#I put some paint on the power button light and fixed that right up

[roseofhybrids]

Hello random (possibly stupid) question, but what kind of laptop do you use? I’ve been trying to find a good decent one for quite a while for my own soon to be creative projects.

But if you’re not comfortable with this question I apologize! Have a nice day! ^^

HP pavilion 15, I've had it since 2023 so coming on 2 years now

specs wise, the settings list a 12th gen Intel Core and 16 GB ram

I can't speak much about the battery life because I only ever use it while it's plugged in

I'm able to have Krita open alongside discord and ~100 Firefox tabs, it usually handles that fine enough, at about 120 tabs it starts to lag

if I close everything aside from Firefox I'm able to run nightshade on it. Albeit with a lot of lag and some audio glitching, if I close Firefox the night shading goes a lot faster and smoother of course, but just to give an idea of what the computer can put up with without crashing

that being said, it cost just under $900 after tax so it did take quite a bit of saving, but I've never had any major issues with it, and it does what I need it to do smoothly

[literarynerd]

The most ridiculous thing happened to me last night. I was sitting watching a passable Christmas romcom when suddenly the fire alarms started going off. I live in a town house, and I have two that are linked and they talk, because they also do carbon monoxide detection.

So it started saying “FIRE FEU” [bilingual due to being Canadian] while the alarm was going off. So my mom and I jump up and run around to see where the fire is and we can’t find anything, we also can’t smell anything, and it eventually stopped. But then it goes off again and we wonder if the backup batteries are dying and that is why it’s going off. So I frantically change the batteries while my eardrums are being tortured with shrieking and “FIRE FEU”. And they stop going off and I think that it solved the problem. But then the alarm upstairs starts saying “BATTERY BATTERY BATTERY” and I have put that one in backwards. So I fix it.

Then it dawns on me that if it was the battery issue it would have been yelling “BATTERY BATTERY BATTERY” at me. And it starts going off again, this time I try just pressing the test button and the only difference is that it starts screaming “CARBON MONOXIDE CARBON MONOXIDE” and then I’m again freaking out because you can’t smell carbon monoxide. So we open some doors.

Then I decide to try looking outside to see if my neighbours have a fire and somehow our alarm is noticing it before we are, and there is nothing but the alarm has also stopped.

So I look up “fire alarm going off for no reason” and I find out that they can get dusty so I decide to vacuum them, while still attached to the ceiling, and every time I try something new I have to lug the ladder up and down the stairs, just to paint an accurate picture.

The alarm seems to have stopped and it is quiet for about twenty minutes, and I have been lulled into a false sense of security. It goes off again and I am just about at the end of my rope, and I find an article suggesting using canned air, like the kind you use to clean a keyboard. And thankfully we do have some.

So I get back on the damn ladder and spray the shit out both alarms and I notice that one has a solid green light but one has an intermittently blinking green light. More internet searching tells me that means that is the alarm that is detecting the mystery smoke. And I need to reset it, which sets the alarm off again to do the test. My eardrums are crying, I am pissed, but I think I solved the problem.

I go back downstairs, have another twenty minutes of peace and then “FIRE FEU FIRE FEU” and I am furiously swearing at the smoke detector, I drag the ladder back upstairs, I remove it from the ceiling and unplug the main power line. I am going to get the dust out of the smoke detector or I am going to burn the house down, if it wants smoke, it will get smoke.

I take the can of air, my mom is standing in solidarity with me and the can, and I spray it from every angle possible. And then. With the last puff, out pops a very small white spider, we all gasp (probably including the spider, who’s reign of terror is as about to end) and he falls on the floor, and is immediately crushed by a Birkenstock sandal.

And the ordeal is not over because getting that fucking alarm back on the ceiling took me seventeen tries, but no more “FIRE” no more “FEU”, no more “CARBON MONOXIDE” and no more fire alarm.

So if your fire alarm even goes off for seemingly no reason, it could be that the spirit of Puck has possessed a small spider and he is trying to build a web right in front of the smoke sensor.

[eternally-writing]

amateur night | jjk

genre: smut and fluff

rating: R (18+, minors dni!!)

pairing: Jungkook x reader

theme: boyfriend au!, reader goes to a strip club with Jungkook

word count: 2.6k

warnings: unprotected sex (practice safe sex!!) , pussy slapping, spanking, dirty talk, the reader does a strip show, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, sir kink, grinding, swearing

synopsis: At amateur night at your local strip club, you get the chance to show off some moves for your boyfriend, Jungkook.

banner by me!

a/n: this is my first piece of smut writing so please be nice!

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

As you stepped into the strip club, the blinding lights and murmuring crowd immediately sent adrenaline through your veins (as if all the drinks you had at dinner didn’t already do that). 

It was a funny idea really. After going out to dinner at your favorite spot with your boyfriend Jungkook and the rest of your friends, your best friend Solar had finally convinced you all to go to the strip club across the street that had been tempting your curiosities for weeks. 

And lucky for you, it was amateur night. The real strippers got to take a day off, and instead, the lucky patrons of the club (aka you) were able to take to the stage in an attempt to win $500 (which was no small amount for a college student). 

You’re not sure if it was because of the tequila flowing through your system or the fact that you knew Jungkook would be watching you, but you find yourself at the sign up sheet writing down your name. 

Gracing the stage, you suddenly felt underdressed in your regular “going out” outfit, jeans and a black tank top. But a sense of pride overtook you as you saw Jungkook’s eyes darken in the audience. 

That one pole dancing class you took last summer for your cousin’s bachelorette party was definitely coming in handy as you started to perform. 34+35 by Ariana Grande began to blare through the speakers as you began to sway your hips shyly to the music. Hearing the cheers and heckles of your best friend in the audience made you a little more confident and you started to play with the hem of your shirt. 

You locked eyes with Jungkook in the crowd. His gaze pretty much just said “put on a show kitten, i’m watching���. 

If Jungkook wanted a show, you would definitely give him one. 

You began to slut drop slowly to the ground, dropping to your knees. Pulling a hair tie out of your hair, you shook your long hair free, exposing your bare neck in the process. With a playful smirk on your face, you got onto all fours, arching your back to expose your jean-clad ass to the audience. 

Watching for Jungkook’s reactions, you watched him sit back in his chair, crossing his legs and simply enjoying the show. 

You rolled onto your back, now arching your back, achieving the same position that Jungkook has seen many times as he’s brought to you to your orgasm.  You truly looked sinful. 

The cheers of the audience egged you on (you even felt a couple spare bills fall near you on the stage) as you started to lift off your top. You were grateful you had chosen one of your favorite bras today: black lace with some fancy straps to emphasize your cleavage. 

You threw your top at Jungkook in the crowd, and of course, with his perfect coordination he was able to catch it with one hand, earning the jealous looks of many other patrons in the crowd. 

Now clad only in a bra and jeans, you made your way over to the pole. Determined to not fall over (especially with the bright lights of the club making your head spin), you started off by slowly grinding on the pole, imagining that it was Jungkook underneath you instead. An impassioned moan accidentally escaped your lips, the sound falling on Jungkook’s ears.

Taking a chance, you slowly started to swing on the pole, twisting your body around sensually and letting one arm fall free. You couldn’t help how powerful you felt as you were up there working the pole. 

The 15 years of dance training that your mom had paid for had finally come in handy (probably not in the way she had hoped) as you slid into the splits on the pole. Letting your ass bounce a couple of times on the floor, you ended the song crawling towards the audience, your breasts jiggling every step of the way.

After receiving mountains of praise from your friends gushing over your performance, you finally made your way to your boyfriend. Picking your shirt from his hands, you kissed his cheek. 

“Enjoy the show, kookie?”

The ways his eyes were darkened showed you that he wasn’t only feeling enjoyment. 

“We need to go. Now.”

You could already hear the air of franticness in his voice, but you wanted to mess with him a little and have fun. 

“Hmm baby I’m having fun here, I wanna stay longer and get another drink.” you said innocently as you twirled your hair through your fingers. 

You could hear Jungkook click his tongue and tilt his head at your statement. You knew what he does to bad girls who don't behave. 

He pressed up behind you, his hard cock clearly straining against his pants and now pressing right between your asscheeks. 

“You gave me a problem, babygirl, and you’re going to fix it. And don’t make me ask again”

Not even taking the time to feign pleasant goodbyes with your friends, Jungkook ushered you into the uber that he called. He held your hand with a deadly tight grip as he pulled you into the backseat of the car, placing you directly over his crotch, not letting you forget about what you’d done to him. 

His hands shifted to grip your hip, pressing so hard into your hip bones that you would probably have bruises from it by tomorrow morning. Leaning you back so you were flush against his chest, he whispered directly into your ear, quiet enough so that your unsuspecting uber driver wouldn’t hear him.

“You better be ready, sweetcheeks, because I’m not letting you off easy this time.” 

He finished off his statement by blowing directly into your ear, the action sending a shiver down your spine. Pressing a kiss underneath your earlobe, he listened to the sinful whimper that escaped from your lips. 

“I’m all yours koo, you can have me whoever you like”

You couldn’t stop yourself from lightly grinding down onto Jungkook, the excitement of what Jungkook was going to do to you at home making you wetter by the second. He grabbed you even tighter, but still didn’t stop you. 

“Do whatever you want now princess, because as soon as we get to my place I’m in charge,” he said with a smirk.

The drive home seemed to take hours to you, but to Jungkook, having you pressed onto his cock made it feel like it was only seconds.

You were thankful Jungkook lived in a ground floor apartment, because there’s no way the two of you would have been able to survive an elevator ride together. 

The minute you stepped foot into Jungkook’s apartment, you could feel the atmosphere change. The shift in tone had made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You were excited for what Jungkook was going to do with you. 

Immediately, Jungkook pressed your body against the wall, his cock pressing into your thighs. 

“You knew what you were doing to me baby, didn’t you? The way you were swinging your hips up there, the way you were grinding on that pole - you looked fucking incredible”

He began to pepper a trail of hickeys down your neck. Jungkook was marking you, his jealousy over your strip club performance coming to the surface in the blossoming red formations painting your throat.

You couldn’t stop the moans from pouring out of your mouth.

“Jungkook” you gasped as his kisses dipped further into your cleavage. 

He grabbed your chin and brought your eyes to look at him. 

“I don’t think that’s my name right now, babygirl” he commanded.

You gulped as you felt your panties get wetter. 

“Sorry, sir” you eagerly said. 

Letting out a pleased hum at your response, Jungkook had begun to take off your top as a reward. He could hear your needy breaths get more frantic as he got closer to uncovering your nipple. Jungkook knew he had you exactly where he wanted you.

In all honesty, you were going to suggest giving Jungkook a nice private show of your strip club performance, but it didn’t look like he had the patience for that. As one of the buttons on your shirt refused to cooperate with him, he instead ripped the rest of your top open, leaving your black lace bra out in the open for his eyes to feast on.

The feeling of Jungkook’s mouth against your nipples made you let out a content scream of pleasure. His attacks on your nipple were relentless, and he enveloped your other neglected nipple between his fingers, rolling the between his fingers to increase your pleasure.

You couldn’t help but feel the depraved throbbing of your pussy. You were aching for Jungkook to touch you there, but you knew that he was in control now, and all you could do was wait. The pleasure pulsing through your body was phenomenal, and Jungkook was relentless in his ministrations and wanted to make you scream so loud the neighbors could hear.

“I’m going to make you cum just from me touching your nipples one day, kitten. But right now I’m going to taste my favorite meal”

Although Jungkook had announced his plan of action, he was sure taking his time with it. Slowly kissing down your abdomen, his movements slowed as he neared your core, taking the time to kiss the insides of your thighs slowly,  to the point where even the slight breath he laid over your soaked lace underwear while switching between kissing each thigh had made you squirm in eagerness.

Feeling your legs start to crumble underneath you, Jungkook wrapped an arm around your waist, hoisting you up to carry you to the bedroom. After all, Jungkook wanted to enjoy his favorite meal in the comfort of his silk sheets.

Laying you down on the king sized bed, he couldn’t help but bury his nose directly into your now soaked cunt, not even taking the time to move your panties aside. Placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, you gasped in pleasure. The moment his middle finger entered your core, you couldn’t hide the scream that ripped out from your chest. No matter how many times he did that, the feeling of Jungkook’s fingers inside you never got old. 

You knew you wouldn’t last long. As Jungkook kept adding more fingers and pumping them in and out of you, you felt the knot in your stomach start to tighten as he curled his fingers upwards, the action sending shocks throughout your entire body.

Soon, your back started to arch off the mattress, your mouth curving into an o-shape as you reached your high. “Sir I’m, i- , gon- , gonna, cu-“ 

You felt Jungkook’s fingers pull out of you immediately. Your body writhed at the loss of the sensation and you instantly whimpered. Instinctively bringing a hand down to your clit to try and help you reach your climax, Jungkook caught your hand on the way. 

Latching his tongue onto your clit, Jungkook was eating you out so well that you could barely speak. 

“Give it to me kitten, come on baby. Cum for me”

As if you were a genie gifting wishes, on Jungkook’s command you felt your orgasm wash over you. Your moans echoed through the bedroom, ringing off the walls. 

You looked down and saw Jungkook’s face, covered from nose to chin in your cum, smirking back at you. Trailing your gaze downwards, you gasped at how hard Jungkook was, his pretty cock already swollen and leaking with pre-cum. 

“Sir, can i taste you please?” You said with your doe eyes, mustering all the post-energy orgasm you had to raise yourself up to your forearms. 

Jungkook laid you back down on the bed again.

“Another time babygirl, but right now, i need to be inside you”

Tapping your hip bones twice, he commanded you. 

“Ass up, babygirl.” 

His commanding tone was literally making your pussy drip with need for him. You were going to be a good girl for him, and you turned over and readied yourself for him. 

Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from leaving a nice hard smack on your bosom, loving the way your skin reddened at his touch. He took your ass full in his hands, groping at it like it was the last thing he would ever touch. You were a moaning mess from Jungkook’s actions, desperate to have him inside you. 

The slap he laid on your pussy made you feel like you could cum again on the spot, and you had pleads for Jungkook’s cock leaking from your mouth like the precum dripping down Jungkook’s cock. You wanted him to fill you up so badly. 

Giving you no warning, Jungkook thrust his cock into you, causing you both to release the most lewd sounds you’d ever made. 

“I’m gonna make a mess of this pretty pussy babygirl, gonna show you how good I can make you feel”

The orchestra of sounds in the room was incredible. Jungkook’s body slapping against yours and the groans and grunts from Jungkook’s lips mixing with your whines and whimpers. You felt as though you were in euphoria. 

You could feel Jungkook’s thrusts get sloppier as he got closer to his release, and he reached around to rub at your clit to help you get to your climax again. 

“I know you have another orgasm in you kitten, give it to me. Cum with me”

He grabbed at your body, pulling you up so your chest was flush with his, a similar position to how he had you in the cab earlier. Your sweaty bodies moved together as your body heat and energy mixed together, creating a passionate euphony. 

He feverishly grabbed at your body, grabbing your breasts in his hands and kneading them fervidly. He could sense your breath start to quicken as your orgasm approached. Unable to contain himself with the way your pussy was clenching around your cock, Jungkook let out a strained groan as he began to paint your inside walls white with his cum, burying himself deep inside of you.

Jungkook nestled his head in your neck, peppering kisses as he felt you reach your second climax of the night. Sex with Jungkook truly made you breathless.

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

While Jungkook went to grab a towel to clean you up, you grabbed your phone. As you turned it over, you found that there were 3 missed calls and a text from Solar. 

Solar: girl where r u? Are u with jk? You just won $500!!!!

The text made your jaw drop. You showed it off to Jungkook next to you, whose eyes also widened in surprise. 

“So… are we heading to amateur night next week?” you joked, still completely out of breath from Jungkook’s ministrations. Looking down at Jungkook who was cleaning you up between your legs, you couldn’t help but giggle at how much his demeanor could change.

Crawling back up and pulling you into his chest, Jungkook cleared the hair from your face as he looked you in the eyes, his sinful gaze staring deep into your soul.

“Baby, we can go to amateur night whenever you like”

--♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡--

If you liked what you read, please interact/follow! Thanks for reading ♡

- Emily

[erensproudsimp]

One Night Stand

Gojo Satoru x reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Summary : Working as a stripper, it was your job to please men for your daily bread until the day you met a handsome man offering to give you a ride back home, naughty things happening along the way.

Word count : 2.4 k

Looking at yourself in the mirror in the changing room all decked up in your glittery lingerie, ready to put on a show for disgusting men. Painting your lips a bright red, you smacked them together to spread the colour. Being a stripper sure brought a lot of money in which made you so happy but the fact that you had to please men for it didn't sit right in you. Taking a deep breath, you exited the room, your five inch heels clacking the surface with your each step. Gesturing your colleagues a 'hi' by waving your hand, you entered the area where the clientele would be.

Electronic music echoing around the entire room, gracefully you walked to your respective pole with the other stripers going to theirs. Prepping yourself up and warming up a little, you made sure you were perfect to earn more money. Led lights falling on your being as you were made among the centres of attraction for people to feed their eyes on your show. Placing your manicured hand on the cold pole, the other on your hip, you waited for people to enter the club so that you could start dancing. Your golden lingerie really brought out your curves and your sex appeal. Sparkling under the stage light, feeling like the bad bitch you are, you could bet your ass that money would be flying like nothing in your pockets.

Once people started entering the club, you started your performance to attract them to you. Gliding your heels on the floor, you split your legs, synchronizing your movements to the beat of the song currently being played, your sensuality bursting into the most vibrant dance. Your legs extended like a primal ballerina as you stood up, brushing your hair off your face before dragging it down your chest to finally grab your pole.

For the most part, you felt as though the front people were your main audience unaware of two bright blue eyes analyzing your every move. As you turned your body, your eyes caught caught a man sitting not far away in the back, him less adept at hiding his gaze than you. He had the kind of face that made you stop in your tracks. One glance at him was enough to make you fall on your knees for him. He dropped his eyes momentarily before looking away, his head tilted on one side supported by his arm placed on the couch, a hopeful smile playing on his lips as he pushed his dark glasses back.

Ignoring him, of course, you continued dancing making old men's pocket hurt. At some point, you became bored with staying on the stage and got off to approach your clients closer. Catwalking nearer to the man who caught your attention, you halted to the couch beside him where a blond man wearing glasses was drinking what seemed to be a glass of whiskey. Licking your lower lip, bending down to drag your index finger on his cheeks, you saw in the corner of your eye, the white haired man staring at you with a frown. More money thrown you, you sat on the man still sneaking peaks at your main interest for the night to see if your actions were affecting him.

Not so long later, you got bored of the blond guy, blowing a kiss at him, you finally went over to your target. Oh lord, to say he was just handsome was an understatement of his true attractiveness. He was beyond gorgeous, having the beauty equivalence of probably a god, he was radiating so much power. Dressed in a tight white shirt half buttoned, his abbs see through, with black pants, he laid on the furniture with crossed arms. However, upon seeing you approaching him, he opened them, placing them on the couch beside his shoulders.

Sitting next to him, you inclined yourself towards him, your hand on his thigh.

"Enjoying this night?"

"Now that you're close to me I sure am enjoying it more," he flirted.

"Oh really, is there any other thing I can do to make your night even better handsome?" you cooed in his ear.

"Hoooo? you'd do anything?"

"A n y t h i n g."

"Well then if you're insisting, please yourself on me, that would make me happy", he smugged.

Something about him was so alluring, from his appearance to his melodious voice, it made you want to know how his lips move in a kiss, how his hands move around your curves.

"As you wish dear sir."

Wasting no time, you hopped on his lap, your legs spread on his each side. Your hands resting on his shoulder playing with his hair from the back, you gazed into his eyes, his glasses falling his nose bridge. Irises so blue, as though containing all the blues of the sky to the ocean spanning the galaxy. Hell, they might even be the definition of a black hole due to their insane gravitational pull though which anyone could be sucked into.

Straddling his thighs, you rocked your hips back and forth, you grinded on him.

Just swaying to the music in the background, you traced his jawline with your tongue. Not even once did the man touch you as he just watched you do whatever you wanted. His smirk was like liquid adrenaline was being injected into your blood stream making your body tingle.

"Look at you, ignoring your work to grind on me, what a dirty slut you are", whispering in your ear he grabbed your hips to lift you and turn you so that your ass was right on his growing bulge.

Raising yourself up and down, you bounced on him. Intoxicated by the alcohol and cigarettes in the air, your vision blurry, hands moving down your boobs to your waist. Twerking on him, you felt him growing bigger. You bent back, your head placed on his shoulder, giving him a subtle smile. His hot breath fanned on your face, he smelt like booze with a faint vanilla. Cupping your breasts with his big hands, you slapped them away as you stood up to sit next to him. Kissing his cheek with your one hand on his other side of his face, you felt something entering your bra; the man was stuffing a bundle of money in.

Wingling your fingers, you waved him bye as you were going in the changing room to freshen up yourself. That was a lot of money he gave you, you thought while counting but there was one odd thing in it.

There was his business card in it. There was his phone number in it. Was this his way of telling you to contact him?

Shrugging your thoughts off, you typed him a message.

You : Hey handsome, so what's up with the business card?

Him: When does your shift ends?

You: Midnight.

Him: Great. You'll see a white limousine outside. Wanna come in for a ride at home?

A gorgeous man offering to give you a lift? Damn you couldn't miss this opportunity.

You: Sure thing, see you later.

After fixing your makeup and adjusting your clothes, you went out to slay the night until your little date. You couldn't wait until then.

When your shift was finally over, you rushed to change into your black mini satin dress you wore coming to work as well as ensuring you looked charming.

