucky rambled as he shot you a subtle apologetic look before turning to Sam, who was nodding along in faux agreement to his pathetic attempt of an excuse.

Bucky quickly crossed the kitchen, Sam harshly patting him on the back as he passed him and left the room. Leaving just you and Sam alone. You turned to your friend and found that he was still grinning at you with that same mischievous look in his eyes. You felt like a deer in headlights. In an attempt to act as though Sam hadn't just walked in on you and Bucky making out, you tried making normal conversation.

“Sam, there was actually something I wanted to tell you. I know I said I was going to stay for a while but I guess there's been a change of plan. I-”

“I know.” He cut you off and his smile only widened when you looked at him in utter confusion. “You honestly think he would have asked you to go with him if I didn't tell him to get his shit together first?”

Your confusion slowly melted away and was replaced with a look of disbelief. You laughed despite yourself. You should have known Sam had something to do with it. ‘‘How long have you been playing cupid?” you asked jokingly and Sam chuckled.

“He needs you, Y/N. More than he wants to admit,” Sam said, tone now more serious than before. “Things will be fine here, I'll call you as soon as Torres finds us something to work with. But right now, he needs your help before that hole he's stuck in gets too deep for him to climb out of.”

You sighed as the weight of Sam's words set in. He was right, Bucky really did need you. That wasn't a responsibility you could afford to take lightly. Not that you planned to.

“Thanks, Sam,” you said genuinely and Sam smirked as he crossed the room and pulled you into a hug. He could tell you needed it.

“Anytime.” He pulled away and offered you a warning glare. “But I swear, if you two making out the minute I turn my back becomes a regular thing I'm going to kick both your asses.”

“Got it,” you nodded, barely stifling a laugh.

Sam's scowl melted into a smile and he motioned towards the stairs. “Go on, get your things together. You've got a plane to catch in a few hours.”

You smiled and headed upstairs after Bucky. Sam leaned against the counter with his arms crossed and a satisfied smile. Getting you two together had taken more work than he'd thought. But he knew it would be worth it, you both needed each other. Whether you were willing to admit it or not. And Sam was confident that if there was anyone that could help Bucky and offer him that sense of home and peace that he was so desperately craving, it was you.

tag list: @bakerstreethound​ @miraclesoflove​ @doozywoozy​ @kealohilani-tepise

[kirieshhhka003]

Can you do headcanons of fem! Illuso scissoring a female teammate in the mirror world? However, if you're not comfortable writing genderbents then that's fine l0l

A/n: omg I miss writing for lesbians sm, so here I fucking am. So basically all of La Squadra members are females here, idk why, I just felt like this

Pairing: fem! Illuso x fem! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, pussyeating, scissoring, masturbation, fingering, squirting

Word count: 2,3k

It’s unbearably boring. You’ve spent at least 20 minutes just walking around La Squadra’s base and it’s still 30 more minutes until ye meeting starts. You and your fiancée Illuso decided to leave your home an hour before the rally, considering horrible traffic of Naples. But much to your surprise it took you less than 10 minutes to arrive, and now you both were supposed to wait for other members to gather

You are not the only ones who have arrived too early - Prosciutto, unofficial mom of hitman team, is already at the base, getting everything ready for the meeting, waiting patiently for others to arrive

Suddenly you feel Illuso’s hand wrapping around your waist from behind, her soft lips brush against your ear shell as she whispers lecherously:

- I want you, - those three simple words send herds of shivers running up and down your spine. Bright blush dusts your cheeks in a matter of seconds and you feel your heart starting to race into your chest. You furrow your eyebrows nervously, glancing at your fiancée over your shoulder

- Right here? - you ask, your throat feels desert dry and you swallow heavily but it doesn’t seem to help. You see your girlfriend nod affirmatively, wide leer stretching her shiny from lip gloss lips. - No, we can’t! What if we’re getting caught? - you utter, trying to be as quiet as possible so your colleagues are not able to hear what you two are talking about

- Baby, sometimes you forget about what I’m capable of. Y’know, that kinda hurts, - Illuso says as her lush lips form into a cute pout, but the glimmer of mischievousness in her eyes betrays her actual intentions

You shift from one foot to the other, looking around, trying to figure out how much time will it take for all La Squadra members to arrive to the base. You hear your beloved tsk behind you, annoyed by your suddenly timid behavior, and her hand that was previously resting on your waist slowly comes higher. You hold your breath, secretly expecting her to give your chest a playful squeeze, but girl only slightly brushes her fingertips against the bottom of your tit, shamelessly teasing you

- So what? - she tuts mockingly and you bite down on your lower lip, looking nervously at Prosciutto sitting in her favorite armchair, reading some magazine she’s found on the coffee table standing in the middle of the meeting room

- Okay, fine, - you give up and hear Illuso humming approvingly at your response, fully satisfied with herself

You clear your throat and refer to blonde female:

- Pros, we’ll take a walk around. There is still time before the meeting starts and we’ll check if there are any possible enemies around, - you gibber, and she looks intently at both of you, condemning look in her beautiful sapphire eyes, as if she knows what you two are planning on doing

- Okay, but don’t be late. We’re not gonna repeat ourselves if you two will be late and miss something, - female replies in her usual stern “teacher” tone, then turning her eyes back to the colorful pages of fashion magazine she’s been reading before

Immediately after Illuso grabs you by your hand, leading you to the bathroom, and you obey happily, already feeling warmth emerging in the pit of your stomach. You don’t even notice when brown-haired teleports you into the mirror world, but once you’re there she presses your body against the cold surface of the wall, her lips find yours, kissing you deeply, smearing both of your lipsticks on your cheeks

Your hand comes up to rest on Illuso’s nape, carefully not to ruin her hair, knowing how much girl hates that. She wastes no time, unbuttoning your wine-red shirt and taking it off of your body, her greedy fingers undoing hooks of your bra, exposing your soft chest to her hungry gaze. Illuso immediately busies her hands with your tits, softly moldings and jiggling tender flesh between her manicured fingers, making your nipples harden in a matter of seconds

- C’mon, - she says, taking your hand into hers and leading you out of the bathroom

- Where are we going? - you ask, trying your best to catch with her temp and not to crash on the floor. Once Illuso makes your way to the meeting room she pushes you softly so that you fall right on the soft cushions of sofa, placing her knee in between your splayed legs, grinding it against your groin, making you whine softly at her actions

- It would be hella uncomfortable to fuck you in that tiny bathroom, don’t you think so? - brown-haired drawls teasingly, her hands come to the waistband of your jeans, in a few experienced moves undoing the button and a zipper. - Take off your shoes and the rest of the clothes, - your fiancée orders and you’re quick to obey, doing as you’re told, soon sitting on the couch totally naked

Illuso wastes no time, taking off her dress and a bra, carefully hanging her clothed on the armrest of the armchair standing next to the couch, revealing her lithe curvy form to you, her lacy thongs are the only clothing that covers her body from your eyes

You whine softly, spreading your legs wide, giving Illuso a great view of your already wet pussy. Your hands come up to grab on your own breasts, playing with erected buds, making the fire in your stomach grow bigger. Brown-haired girl chuckles sonorously at your impatience, kneeling before you, placing both of her hands on your thighs, gently caressing your skin

You slide to the edge of sofa so that your groin is now closer to Illuso. Girl’s smile only gets wider at this and she places a few wet kisses on the inner sides of your thighs, making you tremble from anticipation. Despite her aspiration to tease the hell out of you brown-haired remembers about that scarce time you have to yourselves. She lowers her head, taking a first wide lick of your throbbing sex, parting slicked folds with her smooth tongue, making you squirm under her caresses

Illuso fully gives in, nestling her pretty face between your legs, pleasuring you with her skilled tongue, turning you into drooling goo in a mere minutes. She’s always like that when it comes to pleasuring you with her mouth - wild and unbridled, eager to bring you as much pleasure as possible. Most of the times she edges you to be end, eating you out for hours straight without letting you cum, and only when you beg so prettily for orgasm she takes pity of you, finally making you cum that hard that stars start blurring your vision

You try to muffle your wanton moans by nibbling on your fingers as you feel your fiancée slipping two of her slim pretty digits into your clenching heat, all while she licks and suckles on your labia and clit

- Hey, take that away. I wanna hear those precious sounds you make, - Illuso chides softly, her eyes look up at you with displeasure. You obey, taking your hand away from your mouth, crying out girl’s name oh so sweetly when she closes her lips on your throbbing clit, giving it a generous suckle, and she hums approvingly at this, sending mild vibrations running through your cunny

You feel your high quickly approaching you as Illuso harshly fucks your cute pussy with her fingers all while playing with your swollen clit. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for your climax to come, but suddenly brown-haired stops everything, pulling back from your crotch, making you whine and buck your hips upwards to get more of her attention

- Not so soon, honey. Lay on the couch and spread your legs wide, - Illuso orders, lovingly smacking one of your thighs. You comply unwillingly, slightly disappointed that your fiancée didn’t let you cum. Brown-haired takes her panties off, discarding them to the side and joining you on the couch

She crouches over your splayed form, kissing you deeply, messily tangling her tongue with yours, and you can taste your own juices on Illuso’s lips. Her hands grip on your breasts, kneading and playing with the soft pudge and you lean into her touch, arching your back off the couch, bumping your naked abdomen into Illuso’s and the feeling of her skin right next to yours drives both of you crazy

Brown-haired straightens her back and you let out dissatisfied grunt, wanting female to stay close to you for a bit longer. She gives you a mischievous smile, throwing one of her legs over your body so that she straddles one of your thighs with hers, leaving mere millimeters between your glistening pussies

She fidgets a little, trying to find more comfortable position, aiming her leaking pussy to yours. Soft sigh leaving Illuso’s lungs as she finally sits herself atop of you, clits rubbing tightly together. You grip on Illuso’s hips, squeezing her buttocks slightly, trailing your fingers up and down her thighs, causing goosebumps to rise on the smooth surface of her pale skin

Illuso starts rocking her hips back and forth, starting on a slow pace, gradually quickening her juttings. Your swollen little clit strokes right against the inner part of brown-haired’s thigh and so does hers. Girl tips her head back, letting out a loud wanton moan, this sound makes your heart flatter. Illuso tightens her grip on your knee, pressing her pussy tighter onto yours, making you squeal like a bitch in a heat

Your gaze falls on the polished surface of the mirror hanging on the wall right in front of the couch your fiancée scissors you on. You see Prosciutto and Formaggio discussing something vigorously with Risotto and Pesci listens intently to the chat between her colleagues. Wait, they can’t see you, right? Right?!

You quickly forget about that as brown-haired expands one of her hands to your tits, groping on your tender pudge, tugging on your swollen nipples what sends electric shocks running up your spine. You whine and rock your hips back softly, meeting Illuso’s thrusts, making the contact even more pleasurable

- Fuck, baby, more more more. Pleeeease, - you squawk, and Illuso gladly obliges, fastening the jutting of her hips, bringing you closer to your high with every movement

The curl of tension in the pin of your tummy snaps and the next moment you feel warmth suffusing your whole body. You cum with a loud cry of Illuso’s name on your lips, whole body trembling as she keeps on tribbing her clit against yours

Brown-haired let’s you ride out you orgasm before letting go of your leg, she sits herself in between your still splayed open legs, one hand comes to her groin to pleasure her swollen clit. Your eyes follow her every movement - she didn’t get off, but she definitely doesn’t plan on staying dissatisfied

You extent your hand, reaching your lover’s slit, slipping three of your fingers inside of Illuso (surprisingly or not they come in without any resistance, you know brown-haired can fit something way bigger inside). You start ramming your hand on the rapid speed, mercilessly fucking your fiancée’s pretty pussy, unapologetically hitting her g-spot with every new thrust

By the way her thighs start to tremble you can say that she’s close to her own climax. Just a mere moments later thick mewl escapes Illuso’s lush lips as her whole form starts shaking. You feel her gushing on your fingers, covering your exposed pussy and inner thighs in her love juices. You hungrily watch your fiancée squirt all over your body - wow, you didn’t expect that. But that’s definitely a highly pleasant bonus

- Holy shit baby, you’ve made a mess, - you chuckle, watching your beloved getting off her high, her stunning body still slightly trembling in aftershocks from recent orgasm

It takes you about 10 minutes to clean yourselves up and make each other look at least presentable. You look at the wall clock, suffering a bit to understand what time it is since everything is mirrored. Excellent, there are a few minutes lest before the meeting starts

You make your way outside of the base while still in the mirror world so that it won’t be overly obvious when you two come back from your “patrol”. Once you get inside of the base you meet face to face with Prosciutto. Both you and brown-haired freeze in place, not expecting to meet with any of teammates that soon

- So? - Prosciutto asks, her arms are crossed on her chest and pretty eyebrows are furrowed as she looks sternly at both you and Illuso. Your fiancée shrugs faintly, turning her gaze away, letting you know that she doesn’t intend on helping you with this conversation. You look angrily on your beloved but quickly divert your attention to the blonde standing in front of you

- What? - you query, having no clue what your colleague may possibly want from you

- Enemies. Did you find any? - Prosciutto explains, and by the tone of her voice nor look on her face you can’t clearly understand if she scoffs at both of you or actually being serious. Your mind fumbled with any answer, but your brain still can’t work properly after your recent orgasm

- Oh, yes, um… there are none. We’ve looked through every possible place they could’ve hidden, but didn’t find anyone, - you stammer out, hoping that blonde beloved you and won’t ask any more questions. She only hums quietly, satisfied with your answer, then sharply turns around on her hills, sashaying towards the meeting room

- Good. Now go, we’re starting in a few minutes

You can’t help but sight in relief at this words. God, the meeting hasn’t even started yet and you already feeling like a squeezed lemon. You glance on Illuso and by her half-lidded eyes you can say that she feels no different. Well, you just gotta hold on, and you feel like the next few hours will be pure torment for both you and your fiancée

Masterlist | Smut Masterlist

[kyuuppi]

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

[deathlikelead]

Potions, Pills, and Medicines

Summary: Gallavich Witch ficlet, requested by @grumpymickmilk, inspired by this. Title from Bleed Magic by I Don't Know How But They Found Me

Ship: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Word Count: 831

Read on AO3

When it happened the first time, three months ago, it had just been a mild inconvenience. A new neighbor had signed a lease across the hall from his apartment and Mickey had spent the entire week watching a never ending parade of family and friends wrestling items up the stairwell and into his new neighbor’s apartment.

It happened four days later. A stranger showed up on Mickey’s doormat at ass o’clock in the morning - The clock said 10:00 AM, but the clock was a liar. - rousing him from his sleep with their incessant pounding on his door. If they were deterred by Mickey’s sleepy appearance, they hadn’t shown it.

As soon as the door opened, they announced, “I think I need to hex my husband. You can do that, right?” Mickey blinked. Likely misinterpreting the confused silence for judgement, they continued, “I don’t wanna kill him or anything! We have three kids, I’m not trying to be a single parent or anything, but I know he’s cheating, and when he’s not sleeping with his best friend, he’s gambling away our whole savings account and I just wanna… I don’t know! I figured that’s where you would come in. You can help me, right?”

Mickey’s mouth was hanging open stupidly, entirely unsure what he was supposed to say to this stranger who showed up to unload their marital problems in the hallway outside his apartment on a Saturday morning.

“You’re Ian, right?” They asked, pulling their phone out and tapping around a bit before turning it to show the screen to Mickey. “I saw your ad online.”

As if on cue, the door directly across from Mickey’s opened, and his newest neighbor leaned against the door frame, in a fucking floral suit jacket of all things, one arm stretched above his head and a slight smirk on his face as he made eye contact. He reminded Mickey of a cat.

“I’m Ian,” He offered, extending a hand across the hallway as soon as his apparent customer turned to face him.

They took his hand and shook, but turned to look back at Mickey once they dropped it, then slowly between the two of them. “Wait… You’re the witch?” They asked, pointing at Ian.

“Try not to sound so fuckin’ shocked by that.” Mickey grumbled.

But since he wasn’t the one providing the service here, Mickey was now being ignored. He took that as a cue it was socially acceptable to leave, and closed his door to the sight of his new neighbor - Ian the Witch, apparently - stepping back to let them into his apartment, asking, “So tell me more about your husband?”

So three months ago, it had been a mild inconvenience, but now it was just plain annoying. Upwards of thirty people a week were showing up at all hours of the day, knocking on his door and unloading their problems on him, inquiring about magical solutions before Mickey even got the chance to point them across the hall.

It had been about an hour since the last knock, and Mickey was just getting up to get another beer to relax with when there was another light tap tap tap coming from the front of his apartment. “Fuckin’ hell, it’s seven pm, don’t you people have families to get to dinner w- Oh.”

Ian stood on the other side of the door when he opened it, smiling with that same glint in his eye that had always struck Mickey as distinctly feline. “I do have someone to get to dinner with, actually.” Okay, maybe the fact that Ian practically purred at him every time he greeted him contributed to the cat comparisons, too.

Mickey stepped back to let Ian into his apartment, kicking the door closed so his hands were free to tug him down into a kiss. A kiss, of course, which got carried away and left Ian having to peel himself away from Mickey before they ended up tearing each other’s clothes off and going at it on the couch. Again. They’d already had dinner cold twice this week.

When they separated, Mickey ran a hand through his hair in a blind attempt to flatten it. Still panting, he teased, “You know, I’m startin’ to think you’re putting my address in your ads instead on purpose.”

“Mm. No, it’s my address. I think people are just naturally drawn to you.” As he spoke, Ian reached out and tucked his fingers in the waistband of Mickey’s jeans so he could tug him closer again.

“Yeah, after you fuckin’ lead ‘em here.” Mickey replied, but there was too much fondness hidden under the annoyance in his voice for Ian to take him seriously. He crossed his arms over his chest, but let Ian tug him close and press against him. “You want dinner or not?” “Absolutely,” Ian answered, hand trailing down Mickey’s side while he leaned down for another kiss.

Dinner would be cold for the third night this week.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[meterokinesis]

How To Write A Flower Shop, by Someone Who Works In One

Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s time to talk about one of the most time-honored fic tropes: the flower shop AU! My parents have owned their flower shop for 4 years now, and I’ve spent my fair share of time there. I find it hard to read flower shop AUs because of the inaccuracies, so I figured I’d make a masterpost of some of the most common mistakes!

Disclaimer: if you want to do your own thing, that’s totally okay! This is for people who want to make their fics accurate.

No. One. Cares. About. Flower. Language. Outside of the obvious (lilies at funerals/sympathy, roses for love) most things come down to personal/cultural preference. Where we are, there are people who think chrysanthemums are for sympathy, while others think they’re for celebration. Colors are also pretty flexible, but you can stick with some basics: red roses are romantic, yellow roses are friendly affection, white lilies are mourning. Most times a “meaningful” bouquet will look ugly as fuck in practice.

Flowers are EXPENSIVE. This weekend, a dozen roses were $90. A very simple arrangement with cheaper flowers will be $40 minimum. Adding a single rose to an arrangement is $5. Any rare/out of season flowers will cost extra. Wrapped bouquets or boxes are less expensive than an arrangement in a vase.

Speaking of expense, florists won’t sell flowers wholesale. Each flower is marked up, and then labor is added. If a stem costs $.67, then it gets marked up to $3.

They’re called stems! If someone’s doing an arrangement, you’ll ask for two carnation stems, not two carnations.

Some flowers, like hydrangea, can be brought back from the brink of death, so you’ll see them floating in buckets of water in the back of the shop.

Dyeing roses is a bitch and a half and not a single florist likes it.