Your black handbag over your shoulder, you went outside, the fresh air of the cold night hitting your face. Lungs feeling so fresh, you were excited to see him again.

Indeed there was a white limousine parked at the entrance of the club. Upon seeing you arrive, the man asked the driver to unlock the doors so as to let you inside.

"Thank you so much for this offer, Mr?

" Oh please, name's Gojo Satoru but you can just call me Gojo", he said loosening his tie to remove it. Goodness, that was hotter than the core of the earth mixed with the sun's heat.

"Sure thing, Gojo~", seductively you said while you took a place on a seat beside him.

"Care for some wine?" he demanded while pouring a glass.

"Why not?"

"So, where do you live?" Gojo asked handing you the glass.

After telling him your address, he signaled the driver who understood the message and pulled up the black windshield to leave both of you in private.

The bitter yet sweet liquid warmed your body making you feel more relaxed after a long work. Throwing your head back, you let the wine disperse in all your veins, Gojo watching you while drinking his.

"I loved your lapdance, it was so erotic and you looked so...hot," he complimented scooching closer to you.

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he removed his glasses to place on the counter nearby. He stroke a finger down your throat, making you shiver. Holy shit that felt good.

"Not going to lie but you caught my attention the moment I saw you dancing on the stage. That golden lingerie hugging your perfect curves was enough to make me drool for you", whispering in your ear while his hand was sliding the strap of your dress off your shoulder.

More shivers down your spine.

Leaning in his touch, your hands reached to unbutton his shirt. Lips on your neck. Hot. Sinful. Goosebumps rose up your flesh. Gojo's shirt was on the floor, his chest threatening to make you swoon. It was so hard not to stare at the most beautiful male body you've ever seen.

"Love what you're seeing?" his voice came out husky.

"Very much", you replied before colliding your lips with his.

Big, warm hands stroke up your torso to cup your breasts. You jerked at the bold move, moaned in his mouth.

Feeling his smirk, he pulled back trailing his tongue down your neck to your collarbone before drawing back. As you straightened your back, his hands unzipping your dress.

His eyes went big when he saw that you weren't wearing a bra. His gaze caressed your plump boobs. Wasting no more seconds, he attacked the area with his mouth making you yelp.

"Fuck's sake, you're so gorgeous", he complimented in between sucking your nipple.

Your stomach clenched. Never had you craved a man with such hunger, never had you been more aware of your own femininity so much.

Pulling away, Gojo turned to take something from the table counter behind him. Taking this moment to take a deep breath to calm your quick heartbeats, you removed your hair from your face. Curious to know what he was doing, you tried to sneak a peak until he turned around to face you, in his hand, an orange slice.

Your head was filled with questions.

"Open your mouth", he ordered and you obeyed, of course.

"stick your tongue out."

Doing as he asked, you took it out as he pressed the fruit on it making its juices spreading throughout your mouth, even spilling down your jaw to your neck. The citric acid running down your skin so slowly as Gojo trailed his tongue down chasing all the droplets, his other hand holding your head by your hair.

"Hmmmm"

"You really like me licking you huh?" Gojo smirked.

"Ooooooohhh"

Unbuckling his pants, he slid them down leaving him in his boxers, his hardened dick pressed, like you were in your soaked panties. Unable to resist the temptation, you pulled them down releasing it from its trap. His dick sprung free, Gojo could no longer contain the heat he felt inside of him to bury himself deep in you.

"You don't mind, do you?" he asked before taking off your underwear.

"Why would I after how wet I am for you?"

Loving your answer the man tore the cloth from you revealing your soft folds to him.

"I hope you can handle me, I'm not going to go easy on you~", Gojo warned teasingly placing his member at your entrance.

"Go ahead, let's see if you can wreck me because I'm pretty sure I can handle you", you sneered.

"Heh~ well, we'll see about that in a few", he said before thrusting into you without any warnings.

"Ah!"

Throwing your one leg on his shoulder to gain a better position to fuck you, Gojo was not slow into gaining speed. This man was like an animal, so violently pushing and pulling in and out of you.

Your moans and heavy breaths was so loud, you were sure that the driver was hearing everything but Gojo didn't care about it one single bit. All that mattered to him at that moment was to fuck you into oblivion.

Right before either of you could come, Gojo pulled out to turn your body on the car couch, your boobs pressed against the leather, your ass lifted up as Gojo inserted himself again in you. This time you couldn't help it but let out whimpers.

"What's with the whimpers? I thought you could handle it, didn't you say so?" he ridiculed you.

Lost in a haze, you could barely hear his words, only feel his thrusts deep in you. He didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

He grabbed your hand and pressed it against your stomach.

"Can you feel how deep I am into you right now? You like it don't you? Being fucked like the shameless whore you are?"

"Ahhh-yes I do, I do."

Feeling your climax getting closer and closer, you gripped the couch for dear life as you were going crazy with this insane anount of pleasure.

"Ah- Gojo-I-I'm-"

"It's okay my love, you can release it, I'm close too."

It wasn't long before you were screaming his name as he filled your insides with his hot fluid. Pulling your hair as he did so, he collapsed on the couch beside with you laying on top of him rubbing circles on his chest.

Remembering that you had to get off to go home, you took your clothes from the floor and wore them while Gojo was admiring you.

You wished that this could last forever but alas it was just a one night stand as Gojo left you at your home saying a final goodbye to never meet again.

End.

Thank you for reading this. :)

[pixieungerstories]

Quarentine - 1

They always say ‘buy the worst house on the best block that you can afford’ and god knows this place was a total shit hole.  1200 square feet on an overgrown lot surrounded by McMansions.  Hell, I paid less for the place that the land was worth.  I’m amazed someone hadn’t bulldozed the place years ago.

To make a long story short, I did not look a gift house horse in the mouth.

I mean, it wasn’t a total write off.  None of the windows were smashed.  There were mature fruit trees in the backyard.  If you ignored the weeds and rotting fruit, there was a lot of potential.  The plumbing was lead pipes and the electrical was knob and tube, but I know people and I could trade favours to get that replaced.  The foundations were good and the roof barely leaked.

I spent the summer camping in a tent in the back yard and slowly getting the place winterized enough that I could move it.

It was still a creepy ass house when I did.  It had a boiler.  I had no idea how to deal with that, but I was learning.  And I learned how to ignore the whistles, hissing and banging sounds that went with having a boiler.  The old rads were cast iron with pretty little details in the corners.

There were holes in the plaster, but I just ignored them.  It wasn’t worth fixing when I was going to gut the place and put up drywall eventually.  It just made it easier to get at the plumbing.

I started just living in the kitchen and ignoring the rest of the house.  I had disconnected the rest of the electrical and plumbing and was using that as a home base while I renovated outwards from there.

There is nothing quite as creepy as sleeping in a sleeping bag on what were probably asbestos tiles in an old house that makes the weird noises that old houses make.  I kept reminding myself that they only seemed louder than normal because the place was empty and there was nothing to muffle the sound.  The shrieking had to be the upstairs window that didn’t quite shut properly.

I had the feeling that something was watching me and prayed to god it wasn’t rats.

I was in this for the long haul.  Get up, shower at the gym, go to work, come home, renovate until it gets dark, shower at the gym, camp out in the kitchen.  Not exciting, but satisfying.  Let’s face it, this was the only way I was ever going to be able to afford a house.

When the work from home order came, I had to actually get a phone line installed so I could have internet access.  Me, my laptop and a kitchen table I rescued from the curbside a while back.

The creepy feeling was worse.  I told myself it had to be the isolation kicking in.  I skyped with my best friends at night to make up for it.  The power was still a bit dodgy and kept going out, but that’s what laptop batteries and cell phones are for, right?

I was sure the cough was from the dust.

The guy delivering groceries left them on the sidewalk instead of the porch.  It was fine.  I understood completely.  I hadn’t done much work on the outside of the building at all. 

I realized I was sneezing a bit when I started having to use toilet paper as kleenex.

I was fine.  I was young and healthy.  I didn’t have any sick days at work so I was determined to just push through.

I tried to get more rest.

I dreamed about something laying a cool hand on my forehead.

The grocery store was out of thermometers.

I mean, did it really matter if I had a fever?  I wasn’t leaving the house to share with anyone.

My cough got worse overnight.  I was vaguely aware of someone lifting me up and holding a cup of cool water to my lips.  I was so fucking thirsty. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” I mumbled.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I won’t,” a rumbling voice assured me.

I didn’t remember making soup, but I jolted into awareness sitting at the table with a steaming bowl in front of me.  Chicken noodle out of a can.  It’s not that hard to make.  I’m sure I could add water and heat in my sleep.  Apparently, I just did.

I was so cold that night.  I don’t know where the extra blankets came from, but they were there in the morning.

I don’t know how I ordered a bed while I was sick, but it was there and on my credit card.  So was the mattress and sheets.  It must have been the fever talking when I ordered them.  I would not have picked out anything that old fashioned looking.

How did I get all this stuff up to the second floor bedroom?  I’m sure I don’t remember stripping the paint off the closet doors.   I must be losing my mind.  I slept, I ate, I stopped logging in at work.  I just needed to concentrate on getting better.

By the time I was able to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, the city was shut down.  I was confined to my house whether I liked it or not.  I was suddenly glad my fever addled brain had ordered a bed while I still could.  

The watched feeling was worse.  I ordered some rat traps with my groceries.  I didn’t catch anything.  They didn’t take the bait.  I swear I heard snickering when I checked them in the morning.  That was a new sound for the boiler to make.

“I am losing my mind,” I repeated to myself.  Then blushed when I realized I had said it aloud.  “And yes, I also talk to myself,” I added for good measure.  “At least it is some sound,” I muttered.  “I should turn on some music or something.”

Work was officially shut down but I still had the dumpster outback.  I spend my awake time cleaning out the other rooms.  The advantage of living in a construction zore was all the dust masks.  When I needed to actually go out, that might help.  In the meantime, I carefully sorted through the things the previous owners had left behind.  Some of it was just trash, but there were some old photographs, lost buttons, even a single antique earring.

“No chance of finding a pair, I bet.  Still this could be made over into a necklace or something.”  Shit.  I was talking to myself again, wasn’t I?

I still got tired easily.  I dreamed about my mom stroking my hair as I slept.

The footprints I couldn’t explain away.

I had taken down a section of wall and spent the day carrying out the chunks of plaster before microwaving a pizza pop and tucking in early.  In the morning there were footprints in the dust.  They weren’t mine.  They were huge and it was hard to believe they were human.  Weird long toes, with the claw tips a little in front were not what I was expecting.

That was the first time I had wanted to leave the house.

I grabbed my stuff and made it to the front yard before I was spotted by a passing patrol car and ordered back inside.  I had no idea how to explain that I thought there was some sort of monster living in my house.  I was shaking as I went back inside.

“Hello?”  I called from the doorway, ready to run.  I had no idea where I could even run to.  “Um…  Is anyone there?”  I don’t know what I was expecting.  “Hi?  Um ….  I bought the house, I didn’t know there was any … thing living here.  I have been trying to fix it up.”

“I know.”

Fuck.  The scratchy, rasping bass voice was not what I was expecting.  “I … uh…  I can go back to camping in the yard,” I suggested.

“No.”

I waited to hear if he (?) was going to say anything else.

Apparently not.

“Uh … no I can’t stay here?  Or no, you don’t even want me camping in the backyard?”

“If I didn’t want you here, I would have had many opportunities to get rid of you.”

Shit.  That wasn’t ominous or threatening at all.

With a low chuckle the voice asked, “Did you mean to say that out loud?”

I froze and tried to remember what I had said.  Oh.  “No, that was an accident.  I’m not used to having anyone around to hear me.”

“I always hear you.”

I closed the door and went out to sit in the garden for a moment to think about that.  I ended up pacing, swearing and wishing for a cigarette.  I hadn’t smoked in years.    The sun started to go down and the bugs came out.  I was being eaten alive outside.  Going inside was scary but he was right.  He had lots of time to …

I flung open the door.  “Did you order furniture on my credit card?”  I demanded.

The laughter that rang out was a whole other level of creepy.  I shivered and thought about going back outside.  The door pulled itself closed behind me.  I spun to look at it and didn’t see anything.  I could hear something breathing. I turned again.  Nothing.

“If we are both going to live here, can we at least agree on some ground rules?”

“Like what?” was almost purred in my ear.  Looking around wildly, I still couldn’t see anything.

I was shaking now.  “Is there a way for you to be less scary so I don’t have a heart attack?” I squeaked.

There was nothing but silence.  Still my sense of the presence suggested it was gone.

I didn’t sleep that night.  I would just start to nod off then jerk myself awake and look wildly around the room.  I never saw anything.

Six am, my alarm went off and I could smell coffee.

All the dust had been swept up.

“Hello?” I whispered.

Nothing.  I had coffee and cereal and tried not to think about my surprise roommate.  I was so tired, I passed out at my computer in the kitchen at some point that morning, only to wake in bed upstairs in the afternoon.  “I don’t want you to touch me while I’m sleeping,” I mumbled, painfully aware that there was dick all I could do to stop it.

“Alright,” the voice said, coming from somewhere in the direction of the closet.  “But don’t fall asleep at the table then.”

I breathed a faint sigh of relief.  I wasn’t expecting the next part.

“You need to eat something now.  You are still recovering.”

There was a can of soup heating on the stove.  My breakfast dishes were gone.  I found them clean and dry in the cupboard.  “Thank you,” I whispered.  He didn’t reply.  As I ate lunch, I was psyching myself into going upstairs to look in the closet.  The door had been painted shut when I got the house, but at some point had been stripped down to the bare wood.

I hadn’t worked up the nerve by the time I was done eating.  Or washing and drying the dishes.  I found myself at the bottom of the stairs staring up at the second floor.  Did I really want to see what was in that closet?

No.

But it would be better to look during the light of day.

Eventually, I made it up there.  I put my hand on the knob and tried to turn it.  It didn’t budge.

“You want rules?” the voice growled behind me.  I spun, there was nothing there.  “Do not open that door.  Do not come into my space.”

I went from trembling from nerves to bolting down the stairs in an instant.  I nearly tripped, but felt something - him? - catch me and set me on my feet.

“Careful,” he purred.

I spent the rest of the day in the garden again.  I was still out there when the sun went down and the back light turned on.  Then the kitchen light and for a moment I could see something outlined against the antique curtains I hadn’t replaced in the kitchen.  I tried to remind myself that he wasn’t necessarily that big.  He might just be closer to the light and casting a bigger shadow.

I didn’t believe it, but I tried.

I crept back into the house like a scared child who wasn’t sure how angry their parents were going to be after they had done something wrong.  I turned on all the lights on the main floor and stayed in the kitchen away from the stairs.

“Planning on staying up all night?”

I jumped.  “How are you always behind me?”

“I live in the shadows.  Go to bed.”

“Um…  I was thinking, that should be your room, really.  Your closet.  You picked out the bed.  I can just camp down -”

“No.  Go to bed.”

“Do you really think I’m going to be able to sleep in a room with a closet that must not be opened?  I have read Blue Beard, you know.”

“So have I.  The wife gets the house and lives happily ever after.”

“The last wife does,” I pointed out.  “The first dozen or so didn’t.”

He chuckled at that.  “We made a deal, remember?”

“Are you teasing me?  What deal?”

“I don’t touch you in your sleep.  You don’t sleep in the kitchen anymore.”

“How big are you?”

The lights flickered and went off.

“Do you want to see me?”  he purred, so close that I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Not in the dark,” I squeaked.

“Go to bed.”  

The light snapped back on, leaving me blinking.

I spent the night sitting on the bed with my back pressed against the headboard trying to see the whole room at one.  Eventually, I fell asleep.

My alarm did not go off at six.  It had been turned off.  The coffee was ready but not turned on when I went down stairs.  The air smelled faintly of solder.  There was a post-it stuck to the coffee maker.  Fine copperplate handwriting told me:

I have replaced the plumbing

I stared at it dumbly.  I had replaced the plumbing to the kitchen sink and the downstairs powder room and had been washing out of the sink since I had been forced to stay home.  The only other plumbing was down to the washing machine in the cellar and the upstairs bathroom.  I pushed the button on the coffee maker and slowly crept upstairs.

Sure enough the stack of copper pipe waiting in the other bedroom was gone. 

Well, not gone.  I could see it installed through the holes in the walls.  I turned on the tap to the sink and sure enough, I had water.  I now had an upstairs, working bathroom with a clawfoot tub.

And no walls.

“I don’t like the idea of you watching me bathe,” I called out.  Then I felt like an idiot because if whatever it was had voyeur tendencies, it could have been watching me for months.  I tried all the taps and the toilet.  Everything worked.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, unsure if I was talking to myself.

“You’re welcome.”  It was the least creepy, most normal thing I had heard from him.

----

When I got back downstairs, there still wasn’t coffee but there was a new note:

Humans who do not sleep start to hallucinate

I crumbled it up, threw it across the room and jabbed the on switch on the coffee maker.  Nothing happened.  I growled as I plugged it in.  The power went out.

“Oh come on!  Withholding coffee is cruel and unusual punishment!”

“Sleep.”  It sounded like the whole house had murmured that last bit.

I wish I could say I handled it gracefully, but I didn’t.  I stomped back up to the bedroom like a petulant child.

I woke to bright sunlight streaming in through the window.  The house was quiet and it felt empty for the first time in days.  I had a bath and washed my hair and I felt better than I had in days too.  Clean and dry and dressed, I bounced into the kitchen to try and turn on the coffee again only to see my laptop snap shut.

It was with a lot of trepidation that I opened it.  I was expecting a ridiculous online purchase which is why I stared dumbly at the screen unable to process what I was seeing.

It was a CGI woman with her hands tied to something over her head being railed by a monster who was fingering her clit with one hand and fondling her breasts with the other while her belly distended in rhythm with his thrusts.

“Ugh!  Dude!  You can NOT watch porn on my laptop!” I shrieked as I frantically tried to close the window.

“Would you rather I watch you?” he asked calmly from somewhere to the left of me.

I breathed out a shaky breath.  “OK.  Let’s talk about private browser windows and how not to get a computer virus.”

When I got to the end of my tentative explanation, I asked, “Do you need … some alone time?”

There was another house shaking howling laugh.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“You need to eat.”

That brought up a whole other issue.  “Do you?  Eat I mean.  Do you eat?  What do you eat?”

“Don’t worry about me.  I am not going to eat you.  Unless you ask nicely.”

I blushed even further but got out a pan and a skillet meal from the fridge.

I spend the rest of the afternoon weeding the garden.  I came in when it got dark, heated up my leftovers from lunch and tried to figure out what to do with myself.  The nap had meant that I wasn’t tired for the first time in days.

I wondered what he would do if I watched a movie.  I hunted through the cupboards and found a bag of microwave popcorn from before the virus started.  Right! I thought.  Bowl of popcorn, a movie, skype with a few friends.  Pretend none of this was happening.

I wasn’t surprised when the lights went out.  That was just a thing now.  My computer was still illuminating a bubble around me and B99 was still hilarious.

I wasn’t expecting the bed to dip next to me.  That once again raised the question of how to deal with him around others.  I hit the mute button.  “What are you doing?” I asked icily.

“Not touching you.  What are you eating?”

“Human food.”

“Hmmm.”

I unmuted my computer to answer Penny’s question about how stir crazy I was going.

“12/10 on the looney toons scale,” I offered.

She just laughed.

All of the popcorn was gone.

“Ah hell.”

“What’s wrong?” Penny asked.

“All my popcorn is gone,” I grumbled.  I didn’t add that I had more than half a bowl left a moment ago.  Not eating me, I reminded myself.

“That sucks.  Need to pause and get more?”

“I don’t have anymore.”

She just laughed, “But do you still have toilet paper and hand sanitizer?”

I chuckled, “Toilet paper, at least.”

“I should go.  It’s getting late,” she said with a yawn.

“Yeah.  Good night.”  After Penny signed off, I just let Netflix autoplay the next episode.

“Do you need to sleep?” The whisper seemed to come from the direction of the closet but the bed was still dipped under his weight on my other side.

My heart leapt to my throat.  “How many of you are there?”

“Just me,” he purred too close to my ear.  I flung myself away from him and toppled out of bed.  Two hands caught me.

Two other hands caught my laptop.

I stared as it was placed back on the bed a little way in front of me.  The hands on my arms were cool and smooth.  “What are you?”

“I am me.  I have not asked your name.  You will not ask mine.”

“My name is on the mail.  And my credit card.  You know my name,”  I pointed out keeping my eyes locked on the screen, fighting the urge to look around.

“Nonetheless.”

This wasn’t going to work, but I had to try.  “I would like to be alone now.”

The bed shifted as the weight was removed from the side.  The black shadows that could be fingers moved from my computer.  The voice said, “Good night” from the direction of the closet.  

I sat frozen.  “In the morning, I’m moving the bed to another room.”

“Why?”

“Because the closet is yours and it’s scary being here with you,” I admitted.

“I have never done anything to harm you.”

“You scare the shit out of me multiple times a day.”

There was a long pause before he replied, “And yet you haven’t left.”

“The city is on lock down.  I can’t leave.”

“Hmm.”  

I jumped as my laptop snapped shut.  I fumbled in the dark trying to find it on my bed, “What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Taking this downstairs.  I will not bother you tonight.”

“What-” I started to say, then snapped my mouth shut as the realization that this may be his ‘alone time’.

This time the “Good night,” came from the bedroom door.

In the morning the only thing in my browsing history was netflix.  This was less comforting since I had shown him how to clear the cache.  I told myself at least the keyboard wasn’t sticky.