Everything needs greens and some kind of filler flower! I like leatherleaf, personally. Baby’s breath is a pain in the ass, but they’re a good cheap filler.

Shops will have a walk-in cooler. There are two doors, one that the public can open that has pre-made arrangements and one that employees use to store flowers. Flowers should be kept cool (but not cold!) so they stay as fresh as possible. 

The work area will have a sink, a work table or two, and all of your supplies. You’ll also have two garbage cans: one for biowaste like leaves and clippings, one for normal garbage.

Florists get hurt. A lot. I worked six hours yesterday and managed to get a splinter, cut my finger open, and scratch up my hand from rose thorns. Those thorns are really painful btw! Most florists will have visible damage from thorns, cutting themselves, or other workplace hazards.

February-June is the big season for flowers because of all the holidays. The rest of the year, you get by on weddings, funerals, and events.

You get to know everyone’s drama. We know who’s getting married and who’s cheating on their spouse and who has a baby on the way. It’s a little like being a bartender, except you have slightly fewer drunk people.

When someone orders from a general website, like Teleflora, they take a huge chunk before it gets to the florist. That means an $80 order becomes $60, not including the $10 delivery charge. That will drastically change the quality of the arrangement. People also try to scam the website, which just hurts the florist. Because of this, florists hate these websites and will complain to their co-workers about it. Fuck Teleflora.

Most flower shops will have live plants, balloons, stuffed animals, and maybe chocolates.

Churches and funeral homes usually partner with flower shops and getting one of these partnerships is really important for events.

It’s a physically demanding job. Flowers are heavy! You also have to lug glassware, buckets of water, and be on your feet all day.

Florists are gonna be stressed more often than not! It’s really not a relaxing job, it’s retail. Just because it’s a cool job doesn’t mean it’s not work.

There are a lot of expenses, so even on good days florists don’t make money hand over fist. ShopRite can afford to have bouquets for $20, but they’re cheap and they’ll die in three days, whereas a nicer arrangement can last upwards of two weeks. This is part of supporting small businesses!

If you have more questions, let me know! These are just some misconceptions I’ve seen in the past, but I’m available as a resource.

[yunhowhoitiss]

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, student au(?), strangers to lovers sorta

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a particularly mediocre routine for the past two years, all it took was a sweet, pink haired boy to brighten your day. every day.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: a teeny tiny bit of swearing 

𝐚/𝐧: I just hit 100 followers!! I didn’t know how to celebate so here’s a fic I wrote in a couple of hours (-_-;) i hope you enjoy it!

masterlist

You woke up to a room full of sunshine, and the early autumn air left drops of moisture outside your window. Upon hearing your roommate already out and about in the living room, you dragged yourself out of bed, flinching when your toes hit the cold floor tiles. Trudging out of your bedroom, you gravitated towards the apartment kitchenette. You sleepily scanned the living room to find that your roomie had moved all the furniture around to make space.

“Bobbi, I don’t mind you doing yoga every morning, but if you forget to put everything back one more time I’m cutting your mat to pieces,” you muttered as you poured yourself a cup of coffee.

“Well hello sunshine,” she laughed, “I made juice this morning, it’s in the fridge.” You hummed in response.

“Sure. Could you put some in a tumbler? I have to leave in 10 minutes and I’m not even dressed yet. I’ll miss my train if I diddle-daddle.”

“Of course!”

You and Bobbi had been roommates for a little over a year now after you decided to move off-campus. She was a friend of a friend who was looking for a roommate to split the rent, so figured you’d give it a chance. There are plenty of benefits to living off-campus: it saves money, you have more living space, you can gain some life experience, and Bobbi is a sweetheart– even if she refuses to be more than half-dressed around the house and never puts all the furniture back after her morning yoga. Your only issue when you first started renting the cosy two-bedroom apartment was finding a way to class without a car. Your best choice was to buy yourself a metro card and stick to taking the subway. The apartment wasn’t that far from campus, but you could afford to pay for the card and you had little-to-no motivation to walk or cycle to school nearly every day. At this point, you valued your time spent on the train listening to nothing but your favourite playlist as your me-time; every other minute of your day was spent studying, working, or sleeping. Somehow, this year didn’t feel significantly different from your first two years of school except for different classes, even more fees to pay, and an impossibly alluring boy that sat across from you on the subway.

You don’t remember the day the boy started taking the same train, but it wasn’t hard for you to start noticing him. He always sat idly in the seat across from you, backpack in his lap, head gently bouncing to whatever tunes played through his earphones and smiling when a good song came up on shuffle. Cute. When you first spotted him stepping off the platform into the train you couldn’t help but observe his relaxed style, soft features, and an aura that radiated kindness and comfort. On chilly mornings he even had the reddest of ears, matching your own ruby-kissed cheeks; but you weren’t cold at all. It quickly became a habit of yours to throw shy glances at him when he wasn’t looking, hoping that he’d remain oblivious to you very obviously checking him out. Jokes on you, he’d noticed you eyeing him long before you ever noticed yourself doing so.

You were so intrigued by his presence that you even started to consider putting away your headphones and sparking up a conversation, but he just looked so peaceful humming along contently to an unfamiliar song that you couldn’t find it in yourself to interrupt. You found yourself simply exploring his features, your eyes flitting from his slender fingers to the soft slope of his nose, to his chestnut irises who always seemed to sparkle like– wait. His eyes. They’re looking back at me. He’s looking back at me. In a panic, you whipped your head back towards the phone settled in your lap, feeling your cheeks, nose, and ears heat up out of embarrassment. Nice one, y/n. Despite your mortification, a shy smile swept over your face.

After multiple futile attempts to drown out the sound of Bobbi’s horrendous singing blaring from the kitchen, you groaned into your pillow one last time before tiredly swinging your legs over the side of the bed and checking your phone. Your eyes widened almost comically when the screen read 7:30 am.

“I slept through my alarm?” you muttered to yourself and let it sink in, “I slept through my alarm!” You dashed towards your closet, grateful that you’d prepared an outfit the night before. You hopped towards the bathroom while simultaneously wrestling with the zipper of your skirt. After half-assedly brushing your teeth and not even bothering with your hair, you darted through the living room searching for your bookbag. “G'morning, Ms I’ve-been-hit-by-a-tornado!” you winced at your roommate’s unbearably cheerful tone, “Want some eggs?”

“I’m late, Bobs, no time!”

“Well, I have some slightly burnt bacon if you want it,” she suggested, “and a couple of Eggo waffles…”

On your way out of the door, Bobbi stuffed something in your bag and sent you out with a friendly pat on your butt. You couldn’t help but smile at her kindness and made a mental note to repay it. Just a couple minutes later you were already running to your train in hopes you wouldn’t miss it. Reducing your pace to a speed-walk, you dug through every one of your pockets to pull out your phone which read 7:53 am. “Shit, I have two minutes!”

You slammed your card into the scanning machine– not that it helped you go any faster– and scuttled towards the train who’s doors were slowly sliding shut. Sprinting your way to the doors, you managed to slip through just before they closed, and looked around. Every seat was taken, and an abundance of people stood around, leaving nearly no space for you to situate yourself. With a heavy sigh, you tried to make your way through the mess of arms and shoulders, only to find yourself stuck between even more people. You figured you shouldn’t let your chaotic morning ruin your day and some good music would lift your spirits, so you searched your bag for your earphones; to no avail. I must’ve left them in my bedroom. Another defeated sigh escaped your already chapped lips, and you just dropped your gaze to your feet, lazily tracing shapes on the ground. You were unaware of the sympathetic gaze resting on you trying working out what had you so frustrated. You were still watching your feet when a large hand interrupted your focus, holding a white earbud. You lifted your head to be met with gentle eyes and a kind smile. Pretty boy?

“You look- uh, do you- I thought-” he muttered. You struggled to contain an amused smile. He looked like a lost puppy. The boy paused and bit his lip, “you wanna share?” He looked a lot taller from where you stood in front of him, much less than arms-length away. Thoughts of him flooded your mind, and you stared blankly into his eyes. He tilted his head in confusion, and you noticed his hand still holding the earbud in front of you. As you broke out of your daze a swirl of excitement and relief set off butterflies in your chest. You smiled giddily, unconscious to how obvious your excitement was.

“I’d love to!” You blurted loudly. The deep chuckle that followed your exclamation nearly sent your brain into overdrive. The boy lifted his hand and gently settled the earbud in your ear. Your shoulders visibly relaxed as soon as an unfamiliar song played in your ear, and you nearly forgot you were on the subway. The train must’ve stopped at a station because you were suddenly jerked forward and lost your balance; only to be met with a hard chest. You looked up at the pretty boy’s face, and he seemed just as surprised you were. You wanted the ground to swallow you whole, but being in his arms was just so comfortable you didn’t really care anymore. A giggle erupted from his smiling lips. A giggle. You spent so much time thinking about how comfy the boy was that you hadn’t stepped back; you were still resting up against him. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You took a small step back and bit the inside of your cheek in embarrassment. The young man remained frozen in his spot, and his eyes danced over your features, as if deep in thought. He offered you a boyish half-smile then proceeded to do what you had hoped he would do for months.

“My name’s Yunho, it’s nice to meet you…” he trailed off, realizing he hadn’t asked you for your name.

“Y/n.” You answered.

“Y/n…” he mumbled, “that’s a pretty name.” His half-smile turned even further upwards, forming a comforting grin that turned his eyes to half-moons.

He couldn’t be any more beautiful.

[ssa-daddyhotchner]

The Struggle of Loving You - Chapter 10

Chapter Selection 

Aiden was taken in last night. When police arrived they questioned Hotch and I, gathering information. They wanted to know things like why he was there, what happened, and why Aaron was there. That was something I wanted to know myself, I never asked him. It was around 12 - 1am, he should've been at home sleeping. 

I woke up in my bed, with the very faint sun shining through the curtains. I rolled over and reached for my phone, it was 6am. Luckily I didn't have class today because it was a Saturday. Sitting up and throwing on a large hoodie I walked into the hallway. 

Going into the kitchen and starting a much needed pot of coffee. I heard shuffling on the couch and I turned around to see Aaron sprawled out. I smiled and walked over sitting beside him trying to not wake him. 

I had asked Hotch to stay after the whole thing just feeling a little shaken up. 

I went into Chloe's room checking if she had come home last night but she wasn't there. I entered the living room again waiting for the coffee to finish, I sat next to Aaron on the couch careful to not wake him up. I went on my phone and started scrolling through Instagram. 

The pot beeped letting whoever was there know it was ready. I poured it into a mug and putting a good amount of creamer the way I liked it. Being nice I also poured Aaron and cup knowing by the time he wakes up it'll be cool enough to drink. 

Going back over I set both mugs on the table in front of us, the clink from the glass hitting the wood startled Aaron and he woke up. He opened his eyes and sighed, not noticing me right next to him. Turning his head he saw the steaming cup of coffee, he grinned sitting all the way up.

 "Morning", He was snuggled up against the corner, with the blanket covering me. "How'd you sleep?"

"Decent considering it's a couch", I scooted a little closer to him. "Yeah sorry about that, you could've slept in the bed with me." He grabbed the mug off the table and started to blow into it, trying to cool it down. "It's fine, that's your space." 

"It wouldn't have been a problem honestly" 

"How about if there's a next time I'm here overnight, then I can sleep in your bed." I raised my eyebrows at him grinning a bit. "Next time?" He nodded and softly smiled. "You'd like that wouldn't you." 

I started giggling but avoided the question not wanting it to get awkward even though it wouldn't have been. Aaron being a profiler saw through my silence and knew. I calmed down and wondered. 

"If you don't mind me asking. Why did you come by last night?"He sat there and took a sip of his now warm drink. He turned to me, "I wanted to ask you something, I couldn't get it off my mind so I came over." 

I raised my eyebrows silently asking him to continue, "It was just about Jack and I, I wanted to know if you wanted to spend some time with us tomorrow- well today." There was something about that didn't seem completely honest, like he was holding something back but I wasn't going to push it. 

"Of course, It's been a few months since I've seen him. What'd you want to do then." 

"He wanted to go skating but that's not really my thing, I figured you can go with us. Spend time with him." I nodded, taking a sip and turning on the tv. I leaned back laying my head on the arm rest, I kept moving around not being able to get comfortable. 

"Come here", I glanced at him. I felt his arm touch mine, bringing me closer to him. My body pressed against his and his arm went around me. My head rested on my chest as his head rested on the cushion behind him. 

He let out a sigh and mumbled to himself, "This is nice." We both tightened our grips around each other and I nestled my head into his chest more. We were watching the tv but I could tell neither of us were paying attention. Only focusing on each other.

Hotch's phone went off. He grabbed his phone and looked at the text, "Jack wants me to go and get him." He set his phone down. 

"Where is he?" He looked down at me. "At a friends house, If you want you can come with me." 

"Okay." I got up and went into my room getting some pants on before we left. 

"Can you get breakfast after we pick up?" My stomach was growling, not having eaten since yesterday afternoon. 

"Sure", I walked back out with jeans, and some sneakers. Hotch was up and put his shoes on waiting for me. We walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind us. Going down the stairs and into his car, driving to pick up Jack. 

We had a simple conversation listening to soft music in the background. I wondered where Hayley was now, if she was still with her 'friend'. But I pushed those thoughts out of my head and focused on what was happening. 

We got to his friends house and Jack crawled into the backseat. "Y/n!", the sound of that kid's voice brought me back to how much time I'd spent with him. How often we'd watch movies or be at the park; I missed him. "Hey little man, how's it going."  

"Good but I missed you, dad used to talk about you after you left." I turned and looked at Hotch who was focusing on the road. "Is that so? all good things I hope." I giggled and looked at Jack. 

"Yeah he would say ho-", Aaron cut him off. "Hey Jack do you want some pancakes?" 

That drew Jack's attention quickly, that kid's mind went a hundred miles an hour constantly. He nodded enthusiastically, smiling brightly. 

I leaned into Hotch whispering, "We're going to talk about that later." He laughed somewhat nervously. 

Hotch parked the car in the lot of the restaurant. We walked in and sat at a table near the back. Taking a seat all of us reached for the menus. "So Jack... How's school." 

"It's okay, it would be better but I don't have you there to help me with my homework anymore." Both of them looked at me sadly, clearly Jack wanted me to babysit again. I don't remember why I stopped but things happen I guess. 

"Buddy I can help whenever I have the time, I have my own homework though so you're going to need to be patient." Hotch decided to change the conversation. "What are you guys getting?", I looked at Jack and he at me. We both said our answers simultaneously, "Peanut butter pancakes." 

Hotch's lips turned upwards. The waiter came over and took our orders, both Jack and I getting a small coffee. "They start out young." I was referring to Jack drinking coffee considering I started at that age too. Hotch got a regular black coffee and an omelet. 

The rest of the breakfast Hotch and I both noticed my admirer. Every time I would do something Jack would do the same, whenever I took a bite and wiped my mouth he did the same. I was laughing, "Jack are you copying me?" He glanced at me, "No..." 

I glared at him, "Maybe." Hotch thought it was hilarious, he was sitting there quietly trying to hold in his laughter. I turned to him, "Something funny Hotchner." Collecting himself he quickly replied, "What- no." 

I hummed and took another bite. Hotch and I split the check and we left, going back to the car. "What now." Jack said from the back. "Home", it was only 8:30am and there wasn't really anything open to do. 

"I'll drop you back off, but if we do end up going out later like we had talked about... I'll text you." 

"Okay", Hotch drove from the restaurant back to my apartment, dropping me off. I opened the door and got out, "Thank you for the breakfast." 

"No problem." He said, smirking.

[ais-for-alex]

The Scars of Our Past: Ch3

Alrighty guys here is chapter 3 of Figure Skater Au

By the time Leo stumbled into his motel room, it felt like the bitter cold air had seeped into his very bones. The moment he passed the threshold, he let his skate bag slip from his shoulder and hit the floor with a thud. He then proceeded to fall face-first onto the bed, too exhausted to even change into a pair of sweats. His body ached from the cold and the brutal intensity of his first solo practice in Gryffindor.

Leo had been in the city for nearly a week, most of his days had been spent in group sessions where he met the other skaters also working under Madam Maxine. Today had been the first time he had worked one on one with her, honestly, it was the first time he had worked one on one with a figure skating coach at all.

Back in New Orleans, after the-

Well just after, Leo couldn’t bring himself to gear up and get back in the net but he also couldn’t bring himself to abandon the one place that soothed the hurt inside him. So instead, he stepped out onto the ice in a pair of figure skates, he damn near broke his ass the first time he tripped on the toe pick. From that day though Leo worked, he worked so hard to learn the ins and outs of the figure skating world; he worked until he could execute each jump, each spin perfectly. And so what if he was working to avoid the memories?

Leo entered his first contest as a bit of a joke, the owner of his local rink had told him to do it, so he did. Who was to think that he would actually win? And standing there in the center of the rink with people tossing flowers on the ice for him, Leo was hooked. From that point on Leo continued working, and while it still helped to block out the memories of- of that, this time he was working towards something. He spent countless hours in the rink, in dance studios, and researching a coach that would take him on. That’s how he found himself here in Gryffindor, laying face first on a musty motel bed.

Leo groaned at the soreness in his body; if this is how he felt after just his first week here, he was a bit scared to think about what the future would hold.

The only highlight of his day had been meeting them; Finn and Logan. The image of their faces seemed to have been etched under his eyelids because no matter what he did he couldn’t seem to push them away. Leo sighed and rolled onto his back, he reached down to fish his phone from his pocket and opened the search. Logan had mentioned they had been there for practice, Leo knew for a fact that they weren’t figure skaters, so that really only left one other option.

Leo’s fingers hesitated for just a moment before typing Gryffindor Lions Finn and Logan into his phone. Almost instantly, information popped up, press photos of them in their game day suits, gifs of them slamming each other into the boards after a goal. Scrolling down just a bit he clicked open the wiki article.

            Finn O’Hara, age 23, was born and raised in New York and was drafted to the Gryffindor Lions in 2017. O’Hara graduated from Harvard University with a degree in English Language Arts and Creative Writing. He gained prestige playing on the Harvard Collegiate hockey team, during the duration of his time at the school. O’Hara, number 17, currently plays right wing…

The article continued into Finn’s stats, Leo scrolled down farther and clicked on Logan’s name highlighted in blue.

            Logan Tremblay age 22 joined the Gryffindor Lions the following year in 2018, seeming content to continue his career alongside long-time friend and teammate Finn O’Hara. Tremblay left his hometown of Rimouski, Quebec, Canada to attend Harvard University. Upon graduating with a Business degree, Tremblay joined the NHL. Number 10, also playing right wing…

Leo clicked out of the Wiki and opened Instagram, it didn’t take long before he was scrolling through countless pictures and videos of them, and gods were they gorgeous. The way Finn handled a puck, the strength behind Logan’s slap shot. Leo’s breath hitched each time he found a picture of them shirtless his eyes roving over the strength of their muscles.

What are you even doing to yourself? Leo thought, his thumb pausing its scroll on a picture of Logan in the locker room, half-dressed and a stick between his legs taping the blade.  

You told yourself never again. Have you forgotten already? That thought sent a painful stab through Leo’s heart; he threw his phone into the corner of the room disgusted with himself that he dared to even entertain the idea that he was attracted to these men.

I’ll never forget, never. Leo’s eyes drifted up to the tacky popcorn ceiling of his motel room, he stared there trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his heart as hot tears leaked from the corner of his eyes.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there; sniffling softly as wave after wave of hurt washed over him but eventually, Leo’s burning eyes slipped closed as he drifted into a restless sleep.