[vagabondreamer]

After the Fall (5)

Pairing: Lucifer x Angel! Fem! MC

Word Count: 2.3k

Series Summary: Angel! Fem! MC is part of an exchange program that sends her to the Devildom for a year.

Chapter Summary: MC finds out what Lucifer's been hiding.

CW: panic attacks, attempted murder, PTSD

Author’s Note: Sorry it's been a hot minute; school has been keeping me busy.

***

Your fingers felt like they were going to fall off and your eyes burned from not blinking. The room was so dark you weren’t sure how long you had been in here. The bright screen was your only source of light, and it was no wonder Levi was so pale. You looked over at him, he was hunched over his controller, his eyes glued to the tv.

“MC are you not even trying?” He exclaimed, a tint of anger in his voice. You looked back at the screen, a giant ‘K.O.’ flashing before your eyes.

“They don’t have these games back home.” This felt like your hundredth loss against him. “You’re just way too good.”

He blushed at the small compliment - not used to the praise. You looked at your DDD to see the time, it was already 3 in the morning.

“Geez! I need to get to bed.”

“Already?” He pouted, not wanting you to go to your room yet.

“Let’s do this again.”

“Fine.” He grumbled, but the small smile on his face was enough to show he wasn’t mad.

You said goodnight to him and his fish - you learned the name was Henry based off of his favorite fantasy novel - and walked out the door into the hallway. It was pitch black, you couldn’t see a thing. Standing still, you tried to let your eyes adjust to the darkness. Barely, you could see the railing of the stairs, and some decorative paintings on the wall. You started walking towards your room when you heard a small voice coming from far behind you. Didn’t Satan say this house was haunted? Surely, you thought he was just trying to scare you. Again, you started walking towards your room - hoping to not run into whatever was making that noise.

“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream.”

The voice was stronger, more distinct sounding. You recognized that it was the same lullaby from a week ago. You recalled that there was a set of hidden stairs, that Lucifer forbade you from going up. Debating whether or not you should risk it, you turned around and headed down the hall. The darkness didn’t help, you couldn’t remember how to get to those stairs - last time, you had found it by chance.

“And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem.”

There it was again! You followed the sound, trusting your ears rather than your sight. It was strange how clear the voice was, considering that you had to walk through several doors and halls to get to the base of the stairs.

“But if I know you, I know what you’ll do.”

If Lucifer ever found out - no - he would never find out. And if he did? So, what. You were tired of obeying him - who was he to you? A nobody. Slowly, you ascended up the spiral staircase. The voice was masculine, yet soft, almost sleepy sounding.

“You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream.”

Reaching the top of the stairs, you see a door that is barred up. Peering in, you see a man laying down, lazily humming the rest of the tune. His head turns, feeling your presence.

“Hmph. They went along with the exchange program, I see.”

His aura was strong - purple and luminous - he was a powerful demon. He must’ve read yours as well.

“Who are you?”

“Belphegor. Who are you?”

“MC. What are you doing here?”

“Lucifer locked me up.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing - you absolutely knew Lucifer was mean, but to lock up his own family? That was beyond evil. “You have to help me out of here.”

You took a step back from the bars, taking a moment to think about the situation you landed yourself in. It was no wonder Lucifer didn’t want you up here, but was it justified? From what you had gathered, he was mean but not without reason, right? He insulted you, but only because you were acting like a brat. He was also the same man that saved you, and he was highly respected by Michael - even as a demon.

“Why did he lock you up?”

“I didn’t agree with the exchange program.”

Was that really the only reason? Something as simple as disagreeing could end up in imprisonment? Belphie must’ve seen the look on your face - a war raging inside your mind.

“He’s horrible, you know?” You looked up at him. “He locked up his own brother, and he dismissed Lilith’s death like it meant nothing!”

“Lilith.” You repeated to yourself. You were told she was the start of the Great Celestial War.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t remember you at all.” He eyed you carefully.

“I wasn’t created until after the war. I’m Lucifer’s replacement, basically.”

This statement caught his interest.

“So, you’re powerful; I think you can get through this magic.”

Touching the bars, you felt a powerful magic radiating off of the metal. Lucifer must’ve put a spell on the door, to ensure he’d never escape. He was right, you were a powerful angel, this shouldn’t be an issue, but you were still hesitant.

“What are you going to do once you’re out?”

“I just want to talk to him.” If that was really all he wanted to do then you were ready to let him out.

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath in, hands still gripping the metal. It had been weeks since you last transformed into an angel, ever since your failure you had been hesitant to even try. Slowly, your white wings sprouted from your back and your magic flowed through your fingertips. The bars began to glow, and gradually disintegrated from existence. A smile spread across his face, and he stepped out for the first time in who knows how long. You transformed back to your normal state.

“Thank you.” He opened his arms, you gladly accepted his hug. You had begun to appreciate how touchy-feely most of the brothers were. His grip, however, was a bit too hard for your liking. You stopped hugging him back, this time placing your hands against his waist trying to push off - but his grip was relentless.

“What are you doing?” It was getting harder to breathe; your ribs felt like they were being crushed.

“I’m doing the world a favor, Lucifer’s replacement.”

He hadn’t bothered addressing you by your name - it suddenly clicked in your head. Lucifer was part of the blame for his sister’s death, and to him you were just another Lucifer in the making. You pushed him and tried to transform but you had exhausted yourself trying to break him out. The trauma from weeks ago was just beginning to heal, and now you were reliving it. You could hardly breathe, but now it was becoming even more erratic - you were having a panic attack.

“Please -” The words were barely coming out. “Lucifer.”

The room was spinning, and darkness crept in.

***

When you woke up, you were in an unfamiliar room. The bed was spacious, a huge chandelier hung down in the center, and soft music could be heard. You take a deep breath in - you notice the smell - notes of sandalwood wafting in the air. Trying to sit up, a sharp pain erupts in your ribs. Glancing down, your torso is wrapped up - unexpectedly, the memories flash in your mind. You released Belphie, and he tried to kill you. How the hell did you make it?

“MC, you’re awake.” Lucifer walked in, holding a tray of food. “How are you feeling?”

His face held a concerned look, but he was hard to read. There’s no doubt he was upset, he told you not to go up the stairs and yet you disobeyed orders.

“Where’s Belphie?” Lucifer sighed, and put the tray down on the nightstand.

“Why’d you let him go?”

“Did you hurt him?”

The both of you were getting nowhere. Too many unanswered questions and so much distress, you couldn’t take it anymore. You moved to get out of bed, Lucifer tried to help but you slapped his hand away. Standing, you looked him straight in the eyes.

“What is going on here?” Lucifer stood his ground.

“You’re prying. This isn’t any of your business.”

“I almost died. I think it is my business.”

“You didn’t die twice because of me. A thank you would be nice.”

You couldn’t believe him.

“I didn’t ask you to save me.” That was a lie, and he knew it. Your eyes watered up. “I’m capable. You might not see it, Michael might not see it, but I know I am!”

You walked to the door before the tears could spill down your cheeks. You were tired of feeling weak in front of him.

“MC.” You stopped without turning around, waiting for him to continue. “I think you’re plenty capable, but I don’t regret helping you.”

Wiping the tears away, you turned to look at him. He was seated on his bed, elbows rested on his legs, looking down pensively. You walked to him, standing directly in front of his form. The sleeves on his dress shirt were rolled up, and the top buttons were undone revealing his collarbone. The locks of his hair were messy, like he had been consistently running his hands through it. Subconsciously, you raised your hand and began to smooth out his hair, putting each strand back in its rightful place. He looked up at you, curiously. His eyes were sunken, the darkness underneath visible to you from your proximity.

“I’m sorry," you whispered.

Ever since your arrival, you had become another burden to Lucifer. Before coming to the Devildom, you had a preconceived notion that he was the reincarnation of all things evil, but it didn’t take long to realize how complex the man in front of you really was. Your internal battle with yourself didn’t help, and you were taking it out on him. And now, with Belphie’s appearance, there’s no doubt in your mind that Lucifer would never forgive you.

“I just wish you’d understand I have your best interest at heart.”

“I guess it takes a near death experience to see that,” you joked. “Thanks. For both times.”

You fixed the last strand out of place, framing it against his temple. Your fingers lingered, tracing down to where his jaw curves. It was as if an electric current ran from him to you.

“You’re welcome. Both times.” He went to grab your hand, but you removed it yourself.

“Does everyone know what happened?”

“Yes. You’ve been out for a few days, and everything’s been taken care of.”

“Everything?”

“School, home, here. Everything.” He got up from his position, leaving you little time to take a step back, his chest is nearly touching yours. “I’m not letting you get hurt again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder, and in that moment you felt so small. You vowed right there and then to be less of a burden to Lucifer. You had already caused so much damage, now you were going to make things right.

“Michael wants to speak to you.”

“What? You’ve spoken with Michael?” Oh, crap.

“No, Simeon has. Michael requested you take a brief trip back home after you wake up.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll open a portal, if you’re ready?”

“You can open a portal?”

“Yes, can’t you?”

“No…” Guess Michael decided you weren’t good enough for that ability. “I’m ready.”

Lucifer performed his spell, which allowed a little portal to open up. You thanked Lucifer once again, and stepped in; a bright, white light blinded you. The portal had transported you to right in front of Michael’s office. You gave two knocks before being called in.

“MC. Who knew it only took sending you to the Devildom for you to finally learn how to knock.” You laughed dryly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I -”

“What happened?”

“Well -”

“Don’t answer. I already know.” Ah, so you were here to be reprimanded. “Why are you causing so much trouble? Did I not tell you that you represent the Celestial Realm?”

“Yes sir, but -”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses. It’s embarrassing that I even have to do this.” You bite your lip, too afraid to make him angrier. “You’re going to go down there and apologize to Lord Diavolo and Lucifer. And you’re going to stop causing trouble, do I make myself clear?”

You opted to nod your head, not trusting your own voice. As quick as you had gotten there, you were sent away just as quickly. The portal reopened back in Lucifer’s room, he was standing there waiting for your arrival. You wanted nothing more than to be alone.

“What did he say?”

“He said I need to apologize to you and Lord Diavolo, but can I please do that later? I just - I need to get out of here.”

“MC…” He reached out to you.

“No, I’m serious - I feel like I can’t breathe.” It was happening again. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, and you saw the room spinning. Why was this happening?

“MC!” Lucifer held the sides of your face. “Okay, you’re okay. Let’s get some fresh air.”

His words were going in one ear and straight out the other. He held you in his arms, and you could feel him moving, but your dizziness made it hard to decipher what was going on. It wasn’t until he sat down, you were still being held by him, that you became aware of your surroundings. Somewhere deep in the forest lay a small lake, and a singular bench. The air was fresh, and the serenity filled your soul.

“I come here when it feels like everything is falling apart.”

After the Fall Tag List @ptv-hades @everyday-girl9041-blog

[emilyoftheshadows]

Deja Vu

Hi everyone! This is the second part of Deja Vu and while I will say its not as angsty as part 1, it is definitely far from resolved. I hope you guys enjoy!! I linked part 1 down below for those who haven't read it yet :)

Part 1

wordcount//2402

********

Aelin heaved for air as she rounded the corner of the street towards her apartment. Glancing at her watch, she noticed the time and coerced her body into a brisk jog to finish her afternoon run. Arobynn had clearly stated that she was needed in the office at 1:00 pm sharp. For what, who knew but him.

The man was utter filth and Aelin was completely aware of every leering gaze he threw her way. The way he shifted towards her whenever she walked into a room, the gleam of some sort of promise lingering in his gray eyes. Yet, Aelin could not give 2 fucks. She was becoming his prodigy, and she embraced the infinite work he piled on her month after month. While her title was still Hamel Hotel’s Brand Manager, she practically ran the company itself now. If she was being quite honest with herself, she hated her job most days and thought about quitting at least 3 times a week.

But every time she felt like pulling her hair out from the stress of dealing with incompetent colleagues and a boss who eye fucked her every second of every day, Aelin reminded herself that the alternative was way worse.

It had been almost a year since she ended it with Rowan, but it felt more like a lifetime. Only 6 months ago she had been crippled by heartbreak and rage, blinded by her own emotions and unable to see a future for herself. Unable to even think beyond the next hour, completely focused on her breathing. How she only had to breathe through the waterfall of tears cascading down her face, for one more minute. And then another, and another, until she could sit up and wipe away the fog wrapped around her brain.

But now, her heart was encased in an iron-clad box with no key. Because as she had laid across her floor all those months ago, sniveling snot like she was 5 years old, Aelin had had an epiphany. Not just pertaining to Rowan, but to romance in general. All the ice-cream dates and movie marathons, sunset picnics and belting songs in the car, have all been done before. Nothing about her and Rowan was special. All the great romantic tropes were being used by everyone else on this godforsaken planet at any given time.

Once Aelin let this new reality sink in, she had decided to never let herself become so undone by a man who couldn't give her an original love story. No one would ever have the power to crush her heart into pieces except herself, and Aelin would be damned if she let the same person in twice. With her new promise, Aelin had thrown herself into her work, filling her days so full that there was no time to think. No time to reminiscence or let her regrets see the light of day. She woke up early and ended late, passing out every night from pure exhaustion. Her tactics were less than stellar, but Aelin never thought of her green-eyed bird boy anymore, and that was all she needed.

She trudged up the stairs of her apartment, practically slamming her body into the door from lack of energy and not enough water. Entering the living room, Aelin threw her clothes off haphazardly, naked by the time she got to the shower. After a quick rinse, she flew back to her room to paint makeup on her face and find a suitable outfit.

It was standard for the women in the office to dress to Arobynn’s tastes, meaning fairly low necklines and silhouette framing outfits. The thought was disgusting, but Aelin wasn’t below using her looks to earn a place higher than Brand Manager. As much as she hated to admit it, if Aelin kept working to the bone, she truly believed Arobynn would give her the raise she so wanted. The raise she deserved for fucks sakes. With a glance in the mirror and a nod of approval to her reflection, Aelin was ready to go into battle once again.

----

Arobynn was ecstatic for his own standards, smiling with genuine excitement as she entered his office. Rifthold had a stunning downtown area, filled with sky-high buildings and classic architecture mixed with modern features, the Hamel Hotel in town being at its center.

Arobynn’s office was extravagant to a point of gaudiness, revolting Aelin every time she stepped inside. He glanced at her chest as she sat down, pleased with her choice of blouse today if the smirk on his face was any indication. The seat sank with her as she settled into the plush surface, settling her legs in a crossed position, ever the professional businesswoman.

“Darling, I see that we were running a bit late today, but that’s no matter now.” Aelin glanced down at herself, trying to find the source of such a comment. As her eyes dragged up her own body, Aelin saw the mistake that gave her away. Her blouse buttons were askew, the buttons incorrectly aligned creating an odd, sagging neckline. Well, no wonder he was staring at her chest earlier, the black bra peeking through the gaps in her shirt. Fidgeting with her shirt as she noticed the mistake, Aelin dropped her hands and quickly resigned to fix it later. Of course Arobynn would notice the tiny, careless mistake in her appearance. But with his mind on other matters, Arobynn was already moving on barely noticing her squirming.

“I have exciting news for us, Aelin. The kind that could put Hamel Hotels in the spotlight.” With a quick turn of his laptop, he presented her with the picture of a young man, about her own age. He was pale, but not alarmingly so. His hair was tousled and dark, the pieces framing a boyish looking face. The smile on his face seemed innocent enough until you looked into those sapphire eyes, a hint of trouble managing to show itself. In a short summary, the man was gorgeous.

“This boy right here is Dorian Havilliard, a nobody from some town called Rifthold down south. Apparently, he has made quite a name for himself on the online writing world, becoming internet famous for erotic writing, among other genres.” With that word, erotic, Aelin could’ve sworn his eyes darkened ever so slightly while glancing her way. Brushing away the wave of nausea assaulting her senses, Aelin focused back into reality.

“ He looks charming enough sir, but what use is he to Hamel Hotels?”

“Havilliard is making his debut into the publishing world this weekend at a lower level author’s convention in Terrasen at one of our Hamel Hotel properties. If we can introduce ourselves and graciously offer him Hamel Hotel’s finest amenities, I am convinced that we can get him to host all of his future events with our hotel. Dorian is young, naïve, and will be flattered by our offers. I will make sure of it.” Arobynn was unbecoming, his hands erratically gesturing back and forth between the computer and Aelin. His gray eyes were crazed, the prospect of such business and money to the Hotel’s as enticing as a woman at night.

“That’s a brilliant idea Mr. Hamel. I can leave as soon as you would like, and I assure you I can get the job done.” Only the best of her saccharine smiles was painted on Aelin’s face. She presented nothing less to the man who controlled her future. Besides, it would be nice to get out of Rifthold for once. The city was gorgeous, but a change in scenery from the hustle of downtown sounded relaxing. Yes, Terrasen with its rolling hills and sunny atmosphere would be welcome.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm Ms. Galathynius, this matter is too important for you to handle alone. This evening, we will be taking my private plane to Terrasen so I can assist you in the convincing of Mr. Havilliard. Our suite is being readied as we speak. The driver will pick you up at your apartment around 5:30.” With a wave of his hand, Arobynn dismissed her from the room, already focused on his laptop once more.

With a short “yes, sir” in response, Aelin made to leave the office. But as she opened the doors to exit, Arobynn stopped her short.

“And Miss Galathynius, remember we are trying to persuade this young man to work with us in the future. Dress accordingly.” Aelin turned back around quickly, hiding the surprise on her face. Arobynn had always displayed questionable morals, but he was becoming bolder in his comments. In his admiration too.

It was only later when she was packing her clothes that she realized his wording. Our suite is being readied. Not his. Aelin’s stomach roiled with anxiety at having to spend the night so close to the monster that was her boss.

But as her hands shook with the effort to continue folding her clothes, and her throat dried up to where she couldn’t find the ability to swallow her nerves, Aelin reached down to that empty pit within herself. The same wave of calm that had encased her 6 months ago protected her now, and she continued to sort her items into the luggage in front of her.

The driver came at 5:30 on the dot. She boarded the plane, and listened to Arobynn ramble about his genius and plans for the next day. They landed in Terrasen, surrounded by luscious green landscapes and rays of the golden hour shining around them.

Yet, Aelin felt nothing.

-------

Rowan was one edge, constantly glancing at the dark haired young man sitting next to him. Dorian Havilliard was a genius with pen and paper, that much was certain. Even Rowan had enjoyed the young authors short stories, the smut not completely welcome but admittedly well written.

The man himself was a completely different story. Although he was only 2 years below Rowans 24, Dorian was a fucking wildcard. They had only been at the hotel for 30 minutes and he had already gotten himself lost in the booze and women down near the bar.

Rowan had seen the young man’s nerves, how his hands shook when Maeve detailed his debut with The Cadre as his publishing team and the speech he would have to give earlier that week. Maeve was an intimidating woman and if Rowan had been in his spot when he first started with The Cadre, he would be pissing himself too.

Despite this level of understanding, Dorian’s antics were still unacceptable. All eyes were on him this weekend, the word spreading that he would be attending the convention thanks to a leak. Whether that leak came from The Cadre themselves was neither her nor there. Dorian’s books will fly off the shelves, but they needed people invested in him first. And that meant PR. A shit ton of PR to be more specific. And what better way to do it when the countries authors were all gathered in one convention hall for the weekend.

The whole team came out to Terrasen, all of them concerned for how they were going to corral Dorian for the whole event. Maeve joined as well, ready to micromanage The Cadre and network the hell out of these authors. And because Maeve came, that meant Lyria followed.

Rowan and Lyria had fallen into a comfortable relationship. After all that pain a year ago, Rowan felt okay to date now. Lyria’s company wasn’t unwelcome and the situationship had slowly evolved into a relationship. There wasn’t any passion or burning love for one another, at least on Rowan’s side, but their companionship was a nice presence in his life.

Although he would never acknowledge it, Rowan was scared to love with his entire soul like he had with Aelin. The more he opened his heart, the more opportunity there was for someone to come and crush it to pieces. If he had to experience that misery again, Rowan would never recover. He barely had last time, and he still wasn’t back to who he used to be. Back to how happy he used to be.

Shaking away his thoughts Rowan turned to Dorian, only to find an empty chair next to him. That tricky bastard. With a shove of his seat, Rowan reached into his pocket unlocking his phone. He texted a quick help to The Cadre and a separate message to Lyria, asking them to start the manhunt.

Rowan scanned every face in the bar, unsuccessful in his search. Walking towards the lobby, Rowan almost shoved an elderly woman to the ground in his rush. As he turned to help the lady steady herself, Rowan apologized profusely for his mistake. The woman waved him away carelessly, hobbling towards a man who he assumed was her husband.

Straightening himself once again, Rowan started walking with determination only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Because only feet away from was Aelin Galathynius.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Rowan took the time to admire her appearance. Her hair was clasped behind her head, golden pieces falling to the sides of her face. Her outfit was business professional, but more revealing than most outfits he had seen so far with a low cut blouse and slimming black pencil skirt with matching black heels. As he made his way up her body, the sight of her ocean blue eyes took his breath away once again. Rowan didn’t think he would ever grow used to Aelin’s brilliant presence, attracting glances from men and women alike.

But as he looked closer at her, those beautiful eyes didn’t have the same fire they did a year ago. In fact, there was no emotion at all shown on her features. Nothing at all. Out of every moment of heartbreak and sorrow she had caused him, the sight of her utterly devoid of feeling was the most painful thing Rowan had ever experienced.

After eons, Aelin finally turned his way. As she made eye contact with him, Rowan finally saw something flicker in her eyes. Surprise. They continued to look at one another, stuck in a world of their own making. Rowan couldn’t find it in his heart to break their connection, damn the consequences. And as they stood frozen in a fantasy, for the first time in a year, Rowan truly smiled.

Tag list

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

[mikrowrites]

apple pie kind of life

dean winchester x reader

SORTA SEASON 15 FINALE SPOILERS!!!

summary: told in a series of vignettes, Dean and Y/N get to live a semi-normal life and most importantly, get their happy ending.

warnings: literally just fluff and slice of life, language, recreational drinking :), mild canon violence

a/n: this literally jumps all around the timeline. it’s also just me self-indulgently fixing what’s broken lmao

a/n: so these are just a bunch of events, in no chronological order whatsoever! enjoy!!

At 8:00 AM sharp, the sound of two alarm clocks went off in the bunker.

Y/N L/N reached over, hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock as she yawned, sitting up. She combed her hands through her messy bed head, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

Suddenly two strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling Y/N back down onto the bed, the woman letting out a squeal before she laughed softly.

“Ten more minutes...” Dean Winchester grumbled, resting his chin on Y/N’s shoulder, his stubble tickling her skin.

She huffed with laughter, interlacing one of her hands with his. “Ten minutes, then we face the music, yeah?”

Dean mumbled a “mm-hm” in response, pulling Y/N in closer.

The woman smiled, burrowing into his hold as they laid peacefully together, tangled in blankets and sheets.

—

“Oh my god. You suck at this.” Y/N scrunched her nose, watching as Dean stood steadily on the ladder, stringing the multicolored lights on the gutter.

“You wanna keep trashing my light-hanging skills?” Dean shouted over his shoulder. “Do you want to do it?”

“Nah,” Y/N smirked, biting her bottom lip. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Dean rolled his eyes with a smile, continuing the strenuous task of hanging Christmas lights on their small house. Y/N watched from below, bundled into a winter coat, smiling up at her husband.

“You know, on second thought, maybe we should’ve just done white lights.” Y/N mused.

Dean turned and looked at his wife with raised eyebrows. He slowly made his way down and off the ladder, before grabbing a ball of snow and throwing it at her.

Y/N gasped as her jaw dropped in shock, shaking her head. “Oh, it’s on motherfucker!”

The two ran around the yard, dodging snowballs from each other, laughing like little kids. Miracle barked from the fenced backyard, adding to the chaotic scene. Y/N ran towards Dean, tackling him into the snow as she shoved more of the cold substance down the back of his coat.

“Okay, I surrender, I surrender!” Dean yelled, Y/N stopping as she smiled down at him.

“And victory is sweet.” She sang before leaning down and kissing him. Dean smiled against her lips, reaching behind him and bringing a ball of snow down over her head.

Y/N broke away from the kiss, sitting up and laughing loudly. Dean grinned, her laughs being the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. She stood up, holding out her hand. He took it, Y/N helping to hoist him up.

“Look at us. We’re a mess.” Y/N chuckled.

“I think maybe a nice hot shower should fix it right up.” Dean mischievously replied.

Y/N smiled. “I think that should do, Mr. Winchester.”

Dean smirked as Y/N grasped his hand, pulling him towards the house.

“Lead the way, Mrs. Winchester.”

—

The old barn was filled with the sound of struggle and fighting as the Winchesters and Y/N fought off the group of vamps.

Y/N shoved the vamp off of her, slicing off it’s head and spinning, elbowing another in the chest.

She saw Dean wrestling with a vamp, Y/N reaching for something in her jacket pocket. The creature tried to shove Dean against a wooden beam, but before it could its head was sliced clean off. The man looked at the vamp confused before looking over at his girlfriend standing about 10 feet away.

Y/N dropped her jaw in utter joy, reaching into her pocket again and producing another ninja star from between her fingers. Sam killed the last vamp, turning to look at the woman. “Really?”

Dean’s face shifted to a look of awe. “I love you so much right know.”

Y/N winked at her boyfriend, pocketing the ninja star. “Love you too. Now let’s go get those kids to safety.”

The woman went to go get the two kids, Dean and Sam turning to look at each other. The older brother sighed. “Should’ve let me use the ninja stars.”

“Shut up, Dean.”

—

Y/N pursed her lips, cocking her head to the side as she surveyed the room. She narrowed her eyes for a moment in thought before picking up a roller paintbrush and a can of paint, as she began to roll paint onto the walls.

She was about halfway through painting the room when she heard the front door shut, the familiar sound of her husband throwing his keys on the counter ringing through the house. “Hey, I’m home!” he shouted.

Y/N wiped her paint covered hands on her old overalls, walking out of the room to greet Dean. “Hey, De.”

“Woah, what have you been doing?” Dean questioned, Y/N walking up and sneaking a kiss from him before answering.

“Painting. Had to get done at some point. I promise, I’m not going crazy on it. I picked the mint color, it’s cute.” Y/N nonchalantly replied.

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Without me? Without anyone in the house?”

Y/N shrugged. “No, I had Miracle here with me. So?”

“Honey, you’re pregnant.” Dean reasoned.

“And I’m immediately helpless?” Y/N put her hands on her hips, smiling teasingly. “I’m fine.”

Dean huffed out a sigh, Y/N chuckling. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands resting on the nape of his neck. Dean placed his hands on both sides of her slightly swollen belly. “Everything’s fine.”

“I know.” Dean finally relented, kissing the top of her head before scrunching his face in disgust. “Gross, you have paint in your hair.”

“Aw, that’s the sweetest compliment you’ve ever given me.” Y/N smiled. Dean rolled his eyes with a laugh.

“I’ll change and help finish painting.” He replied, pulling away and shrugging off his jacket.

Y/N nodded in satisfaction, turning to walk back into the room. Dean watched her leave, a loving smile traced onto his lips. He shook his head with a chuckle, trying to reason how he became such a cheesy-ass husband.

—

Sam walked over to the table, handing a beer to Y/N. She tipped the bottle towards him in thanks before taking a swig. The tall brunette sat across from her, sighing.

“So are you gonna do it?”

Y/N choked on her booze a bit, clearing her throat as she sat up, looking around to be sure Dean wasn’t near. “Sammy!”

“What? We won. We can write our own lives now, what are you waiting for?” Sam chuckled.

Y/N sat her beer on the table, frowning. “I just—Dean’s not the kind of guy for domesticity and such. I don’t really think he’s a marriage kind of guy.”

“You won’t know unless you actually talk to him.” Sam urged.

She exhaled, sitting back in her seat. “Look. After this hunt I’ll talk to him.”

“Atta girl.” Sam teased, Y/N rolling her eyes with a smile.

“Besides, if I pop the question first it’ll bruise his big boy ego.”

Sam raised his bottle. “To bruising my brother’s ego with love.”

“Cheers.” Y/N grinned, clinking her bottle with his.

Dean watched the two most important people in his life drink their booze, smiling and laughing. A soft smirk formed, as he reached into his pocket, pulling out the velvet ring box with his mother’s ring rested neatly in it. After a beat Dean placed it back in his pocket, walking into the library.

“Hey, no booze for me?”

—

Y/N gripped Dean’s hand, grinning as they looked back at the officiant. He wore one of his fake FBI suits as she wore a white dress shirt with black dress pants.

She turned to look again at Dean, raising her eyebrows teasingly. “I do.”

“By the power vested in me by the city of Las Vegas, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The man stated. “You may k—“

Before the officiant could finish Dean wrapped his arm around Y/N’s waist, dipping her back and kissing her deeply.

She melted into the kiss, bracing her hand on his back. Sam whooped and hollered from the front pew, Eileen clapping her hands with a wide smile.

The two pulled away, Dean holding Y/N close as the two laughed, Y/N’s cheek pressed against Dean’s. Cas smiled fondly at the two, the light catching the gleam of Y/N’s ring.

The officiant shook his head in amusement, clearing his throat.

“I present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Dean Winchester!��

—

Dean stepped inside the house, pulling a trailing Y/N in by the hand. He led her into the empty living room, grabbing both her hands and raising his eyebrows. “So?”

“So...” Y/N mused, looking around the small house. “... it’s kinda... perfect.”

The green-eyed man smiled, looking around. “It’s not suburbia, not big and fancy, it’s just—“

“It’s just a home.” She finished for him. “Yeah.”

Dean chuckled. “It’s a home.”

Y/N looked around. “Dee, there’s no way we could even afford this. My bartending and your side jobs, we couldn’t—“

“I talked to Sam. He’d help us work out how to do a loan. We could pay it off.” The man insisted.

She sighed, pouting her lips. “I do really love this house... do you think...?”

“We have a meeting with the realtor tomorrow at 3.” Dean finished her sentence.

Y/N nodded, exhaling deeply.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

—

Y/N ran the rag across the counter, smiling up at her husband who was talking up some of their customers with his ever-so-charming smirk. Soft music emitted from the jukebox in the corner, the lights lowered slightly for the ambiance.

The bar had been a labor of love for Dean and Y/N. They both had bartending experience, and after all, it was secretly always a dream of the hunter’s to open a place like this. It took many years, but they were up and running.

Eileen walked over to the counter, Y/N grinning at her sister in law. The brunette smiled back. “Mary doing well?”

Y/N chuckled at the thought of her three-year-old, throwing the rag under the counter. “Sleeping like a rock upstairs.” Y/N spoke while signing with her hands.

“Dean seems happy. Really happy. More than I’ve ever seen.” Eileen remarked.

“Yeah.” Y/N made eye contact with her husband, who threw her a dazzling smile. “He really is.”

—

Loud cries and wails echoed down the hallway as Y/N let out a loud groan. She reached over and checked the time on her phone. 1:34 AM. Y/N dramatically thrust her face into her pillow smacking her husband’s chest with her hand.

“It’s your turn.” Y/N’s muffled voice stated.

Dean chuckled lowly, sitting up and kissing the back of Y/N’s head before crawling out of bed. The woman turned and watched him leave the room, her eyelids fluttering shut as sleep overcame her again.

The man walked towards the crying, gently opening the door to the nursery. Dean approached the crib, reaching in and gathering his 3 month old daughter into his arms.

“Hey, Mary Jo.” He hushed. “You might wanna lower the volume a bit, I think your mommy’s considering adoption.”

The baby’s wails turned into soft wimpers until she fell silent, Dean exhaling in relief.

“I was kidding about the adoption thing, by the way.” He made his way over to the window, looking out it. “Did you have a nightmare? Yeah, mommy and I have them too. Pretty often.”

Dean lightly rubbed his daughter’s back, sighing. “One day, when you’re much older, the nightmares will never stop. You’ll learn about every nightmare out there. But we’ll be here to show you how to defeat them. We’ll teach you how to protect yourself from them. But don’t go chasing the nightmares. Learn to keep them away.”

He was quiet for a moment, before sighing and shaking his head. “I still chase nightmares. And I hope, I pray to Jack you never do.”

—

[duskholland]

As You Are | Mob!Tom Holland

summary ↠ who could’ve known showing up to work late one night would put you in touch with a mysterious stranger, capable of turning your life upside down? 

word count ↠ 6.8k

warnings ↠ mature themes, drinking, cursing, gambling + mentions of violence 

a/n ↠ I don’t know how this ended up being so long honestly. I had a blast writing it and I really hope that people read it lol. anyway! this is part of my mob!Tom series -- a collection of oneshots set within the same universe. you don’t need to read the other parts for this to make sense. 

mob!Tom masterlist | general masterlist

You’re late. Fuck, you’re running so late.

Your tight, shiny stilettos rub the corners of your toes uncomfortably as you hurry off the bus, ignoring the stares of the passengers. You push your handbag further up your arm and start to run precariously down the cobbled London streets, your heart pounding harshly in your chest. As you pass the entrances to some of the most exclusive clubs in Soho, you find yourself blending into the crowd. All around you are London’s elite, dressed in expensive coats, rich cologne, and enough glinting diamonds to burn your eyes, and they don’t spare you a second look as you reach the end of the street, taking your tall heels and short skirt as standard.

Relief replaces your anxiety as you pull off at the corner and slip around the back of the largest club of them all: The Lotus Club. You whip out your ID and flash it at the looming security guard on the door, and a moment later you’re in.

Immediately you’re met with backstage: an eclectic mix of cheap hairspray, curling irons, and half-naked girls. You move past a group of feathered dancers and find your locker quickly, ditching your bag and clocking in as you curse yourself for falling asleep earlier in the night. You’ve been working here for three years and you never used to be late, but these days, it’s as if you’ve been pushing it closer and closer to the wire each time you stumble in for your shift.

“You’re late,” comes a loud, stern voice. You freeze, your fingers half-way through pulling off the lid of a deep velvety red lipstick, and you glance at the mirror on your locker door to see your boss standing behind you, arms crossed. Loretta’s a ripped, forty-year-old woman with so many tattoos you think she must be immune to pain. Her eyes are stormy and grey as you hesitantly turn to face her, wincing a smile. “I’ve checked the data for the last month. You’ve been late 12 times, Y/N.” Her face pulls into a disappointed frown. “I’ve always liked you and you’ve never let me down before, but I need staff that I can rely on.”

Instantly you feel cold dread pool in your stomach. “Loretta, look, I’m really sorry, but it’s been a hectic month. I- I’ll try harder, okay? I’m sorry.” And you don’t want to grovel, but this job is all you have. Waiting the tables in this exclusive Soho Club is the only way you can afford to keep your flat, and without that, you have nothing. “Please don’t fire me.”

She holds your gaze for a long, hard minute. Your body feels tight with angst, your fingers shaking around the lipstick. “I’ll give you one more chance,” she says finally. “You’ll need to wait the private booths tonight, though.” When you open your mouth to complain, she laughs lowly. “Oi, none of that. I know you hate it, but if you’re late in, you don’t get a say in where I assign you. Got it?”

With a bite of your lower lip, you nod your head dejectedly. “Alright. Thanks Loretta. I won’t let you down.”

“You better not.” And then she turns and walks away, no doubt on her way to harass some of the other workers, and you turn around to finish your makeup.

The Lotus Club is a boujee blend of bar, nightclub and casino, equipped with a whole secluded wing through the back for private dances. Like the rest of the street, it attracts the highest of the high - rich, snobby businesspeople and socialites who enjoy getting off by flaunting their power and riches. You’re yet to meet anyone who isn’t a complete and utter snob.

The private booths perfectly encapsulate the worst parts of the club: they’re secluded and shady, which means they’re a hub for illegal and underhand exchanges, and they cost a leg and a half to rent out. If you think the customers you’d find in the main foyer of the club were spoilt, the inhabitants in the booths can only be described as the richest assholes London can muster. 

You stare at yourself in your locker’s mirror, red lips sagging into an irritated pout. Your frown remains as you fluff up your hair for a final time and shut your locker abruptly. Your black skirt clings to your legs as you walk out into the front of house, the air clearing the moment you’re in the public sphere of the club.

It’s a very exclusive and elitist place, and the decor of the club indicates that exactly: large, glistening chandeliers dangle in every room, a rich red carpet curves across the halls, and there’s the controlled sound of restrained music drifting through large speakers. Each section of the club has a different vibe to it, and as you walk through the casino and into the section with the private booths, the tone shifts. The booths themselves are tucked behind a large curtain, and as you walk through, the lights grow dimmer and the sweet, husky scent of marijuana fills the air.

You find the supervising manager first - a small, unassuming man called Rob. He discreetly points at a circular table in the corner of the section. “That table over there,” he says. You squint your eyes and stare, making out the outline of a few young men. Curiosity replaces your irritation as you realise they look about as old as you. “You take them, yeah?”

You give him a nod. “Who are they?”

Rob shrugs. “No idea. Think it’s their first time.” He raises an eyebrow suggestively. “Make a good impression.”

You roll your eyes as you move away from him, flexing out your fingers as you walk towards the table. This is the VIP section, which means each booth gets a dedicated waitress - aka, you. You just hope the guys you’ll be serving are decent, because if they aren’t, it’ll be a long, long night.

You draw their attention easily, one of the side effects of being one of the few women in the room. Their gazes fall on you before you’re even at the table, and you suck in a quick, steadying breath as you manage a smile. “Good evening, gentlemen. I’m Y/N and I’ll be your server tonight. You ever been here before?”

Your eyes drift around the circular table as you wait on a response, taking in the men now you’re near enough to make them out. There are four of them: all looking young, but the number of tailored suits and watches attached to them screams wealth in a way you can’t ignore. To the left, two guys, both brunette and very similar - twins? To the right, a blond with dizzying blue eyes. And in the centre, a man, clearly the leader, with his arms thrown over the back of the booth. He’s in a crisp white shirt, a suit jacket lying crumpled on the seat beside him, and his golden brown eyes seem to linger on you for a moment too long as you wait on a response. The way he looks at you brings a warmth to your cheeks, the smile fixed on your face threatening to falter as you decide that he’s utterly delicious.

“Never been before, love.” Finally someone speaks, and it’s the blond. His lips twist into a slow smile. “Nice place you’ve got.”

You hum, returning his stare confidently. “It’s nice back here,” you agree. Then you reach down and pull a small, flat device from your pocket. You lean down and slide it into the centre of the table, making brief eye contact with the man in the centre as you pull yourself back up, a thrill of excitement cracking down your spine as you catch him staring at you. “That’s my pager. If you need me, just press the button and I’ll be here. Can I get you any drinks?”

They rattle off a list of drinks and you nod along, quickly memorising the drinks and faces, matching them with personalities. The guy in the centre goes for a Corona, speaking in a voice that’s just a little too perfect, and as you walk away towards the bar, you find yourself wondering why they’re all here. The private booths are the ideal location for illegal activities to occur, yet you couldn’t see any drugs on them, and none of them seem to have turned up with any documents or briefcases. They aren’t the usual age, either, and they all seem far too friendly to fit the normal typecast of the customers you’d find in the club. They’d smiled at you as you’d taken their orders, none of them looking at you through heady, lusting eyes - not even the man in the centre with the firm, brown gaze had let his stare slip away from your face. They feel like a breath of fresh air hidden away in an extremely stuffy room, and you can’t help but regard them fondly.

When you return to the table with a tray laden with drinks, you’re quick to distribute the bottles and glasses. The men are having a very loud and animated conversation, apparently at the expense of one of the twins, whose freckly face is burning a deep, embarrassed red. You’re in and out in a second, but in the moment you’re leaning across the table to put down a glass, the brunette in the centre meets your gaze again, his thin lips pulling up into a semblance of a smirk. “Thanks, love,” he whispers, tilting the glass towards you as you tuck the tray beneath your arm and step back.

“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else,” you say, nodding at the pager on the table. He glances to the device quickly, before looking back at you, eyes lingering on the curve of your painted lower lip.

“Will do.”

You breeze away from them, your heart rattling against your ribcage as you walk to the back corner and slip into easy conversation with some of the other girls.

Your table get a few more rounds of drinks over the course of the night. Each time you’re there within seconds of the buzzer going off, always with an eager smile on your face. One bonus to the private booths is that the people who rent them out tend to have such a surplus of wealth that the tips are huge, and you’d really like to have the extra cash. So maybe you smile a little wider than usual, and do your best to crack jokes and play along as you talk with the group, but it’s all part of the job, and all part of what’s expected from you. You’re sure the fact that the man in the centre gets your heart racing a little faster than normal has nothing to do with it.

It’s a little after 1am when you’re paged back to the circular table in the corner, the buzzing in your pocket causing you to stifle a yawn. With a start, you walk back to them, your tired feet clacking across the smooth marbled floor. As you draw closer, you realise that there’s only one man there, and with a start, you realise it’s the leader.

“Hi,” you say, smiling nervously. “Friends abandoned you?”

The man shakes his head, the tips of his wavy brown hair shifting delicately. “Gone to the casino,” he explains. He pats the open booth beside him questioningly. “Do you want to sit?” You ponder it for half a second. His voice is open and warm, and it lacks the air of expectation that you’d usually find when patrons ask you a similar question. With a small smile on your face, you sit down beside him. “It’s Y/N, yeah?”

You nod slowly, your bare legs feeling warm against the leather booth. The man is still settled in the centre of the semi-circle, but he slides a little closer to you as you begin to talk, one of his arms hanging over the side of the booth, inviting you closer.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply softly. “Are you going to tell me your name, or is that a mystery too?”

The man quirks an eyebrow, and for the first time you notice how endearing his face is. It’s hard, with deep lines crossing his forehead and his cheeks, but when he smiles, the angst fades away, leaving him with a gentle softness about him. His nose is slightly crooked and his lips are thin and lopsided, but he’s undeniably handsome.

“I’m a mystery?” He asks, amused.

“No one’s seen any of you around before,” you say, picking your words carefully. “Normally we get regulars in the VIP section.” You shrug lightly. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, it’s our first time coming here,” he tells you. Then he picks up his hand and offers it to you. “I’m Tom, darling.”

You take his outstretched hand and your smile widens as he takes your fingers into a strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Tom.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

[-----]

You talk with Tom easily, gradually unearthing a few details about the man. He doesn’t give much away, but you gather that he and his brothers own a few businesses around London and they’d come to your club tonight to scout out the competition. 

“Can I get you a drink, love?” He asks, about ten minutes into conversation. 

You’ve got a relaxed smile on your face as you nod in agreement.  “That would be nice,” you tell him. “I can go and get it, though.” You begin to stand, only to feel him reach out and take your hand, his digits loosely brushing up against yours as you meet his sparkly golden eyes.

“No, stay here,” he says, his voice soft. His eyes shift towards the bar and you watch as he catches the gaze of one of the other servers. She walks over to you and takes your order with a jealous grimace on her face, and you find yourself shifting a little closer to Tom as you sit back down.