***

Leo startled awake to the sharp blaring sound of his alarm, he reached over to the nightstand to turn off the obnoxious sound only to realize his phone wasn’t there. Groaning, he vaguely remembered tossing it into the corner last night, Leo crawled out of bed cringing slightly at the uncomfortable feeling of the street clothes he slept in. Finally turning off the alarm, Leo thanked whatever miracle it was that his phone hadn’t died in the night.

Groaning again Leo made his way into the bathroom only to flinch at the sight of his red puffy face reflected back at him. He splashed himself with icy water until satisfied the redness was from the cold rather than his dried tear tracks.

Gods, you’re pathetic, he thought to himself as he brushed his teeth. Just stick to the plan. You’ve got this Knut. With a sigh, Leo made quick work of gathering his things to head to his morning ballet class, body still sore from practice the day before.  

Leo slipped into the dance studio quietly and switched into his soft leather flats before claiming the far corner to begin stretching. This was always one of his favorite parts, the smooth methodical way he is able to loosen his body, the slight burn in his tired muscle as they began to warm, the grounding sensation of just moving in such purposeful ways. He found it soothing.

“Leo!” a posh male voice called out from the door of the studio, making Leo cringe just a bit and lean deeper into his stretch. The man quickly strode over to him and dropped to the floor to begin his own warm-up as he began chatting, “Did you see that triple axel I landed flawlessly in practice the other day?” he asked flipping his silky blond hair out of his face and shooting him a blindingly white smile.

Leo repressed a snort. If by flawless, he meant nearly fell on his ass then yes Leo had seen it. Instead, he opted to ignore the question entirely, “Good morning, Gilderoy.”

“You know if you want, I could teach you,” Gilderoy continued, “I know you haven’t been skating as long as most of us, so I wouldn’t mind doing a bit of extra practice with you.” Leo bit back the urge to say he had been skating his whole life.

“That’s ok Gil, I’m more of a solo practice kinda guy,” Leo replied instead, rolling his eyes when the other man wasn’t looking, then slid down into a full split. Leo breathed in deeply and leaned forward until his entire upper body was pressed flat to his front leg. He held it for a moment then slowly pulled his body upwards until he was bent backward over his back leg, his arms extended into the stretch.

“Leo, love, you don’t need to be self-conscious around me,” Gilderoy said in what Leo could only assume was meant to be a comforting voice, “I know it might be intimidating to learn from a World Championship finalist but I just want to help you.”

Leo bit his cheek in an attempt not to giggle at that statement, he had seen last year’s World Championship. The only reason Gilderoy had even made it on the podium was due to several skaters having to drop from the contest last minute due to injuries, and even then he only got bronze.

“Stop harassing him Gil,” another voice said just before Gilderoy let out an indignant squawk. Leo glanced up to see a tall redhead ruffling Gilderoy’s previously perfectly quaffed hair.

“Morning Leo,” he said with a wink.

“Morning Fab,” Leo grinned as he fought to keep down the image of a different redhead that wanted to take control of his thoughts. Though as he watched Fabian begin moving through his warm-ups he couldn't help but notice how very different they were. Whereas Fabian had the tall lean structure of a dancer, Finn was bulkier, his muscular build tapering down into a trim waist.  Fabian’s hair burned a bright ginger with the sides shaved down short into an undercut; Finns auburn hair had looked so soft and fluffy, Leo wished he could have run his hands through it. And that right there was the biggest difference, Fabian was a friend, another skater under the guidance of his coach, but Finn… Finn made Leo’s stomach flip just to think about.

Jesus, you don’t even know the man, get your shit together. Leo’s thoughts were soon pulled away from redheads when Madam Maxine swept into the room to begin their practice.

Later, panting and sweaty from performing combination after combination, Leo switched back into his street shoes and was gathering his things when he heard his name.

“Leo!” Fabian called before plopping down next to him to change his own shoes, “Hey, so Benji and I are going to the Lions home game tomorrow, and we have a couple extra tickets if you wanna come?”

Leo looked up and blinked a bit thrown off by the offer, he hadn’t watched hockey in years. Not since… well not since it happened.

“Oh, um… I shouldn’t,” Leo stuttered out, trying to think up an excuse to decline the invitation.

“What! Why not? My brother and a couple other friends are coming too, it’ll be fun. Give you a reason to get out of your motel room that isn’t just practice.”

“That’s just it, I really should practice more. I don’t have the time to take the night off, I mean I haven’t been performing for nearly as long as y’all. I have a lot of ground to make up here.”

“Leo, babycheeks,” Fabian said dramatically, then casually wrapping his arm around Leo’s shoulders, “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this before or if you are just being willfully oblivious, but you skate better than about 90% of the people here and probably about 80% of the people in the industry. Are there some things you need to work on? Sure, but that goes for literally everyone. Your lack of performing experience is not a lack of talent or skill. So with that being said come out with us, enjoy the game, make some friends, practice will always be here when you get back.”    

“That’s sweet of you to say Fab, but…”

“Nope! No buts! We are kidnapping you from your room, taking you to the game and you are going to have a great time. Then you will be all ‘Oh Fabian! Thank you so much for helping me get a social life! Oh! How ever can I repay you!’” Fabian said dramatically imitating Leo with a ridiculously over the top southern accent, “Then I will be like ‘it was my pleasure, but I would accept your undying gratitude if you teach me that glorious step sequence you did in practice the other day.’”

At this point, Leo’s eye roll got lost in his laughter as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

“Besides, if for no other reason, you can just spend the evening ogling hockey players.”

At that Leo’s mind flashed back to a pair of sparkling emerald eyes staring into him and soft curls fluffing out under a snapback, reluctantly he sighed and accepted he probably wasn’t getting out of this, “Alright fine, but you’re buying me a beer.”

“I think I can swing that,” Fabian said with a laugh, “and yes, you can come too Gil.”

Gilderoy had been lingering during their conversation just close enough to listen and make himself noticeable, at the sound of his name he instantly perked up, “Oh, that’s so flattering of you to invite me,” he said as if he hadn’t been fishing for an invitation, “Of course I’ll have to call and cancel a couple of plans though, with such short notice you know.”

Fabian simply rolled his eyes, very much used to Gilderoys dramatics, “You do that, and Leo, I’ll text you what time we’ll pick you up.”

“Sounds good, I’ll see ya then,” Leo said with a slight wave before he slipped out of the ballet studio and back out into the cold.

Read on AO3 

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

[yugyummygot7reactions]

Into the Night - 3

Prelude | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |

New chapter posted every day from now to 10/31!! at 8pm EST!!!

Pairing: Jaebeom x You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2511

Warnings: Blood Kink

After the morning you had, you knew you had time for one more small, much needed, detour. You ventured to the local bar, which you knew opened at 11am sharp, and figured you had time for one quick shot of tequila before looking for your next target.

Unbeknownst to you, that target was already there… waiting for you.