“So...” You let your lips quirk into a coy smile. “What kinds of things does a man like you enjoy doing?”

Tom hums softly, his hand going to rest on your knee. The tips of his calloused fingertips draw small shapes and circles over your skin, his touch setting off warm fireworks. “I like golf,” he says, laughing quietly as you grimace. “It’s more interesting to play than it is to watch.”

“I’d sure hope so,” you joke. “I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

“Well, what is your thing?” You watch intently as Tom flicks his pink tongue out across his lower lip. Your breath hitches as you realise he’s flirting with you, and you’ve overcome with a strong urge to reciprocate.

“I like painting,” you admit. “Someday I’m going to quit my job here and open up an art gallery.” You reach up slowly, resting the flat hand on his shoulder as the tips of your fingers play around with his soft hair. “Would you be my model, one day?”

Tom brings his other hand to your waist, testing the waters. When you only drift closer to him, he holds your side more firmly, his long, nimble fingers slowly wrapping around you. His touch is intoxicating. 

“I’d be flattered to be your model, darling,” he tells you, eyes sparkling with something between lust and admiration.

As the night draws on, you find yourself inching closer and closer to him, his body heat attracting you like a moth to a flame. His eyes sparkle brightly, shades of golden browns appealing to you easily, and you can’t stop yourself from shamelessly flirting with him, your heart pounding each time he returns it just as thickly.

But you’re not completely blinded by lust. Over the course of your conversation, you pick up on a few unsaid details. First and foremost: Tom has a holster strapped to his belt, and whilst it’s empty, its presence is enough to have your guard up. You know there’s probably a hundred armed men out in the casino, but the sight of it makes you uneasy. Tom’s nice, and maybe a part of you had considered clocking out and leaving with him, but that - and the fact that you can see a pair of brass knuckledusters hanging out of his suit pocket - is enough to sour that idea.

It really is a shame. He’s nothing but charming, in a very sweet, romantic way, and if the circumstances were different, you’d want him in a heartbeat.

By the time Tom’s friends return from the Casino, stacks of cash in hand, you’re practically on top of him. Somewhere between the second and the third beer, he’d pulled you nearer, and now you have your head pressed against his outstretched arm as you sit lazily in his lap, your voice dying halfway through your anecdote as the presence of Tom’s associates disturb your conversation.

“How much?” Tom calls out, his eyes moving away from your face for the first time in an hour. You watch as his pupils dilate, swallowing the golden flecks of his irises as he stares at the rolls of cash greedily.

“50k.” The blond...Harrison, you think, says. “We should come back more often.” His blue eyes twinkle knowingly as he takes in the way you’re spread over Tom. “You ready to go, mate?”

You feel Tom shift beneath you, a hand going to sit on your waist as he hums. “Go settle the tab, yeah? I’ll be over in a minute.”

Harrison nods, and you watch as the group approach the bar and begin to sift through the rolls of cash. Clearing your throat, you stretch out your arm and move out of Tom’s lap, distancing yourself from him as you give him a coy smile.

“Well… I guess it’s goodnight, Tom,” you say, watching him carefully. His eyebrows furrow together slightly as an expression of intrigue passes over his face.

“Don’t suppose you’d want to come home with me, love?” He asks, voice honest and open. He reaches down and takes one of your hands in his, his calloused thumb passing over the back of your knuckles. The touch makes you bite your lower lip, and for a brief moment, you find yourself wishing you could.

“Sorry,” you say instead, ignoring the way a part of you wants to explore the man further. You’ve seen the holster and the knuckledusters. “I don’t know you.”

Surprise replaces his intrigue, but Tom remains looking at you fondly. He nods his head, holding your gaze as he brings your hand to his mouth, pressing his intoxicating lips to the back of your hand and kissing your skin softly. “I’ll see you around then, darling,” he mumbles, finally releasing your hand as he presses it back to your lap. He stands up and shimmies out of the booth, tossing his suit jacket over his shoulder as he goes. “It was lovely spending the evening with you, Y/N.”

Your smile is soft, genuine. “You too, Tom. Have a nice night.”

He raises his hand in a brief wave, and then turns, meeting with his friends by the door. They leave together, and you take a moment to sit against the back of the booth, breathing heavily through your mouth as your thoughts run rampant through your mind.

Everything about Tom feels to be a juxtaposition. His suit was expensive and he left the casino £50,000 richer, yet his shoes were scruffy and his watch looked old and worn. He’s clearly used to control, but he was perfectly content with you setting the lines and the limits. He has an obvious affinity for the darker arts, but his touch was always kind and gentle. Tom is a perfect paradox, and you can’t help but keep him in your thoughts as you begin to clear away the dirty glasses, your smile remaining on your lips for the rest of the night.

[-----]

When you come in for your shift a few days later, you’re called into Loretta’s office immediately. Dread and anticipation hang heavy in your stomach as you nervously push open her door, hoping with every part of you that she hasn’t called you in to fire you. You’re left utterly perplexed as the tall woman greets you with a long, tight hug.

“Y/N, my darling!” She exclaims, releasing you and gesturing down at a chair. You slip into it apprehensively as she walks around to sit behind her desk, her eyes bright and excited. “You’ve got a tip.”

Your eyes widen. “A tip?” You echo, voice uncertain. Normally the tips would be added to your pay-check at the end of the month, no further comment needed. The way she’s staring at you like you’re a celebrity makes you nervous.

“Someone left an anonymous tip for you,” she says, voice high. “I’ve already deducted the club’s percentage.” Loretta passes you a bulging envelope. “It leaves you with just under £5,000.”

Your jaw drops.

“What… The fuck,” you manage, eyes bulging as you tear open the envelope and run your thumb through the thick stack of cash. “Who?”

Your boss shrugs. “Anonymous,” she repeats. “Just thought you’d appreciate the heads up. I’ll keep it out of the books, as long as you don’t mention this to anyone.” Her voice is low, and you nod quickly, knowing that she’s doing you both a favour: the club takes a cut of all tips received, and you know that you’ll both come out better if the tax office doesn’t learn of your bonus.

“Thank you,” you say, flabbergasted. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing,” she advises. “Just take it.” As you rise to your feet and slip the envelope into your bag, she adds, “You can go back to serving the bar, as usual. I’ll get Monica to cover the private booths.”

“Thanks,” you say again, your voice soft and shaken. She bids you goodbye as you walk back to the lockers, your eyes wide and your mind scrambled.

You want to assume it’s Tom who’s left the tip. You don’t think you’ve made a big enough impression on anyone else recently to be rewarded this generously. It baffles you, because you hadn’t ever expected this, but then you find yourself warming to the idea. You’d gotten on well with Tom, and maybe a small part of you has been regretting denying him, and this… Well, this act of generosity would suggest that he’s still thinking about you, and that’s a very nice thought.

You begin your shift with a wide smile on your face, knowing your rent is taken care of for the next few months. It puts a lightness in your step, and you find yourself winning over all the patrons you come into contact with, your wallet growing heavier and heavier as the night draws by. A few times, you find yourself gazing around the bar, looking for Tom, expecting to see him, but not feeling surprised when you don’t. He’d told you himself that he was only in the club to scout out a rival business - why would he return after gathering his reconnaissance?

He doesn’t turn up that night. Or the next. Or even the next. You have to wait another week before you see another sign of him, and even then, it’s not actually him.

You’re clearing away a table when you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Harrison standing there, a black suit pulled around him so perfectly that he looks like a model and it takes your breath away for a second.

“Y/N?” He asks, voice clear and bright. You give him a nod, your eyebrows pulling up into confusion as he procures a red rose and passes it to you. “I’m Harrison, Tom’s mate. We met the other night.”

You twirl the stem between your fingers, glancing between the delicate petals and Harrison’s watchful face. “Yeah, I remember.”

He nods his head at the rose. “Tom wanted you to have that. He also wanted to know if you’d gotten his gift?”

The thorns on the rose nick your finger and you curse softly, bringing your thumb to your mouth and sucking away the small drop of blood. Harrison watches you intently, his eyes twinkling as he holds back a laugh.

“You mean the tip?” You ask after a moment, pulling your hand away from your face. You cross your arms over your chest as you stare the man down. “You do know that was an obscene amount of money, right?”

Harrison chuckles, running a hand through his blond curls. “I know,” he agrees. “Tom wouldn’t hear anything else. Apparently you made quite the impression.” His eyes sweep across you briefly. “He wanted to know if you’d join him for a date tomorrow night.”

You hum, your eyebrow raising slightly. “And why are you here asking me out, instead of him?” 

Harrison’s eyes widen at your controlled tone, his cheeks tinting with a rosy blush. “He’s busy.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “Well, you can tell Tom that I appreciate the gesture, but if he wants to take me on a date, he needs to come down here and ask me himself.” Acting on impulse, you pass Harrison back the rose, your eyes dancing mischievously. 

Harrison looks a little taken aback, but he nods slowly and looks at you with a shade of respect in his gaze. “I will pass on the message.”

“Thanks, Harrison.” You turn back to the table you’re clearing and you watch from the corner of your eye as he turns and walks away, leaving the club with the rose in his hands.

Your heart hammers in your chest, as part of you can’t believe you’ve just turned him down so boldly. But you know it’s for the best, because men like Tom can be dangerous, and if he thinks he can get away with anything, then that’s not the kind of person you want to see. You decide that if he can swallow his pride and show up to see you himself, then you’ll be happy to lean into him, but you won’t fall at his feet just because he’s flashed some cash. If he doesn’t respond to your demands, at least you’ll come out richer for it. But a part of you thinks you’ve got him nailed down, and you have the feeling he thrives on games like these, and so you return to the club the next night expecting to see him, and you’re not surprised when you do.

Tom’s leaning up against the bar, talking with one of the strippers amicably. The feathers coming out of her plumed headband fall onto his forehead as they laugh closely together, and an irrational stab of jealousy twists up through your insides as you watch them. It’s ridiculous, and you quickly swallow it back, but as Tom meets your eyes from across the room, you know he’s seen the envy in your eyes. His thin lips pull into a smirk and he beckons you over, your legs moving of their own accord.

As you get to Tom, he leans down and whispers something in the woman’s ear. You watch as her expression falls, and then she pulls away from Tom to circle the room in search of another visitor. He greets you by opening his arms, and you pause for a moment before sinking into them, his fingers finding your waist as your head goes to the crook of his neck, finding home briefly in his warmth and the rich scent of his powerful cologne. As you pull back, one of his hands goes back to his side, but the other finds your face for a moment, holding you softly as his lips brush over your cheek. You have to bite back a smile as he mumbles a quiet, “Evening, love,” not wanting him to see how utterly giddy it makes you feel to have him so close again.

“Hi, Tom,” you reply, your head clearing up as he finally drops contact with your skin. Your eyes drift over his familiar face, taking in the details of his handsome features. “Looking for a stripper, eh?”

“Not unless she’s called Y/N,” he replies, voice controlled but suggestive. You chuckle quietly, your face heating a little as you grow slightly bashful.

“Smooth,” you comment. “You gonna buy me a drink?”

“Whatever you want,” he promises. His eyes sweep over the room. “You’re not working?”

You shrug as you slip up at the bar, Tom settling on the stool beside you. One of his hands goes to rest on your knee, the contact firm and grounding, and it makes your body fill with a subtle, thrumming heat. “I am, technically,” you say. “But it’s my job to entertain the guests,” you shift your gaze to his suggestively, “and I’d say you’re in need of a little fun.”

“You’re definitely right there, darling.”

You drink a few rounds with Tom, treating yourself to some of the bar’s most expensive wine because he’s already given them his card and you free rein over the drinks menu. Any reluctance you feel to exploit his kindness disappears as you remember how easily he’d left the casino up £50k the other night, and as you slowly grow lighter and your bloodstream more diluted, you find yourself loosening up. Tom does too, and as you talk about any and everything, his hair becomes messier as his cheeks flush. Your knees touch and sometimes your shoulders brush, and it’s like the rest of the world burns away until it’s just you, and him, laughing, talking, feeling, and it’s so natural that you almost forget that you come from two different worlds.

But then Tom shifts on the stool, and your eyes catch his empty holster, and you’re slammed back to earth, your mood shifting. He picks up on it immediately, his eyebrows furrowing as he reaches out and picks up your hand, playing with your fingers softly. “You alright there, love?”

You hum. “What do you want from me, Tom?” You ask after a moment, voice unassuming.

“What do you mean?”

You give him a coy smile. “You know what I mean,” you tease. “Chatting with me, leaving me thousands of pounds, getting your friend to ask me out… Even being here tonight. What do you want?” And your voice is open and honest, and Tom ponders it for a few moments before squeezing your hand.

“You intrigue me, Y/N,” he admits. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night we met… I don’t know why, or what I want from you, but I guess, I’d quite like to know, what do you want from me?”

“Oh, no, you don’t get to turn this on me.”

“Why not? I’m definitely allowed to do that.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re sneaky, Tom,” you mumble. “If I’m being honest, part of me thought you’d show up tonight and expect me to leave with you. Because, y’know, the money.” He opens his mouth to argue, but you raise an eyebrow and he pauses. “I don’t think you’re that kind of guy, though. Are you?”

He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not a dick.”

“Arrogant, sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“A bit egotistical?”

“Well, uh, I guess you could say that.”

“Dominating?”

Tom’s eyes shift a shade darker as he nods. “You like to talk,” he comments, bringing a smile to your face.

“I can leave you to your thoughts, if you’d prefer that,” you tease. He tightens his grip on your hand, and for the first time you look down at his fingers and notice that his knuckles are bruised and bloodied. “Shit, what happened here?” You bring his hands nearer your face, gently grazing your touch over the curves of his cut knuckles. He winces but he lets you inspect the injuries.

“Nothing,” he mutters. When you tighten your gaze, he shrugs haplessly. “Got in a fight. No big deal.”

“Yeah, right.” You rise from the stool, dragging him with you. You’re about to turn and pull him across the room when you hesitate. “Are you packing?” He looks surprised by the question, so you add, “I won’t take you backstage if you’re dangerous.”

“I’ve not got a gun on me,” he says, dodging half the question but it’s good enough for you. You lead him out, through the bar, past the casino, and you pull him through a large door that says Staff Only and take him back to one of the locker rooms. It’s peak time so the room is quiet, and you sit him down on a bench as you grab a clean cloth from beside the sink and run it under some warm water.

“If you don’t take care of your injuries, they’ll scar,” you tell him as you dab at his knuckles. Tom’s gaze burns into your cheek as you wash away the dried blood, exposing the deep colours of fresh bruises just below. You glance up at him, your breath hitching in your throat as you meet his stare, his eyes dancing with a thousand different words. “Who’d look after you if I wasn’t here, huh?” You walk across the room before returning with a cotton pad soaked in disinfectant. “This might hurt,” you warn, but Tom doesn’t even flinch as you drag the pad over his cracked skin. You throw the pad into the bin and then settle in front of him, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare at him questioningly.

“Come sit,” he says finally, his voice more laboured than before. He spreads his legs a little and pats at his lap, and without hesitation you step forward and straddle him. You have to shift around until you’re comfortable, but you manage to stretch your legs out behind him on the bench and his hands go to anchor your hips in place. Your faces are really close now, and he easily brings a hand up to settle on your cheek, the tips of his fingers resting on your cheekbones. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, love?”

You smile slightly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re just…” He breaks off, sighing comically. “So fucking perfect.” The compliment draws your smile into a large grin as you chuckle softly.

“Perfect, eh?” You tease, running a hand over his shoulder. You rest it at the nape of his neck, your fingers playing with the tips of his hair. “I don’t think perfect exists.”

“It does,” he says immediately.

“Maybe.” Acting boldly, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his jaw, admiring the sharp line with your mouth as he sighs beneath you. “You’re a dangerous man, aren’t you?” You say, finishing your trail of kisses at his ear. You let your breath fan out across his skin for a moment before pressing a final kiss to his earlobe, feeling his body tense beneath you.

“Yeah,” he admits.

You pull yourself back to face him, your eyebrow arched. “Will you keep me safe?” You ask. It hangs heavy in the air, a multitude of layers hidden away behind the few words.

Tom nods, a hand drawing up to find home in your hair. His fingers bury in the strands and he uses his leverage to draw you nearer until your noses are touching, his cold skin pressing to yours in the most delicate way.

“I will always protect you,” he promises, voice serious.

Your lips quirk into a slight smile. “Kiss me,” you ask.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, lips chapped but warm as they slide over yours. It’s soft, for a moment, but then you grip his hair and pull him nearer and it grows stronger. Passion flows between you as you cling to him, his mouth hot and luxurious and it draws a heat between your legs as you feel his teeth catch at your lower lip. When you part your lips and grant him access, his tongue dances with yours and you moan into his mouth, every inch of you aching for him, burning with desire to keep him here. His hand in your hair holds you close as the other wanders over your side, caressing your figure softly but warmly, and you turn to butter in his hold, kissing, and kissing, and kissing, until your lips are numb and your lungs burn. When you pull away, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes pulling open just enough to make brief contact with yours. He looks softer now, less anxious, more in control.

“I wish I could do that forever,” he admits. Both hands find your waist, holding you comfortably as he smirks at you. “You’re something else.”

You shrug slightly, pulling at the collar of his shirt. “I could say the same about you, Tom,” you tease, eyeing him carefully. “You gonna come back again tomorrow?”

He raises a scruffy eyebrow. “You want me to come back tomorrow?”

Your lips split into a wide smile. “Yeah,” you admit. “Maybe the day after that, too. If you want.”

“I’ll be here,” he promises. “I’ll be here for as long as you want me to be.”

You kiss him again, softer. His lips are warm and they already feel a little bit like home. You realise that he’s got you, both physically, because his fingers grip your waist so strongly, but also emotionally, because you look into the depths of his warm, mysterious eyes, and you realise you don’t want to forget what they look like.

“I might want you around for a long time. Is that a problem?”

Tom shakes his head, body relaxing. He kisses you. “Not a problem at all,” he confirms. “I feel like… I feel like you might change my life, love.”

You laugh quietly, rolling your eyes. “Who knew you’d be such a sap,” you tease. Tom frowns, his grip on your waist tightening, and you swallow deeply as he steadies you. “I’m kidding. Relax.” You kiss him again, quickly.

“You think you can just distract me with kisses?” He says, voice confident. You nod your head arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm. “I think you’re the kind of person who will be very easy to distract.” To prove your point, you take a long moment to grind your hips down, feeling the hard presence of his erection pressing up against your covered core. You giggle and your head falls to the crook of his neck, and Tom’s hands rub over your back as he holds you close.

“You’re a minx,” he says. “Such a tease.”

“I’m a lot of things,” you whisper against his neck. You feel his lips brush over the top of your head and let him hold you, close, gripping you tightly, and it feels like you’ve known him for infinity already.

“I’m excited to figure you out, Y/N.”

You tilt your head and run a line of brief kisses up his neck until eventually finding his lips, seizing them in a short peck. “Me too, Tom,” you admit. “I feel like you’re gonna be really special to me,” you say, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

“Oh, so who’s the sap now, huh?” He teases, drawing your smile wider.

“Shut up,” you say.

“Make me.”

And then, quite simply, you’re back to kissing, and you know he’s dangerous, and you know he’s powerful, but his touch on your waist is gentle and he’s kissing you so slowly and softly that none of that really matters. It doesn’t matter that you don’t entirely know who he is, because there’s a connection tethering your soul to his, and you can feel it - even if it’s only been a few days. It’s a type of connection that you’ve never felt before, and it thrills you, but it also terrifies you. Because you know that the man beneath you holds the keys to the world, but it comes at a cost, and you’re not sure you can afford the price if it all falls apart.

But fuck it. He’s kissing you, and it’s perfect, and you crave to stay like this forever, curled up in his lap like this. So what if the world burns? You’re perfectly happy exactly where you are, Tom’s hands on your hips, your mouths moving in sync. And as he holds you close, you know there’s nowhere else your heart would be safer than tucked up here with him.

[gaytransflint]

Anon asked for trans flint, so here we are! Trans Flint and secret-keeping Silver. [tw for some internalized transphobia]

They don't fear ships. They don't fear guns. They don't fear swords.

Then what do they fear?

Flint knew the question well. What did they fear? There were threats everywhere. To their livelihood, their safety, their loved ones, and constantly their life. But what about their comfort? What about threats to the things they held onto for comfort? The assumptions they could lean against, sturdy and true. The assumptions of who and what the world was made of.

His men didn’t fear ships or guns because they were always true, always as dangerous as when they embarked on their voyage-- pointed at them or not. Swords were only as terrifying as the man wielding it. And any man was only as terrifying as the unknown about him.

And thus, Flint knew he was the most horrifying man amongst them.

If anyone found out-- wandered into his cabin when he was preparing for bed or tore his clothes in a fight just so-- he’d become an entirely figure of terror than the heartless, murderous captain he’d been painted. His lies would become a mural for his own defeat. His own murder. There would be no mercy for him. There would only be a before and after-- the vision held of one Captain Flint, and the new image of the scrambling, begging man before them proving his worth by parameters he’d learned from them-- other men-- all his life.

Flint was always preparing for the day he would be found out. He memorized the proper prayers to mutter just before the blade struck him, or gun was aimed at his head or aching wheezing chest. He was not a religious man, but he figured there would be a God to reckon with when he died, confused and fussing in a new body and image he had not lived with. One he actively rejected.

There was one snag in his plan, a snag common in many plans, actually: John fucking Silver.

It is still light out, and Flint shouldn’t have been so stupid as to adjust his bandages when there were still men awake, but he wants to feel that he belongs in the daylight as well as the sparse life of night.