The bar was dark, but the front door was propped wide open. You were immediately suspicious when the bartender was sitting on a barstool, slumped over the bar, almost looking like he was taking a nap. “Hey! You okay?” You asked him as you slowly approached. He didn’t move a muscle. “Seriously dude, quit playing around. You just opened and you’re already passed out?” You knew the bartender here was a drunk, but you didn’t think he had gotten that bad. You gently shook the man whose name you never bothered to learn. His body felt ice cold as he slipped off the stool and onto the floor, two small marks on his neck suddenly coming to view. “You were faster than I expected.” A voice said from the other side of the bar. You made the mistake of turning and making eye contact with him, “Now you don’t know how to use a crossbow at all in my presence. You are going to put it on the bar and not touch it until I am done with you.” The man stepped closer, his eyes flashing red, matching the liquid in the old-fashioned glass he was drinking out of. You knew immediately he was using his powers on you and you would once again be helpless to a monster. “What do you want?” you asked, setting down the weapon as if you were controlled by puppet strings. “You.” He said as he walked closer, licking a drop of blood from his lips. You stared at him a moment, taking in his lean, yet muscular figure and striking face. He was like a walking/talking marble sculpture with skin the color of the purest porcelain and hair as black as a starless night. You knew all too well that looks could be deceiving, but he looked as if he wouldn’t hurt a fly. “Why” You asked calmly as he took another swig of the bartenders blood and stepped closer to you. “It is a long explanation princess, but in short, I have wanted to taste you since you began guarding that wretched portal.” “I need to stop you, vampire.” “Jaebeom. Im Jaebeom, princess. If you’re going to attempt to stop someone, you should at least know their name first.” He laughed, “Why do you want to stop me princess, I can control myself you know,” he said, cockily. “It’s a long story.” You said, fighting every urge you had to fulfill your wildest fantasy of fucking a vampire. “I am all ears.” He pulled up a chair and sat, crossing his legs in front of him. “If you’re all ears, then I trust you won’t interrupt me?” You said, feeling like there was a game going on that you did not yet know the rules to. Jaebeom downed the last of the blood and crushed the glass in his hand. He waved his hand at your question, gesturing for you to continue and expecting you to say your piece. However, you enjoyed having the element of surprise, and so instead of saying anything, you dashed towards him and pulled him into a kiss, hoping to throw him off his game enough to gain the upper hand. You felt him stiffen like this was the first time he’d ever been kissed. After a moment, he pulled you close and held you there, pressing your body against his. Through your clothes, you felt how solid his body was. After a few seconds, you pulled away. You saw his expression shift immediately to one of irritation, and he opened his mouth to say something, most likely another snide comment, yet you had been expecting this type of reaction and placed your hand over his mouth. “You said you wouldn’t interrupt me, remember?” You said with a smirk of your own. You watched with great amusement as his expression turned even more perplexed. You were changing the rules to the game you didn’t know how to play and he was impressed. “Jaebeom, I want you to do one simple thing for me, that I think will help our… situation.” You paused again, watching his expressions. You saw his eyebrow twitch, and his pupils dilate in either desire or blood-lust. “I want you to fuck me.” Jaebeom’s previously twitching eyebrows shot directly upwards. He was clearly surprised that you would just offer yourself up to a monster and give him exactly what he wanted. You waited a few seconds for a response, yet Jaebeom remained completely silent, trying to figure out your end game. He suddenly moved with an incredible swiftness and pulled your hand away from his mouth before bringing you in for another hungry kiss. You responded immediately as his cool tongue brushed across your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively as you leaned into him, your fingers coiling around his long, black hair. You felt two tiny pricks on the inside of your lower lip as he pulled it into his mouth. You heard him inhale sharply as the faint taste of blood hit your tongue. You pulled away from the kiss and opened your eyes to see his expression. His crimson irises had been completely engulfed by blackness as his pupils dilated in carnal desire and blood-lust. “You taste a thousand times better than I could have imagined.” He spoke against your lips, licking your bottom lip for another taste, “After drinking from that man, I feel as if I went from a cheap wine to a rare vintage.” Jaebeom’s hands trailed down your body, starting with your jawline, lingering a little too long at your neck, before skimming over your breasts and down to your waistline. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt and pulled it up and over your head in one swift motion, before stopping to gaze at your half-naked form. Jaebeom then spun you around and planted his hands on your hips. He pulled your back against him, and for the first time you felt his hardness pressing into you. “You see what you’ve done to me?” You heard him whisper, his mouth suddenly at your ear. “I’ve spent years wondering how you’d taste. Now I get to finally find out.” He grabbed at your pants and pulled them down. He could see all of you, yet with your face two inches away from the wall, you could see none of him. However, this slight embarrassment melted away as soon as he pulled your hips back towards him and pressed you against his still-clothed hardness. You shifted your weight to your other leg and reached between your thighs. You heard Jaebeom huff behind you, as his hand glided down your hipbone before coming to join yours at your wet core. You pulled your hand away before placing it atop his and guided his movements. The dull ember in your core grew with each passing second. Before long, you felt your lover grow bolder in his movements, and when he pressed more forcefully against your clit, you let out an involuntary whimper that only made him want to do it more. As if reading your mind, you felt Jaebeom slide one long finger into your heat. You let out a gasp as his cold finger slid deep into you and you heard him deeply hum in approval as he met no resistance. You felt yourself melt under his touch; each second making you lean heavier into the stone wall for support. Your legs began to quiver before long, and you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to last like this under his touch. You didn’t know if it was years of being obsessed with fictional vampires, his powers, or just his skills that made this so good, but you didn’t want it to stop. You let out a cry when he added a second finger. You felt your walls stretch to accommodate this new intrusion. The last 24 hours had been so crazy, it felt like it had been days since your encounter with the incubus, but it had only been an hour. You’d almost forgotten how good the slight pain of being stretched open felt. Every second had the fire burning brighter within you, yet it still wasn’t enough. You let out a huff as he pulled his hands away from your body. You heard the sound of moving fabric before one large hand pulled at your hips and the other at your upper back, forcing you to bend forward. Instinctively, you opened your legs to keep your balance, giving Jaebeom all the prompting he needed to line himself up and press into your core. You let out a gasp as Jaebeom thrust into you from behind. Your fingers scraped at the rough stone walls as he pulled out, and thrust back inside with ever-increasing speed. Every thrust made you feel like your blood was on fire, had your legs shaking, had your blood coursing through your body a little bit faster, and you knew he could sense it too. You’d seen the way his pupils dilated every time your heart was beating earlier. You’d wager he could hear your heart beat from across the room, so you knew he was also going mad. “Jaebeom, I-” You weren’t sure what you were going to say. You couldn’t think. You couldn’t breathe. Every movement from the man behind you had you aching for more. You felt him pull on you tighter, causing your back to arch even further from him. You let out a stifled whimper as he wrapped one of his arms around your torso, pulling your body impossibly closer to his, and wrapped one of his large hands around your throat. It only took a few seconds for the light-headedness to kick in. You weren’t sure if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, or if his hand on your throat was simply an allusion to the control he seemingly so desired. Nevertheless, it was making it even harder for you to have any coherent thoughts. With his free hand rubbing your sensitive clitoris and his hard cock buried deep inside of you, you fell over the edge. You let out a strangled moan as you orgasmed hard, your walls squeezing down on your lover. As your walls fluttered around him, you heard your lover let out a low groan. He lowered his head to your neck, and you felt two small pricks as his fangs sank into your skin. He sucked hard, and you felt blood flow from the wound. You let out another strangled whimper as he drank from you freely, before his tongue caressed your skin and sealed the wounds closed. “You taste better than any wine ever could,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “You should take care that I don’t take a liking to this.” Yet even after your orgasm, Jaebeom didn’t stop. Every thrust of your lover’s hard cock into you had you winding back up, and every second led him closer to an orgasm of his own. You felt his hipbones digging into your ass with every movement, and every thrust had your sensitive nipples scraping against the stone. “Bite me again,” you pleaded, wriggling back against him. “Please.” Jaebeom didn’t reply, but you felt him push your head to the other side and bite down again. This one was harder, much harder, and you let out a pained moan as he did so, but it wasn’t anything you didn’t want within that moment. His control on you had you not willing to fight him or fight back and you were enticed by this danger. Stopping him would have to wait until you both had your fill. He drank from you again, his hand still around your throat like a vice. You saw stars, and with another strangled whimper, orgasmed again, causing him to suck harder and moan against your bleeding neck. But this time, you weren’t alone; Jaebeom’s thrusts became more erratic with every passing second. He pulled you down onto him with increasing force, chasing his own release. You looked over your shoulder just in time to see him orgasm too. He was in such bliss you believed this could possibly be his first time in both his life and death. His mouth hung slightly ajar, revealing two long fangs among his perfectly straight teeth, and your blood covered his face and neck. His eyes were still seemingly black, his red irises completely eclipsed by dilated pupils. His hips slammed into you a few more times before he shuddered, spilling into you. You felt him thrust into your core slowly as he finished before he gradually stilled and withdrew completely. Without Jaebeom behind you for support, you nearly fell over. Your neck ached from the multitude of bite marks that he’d left and the whole lower half of your body ached from the way Jaebeom had fucked you so primally. Yet you wouldn’t complain to anyone about the pain. You’d enjoyed every second of it. “Wasn’t there a long story you were supposed to be telling me?” Jaebeom asked, his now severely bloodied smirk making an appearance. You shook your head slowly. “Not right now,” you replied, your voice slightly slurred, “but I think the next time we meet the story will end.” Jaebeom licked his lips, “So do I.” The vampire wiped his face with a bar rag and grabbed his clothes before coming close to you again. He held your face still as he locked his eyes on you. “You are going to forget I was ever here with you.” He whispered, “The marks on your neck came from another monster and I was never here.” You felt your mind get foggy. “You were never here.” “You are going to close your eyes and count to ten.” He whispered before wiping the blood off your neck and kissing you one last time. You closed your eyes and began to count. When he knew his mind control worked, he left in the blink of an eye. When you opened your eyes the bar was empty, sans the deceased bartender, and you didn’t remember anything after leaving the gas station. It was clear another monster has been here. “Hello?” You yelled out as you quickly dressed yourself, picked up the crossbow, and cleared the bar. You missed the monster, probably only by a few moments. “What did Yugyeom do to me?” You asked out loud as you reached behind the bar and grabbed a bottle of 1800 tequila. You took the bottle, leaving some money behind on the bar, similar to how you did at the gas station, and headed out of the town towards the local lake. You spent many days relaxing near the water and knew that you had to regroup without any distractions so you could find the remaining monsters. Once you arrived at the normally serene waterfront, you realized that you wouldn’t be getting any alone time any time soon.

[ka-za-ri]

Descent Pt. 2

Masterlist of other Chapters: Here Crossposted to Ao3: here

Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10]

I’m so glad y’all are enjoying the food so far, please take some more of it. Let me know if you want to be added to a taglist or anything like that. For now, let’s enjoy our favorite angel doing ... not very angelic things (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Pairing: Simeon x Reader Wordcount: 5,000 ish Genre: Luxurious Smut Tags: Voyeurism, mutual masturbation Summary:   With the first chapter behind him, there's still something missing in Simeon's writing, and he needs your help to figure out what it is.

Stumble

True to his word, Simeon had the draft he promised in your email inbox within a few days. You were surprised. He seemed to be struggling so much when you last saw him, you really expected him to take a little more time. Regardless, it was to your benefit since it meant you had more time to edit. 

Even if it was just the first chapter and a little bit after, you were surprised at the speed in which he jumped to the lewd scenes. It wasn’t surprising considering sex was the focus, but you would need to teach him how to reign in his enthusiasm. By the time you were finished reading through the draft the first time, your whole face had gone hot. The explicit details he wrote out only brought your mind back to what you had acted out in that sunroom just a few days ago. It was a direct translation of your actions to text. Sure, Simeon was new to the genre, but his talent as a writer still shone through. 

Despite the roughness of the draft, the publisher approved it as acceptable proof of progress. They greenlit the whole project and you were more than excited to email Simeon and let him know the good news. Just as you had come back from the meeting with the executives, your phone chirped with a new message.

[SMS: I AM STUCK. I CANNOT WRITE ANYMORE. HELP ME.]

You laughed at how short and crude the message was. For someone who spent most of his time on a computer writing; he was absolutely hopeless with any other form of technology. Shaking your head at how someone like him had gotten so far in life barely knowing how to send a text, you packed up your things and made your way to his place. You did have a few notes about his first chapter to give him, anyway. 

Simeon hated being deceptive. He hated how quickly he had started to rely on that image of you in his brightly lit sunroom to fuel his writing and for his own desires. He was ashamed to ask you to come over again; but he was repeating the same motions in his writing, he needed new visuals and you were the only one he could trust. In reality, his request was a thinly veiled request to see you perform again. He was able to complete his work so quickly after watching you. Researching video clips and online articles gave him some fuel, but nothing got him so fired up as watching a scene unfold from you. 