Silver barges in with news from the deck. Flint can tell it isn’t urgent from the way it drops from Silver’s mind the moment he lays eyes on Flint, sitting at his desk, tying his bandages.

Flint is frozen, sure he could feel his transformation into beast oncoming. It was agonizingly slow.

“How bad is it?” Silver asks, gently closing the door behind him.

Flint grabs his shirt and pulls it back over himself. The question startles him-- he isn’t sure how bad it-- or is it him that’s bad-- Flint feels scattered in a thousand different places as he tucks his shirt in, hoping to look composed.

“How bad?” Silver asks, stepping forward.

“Silver, wait, I can explain,” Flint starts his speech, holding a hand out. It takes him a moment to realize-- remember-- Silver isn’t armed. He hadn’t come with a motive.

“When did it happen?” Silver sounds startled, like he’s worried. “I don’t remember any-- how long have you been hurt?”

Flint pauses. “Hurt?” He’s never been considered hurt before, wounded or in pieces. Maybe he is? Maybe there a part of him somewhere he’d lost along the way from the divinity of heaven to his mother’s arms. And there is hurt, buried deep and tangled in tendons of shame and--

“Has Howell seen you?” Silver presses on.

“Howell?” It never occurred to Flint that bandages men something else to men. “No. No. It’s alright.”

“Do the other men know?”

"Not every man on this ship needs to know my fucking business.” Flint says, his voice breaking. He slams his fists against his desk to try and mask the crack in his put-on, deep tone. “Don’t worry the men with anything. It’s nothing.” It’s the end of Flint’s world, is what it is.

“They will be anyway, when their captain’s dead in his cabin.”

Flint checks Silver again, for weapons or for the pent up rage to begin swinging at him. “Is that a threat.”

“Why would I threaten a wounded man?” Silver is at Flint’s desk, bracing his hands and weight against it. “I have no interest in contributing into a mass hysteria on this ship.”

“Good. Then you can tell me what you came in here for and promptly get out.” Flint snaps, standing from his desk. His shirt flaps in the motion, the top button still not fastened properly. The bandages peak out across his chest. They’re thick and noticeable against his dark shirt, even after days of dirt, seawater, and sweat. The skin under the bandages itches and wishes to feel the light again. The skin is pale and soft, like a new-born that never got to grow. Hidden away with fear and shame.

Silver doesn’t ask again, but instead stands at the desk with his eyes fixed on Flint’s. They don’t dart down to the bandages as Flint can tell they want to. Silver doesn’t gawk, but there is curiosity in him, twisting and turning-- and possibly plotting.

The transformation is slow, but it is not still. Flint can feel the stories about him being spun as Silver’s eyes take him in-- as he avoids looking back at Silver. He is already begging, silently and in a meager plea: don’t ask me. please don’t ask me.

"You aren’t hurt.” Silver echoes, nodding. “But you’re bandaged.” It’s an observation with enough room to become an accusation.

“I’m telling you: do not worry the men with--”

“I’ve seen this before.” Silver says, plainly. It’s like a knife to Flint’s throat; sharply aching and choking him, but not yet dangerous. “I’ve met men with-- like you, before.”

Suddenly Silver’s unknown past becomes a light. The dark tunnel circling behind him and his name becomes a secret world Flint wishes he could see, could meet. Could settle into and maybe meet another man like himself. But instead he has Silver, suddenly and wildly, as an ally. Perhaps.

“And what did you do with this man?”

“Left him where I found him.” Silver laughs. “At a tavern getting himself good and drunk.” Silver considers the memory with a nod. “Deserved it. He’d had a tough life-- even before he had to put up with me.”

“You left him?”

“Well I wasn’t going to bother the man forever.” Silver says. “You on the other hand, I have no choice in the matter. I must continue to bother you. It is my job, as voted.”

Flint holds the edge of his desk, unsure if he still wants to sit back down or flip it over as a barricade. “You do not wish to tell the other men? Tell them I’m not... what they think I am. Parading around as a-- in this--”

“I don’t see the problem.” Silver says sternly. “My life has been in the balance of your will more than enough to recognize when a man is something far beyond just a man, but a force. A power. And I think that’s what you are-- and that’s what I’ll tell them.”

Flint feels the knife fall away. Silver truly had come in unarmed, unthreatening. Just another man taking the fragile secret he found with gentle and kind hands. Silver didn’t need to respect the vulnerability Flint had suddenly shown-- been trapped in, bound in since he was a teenager. Silver could’ve killed him right there, his death graceless to his memory. To the self Flint built in a fit of rage and burning grief from losing Thomas, the first man to respect him, to love him, as he was.

Silver didn’t kill that man. Didn’t unmake him. He left Captain Flint, James Flint, live in his ways another moment-- perhaps a proper lifetime.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Down to Business

So, a lot of the Magnificent Scoundrels series is me sitting here and thinking, “you know what would be awesome?  If ____ happened.”  You know what would be awesome?  If three fan favorite factions, the Starfleet from Star Trek, the Quarians from Mass Effect, and the Adeptus Mechanicus from Warhammer 40k got together.  

“Power has been restored!  By a guy with metal tentacles.  Mmm…  Think of all the possibilities...”

“Ramirez, get your mind out of the gutter.  That’s an order.”

Mass Effect Galaxy

The Citadel

The lighting flickered inside the massive meeting room for a brief moment, and the various screens located in front of the delegates died with mechanical sighs.  Delegates looked around the room, moments away from panic.  Bodyguards readied their weapons once more, most eyed their ancestral enemies with suspicion.  Down in the delegates section, Drake rolled his eyes, annoyed at their response

“Well, what now?” hissed Vir to Shepard.

“First-” Shepard was cut off by a static hiss in his ear, followed by a voice that seemed to be panicking but trying not to show it.

“Shepard, this is Joker.  Uh, we got a pretty sizable and unknown attacking fleet coming in, and that power surge disabled all the docking clamps.  So, we’re kinda sitting ducks here unless you do something.” 

“The docking clamps attaching the Omen to the Citadel are locked down,” said Vir, clearly getting off a conversation with someone on his crew.  “How do we release them?  And, who the hell is Joker?”  

“Joker’s my pilot,” muttered Shepard.  He keyed his comms once again.

“Tali, this is Shepard.  Can you release the docking clamps?”  A strangely accented voice responded.

“No.  I don’t have the skills to hack into the Citadel’s central network.  Plus, it would take too long.”  

“Shit,” Shepard muttered.

“All of our ships are locked down, and now this station is under attack!” yelled one of the delegates.  Shepard didn’t quite catch who it was.  

“Can’t you do anything to fix this?” shouted someone else.   The salarian Councillor looked up from a frantically beeping holographic console.   

“We’re trying,” he snapped back.  “Somehow, someone disabled most of the Citadel’s vital systems.”  

“Damnnit,” muttered Vir.  “This is not good.”  

“Not shit,” replied Shepard.

“Commander, this is Joker.  We are seeing armed troopers on the Citadel.  A lot of ‘em look like Cerberus, but some of them I don’t recognize.”

“Cerberus?” questioned Vir, but Shepard was already pacing and muttering to himself.

“Cerberus doesn’t make any sense… they wouldn’t want to attack the Citadel.  Not now, especially.  Something screwy is going on.”  

“We can’t do anything about figuring anything out unless we fix the problem at hand,” said Vir.

“But how?” replied Shepard.

It should be noted that most people realize that fate has a delicious sense of irony.  Therefore, it should have come as no surprise that help came from a most unexpected source.  

One of the delegates of the Imperium of Man finished speaking with a voice in his comms, and with a surprised nod, looked out into the various groups settled into the Council chambers.

“Quarians!  Who are the Quarians?” he bellowed.  Now it was Shepard’s turn to look surprised.  The Quarians were a race of nomads, having lost their homeworld to machines of their own creation long ago.  Due to their unique immune systems, they had to wear bodysuits and masks at all times.  Most individuals in the galaxy looked down upon them in the false belief they were untrustworthy thieves, and every other race saw them as second class citizens.  They had no seat on the Council, and, unlike many others, were not a client race of one of the Council species.  In fact, the only reason there were Quarian diplomats here at all was because Shepard insisted.  Now, of all the groups present, the highly xenophobic Imperium specifically wanted them.  

Slim faces, masked and hooded, looked up at the Imperial delegation.  

“We are the Quarians.  What do you want?”  Their accent was the same as Tali, Shepard’s chief engineer, noted some distant part of Vir’s brain.  Interesting, but not important right now.

“What frequency are your communications on?”  The Quarians looked at each other, clearly expecting something else.  

“Uh, 3091.”  The Imperial diplomat relayed the numbers back to someone else.  There was a brief pause, then the previously dormant console in front of the Quarian delegation lit up.  A synthesised, metallic voice cut through the various diplomats’ squander and filled every speaker in the room.

“I hear your kind is quite good with techno-theocracy,” it began without preamble.  “I can return all functioning systems to the Citadel, but I cannot interface with it.”  The voice spoke as if the Citadel was some sort of giant creature, able to be talked into proper performance.  “I need you to provide me with an interface.  I also need a cognator with enough power to broadcast my signal.”  The hell-

“What’s a cognator?” hissed Vir.  

“I believe your word for it is ‘computer’.”  Cain’s voice sounded through the Scoundrels' private communications channel.    

“Good to hear from you, Commissar,” replied Vir.  Sheaprd was already speaking to the wide room.

“They need a computer.  A really powerful one.  Anyone here have that and some really skilled people to liaison with the Quarians and… uh, metal voice there?”  Kirk raised his hand instantly.  

“We do!  The Starfleet is at your service.”  

“Excellent,” replied the metallic voice.  “Provide me with interface to your blessed cognators, and Quarians, provide me and them interface with the Citadel.  Then we shall see about restoring your systems.”

Aboard the Enterprise

The Enterprise’s crew, looking neat in their Starfleet jumpsuits, ran around the bridge, doing everything in their power to break free from the Citadel.  White and grey walls and panels dully reflected the neat white overhead lights, giving the entire room a clean and futuristic appearance.  Chief Engineer Scotty was already on the bridge.  Spock stood next to him, huddled over the central console.  

“Right, put this in now: 001, 543, 893, 115, 221, 101, 618.  It should work now,” said Scotty.  

“Excellent,” replied the voice.  “You certainly know your way around appeasing machine spirits.”  Scotty looked up at Spock.  Spock shrugged and gave him a clear ‘hey, I don’t know either’ look.  

“Uh, thanks, I guess.  What’s your name, by the way?” “I am designated as Archmagos Spericles Kaustus.  Please, tell me your designation as well.”

“Montgomery Scott.  You can call me Scotty.”

“Very well, then, Scotty.  All that remains now is to speak with the Quarians.”

Aboard the Watch Eternal

Utterly massive windows, more suited to a gothic cathedral than a starship, allowed the Eternal’s crew to look out into the black void of space.  Murals, depicting actions of heroes long dead, were painted on every available inch of wall.  There were no interior lights in the bridge, which served to give the massive room a dark and eerie demeanor.  Officers ran from workstation to workstation, observing the Deathwatch chapter serfs that crewed this vessel.  The captain sat in the middle on a large and imposing silver throne, metal tubing snaking from his head, allowing him to know what was happening on the ship at all times.  Captain of the vessel he may have been, but he did not command it.  This was a Deathwatch vessel, and so it fell to the Watch Captain of the Space Marine strike force to do so.  

Currently, the massive, power armored bulk of the Watch Captain was not quite huddled over a strange looking individual, but rather gave the impression he would have been huddling had the action not been genetically bred out of him.  

“Archmagos Kaustus, this… seems like heresy,” came the Watch Captain’s booming voice.  The strange individual glazed up for a moment.  Glowing red lenses, framed by a blank metal faceplate peered from beneath a voluminous red and black robe.  Seemingly hundreds of additional metallic arms and tentacles sprouted from beneath the robe, and all were currently occupied with typing at an entire workstation console at once.  They did not stop their work at the Captain’s words.

“Do I tell you how to do your job?” replied the Archmagos’s blank metallic voice.  “Do I tell you how to best serve your Primarch and the Emperor?  Do I tell you how to best kill the alien enemies of man?  No, I do not.  So please do not tell me, a tech priest of the Mechanicus, what is and is not tech-hersey.”  The Captain frowned from beneath his heavy helmet.  

“Very well.  You have always served the Deathwatch and Inquisition faithfully.  I leave you to your business.”

Aboard the Niqunus

“Admiral, we’ve been contacted by the Starfleet and… the other guy.”  The admiral looked up from his cramped position on the starships’ tiny bridge.  Quarian ships had to be lived in, and so there was no room for the luxury of open space.  An engineer welded wires together in the background, framed by grey plastic and open metal.  Despite their starships being old, there was no better group in the galaxy for getting metal to hold together like the Quarians.  

“Very well,” replied the admiral.  “Locking Starfleet systems to the Citadel.”  She pressed a holographic button in front of her and spoke.  “Scotty.  Archmagos.  We have interfaced your systems.  Prepare to transmit.  

“Excellent.  Transmitting code now.”  

It should be noted that to synchronise computers and other technological systems from three separate realities, all completely different from each other, was quite the impossible task.  Later, when trying to gain control over a lost shuttle, the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation ordered a team of their finest scientists to make the shuttle’s computers compatible with theirs.  It took the team eighteen months.  The Quarians, with the Starfleet’s help, did it in seven minutes.  

In the same vein, it should also be noted that to write a code to take personal control of the Citadel, a massive space station, guarded by the finest technological traps money could buy, would take any normal person weeks, if not months, to write.  Tali-Zorah, one of the finest engineers and technological masters in the universe, and chief engineer of the Normandy, could do it in the span of hours to days.  Kaustus did it in four minutes and forty-nine seconds.  

Headquarters of Citadel Security

The Citadel

Captain Bailey of Citadel Security turned over the long counter and fired his sidearm twice.  He could smell the visceral stink of blood in the background, courtesy of a dead officer behind him.  His bullets found their mark, puncturing through the armor of a Cerberus trooper.  Damn them.  A solid quarter of C-Sec officers throughout the Citadel had turned traitor, and upon the arrival of the enemy, turned their weapons on the backs of their unsuspecting comrades.  Bailey didn’t understand what had happened, but he did realize alien and human alike had betrayed their oaths.  Therefore, with logical deduction, the pro-human terrorist group Cerberus was not the mastermind of this.   It didn’t stop him from cursing out whoever was attacking him wearing the terrorists’ logos, though.  

“Captain Bailey, I believe,” came a sudden voice in his ear.  He almost jumped out of his skin.  It was cold, emotionless, and strangely metallic.  

“Who is this?” Bailey managed to blurt out before ducking back into cover.  

“Archmagos Kaustus.  To restore your stations, systems, I need you to do as I instruct.”  Bailey glanced around, disbelieving.  

“Uh, sure.  What do you need me to do?”  

“Go into your station’s central terminal.  Reboot it.”  

“That’s it?”  

“Affirmative.  We’ve taken care of everything.”  Bailey shook his head.  

“Okay.”  He crouched low and ran through the station.  Luckily enough, the building was still under control of the actual C-Sec.  Didn’t stop people from trying to shoot into it.  He reached to long central control desk and looked at it.  Power.  Simple.  Press the button.  He did so.  

“Okay, uh… rebooted it.”  The voice came immediately.

“I know.  Excellent work.  Your systems shall be online and under your control shortly.”  Bailey sat down.  The computer screens started to run with green binary code.  He stared.  What the hell is this?  I’m no expert, but I don’t think anyone’s used this kind of coding for a hundred years!  The green scrolling numerals gave way to a strange symbol, a half human skull, half metallic face surrounded by a cogwheel.  The system's diagnostic came up next, in a format he’d never seen before.  It was easy enough to read, though, and he stared at it. 

Docking Clamps: Online

Citadel Central Network: Online

Internal Communications: Online

P.A. System: Online

Citadel Security Communications: Online

Power Operating At: 120% Capacity

Defense Batteries Operating At: 160% Capacity

Glory to the Machine God!

What the ever-loving hell is this?  And how can things operate at more than 100%?  He shook his head and turned on the newly-online comms.  

“Everything’s back, Councillors,” he reported.

The Council Chambers

“Everything’s back, Councillors.”  A wave of cheers rose at this announcement.  Drake held up his hands once more.

“Whoa, whoa.  We still have to get rid of these guys.”  He turned his gaze to a group of delegation boxes.  “Cain, Master Chief, Solo, Kirk.  Get the delegates to safety.  The rest of you, you're with me.”  Vir shrugged to Shepard.  At least they would be part of the action.  Drake clapped his hands dramatically.  “Get moving!  We don’t have all day.”  With a nod to Shepard’s position, he disappeared behind his delegation.  

Servos whirred as Vir’s Iron Eye armor came to life.  Shepard hefted his rifle.  

“Time to get this show on the road.” 

There it is.  If you have any questions, comments, concerns, requests, or criticisms, feel free to tell me.  Like I said before, this series is just about, “hey, wouldn’t it be cool if ____ happened?”  So, if think something would be awesome and you want to fill in that blank, tell me, and I’ll write it!  

[thatesqcrush]

Ingénue

Bryan Kneef x Reader. Oh come on my wonderful readers... you didn’t think Bryan was one and done right? This is dedicated to @madpanda75​ who told me she needed a money shot Kneef fic and the lovelies of the discord chat I am in, who encourage the most salacious shit... the pillow is all you heathens. C/W: Blow-job! So much penis talk. Cum. This fills the money shot square in my K!nktober challenge (of course I have to participate too!).

WC: 1668. 

Note: This is a one-off piece, which takes place between chapters 5 & 6 of Fall From Grace. I start off with the ending of ch. 5 just as a refresher, intro. 

--

S/O again to @prurientpuddlejumper​ - Kneef is such a cranky asshole. Thanks for the gifs!

--

You rapped your fingers in annoyance as the presentation wore on. Between the monotonous drone of the associate and the dimmed lights, you were headed to snoozeville.

“If you can turn to slide 35, you can see that the Firm billables have increased substantially…”

You opened your interoffice messenger. You looked around the board room. Everyone was too busy listening to your colleague’s ramblings.

[YN]: Rescue me.

To your delight, Bryan responded rather quickly.

[BK]: Bored are we?

[Y/N]: Yes.

[BK]: That’s a shame. I’m busy in a meeting with Diane. You know this is a STR computer. People are probably monitoring.

You rolled your eyes at Bryan throwing your prior words back at you.

[YN]: And seeing what I have to say to you would be the most exciting thing to happen in their mundane lives.

‘Ha!’ you thought victoriously, using Bryan’s own words back at him as well.

There was no response from Bryan. After a minute or two passed, you felt something in your guts twist. You were about to give your attention back to the boring presentation when one of the STR Laurie gatekeeper’s rapped on the glass door.

“Ms. Y/L/N – Mr. Kneef would like to see you. Immediately.”

The group of your colleagues let out a low whistle, as if you were in trouble with the teacher.

You bit your cheek from smiling. If they only knew.

--

“This way.”

You followed the blonde gatekeeper up the spiral staircase to Bryan’s office. Your heart pounded in your chest and your nerves were already tingling in anticipation. Tiny explosions emanated from each synapse.

As you walked down the long hallway, it occurred to you that you had never been in Bryan’s actual office. The many encounters you had, he had always come to visit you. In a weird way you felt this was a huge step – to be allowed into his personal space.

Finally, you approached his office and you entered. To your surprise, the room was empty. You were instructed to take a seat at his desk and as you did so, you took in the room décor. Bryan’s office was a massive corner office with floor to ceiling windows offering an expansive view of Lake Michigan. The walls were painted a dark charcoal and included a built-in bookcase that was filled to the brim. A rolling wood step ladder accompanied it. In the middle was a glass coffee table flanked by a black leather couch and two matching armchairs. Two Appropriately so, there was an iron bar cart with an ice bucket, various alcoholic bottles and glasses hanging in storage.

There was a sound of a toilet flushing and then a sink being turned. You realized Bryan had a bathroom in his office.

“Ms. Y/L/N, thank you for coming.” Bryan greeted you, before turning to the gatekeeper. “You can go now.” He waved his hand dismissively and the gatekeeper dropped their head, nodding before closing the door with a click.

Bryan sat down and kicked his legs up on his desk, crossing them at the ankles.

“How was your meeting with Diane?” You asked.

“Not important.” Bryan replied. “I called you because you had said you were bored.”

“I was.” You replied. “Nothing like hearing about firm billables to really jazz up one’s day. It was titillating.” You rolled your eyes as you stood. Bryan raked in your outfit – a tight sweater which showed off the swells of your tits and cigarette-style pants. Completing your outfit was a pair of patent leather pumps and a bold red lip. You came around and hopped onto the corner of the desk carefully, making sure to not disturb the items on the desk.

Bryan leaned past you and hit the page button on his phone. “This is Kneef. Hold my calls, no interruptions. Working through lunch with Ms. Y/L/N on the Higgins case.”

“Will do sir.” The voice on the other side complied.

“Oh, sir.” You teased.

Bryan’s eyes flashed with heat and you leaned back, a half-smirk gracing your face. “Do you like that? Being called sir?”

Bryan didn’t reply as another flash of heat coursed through. “Take off your sweater.” His voice was dark and gravelly as it dropped an octave. “Show me those tits.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied, batting your eyes coquettishly. You gripped the hem of your sweater and pulled it off. Bryan groaned at the sight of you in a simple cotton bra. While he loved you in dainty lingerie that left little to the imagination, there was something erotically charged about you in something so… virginal. You reached around to undo your bra clasp to free your breasts from their encasement when Bryan held a finger at you, pausing you. He walked over to an arm chair and took one of the oversized pillows. He threw himself back into his chair and tossed the pillow in front of his legs. “On your knees.”

You knew exactly what he was getting at and sunk down to your knees getting a close-up of a truly impressive cock creating an outline against his expensive suit. You rubbed him through the materials of his pants, feeling his cock grow even harder under your palm. You made move to undo the belt, button, and zipper. You rubbed the head of his cock first, and then ran your fingers down the cloth-covered shaft. You reached in and pulled out his cock, which was angrily red and weeping pre-cum. You licked your lips and drew up some saliva in your mouth, before spitting into your hand. Bryan grunted and his hips jerked in response as you wrapped your manicured hand around the girth of his cock. You pumped his cock a few times before you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. The salty taste of his pre-cum flooded your mouth as your tongue swirled around the head before flicking over the tip and then underside to the frenulum.

You flattened your tongue and then took the entire length in your mouth. Bryan’s cock was thick, with a large vein down the shaft, and you could tell it was painfully hard. Bryan let out a hiss of relief as he buried his hands into your hair. “Take it all.” Bryan commands and you relax your throat so you can take his length until he hits the back of your throat.

Bryan gives your hair a tug. “There you go.” He sounds almost kind, almost caring. He watches his cock disappear in your mouth and his eyes roll back. You hum your assent and stroke your hands over his thighs before reaching to cup his balls and give a gentle squeeze. “Oh fuck yeah. Just like that.”

His praise causes excitement to flood you. Much like your panties which you are certain are ruined. You look up at his face and Bryan’s eyes meet yours. You hollow your cheeks, bobbing on his length with more gusto. “Keep doing that… uhh... don’t stop.”

You feel empowered having rendered such a powerful man helpless because of what you can do with his mouth. The seam of your pants presses tightly against you causing some friction and you wish you weren’t wearing pants so you could touch yourself.

“You look so pretty like that.” Bryan grits. “With a mouth full of my cock.” And with that, he’s fucking into your mouth in long strokes. Your eyes water and saliva pools from out of your mouth.

“I’m gonna cum!” Bryan blurts out. You brace yourself to swallow the hot liquid but instead Bryan shoves you off of him. You don’t even have time to react because he’s fisting himself rapidly – and then it happens – with a deep grunt, he shoots his load. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue as thick ropes of his seed coat your face, your tongue, and even along your neck.

You hear Bryan collapse on the chair and you finally open your eyes, thankful nothing got there. Bryan smiles like the cat who caught the canary and he strokes your hair.

“Well, I’ll be damned. That was fun.” Bryan tucks himself in and then reaches into his drawer, pulling out a kerchief. “Here, go clean up in the bathroom.”

You nod, a bit stunned and you walk over to clean up. In the bathroom, you realize you look like a mess and there was no way to clean up without washing your face. You use the expensive hand soap to work up a lather and you clean up. You fix your hair and after a few minutes you head back out.

Bryan’s on his phone, arguing with someone and your sweater is neatly folded on the corner of Bryan’s desk.

You tug the sweater back on and you wait for what was probably a minute but seemed like forever for Bryan to acknowledge you. Instead he meets you with raised brows and you nod, heading back to your office.

When you return, Marissa is there waiting. “I heard you got sent to Kneef’s office. Are you fired?”

“No, I had to help him with the Higgins case. Damn associates don’t know what they’re doing.” You lied.

“Anyway, I picked you up a latte.” Marissa replies, placing the cup on your desk. “You look like hell. I hope Bryan didn’t ride you that hard. You should put some lipstick on.”

You let out a small laugh. “Thanks for the pro-tip.” You move your mouse to wake up your computer and the message on it causes you to freeze.

[BK: Such a hard little worker with that job.]

Your phone rings and your breath hitches as you answer. “STR Laurie, Y/N speaking.”

“My little office slut. Just you wait and see what I have planned for you later.”

“Come again... sir?”

“Oh you bet your sweet little ass you will. Again and again and again.” Bryan purrs before the line disconnects. 

You look at the clock. It was half-past one. Time couldn’t move fast enough.

FIN.

 Tags: @madpanda75​ @mgarner1227​ @tropes-and-tales​ @delia26​ @beardedmccoy​ @youreverycolor​ @neely1177​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @mrsrafaelbarba​ @skittle479​ @ottosuricato​ @delia26​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @mommakat32​ @dreila03​ @beccabarba​ @garturbo​ @lovebennycolon​ @imjustreallynosy​ @sweetsummertime99​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife​ @annabelleb49​​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ @redlipstickandblacktea​​ @zoeykaytesmom​​ @differentshadesofgray​​ @misssirenlove​​ @esparza-army​​ @bananas-pajamas​ @mishaissocoolike @thefanficfaerie​​ @theenchantedgalleryofstories​​ @catnip987 @choppedgalaxynerd-blog-blog​ @pieceofshittytitty​​ @ktiz90​ @evee87​​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom @blk0912 @detective-giggles​​ @rampantmuses​​ @jazzyjoi​​ @caked-crusader​​ @rachelxwayne​ @the-hopeless-haze​ @prurientpuddlejumper​

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘hana’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 4.5k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

> Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> next

**words in italics are spoken in Korean

It's a grey day.

The Sun is acting up. As if It had been vexed deeply and now, no matter how loud the kids are calling after It, It just won't budge. Hidden behind the thick clouds, not hinting a tiny ray through the heavy shower, It won't show the tip of Its nose today, you have no doubt about that.

It takes some time to persuade the kids of that fact though.

The better half of recess is spent arguing, they just won't admit that for today, the break will be taken in class. It renders most of them gloomy, unable to accept the harsh reality, even if they've lived before -back in the beginning, when you were still too lenient, letting yourself drag into endless quarrel leading to stupid and quite irresponsible compromises- the traumatizing experience of standing in the middle of a storm. You still remember the awful concert of cries and the race to pick every kid somehow induced in a panic paralysis, one under each arm, to bring them to safety in urgency -thank god, Jeon Jungkook had been there, with his stature, able to stack up five of them at the same time, incredibly useful, pretty much life-saving. What you remember even better is the severe scolding you received from the principal, who thought -as you should have- that no matter how bad the children insisted, they shouldn't be playing outside in the rain.

You knew that. They just wouldn't believe you and you thought that, maybe, they just needed practical proof. No harm was supposed to be engendered. And quite frankly, none occurred. Children sometimes just enjoy being dramatic and it was the perfect, quintessential occasion to do so, especially if the principle is in earshot -which she was.

In any case, you learned your lesson. However, they did not.

Charlotte, standing on her pretty polished pearl white shoes -that you know, for a fact, that you'll get in trouble if her mother comes to pick her up to find them ruined by the terrible weather-, chin up high, hands tucked to her side, won't stop arguing with you as the main spokesgirl for the class. Apparently, it's “unfair”.

And it is unfair. Weather is not meant to be fair and you have not a single take on it. Try to explain that to a five-year-old.

“Ok, everyone, listen up!” Everyone's little heads swing forward like those car bobbleheads, wide eyes ogling you with burning impatience and clear, obnoxious delusion. They're all waiting, expecting you to open the door and let them free into the wild. “Let's make a deal, alright? Who wants to make a deal?” And everyone, even if they, for the most part, have no clue what's going on, wants to -except for Charlotte who's eyeing you with a suspicious glare and for Jimmy who's hiding in the corner, a sad scowl on his face. “You know that I don't have any power over the rain. But I do have powers over how long recess will last.” You act smug as you say that, their little impressed faces adding to the effect. It becomes painful to conceal the giggles blooming in your chest. “Since you already wasted half of your time, I have a proposition for you. You'll stay twice as long on break, meaning until it's 3:45,” You explain, pointing on the big clock hovering your desk where the long hand will be standing when the break ends. “if you can stay calm in class, ok?”

The announcement sends them in a fury, the simple idea of having a longer break overwhelming them with hysterical joy. So much for staying calm and collected.

Fortunately enough, I've been gifted with overall sweet children. It doesn't require more than a collecting "shh" and a reminder of the term of the bargain for them to quietly divert into groups, colonizing different lots of the classroom. Some ask for books, for paints or crayons, for the plushies and the toys they brought along to school -even though they're not allowed to- and a tranquil atmosphere rises and sets itself upon the room.

It's very nice, even for you. Sitting at your desk, watching over them with a distracted eye, you wonder if you'd be allowed to spend the rest of the day like so. They're talking, laughing and creating, sharing, being kind to each other and this whole ambience, slower than usual, calmer, more peaceful seem greatly beneficial for them. They don't feel any kind of pressure from having to learn, having to follow a predesigned, normative rhythm. It's pleasant and healthier than usual. Even if you try your best, constantly, to render every single day as filled with positivity through the required productivity as you can, you can't help sometimes stress and tension from blooming. It suffices one Kevin to come to class, sleepy and upset from a bad night, triggering a Charlotte who ends up scowling and nagging at everyone all day, and then everyone is in a terrible mood. Exercises are a pain to go through. Keeping their attention on you a quasi impossible challenge to overcome. Bringing their spirits up an unreachable, delusional aspiration.

But here and now, spending their time and energy on what they want with their chosen friends, in the comfortable warmth of the safe classroom, with the rain gently drumming on the windows, you can sense peace and joy and it fills your heart with content to the brim, or, almost to the brim.

Your heart could be spilling out with joy if it wasn't for this one, tiny pout adorning one tiny chubby face. Jimmy hasn't budged much from earlier. He had to leave his own desk to relocate at the very end of the room because a few girls decided to set up their library on the adjacent table.

His posture is the same though. Sitting quietly, his back pressed into the corner, hands tucked together against his belly, his big dark eyes are observing his classmates attentively. You read fear but also curiosity that's eaten up by something else, maybe sadness. It's a heartbreaking sight you're unfortunately too used to witness.

Jimmy arrived two months after everyone else. You don't know much about him. Because you haven't had the occasion to meet his parents yet, but mostly because he hasn't spoken a word since his arrival. His pouty mouth, shaped like an adorable button, hasn't opened once. Not even that one time you tried to have him participate and had him tearing up and crying, overwhelmed as he felt under the attention. He just sat silently, eyes drawn downwards, munching on the inside of his cheek, while tears ran down his round cheeks while all the other kids watched, as bewildered as you.

You almost quit your job that day. Certain you were not cut for it, somehow, finding out only now, at 26 years old, that you were a horrible, cruel person and your vocation and higher call were just all a blatant lie.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that today, once again, he’s hiding in his corner. You've tried a few things before. You didn’t just watch, waiting on time to operate and break his thick shell on its own. You've consulted the principal, colleagues, the internet. You've looked for clues, for tricks and after having tried quite a few, with little to no success at all -you've made him look up to your eyes, a thing he had been incapable of before-, you've decided to lay off a bit of that zeal.

You were getting too invested, even as this child’s teacher and you knew it wasn’t a good idea to pursue. As for him, you didn’t want to harm him in any way. No matter the benevolence and kindness and softness you put in every single one of your interaction, you thought, he seems so wounded already, you could break him, without meaning to, by simply trying too hard to smother his hostile edges.

You calmed down.

It tastes like defeat, coating a heavy layer in your throat, it never ceases to remind itself to you each time your eyes fall upon the sad pout and curious eyes. 

Today is no different.

Everything would be perfect if only, for once, he could mingle with his peers and if you could, for the first time, see the shades of his smile. If he even knows how to smile. 

Rising from your chair, you pick up a few pencils from your personal collection -the precious ones, unbitten at the top, unbroken at the tip, tall and seemingly unused. You don’t ever lend those to the kids as you know they’re not mature enough, and they won’t be for a long time to come, to care for your stuff the way those crayons need to be cared for-, a few white sheets and a sharpener and quietly make your way to him. He catches you and your intention from afar, his gaze fixed on you as you get closer.

He doesn’t utter a word, nor adumbrate a movement as you crouch next to him, soft smile, soft gestures. It’s a bit hurtful to think about it this way but it’s like approaching a wild tiny, tiny helpless creature -you're terrified to see it flee away.

“Hey Jimmy,” You say kindly, ignoring pointedly Charlotte who’s watching you (you can see her from the corner of your eyes) so that she knows to not interrupt or try to interfere in any way. “Would you like to draw a little?” You lay the material in front of him. His whole attention is offered to you and while you're glad you’ve reached that point where he can actually look at you, you can not help but wish he’d look away as his heavy stare suddenly makes you feel anxious. “Those are my personal crayons. I’m sure I can trust you to take care of them well, right?” He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink, doesn’t smile. You're not sure if he’ll even pick one of them up. You know he won't in front of you anyway and not wanting him to feel cornered and pressured, after another sugary sweet smile, you wave him goodbye and let him be.

The afternoon goes on, calmer than usual. It's as if they were brought to a state of peace so deep, they're now willing to accept any unfairness the world has in store for them. When the school bell rings, the children quickly run to the racks, grabbing their coats and little bags. A few of them start piling up at your feet, whining for the teddies and toys and lip balms they brought to school this morning and that you had to hold hostage as they are not supposed to bring them to school.

“Could we have another recess like today, miss? Tomorrow?” You see the shimmery eyes, the pressing pouts and impatient wiggling of the butts, waiting as patiently as they can for an answer. You're glad they had a good time today, still, a part of you can't help but regret it all. That part, conscious from the start, of how it'll all come back to bite you in the arse. No matter how cute they are, those little monsters always end up munching your arm up to the shoulder if you only do as much as tend an open hand their way.

“We'll see.” You say, waving them off. You don't mean to be so misleading but there's no way you're sending those kids home crying hysterically because they haven't heard the answer they were looking for.

Quickly they're all out of the class, seen outside to their carers by Adrianne, the lovely woman who helps out you, along with all the other teachers, with the kids every day.

There's only you and a little mess that you're able to tidy out quickly. In the corner, lay the little pile of papers and the crayons that had been obviously unused. Your heart squeezes briefly uncomfortably but you were not expecting any different from him. Since he arrived, two months ago, Jimmy has only drawn or traced letters or painted or built anything when the rest of his classmates were doing it too. You assume it's because he feels like he can't refuse to do something everyone else is doing. When it's just about him, when it doesn't concern directly the course, when it's just for pure personal entertainment, he simply would not do it.

You notice something. If he didn't draw anything on the sheets, he touched the crayons. They're piled very neatly, all tips turned the same way, one next to the other on top of the papers. What a sweetheart.

What a lovely, lovely kid.

It sends a rush of hope and determination back into your heart. You're not utterly desperate. It might take time. Maybe you won't be able to make significant progress until the very end of the year, when you'll have to say goodbye to him once he changes classes, but you don't despair to reach him, eventually.

And maybe that's all the universe needed -the conviction that you're not holding into this kid in pure vain- to offer you a generous little push. The magical manifestation comes in the form of Jimmy himself, escorted by Adrianne whose hand hovers few centimetres atop of his dark mop of hair, standing in the doorway, eyes drawn to the ground as if he's in trouble.

“Jimmy's father is running late and I-” She winces a little, grimace accentuating the lines carved on her face around her easy smile.

“You want to ask me something, don't you?” You tease knowingly. She looks embarrassed until she catches your wink, understanding she's probably fine to ask you anything.

“It's Felicia's birthday and I promised I'll be home early...”

You have to contain yourself, to not sound as ecstatic as you feel, to not drop to the ground, hands held high in gratitude towards the sky, settling for a simple: “Okay, I'll stay with him.”

“Are you sure?” She asks because she's nice and considerate but she's already turned her body towards the hallway. It doesn't take much more convincing to have her disappear.

It's only Jimmy and you now.

You're giddy but anxious. He doesn't even raise his head once she's gone. He just stands there, little raspberries tinting his cheeks and you're filled with a fondness tightly intertwined with sadness because he shouldn't look this guilty when he's done absolutely nothing wrong.

“Come have a seat.” His black eyes raise high enough for a split second, just to see where your hand is patting before quietly, he makes his way to the chair adjacent to yours. You've laid the papers and the crayons you'd picked up from the ground, an idea had come to you. There's no chance you'll have him draw something for you but you could draw for him.

You don't know if it'll have the same effect as it does on the other children. It's this special, unique teacher power that turns every single one of your shitty doodles, gifted to one of them, into a priceless, beautiful gift. It's the funniest thing and one of your favourites. The feeling is like the one you get when they fight and have to make serious arguments and deals to decide who will be the lucky one to hold the teacher's hand today.

Surely it's ridiculous but it does flat your ego grandiosely.

You're not expecting this kind of reaction from Jimmy, you'd just like to create some sort of contact, an interaction. Staring down at the white sheet, you're left speechless, nervous. It's been a while since you've sat in front of one of those, with no clear indication of what you were supposed to lay on it. Quite frankly, your crayons you only use to grade. The feeling is terrifying and you realise, gulping, that you didn't miss it. Maybe that feeling is the reason why he didn't pick up a pencil to draw himself. Was he filled with the same irrational paralysis that comes with the fear of the unknown?

“I'm not really good at drawing, to be honest with you... Do you like cats, Jimmy?” His big eyes watch you carefully. No answer. He simply munches on his lips, waiting for you to fill in the silence. “You probably do. Or, I hope you do because cats are what I draw best. Let's see.” You mumble, picking up a blue pencil to start -another consequence of the unusual anxiety you're feeling, suddenly picturing cats being blue.

It takes him a hot minute to open up the slightest. Actually, it takes about half an hour. Half an hour of you talking on your own, making conversation for the both of you; of you struggling to draw the cat you were certain you knew how to draw; of stopping every now and then to go over the basic body shape of a cat. It starts in the form of him snorting discreetly -you almost miss it- when you almost curse, fishing your cellphone out of your back pocket to look for the ugliest but easiest drawing of a cat you can find online for reference, tired of erasing and redoing the same damn curve of the cat's neck and messing up each time. It continues with him accepting to chose the next colour for what you keep calling “our cat”. He picks a deep purple for the back of the kitty, a bright yellow for the paws and apple green for the eyes. It's kind of funny looking but in a way you've done it together and your heart is filled to the brim with happiness. When it's done, sort of, you're ready to grab a new paper, hoping that maybe, on this one, he'll feel comfortable enough to grab a pencil himself and leave an actual mark on his own but the universe taps gently but firmly on the tip of your fingers, reminding you to be thankful for what happened today but not to be too greedy.

It's the tall and dishevelled man, stumbling loudly through the door that interrupts and determine the end of today's progress. Jimmy raises on his seat on reflex, running into the man's -you assume to be his father- legs. The man seems a bit uneasy, with his trench coat poorly buttoned, his dark hair messy with a thick strand sticking up to the roof, forehead crossed with worrisome lines. He reaches for the little boy, carrying him up to his chest, smacking a big kiss on his forehead; Jimmy's short arms are reaching far, far away, wrapping as much as he can around his father's neck and the previous wrinkles simply fade away.

“I'm so terribly sorry!” He apologizes, voice remarkably low, sounding lovely somehow even through the tension straining it. “I had this meeting that just lasted forever, I'm so, so sorry. It won't happen again.”

“No it's totally fine, don't worry about it!” You might be screaming a little bit because the big, impressively built man is now bowing with Jimmy draped around him like a koala and you feel so embarrassed because 1) no one has ever bowed to you, 2) you sincerely didn't mind staying a little bit later (especially given it happens more often than not) and 3) you were glad, you feel fortunate for the chance you just had to spend more time with Jimmy and see a spark of something you've never seen before. The reason you made a good improvement, you believe, is because the circumstances were favourable. Having a class filled with twenty-five other rambunctious kids that require great attention, at all time, doesn't, ever, allow you to bond with the boy. “Please don't, it's fine.” You insist, forcing him with wide gestures to stand up straight again. “Jimmy is one of the sweetest kids of my class, honestly, it was no bother.”

The dark eyes, perfect imitations of the ones Jimmy carries, display a lovely glint at my comment. He attempts to look at his son who’s snuggling in the crook of his neck, smiling softly.

“Is that right, Jiminie? My good boy.”

Jiminie. Without knowing what he says, the sonority of his words sounds so gentle and lovely, you can tell why the boy turns all sheepish.

There's a loud kiss pressed to his cheek and you can hear a high giggle, shy but sweet, as Jimmy squirms a bit in his dad's arms, pressing a hand to his ear. The scene is so, so adorable, you would cry if only you were not too worried to give off a terrible portray of an unbalanced and ugly-crier of a teacher to this father.

Father that you’re meeting for the first time.

And this fact, lost in the middle of a storm of agitated thoughts, manages to find his way to the surface after a little while of just awkwardly standing there, not really knowing what to say.

“Mr Kim, actually, I'm glad you're here. I meant to- meet and maybe have a little conversation with you, I don't know if Adrianne told you-”

“Yes, yes, she did. Of course. I apologize, I was supposed to get back to her with a date but work has been pretty- hectic. I've just changed job and-” You nod, genuinely understanding. If you don't know much about this man, nor this family in general, you can tell from the layers of fatigue that even the tender smiles he generously grants his son can't diminish, that he's not having the best of times. “It's not that- I don't want you to believe that I'm not invested in my son's education, it's really not the case-”

“Oh no, I don't believe that!” Quite frankly, you'd say that to any parents that come to you with these kinds of doubts, it's probably the worst thing you can do to a parent to criticize their parenting, their love, especially when you know from experience than most, even the ones that mess up and scar, don't commonly mean to. Parents are just adults and adults are just humans. Trying to figure shit out and actually not knowing jack shit about much. As a teacher, of children that young too, you owe to help them turn their progeny into the best versions they can be, as a team.