It was a strange obsession he was still wrapping his mind around. He had to be careful, the temptation you possessed was absolutely dangerous. Simeon had to reassure himself that he was ancient and knew his way around humans with how long he had studied them. He needed to convince himself that he would never sully a human body, no matter how much he wanted you. His title, status and reputation as an angel were the most sacred parts of him. With so many years of writing experience, surely he could write a proper sex scene without actually ever having to fuck you.

It didn’t stop him from being nervous. No matter how many fail safes he came up with, he knew that you were effortlessly enticing him to be joined with you. He had to be vigilant. It would be the ultimate test of his will and his determination. Both for his career and his soul. He would see it through, he knew he could. No material experience could be more important than his angelic status. Right?

He paced back and forth in the foyer of his home, gnawing on his nail while he waited for you to arrive. It had taken him half an hour to find the right words to text you. Simeon glanced at the phone in his hand almost every ten seconds, hoping you had replied. He knew you had a meeting, but it should be over by now and you should be arriving at any moment. You hadn’t answered him which made him antsy. Usually you would have at least told him you were coming over. He could only hope that you were just eager to see him as he was to see you again.

He didn’t want to admit how he had fallen asleep with his hands down his pants the past three days, dreaming about your sweet voice as you came and called out to him. He didn’t want to think about how many positions he had imagined you being in. Simeon didn’t want to dwell on how many scenarios he came up with just to have you reenact them for him. Some of the scenes delved so deep into his darkest desires that he was scared to even admit he thought about them. 

But he wanted to see them play out. 

The doorbell barely finished ringing and he was already flinging opening the door to let you in. “I’m guessing the meeting went well.” He said with a bright smile to hide his nerves. He was already set up in his sunroom. During the time you were gone, he had brought a small folding desk to the recliner. The cable for his computer had also been moved so he didn’t have to worry about the battery being drained. You instinctively went over to the couch lined up against the wall but he stopped you. Instead of letting you lounge like you did the last time, he offered you a chair across from his makeshift desk instead. He refused to make eye contact as you made yourself comfortable. 

“The meeting went as well as it could,” you said while taking out the envelopes that contained his work. “They like everything so far, but it’s still rough and needs a little bit more refinement, and I have to agree with them.” 

You glanced up at him and noticed him fidgeting with his fingers while he kept his face calm. “So, what needs to be fixed up?”

You flipped through a few pages and showed him the paragraphs of smut he had written. The color drained from his face as he was face-to-face with the obscenity of his work in physical form. “So, it’s not bad. But I can tell it was your first time. There’s something missing about the partner. I can’t place it, but it just feels… flat? Like I can’t tell if they’re feeling anything from the exchange or what.” 

“Ah… Oh… Hahaha. I see… That explains a lot.” 

You raised a curious eyebrow at his comment. “Does it?” You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back in the chair. It seemed as though Simeon was just at the verge of another great discovery about his writing and you were rather intrigued about what his thoughts were. 

“Yes. I was struggling to write this next scene and I just… couldn’t figure out how to convey the partner’s feelings. It’s frustrating. I should have all the resources that I need to make it work.” He gestured at what he had written and bade you to take a look. 

It was always fun to see his work in progress. With the partially polished scenes and unfinished sentences, it was like you got to see the inner workings of his brain. What he had in front of you was a far cry from the more polished work you were used to, but the overall flow of action was much better than the travesty you had seen last time. However, you could see the exact point where he started to struggle. As he said, there was a lack of feeling behind the words. 

“Ooh… So this is the part where you need my help again, huh?” 

Simeon covered his face with his hand. “I’m ashamed to ask you to assist me with another scene.” 

You smiled softly, reaching over and ruffling his hair. “Well, I’d be the world’s worst editor and manager if I refused to help you, right?” 

“You don’t have to…” 

“But I want to.” You reassured him, while getting up from your seat to start stripping. Truth be told, you were waiting for the next time you got to see him so hot and bothered while working. Something about how focused he was on writing and not what his body needed made you want to push him further, see just what it took to get him distracted. “But you know… I’m sure you’d get more out of it if you experienced it too. Sometimes, just watching isn’t enough.”

Simeon felt his heart drop to his stomach from your suggestion. You were putting into words all of his desires and what he had craved ever since the last time. If he didn't have his wits about him, he knew he would have taken you up on the offer. The temptation of knowing how it felt to be in you while you moaned had piqued his curiosity and he longed to experience it. “I… Uh,” he stuttered, trying to wrap his mind around how to reply. 

You dragged your finger up his thigh, pausing right at his crotch and waited for his reaction. He was so cute with his eyes wide, lips slightly parted and his brain short circuiting from your advances. You wanted to devour him and see him crumble under your fingers. “You what?” You encouraged, moving the focus from his crotch upwards, your finger skirting the soft sweater he wore and up to his chin. You tilted his head upwards to meet you eye to eye. “You want to write the best novel… don’t you?” 

“I do…” He breathed, unable to take his eyes away from you and his mind struggled to keep up with how quickly you had taken control of the situation. He needed to wrestle some semblance of calm back in his favor if he wanted to continue getting what he wanted without you suspecting his obsession.  “In order for me to do that, I need you to show me how…” He trailed off, cheeks flushed warm from thinking about his lewd request. 

“How what? Come on now, you asked me to fuck a pillow last time, how is this going to be any worse than that?” you teased. Much to your delight, he became more flustered, his gaze dropping to the floor and he mumbled to himself. You let him get over his shyness, waiting patiently with his chin balanced at the tip of your finger. 

Please uhm… Please show me how you please yourself… for this next scene.” He managed to save himself from falling completely into your trap, specifying exactly what he needed you to do. You were so alluring and so close to him, he had almost asked for the unforgivable. 

You smiled, letting go of his chin and stepping back. “It’d be so much easier if I had some toys to do that… but I guess I’ll show you since you asked so nicely.” You planted a kiss on his forehead before undoing the buttons of your blouse. 

“T-toys?” Simeon squeaked. He had seen them in video clips and read about them in reviews when he researched; but it never occurred to him that you might want to use them. 

“It’s okay if you don’t have any. I can always settle with this…” You teased, walking over to him and fondling his crotch. “In fact, I would prefer this over anything else.” 

You were close enough to see his pupils dilate and notice how his breath hitched as you touched him. He pulled away from you, hiding behind his screen and pretended to be busy with opening a new document. “I… I need to write.”

“But that’s the problem…” you whined, pouting that he pulled away but you didn’t press the issue any further. Watching him squirm was so satisfying; and you hadn’t even done anything yet. “You were writing the last time and you had the same problem, so stop writing this time and get into it.” You suggested. 

“I can’t.” he shook his head vehemently. “I can’t do it. No.” 

You sighed, putting your hands on your hips and looked at him. You never pegged him to be the kind of guy who waited until marriage to be intimate, but it seemed like he was alluding to the fact that he was saving himself. If he wasn’t, he was at least being very reserved for the type of content he was writing. “Fine, we don’t have to do it,” you conceded before going back to stripping yourself bare. “But feel free to help yourself to whatever you need for inspiration.” You winked, looking down at his crotch and he hastily crossed his legs when your gaze lingered. 

He was so cute. You couldn’t tell if he knew exactly what he was doing. It was hard to expect someone so beautiful and of his age to not get intimate when the chance arose. Part of you wondered if it was because you weren’t desirable to him outside of your little acts. Dwelling on that thought made your chest hurt in bitterness and you shoved that to the side to focus on helping him instead. 

You flopped back down on the chair, spreading your legs and resting them on the arms of the chair so that Simeon had a clear view of what you were about to do to yourself. Having him watch everything you did so close to you aroused much faster than you expected. “Well, time to get to work.” you said nonchalantly. 

You closed your eyes, imagining Simeon joining you in getting nude. You imagined what it would be like for him to reveal his skin a little at a time in a playful strip tease. He always wore such bulky and cozy looking sweaters, it made you wonder just what kind of body he was hiding underneath all the layers. You started at your breasts again, squeezing them together and playing with them to aid in the fantasy. 

In front of you, Simeon was typing up a storm. In your mind, it was his hands at your breasts, playing with your nipples until they were perky. You thought about him latching his soft lips around your nipple, licking at the sensitive skin there until you squirmed and moaned his name. You were careful this time to make sure you didn’t accidentally call for him when you really got into it. You weren’t in a rush to experience that embarrassment a second time. 

He could see your folds progressively get wetter as you touched yourself and wrapped yourself in a fantasy he had no access to. Recalling the last time, Simeon wondered if he was occupying your mind again. This time, he was much more aware of his body’s reactions to the scene in front of him. There was no way he could ignore the pressure growing in his pants. No matter how much he focused on the document in front of him, he could feel his desires bubbling and threatening to spill over. 

It was different this time. You were sprawled out in front of him, moaning softly and panting. Your head rested on the back of the chair. With your eyes closed and your mouth open slightly in an “O” you looked absolutely angelic. He wanted to join you, his fingers stopped typing and he was once again frozen, watching the performance in front of him. 

You noticed he stopped typing much sooner than the last time and smirked a bit, cracking open your eyes to see his precious face staring at you in wonder. “Like what you see?” You asked coyly, sliding one hand down from your breast to your pussy. You spread yourself wide so he could see exactly just how wet you were. 

Simeon only nodded, entranced with the way your folds glistened and he could smell your arousal from where he sat. He licked his lips holding onto his fraying desires as best as he could. Control yourself. You can do this. “Y-yes…” His voice came out thickly, as if his vocal chords refused to work properly. 

You giggled, loving how riled up you were getting him and slowly rubbed your slick slit with your fingers. You moaned, the pleasure your fingers gave you was much better than riding a pillow. With just a quick glance, you noticed he had uncrossed his legs and was sporting a rather impressive tent in his pants. “Well, I’m glad that you’re not bored.” you teased much to his dismay. 

His hands flew to his crotch, covering himself and he tried to will his boner back down to no avail. You giggled again, pulling his attention away from his arousal. “It’s okay, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t get turned on by what you’re seeing.” 

“I uhm…” 

“It’s okay.” You reassured him again. “Feel free to join in however you want. It only makes it all the more fun.” 

Simeon gulped, torn between work and pleasure. He put himself in this predicament, he needed to figure a way out of it. He needed relief and he needed to write. The two sides of him warred as he scrambled with his fizzling brain to figure out something. An epiphany dawned on him when he heard his phone go off. 

“Spam?” you asked when he fumbled with the incoming call, trying to silence the ringtone. “Or were you expecting someone?” 

“Ah.. uhm… spam. I think.” He confirmed once he managed to figure out to disregard the call without picking it up. The next thing he needed to figure out was how to get the camera working and recording. You wanted to help him, but with one hand covered in fluids, you weren’t sure if he wanted you touching his phone. 

Eventually with a little vocal coaching on your end and a lot of fumbling on his side, he got it to work and propped the phone up to start recording what you were doing. If he was going to get relief now, he needed to at least have proper reference to go back to later. 

“Wow… you are so much kinkier than I thought.” You joked, causing Simeon to cover his face in shame, but he didn’t try to argue. There was something about having everything recorded for later that only added to the sexual tension in the room. 

“It’s for research…” He mumbled more to convince himself than to explain to you what he was doing. 

“Right… research.” 

He moved his hands to mirror your own. One at his crotch and the other at his chest. It was difficult to hide your disappointment when you saw he wasn’t about to expose himself. His hand slipped under his clothes to touch and tease at his skin. You could see the barest hint of his abs peeking out from underneath the oversized sweater and you practically drooled at just the little bit of skin he showed off. You couldn’t help a small pout, frustrated at how unfair it was that you were putting in so much work for him and he could just so cutely masturbate alongside you. 

The frustration disappeared the moment you saw his eyelids flutter clothes and he let out a soft moan. It was the most beautiful sound in the world and it was infinitely better than anything you could have imagined. His blue eyes lidded with pleasure were only opened to a sliver as he urged you to continue what you were doing. 

With the camera rolling and the very vision of sin in front of you, you were more than eager to get back to getting off. Your finger found your clit and you rubbed it in the way that always made you see stars. “Hmmm, oh yeah…” You groaned, flicking your finger side to side before circling the little bundle of nerves. You were undoubtedly going to ruin his furniture again, but you didn’t care. 

Simeon watched the way your fingers moved and he mimicked everything you did. His hand under his shirt pinched and rolled his nipple between his fingers. The sensation made him hiss from the initial pain but that was quickly replaced by pleasure which sent jolts of bliss straight to his aching cock. He bit his lip, repeating the motion, drowning himself in the sensation over and over again. 

The scent of your essence was thick in the air. It felt like you were surrounding him with every breath he took. You were invading his every thought and infecting everything he thought was pure. But the freedom you gave him and the gratification that came with it was intoxicating. He couldn’t get enough of your breathy moans and the wet sounds of your fingers toying with yourself. 

His own hand in his pants pumped his cock in time with the motion of your fingers. At one point you had done the most lascivious thing and slipped a finger inside of you. His eyes widened as the digit disappeared and reappeared covered in your slick. His cock twitched in his hand in jealousy. He wanted to be buried in there, he wanted to feel your heat surround him. But all he had was his hand to satisfy him. 

Simeon was heavily panting now, working up to a frantic pace in his pants as his hand stroked his length. It was cramped and uncomfortable; but he couldn’t bear to expose himself to you. Surely that would be too much for you to see; and he wasn’t sure if he could control himself if he stripped alongside you. 

“Mmm, I’m getting close.” you groaned, rolling your hips to meet your fingers and you teased your clit further, feeling your body tense in preparation for your climax. “What about you?” 

“I… Uh.. I’m…” Simeon, stuttered, not able to process how close he was. It was so different from all the times he relieved himself alone. He just had to keep going until he was done. But with you in front of him, he wanted to do it together with you. Seeing your soaked pussy right in front of him made him more excited than he ever had been. “I think I’m close…” 

You laughed at his naivety. “You think?” You teased. Perhaps you needed to up the ante a bit. “Come on… come with me.” You beckoned and pressed two fingers into your tight hole. 

He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what his hormones were doing. Seeing your fingers being engulfed by your pussy, sliding in and out slowly while you moaned right next to him was pressing all the right buttons in him. He could see you stretch to accommodate your fingers and he was entranced by that. Without warning, he gasped, his grip on his cock tightened as he came. “Oh … I’m… I’m sorry…” He panted. “You just… that was… Uhm..” 

“Too hot for you to handle?” You asked, now working yourself faster. The face he made when he came all of a sudden was so hot. You would definitely think back on it during lonely nights. Simeon’s breathy moans, the way his skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat from exertion. It all added up to be a breathtaking image. 

“I...Yeah…” You could see the faintest hint of red on his cheeks and smirked, satisfied that he was enjoyed himself just as much as you were loving every moment you were in front of him. 

“Good… I guess it’s my turn then.” You said and went right into the motions of getting yourself to climax. Locking the image of Simeon’s “O” face in your mind, you finger fucked yourself closer and closer to completion. 

You could feel your inner walls tighten and you were just at the edge of no return when you felt Simeon’s firm hand pull your fingers away. Whining loudly and glaring at him, you were about to berate him for ruining your good time until your entrance was filled with his own slender fingers. “Let me help you…” He said, his bright blue eyes were lit with a determination you hadn’t seen before and the fire behind them was such a turn on. 

For someone who had just been so bashful about being intimate with you at the beginning, Simeon sure was being bold now. You didn’t say anything, not like you really could. Your capacity to form coherent words disappeared when his slender fingers entered you and mimicked the motions you had shown him. He was a fast learner, able to have you shivering with little to no effort. It was hard to believe just how he had a sudden switch in personality, but it was beside you to figure it out now. 

You were free to call his name. After all, he was the one touching you now. “Oh… Simeon.” you moaned, panting and once again ramping towards your climax. This time, he was in control of the pace and the intensity of what got you off. He curled his fingers in you and you cried out loud when he brushed past a sensitive spot in you. He was so gentle and so precise, it was mind blowing what he picked up just from watching you. 

“You’re close… right?” He asked sweetly. You looked at him and the intensity in his eyes was only made more obvious against his dark skin. The tone of his voice was in direct contrast to the laser focus his gaze had on your most intimate parts. Just the dichotomy of that alone inched you dangerously close to your climax. 

Then, his thumb pressed against your clit and your world exploded. It was just the last bit of stimulation you needed to go over the edge. You clutched onto the arms of the chair while you rode out the high on his fingers. A mixture of curses and his name fell from your lips as you breathlessly tried to ground yourself. Your inner walls clenched around his digits and Simeon continued to slowly slide them in and out of you, marveling at the sensation of your pussy milking his fingers. 

You kept seeing stars at the edge of your vision with every extra pass he took. You wanted to tell him to stop, but he was too engrossed in his ‘research’ to really pay any of your protests any mind. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you and you sighed in both relief and disappointment. 

Simeon looked at his glistening fingers, holding them to the light and observed the slick essence that coated them. It was almost a little embarrassing to watch him be so intrigued by your fluids that you needed to distract yourself by getting dressed again so you didn’t have to look at him. While you had your back turned, Simeon experimentally licked his coated fingers and by the time you were fully clothed, he had fully cleaned them off. He looked at you and licked his lips. “Research.” He said nonchalantly with a shrug. 

“Right… research.” you said, already getting hot and bothered again at what you had just witnessed. This man will be the end of me. “Do you think you’ve gotten all you need for your next scene?” 

“Hmm….” He nodded sagely, remembering to stop recording. “I’ll have to review everything, but I think I know where to go from here.” 

You smiled good naturedly and pat his head gently. “Don’t overwork yourself.” you said gathering your things. Once again, it had gotten late and you had to regretfully leave to ensure you caught the last trains home. “Call me or text me  if you need help again, okay?” 

“Oh, of course. I plan on it.” He smiled at you and your heart melted a little, but there was a devilish nature to that smile that had never been there before. “I’ll finish the next chapter probably in a week and send it to you.” 

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it’ll be great, as usual.” You grinned, feeling giddy after such a great climax as well as knowing that Simeon was able to continue working. It would definitely be good news to report back to the publishing house and keep them off his back as he worked in peace. 

He let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. It was a shame that he was already back to his usual innocent self. You wouldn’t have minded seeing more of that sex god who showed himself a few moments before. “Well, I’ll do my best to not disappoint. I have a lot to learn.” 

“I’ll be sure to help you in any way I can.” You said. Looking down at your phone, you gasped noticing the time. “Shit. I gotta run if I don’t wanna walk all the way home tonight. Text me if you need anything!” You yelled, halfway across his home and stumbling to get your shoes back on. 

When the door slammed shut, the silence that surrounded Simeon was deafening. He had been able to hold out on taking you, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t gotten a taste of what it was like to sin. The uncomfortable dampness of his cum clung to his leg, but he barely noticed it. Instead, he was focused on the file on his phone. The recording of what transpired that afternoon. 

Taking a shaky breath, he resisted the urge to press play. The scent of your arousal and the taste of your essence were still too fresh in his mind. He needed to clean up. He needed to work. He needed to research and plan for you. He sighed and started to make his way to the shower. If he needed relief, then at least he could take care of it there and not in the mess that was his soiled pants. 

As the sun sank past the horizon and gave way to night, the light within his soul waned and the darkness he had pushed aside grew. After a taste of sin, it was only natural that he would crave more until it consumed him. 

And it felt heavenly.