But this dad, standing there, distress and something akin sadness shading so much of his face, there's so little room for softness, a hand tenderly massaging the back of his boy's hair, you have no doubt, whatsoever, that it's not the case. That he tries and probably struggles, with whatever their circumstances are, but means the best. “I really don't. It's just I'd really like- I mean, I need, to have a little meeting with you. I receive every parent at the beginning of each year, it's important for me to understand better the child...” You would point out that in Jimmy's case, it's absolutely necessary given his behaviour but you don't want to say it in front of him. You've been reassured before by the principle that you weren't to worry too much. Jimmy was not, in any case, in any kind of danger at home, she had made sure of that after you first came to her with your concerns.

It's supposed to be a case of extreme timidity. It's confusing. Still, you were ready to accept this as the plain simple explanation if only you could talk to his father, have him confirm it and validate with your own personal impression. “I understand that you're working and don't have much time to yourself and that it's a bit- I mean, even as adults, no one likes to have to attend a teacher's meeting,” Only the corner of his lips twitch a little, yet you gladly accept it as a win. “Would it be possible for you to make just a little slot in your schedule for me? I won't take too long, twenty minutes at most? Whenever you can! Before class if you want or after, in the evening, sometimes I'm still here until 7. Or at lunch! Absolutely whenever is good for you.”

“That's very kind.” Is all he says.

You don't know what to say to that. You're not sure he is right. You are especially invested in your work and your pupils. You've been told before that, maybe, you should lay off a bit -you're told each time you cry at the end of a school year, thinking about all the faces you adore but won't be seeing every day anymore. But most teachers are, you want to believe. Min Yoongi, from first grade, wouldn't be as generous with his time, that's for sure. He'd probably come up with a date that'd fit his agenda and if possible inconvenience the most the parents' schedule and demand that they do make the time and be present, guilty-trip them if they seem reluctant. But that's just him, being a lazy cynical asshole. You want to believe he's an exception and any other teacher, in your shoes, would act the same way.

That being said, the way he's saying it, wide eyes sort of laced with a certain confusion, serves to thicken the compliment.

“Whenever is fine.” You repeat, lacking a direct response to his words. There's a tiny curious eye, picking from the collar of the trench coat, observing you attentively. You smile to Jimmy, picking up the drawing of the cat you've drawn earlier and handing it to him. “I'll let you off now, Jimmy is probably starving.”

After a few seconds of just staring at it, Jimmy sneaks a hand out to accept the drawing, face instantly burying further in the fabric of his dad's clothes, all shy and embarrassed.

“Thank you. Thank you very much for today and for any day really. I promise I'll make sure to meet you very soon.”

“Sure, perfect. Jimmy, see you tomorrow?”

“You say goodbye, Jiminie?”

He mutters something you don't quite catch, enshrouded as he is in the fabric adorning his dad, but his father and you decide that it's the answer you were waiting for. A wave and a stumble down the hall later -one that nearly gives you a heart attack as the prospect of the man actually eating shit with tiny Jimmy still in his arms hit you-, they're gone, out of the school and on to their way home you assume.

You're entirely alone now. Giddy as a school girl overly excited about something mundane that doesn't require this type of enthusiasm. You're not precisely sure why. It's a storm. Again. An overwhelming storm of emotions. In the mix of it all, you can decipher the loud, brilliant thoughts regarding the tiny shy little boy, and a future brighter than the one you used to picture for him. One where he's not scared of everyone, where you can hear his voice and see him giggle without his dad for him to hide behind. And something else.

You're not sure.

You don't suck at your job, you decide, as you think back about the adorable chubby finger pointing shyly at the crayons he wanted you to use.

A/N : as always, a lot of love send your way, thanks so much for reading, i hope you enjoy it :)

[i-like-5sos]

First Time Saying “I Love You” [4/4 ]

Pairing: Each 5SOS boy X reader  

Word count: 3152

Warnings: Absolutely none. Pure fluff.

Summary: Four different scenarios where each of the boys confess their feeling for you for the first time. 

Michael

“What did I miss?” You ask as you walk back into your living room and reclaim your spot laying down on the couch across form Michael, resting your legs on his.

“They decided to tear the support beam down and now they’re all pissed cause the upper floor is starting to cave in.” He replies, eyes glued to the renovation show you two put on as a joke earlier in the week because you couldn’t decide what to watch- but are now somehow invested in.

“Morons” you say shaking your head at the TV while laughing.

As the two of you become entranced by the do-it-yourselfers, you both melt deeper into the couch, becoming one with the cushions. A usual occurrence for the two of you, as you both prefer staying in and vegging out with one another to going out and partying. You two have powered through so many series on Netflix that you’re sure you’ll run out of new shows to watch before the end of the year, so it comes as no surprise when the screen shows you other shows you might be interested in as the credits roll on the screen at the end of the season finale of the home renovation show.

“Oh my god. How do they just end a show like that? They literally didn’t even show us what colour paint they picked out for the kitchen.” You complain loudly. “I mean the least they could have done is give us a preview of what’s to come next season. Honestly!”

You ramble on mindlessly about the show as the previews for other shows being to play automatically, only to pause when you hear Michael mumble something softly.

“What?” you ask, trying to recall what he had said.

“Nothing” he smiles softly, his cheeks a slight shade of pink. “I- uh think we should watch this one.” He says quickly, as he searches awkwardly around the couch for the remote and pressing the select button once he finds it under his back.

You turn your attention away from him and try to focus on the introductory credits of the show Michael put on when you suddenly clue into what he had said. I love you. You played it back in your head and you were sure of it. Returning your gaze to the still-blushing boy beside you, you knew heard right. But the moment had passed, and he was now discussing the outfit choice of one of the characters on the television.

***

Two months after the unacknowledged “I love you” drop, you find yourself almost asleep, laying in Michael’s bed with his arms wrapped around you. Your breathing is soft and steady with his as you hear him softly say your name.

“Are you awake?” He whispers quietly.

Too tired to respond, you just leave him to talk as you focus on listening and trying to stay awake long enough to hear what he has to say.

All is quiet, and you begin to believe he’s given up and will just tell you whatever he has to say in the morning.

“I love you.” He breathes, almost too quiet to hear.

Your eyes open as your heart skips a beat, and you roll over to face him. His arms loosen around you, and as your eyes adjust, you take in the look of shock on his face.

“I- uh… I thought you were asleep” Michael says, clearly embarrassed and very vulnerable having exposed his feelings.

“Michael, I love you too.” You smile, leaning in to kiss him.

 Luke

You look around your colourfully lit bedroom as you mindlessly play with the rings on Luke’s hand as the two of you sit together on your bed. You’ve always loved the look of Christmas lights on your walls and the calming feeling they provide.

“I’ve got an idea” Luke says, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

“What’s that?” You ask, tuning your attention to look at the blue-eyed boy laying on the bed next to you.

“Let’s play Three Truths.” He suggests.

The two of you have been playing Three Truths since you first started talking. You had once suggested that you both play “Two Truths and A Lie” but he had insisted that he didn’t want you both to have to lie to one another, thus Three Truths was born. Together, you and Luke had decided that the only rule for the game was that everything you say must be true, and the other person couldn’t react to what you say until your turn ends. The two of you hadn’t played that game for a while now, but you were always open to learning more about your boyfriend.

“Okay, sure!” You say, excited to hear what he would come up with.

“You go first.” He says with a soft smile.

“I totally wasn’t prepared for this” You shake your head, “but let’s go with um… Okay, I’ve got it. Truth number one: I don’t want to have leftovers for dinner again tomorrow night. I would rather you cook something.” You watch as he shrugs and nods his head. “Truth number two: I sometimes untune your guitars because I think it’s hot watching you tune them… and truth number three: I think I want to dye my hair again.” You twist the rings on his fingers before looking at him again.

“Do you really do that to my guitars?” He asks in disbelief.

“Sometimes.” You flash him an apologetic smile and laugh as he shakes his head.

“What am I going to do with you.” He says, before kissing you on the forehead.

“Luke, it’s your turn.” You point out with enthusiasm.

“Alright… Let me think” His brow furrows as you watch him try to come up with something truthful to say. “Okay, I’ve got it! Truth number one: I ate the last of your chocolate bar this morning while you were asleep.”

“I knew it!” You shout and push him gently with your free hand.

“Hey! No talking! Wait your turn.” He interjected pointedly.

You raise your hands in a signal for him to continue before resting them in Luke’s again.

“As I was saying, truth number two: I actually didn’t mind getting that pedicure with you last week and I think I want to go again… and truth number three-“ He pauses and looks into your eyes before quickly looking down at your hand in his. “Um… truth number three is that I love you.”

Your face lights up as you release your hand from his to grab his face and pull it in for a kiss. He responds by wrapping his arms around you and pulling your body against his, falling back onto the bed. You lay there kissing one another for what feel like an eternity before you break apart and look into his eyes.

“I love you too.” You say, causing a smile to break across Luke’s face before he pulls you back into another kiss.

 Calum

Groaning loudly, you slam the front door and begin kicking your shoes off. Your goal: the couch. You plan to lay on the couch all night, ignore the world, and try to pretend that you didn’t just work a day from hell. Your eyes meet the pillow covered couch, and just as you begin to walk over to the only thing that could make your day better, your phone rings. Sighing, you look down to see the familiar nickname and face of you boyfriend, Calum, light up the screen. You instantly smile and soften up the slightest bit. Maybe the couch wasn’t the only thing that could make your day better.

“Hi baby” you say with your best ‘I didn’t just have a shitty day’ voice.

He’s quiet for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

Of course he can tell you’re upset. You continue your journey to the couch, and as you sit down, you let out another sigh and begin to tell him about your horrible day at work, your asshole bosses, and your realization of a mistake you’d made yesterday that you had to fix today, causing you to now be a day behind in your work. He listened attentively the entire time and once he knew you were done, he comforted you with the exact words you needed to hear.

“We should go on a hike. Get some of that negative energy out.” He suggests after filling your ears with his reassuring words

You look at the couch under you and pat it a few times, silently saying an ‘until next time’ to it before getting up and agreeing to have Calum pick you up after you’ve changed out of your work clothes.

***

Your fingers are intertwined as the two of you walk through the unfamiliar wooded trail on the outskirts of the city that Calum had found on his phone. If Duke playfully running around smelling all of the new scents on the trees and rocks that surrounded you wasn’t enough to make you smile, the mindless babblings of Calum certainly was. He was always so passionate about whatever he was talking about, even when he was talking about nothing. This was definitely one of those times. You listen to him as he goes off about how hard it must be to be a squirrel in the winter, having to find the food that they had hidden so long ago, especially with all of these other selfish squirrel’s stealing from each other. Normally you would try to step in and try to stand up for the other squirrels, telling him they needed to eat too, but during his ramblings, your mind has wondered back to all the work you still had left to complete, and you just don’t have the energy.

He must have noticed your lack of a rebuttal to his blatant disregard for the other hungry squirrels because he had stopped walking and was now looking at you with an empathetic gaze.

“You still upset about work?” He asked, squeezing your hand softly.

“It was just such a shitty day Cal. I don’t mean to bum you out. I should have just stayed home.” You drop your head and exhale deeply.

“No no, this is exactly what you should have done today.” Calum says, as you feel a tug at your arm. “Come with me.”

You tour behind him in your own pity party of one as he leads you off of the trail, towards a nearby cliffside.

“This is the perfect spot.” He beams, gesturing to the open cliffside in front of you.

“Cal? That’s a little dark, don’t you think?” you say before peering over the edge of the small cliff to the hill of trees below you.

“Are you ser- no ohmigod.” He laughs “Come on, we’re going to try something my mom showed we when I was younger. Whenever I was having a bad day, she would always bring me to places like this and tell me to yell out the first thing that comes to mind, and to keep yelling until there was nothing left to yell about. My throat would always be killing me by the end of it, but I would always feel better. I want you to try it.” He squeezes your hand again and smiles hopefully at you.

You really didn’t want to be here, yelling your pointless work problems out to the world and feeling like a moron, but the smile on your boyfriend’s face and the admission of the personal memory he shared with his mother was enough to make you do anything. You look at him apprehensively before turning your attention to the trees below you.

“I… uh…” You look back at Calum and he smiles softly at you before nodding. “I sometimes hate my job” you say in a not-quite-yelling tone.

“Come on baby, you’ve got to yell it! Here, like this: I wish duke would stop peeing on my shoes every time I leave him alone in the house!” He yells out, making Duke jump a little at the mention of his name before he continued to smell the mossy tree next to Calum.

You let out a chuckle at the purity of his smiling face after he yelled out his complaint.

“Try it again.” He encouraged before kissing your cheek.

You take a deep breath and follow his lead “I am so mad at myself for being so far behind in my work all because I made one small mistake yesterday!”

You feel embarrassed yelling it out, but at the same time you begin to feel slightly better. Although, the smile on Calum’s face could be aiding you just as much.

“There should be an easier way to parallel park!” He shrugs and laughs when you shoot him a confused look.

“My feet hurt from wearing heels all day! Business dress codes are stupid!”

“I’m a little worried we could be eaten by mountain lions on our way back to the car!”

“I’m a little worried about my boyfriend being a moron!” You let out a loud laugh at the scowl Calum gives you.

“It could happen, you know.” He mumbles.

“On a hiking trail next to a big city? I doubt that.” You say giggling softly. “It’s your turn.”

You watch as he begins to smile again, blushing slightly.

“I think I’m falling in love with my girlfriend!” He bites his bottom lip softly before smiling sheepishly at you.

You return his smile and pull him in by the hand, kissing him tenderly.

“I love you” he says against your lips.

“I love you too, Calum.” You reply as his arms wrap around your waste.

Ashton

You gasp out for air after swimming up from the bottom of your backyard pool and look around for your boyfriend. Your eyes lock onto the Ashton-shaped figure quickly emerging from the water a couple of feet from you. You smile widely at the soaking wet raven-haired boy as he treads the water and brushes the hair from his eyes with his hands.

“I win!” you shout enthusiastically and use your arm to splash a wave of water at Ashton.

You watch as he ducks under the water again to avoid your splash. When he resurfaces, he shakes his head.

“Okay that’s not fair. You were supposed to count down with your fingers, not in your head. That was the agreement to letting you count!” He raises his arm back at you indicating the tidal wave of water that will -no doubt- be headed you way any second. “And another thing!” He shouts while simultaneously slashing his arms through the water at you, “What happed to our no splashing deal?!”

“Sorry, Irwin. I’m hearing a lot of excuses but I’m not seeing any winning. If the counting is that big of an issue, you can count… but just the one time.” You stick your tongue out at him as water drips down your face. “Also, no splashing deals are for pansies.”

Just as you see his arms begin to raise to send more water your way, you dive under the water and swim over towards him. You submerge face to face with Ashton and place your hand on his cheek before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“One more time and we can do something else.” You say smiling and swimming back to your previous spot.

“Deal” He agrees.

The two of you count down from three then begin to swim towards the bottom of the pool at the same time. Once at the bottom you open your eyes to find his looking back at you. You turn your attention to his right hand as he then holds five fingers up, and you nod at him. You watch as he uses his hand to count down from five, and as he his final finger drops, you both use your legs to shoot up off the pool floor up towards the surface of the water. Once there, you quickly wipe the water away from your eyes to see Ashton already above the water, smirking at you.

“How’s that for winning?” He snickers.

“I demand a recount!” You shout.

“No can-do babe. You said it yourself, we’re doing something else now.” He winks before swimming to the shallow end of the pool. “We could play that lip-reading game from last week if you’re up for losing some more.”

“If that’s the game we’re playing then you know I’m not the one that’s going to be losing, right?”

You follow him into the shallow end and smile to yourself. Last week when you had played this game, he couldn’t guess a single thing you had mouthed to him, whereas you had guessed everything he had mouthed with ease.

“We’ll just see about that.” He says, settling into a spot in front of you. “Ladies first.”

The two of you drop under the water and wait a moment for your eyes to adjust. Once you were both ready, you quickly think of something to mouth at him.

“Octopus” you mouth, before blowing bubbles out of your mouth and heading back up.

Once at the surface again you can’t help but laugh at the pure confusion on his face.

“Uh.. ‘On the bus’? He guesses shrugging his shoulders.

You shake your head “Nope! Octopus!” You laugh again as his face deadpans and he rolls his eyes. “Okay your turn!”

You both drop and he mouths what is obviously “potatoes” to you and you both go up for air.

“Potatoes!” You shout.

“You must have some kind of mind reading ability you’ve been hiding from me” he says and nods to confirm your guess.

You drop for a third time and you mouth out the word “cactus”.

“You totally said tip-toe” He says confidently once out of the water again.

“Ashton… do your eyes even work?” You joke “I said Cactus.”

“Oh, whatever.” He laughs “I’m making this one harder for you.”

“Bring it on.”

The two of you duck under the water again, and as the water settles you look at Ashton, waiting for him to mouth his new word. You watch as his mouth moves, and you study the words that he mouths to you carefully. You play it back in your head a couple of times to make sure that you were right about what he had mouthed.  Once above the water, you stare at him for a moment before stating your guess out loud.

“I love you?” You ask, slightly weary.

His smile is infectious as he nods at you.

“A little straightforward, aren’t we? Well, I guess I love you too.” He chuckles and swims towards you before cupping your chin in his big hands.

You laugh at the very ‘Ashton’ way of confessing his feelings for you, before kissing him deeply.

[maddiewritesstucky]

Call me maybe (but only during business hours)

A smutty gift for @raynakiasbel​, for her endless patience with my infuriatingly slow writing and inability to focus on one thing at a time! 

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 3308

Tags: CEO Steve, College Student Bucky, Poorly-Timed Phone Sex, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Dirty Talk, Light Daddy Kink, Dom/Sub Undertones

Part 1 of the SugarVerse series on Ao3 

Bucky is most definitely not watching the clock.

His eyes have absolutely not been glued to the LED display on the bedside table for what feels like a hundred goddamn years, watching the little white lines form number after number, blinking their way into the formation that will mean he can pick up his phone, and call Steve.

That would be all kinds of pathetic, and Bucky is not that kind of boyfriend.

He’s certainly not the kind of boyfriend who’s already fixing to climb out of his skin on day three (three!) of Steve’s out-of-town business trip. Bucky is one of those autonomous, self-sufficient boyfriends, who is entirely too busy with his own obscenely full schedule to care about the fact that he’s not getting dicked down at his every whim this week.

He has midterms to study for, and hours to log at StarkTech to go towards his internship, and Nat’s surprise birthday party to plan even though she’s literally impossible to surprise…he doesn’t have the mental real estate to spare on thirst right now. He might have become a whole other kind of hoe since being exposed to the many splendors of Steve Rogers’ cock, but twitching for it before they’ve even hit the seventy-two hour mark?

That would be highly problematic, if that was happening.

Which it isn’t.

Bucky is well accustomed to flying solo when Steve’s off in corporate alter-ego mode; he’s done this countless times over the past few months since he moved in with Steve, and he’d made his peace with it long before that. You don’t couple up with the CEO of an internationally renowned architecture firm and expect to see his face at the dinner table every night, and for the most part, Bucky has no complaints about having the stupidly plush bed all to his starfishing self a few nights a month.

It’s just...there’s a method to this, usually. And that method does not involve three entire days of near radio silence.

When Steve goes away, even on his busier trips, he always finds time to call Bucky at least once a day, even if it’s just five minutes as he’s crawling into bed to say goodnight. They’ll text, and Steve will send emails that are endearingly formal because his brain tends to stay in CEO-mode 24/7 when he’s on business trips, and they’ll generally tide one another over with tidbits of cyber-affection until they get back in the same physical space.  

But this time? They’ve hardly been in contact at all. And it’s on Bucky, too, at least in part - he’s been swamped with his own workload the past few weeks, struggling to find quality time or head space even in the few days just before Steve left, and all they’ve managed so far is a few sporadic messages in their rare moments of down-time, which have so far been chaotically misaligned.

It’s been a drag, if Bucky’s honest, and he can occupy himself all he wants with his exam prep and his party-plotting, but at the end of the day…

Bucky’s just a boy, laying in front of a clock, asking his dick to hold out just a few more minutes.

Because right now, it’s 10:42pm.

It’s 10:42pm, which means that in exactly three minutes, Steve will be sliding into the crisp white sheets of whatever lavish hotel bed he’s being put up in; buck-ass naked because he’s as stringent on his no-pyjamas policy as he is on his bed time, and in exactly three minutes…

Bucky’s gonna call him, and phone-fuck the soul right out of his offensively perfect body.

He flips onto his back and nestles into the pillows, a dumb grin already fixing to his face in his hormone-fuelled stupor. The lights of the city outside the floor-to-ceiling penthouse windows bathe his naked skin in soft orange-gold, and his hand migrates of its own accord to the semi he’s been rocking ever since it occurred to him that he could just straight up call Steve and spring a jerk-sesh on him.

The whole thing feels deliciously sneaky-skanky. He’s never done this before, just cold-called Steve with an x-rated agenda. They’ve had phone sex before, a great many times in fact, but there’s always a lead-in; a text exchange turned sordid that spirals into a video call straight out of Bucky’s horny teenage fantasies. 

But he’s never gone in jizz-first, ask-questions-later, and as certain as he is that Steve will be entirely on board, it feels just risky enough to have Bucky a little high off the adrenaline of it.

Here lies Bucky, Queen of the Sluts! Stretched out bare atop cream colored sheets, lit up by the New York skyline! Dick in hand and filth on the tip of his tongue!

He is power! He is scandal! He is ready for this!

He pulls the lube out from its hiding place under the pillow and slicks himself up, stroking slow as he tries to summon some small measure of nonchalance about the whole thing. He has a vision for how he wants this to go, and it does not involve him losing his cool the second he hears Steve’s voice on the other end of the line.

This is about seduction, about surprising Steve with some old-school nasty, no video or visuals involved - just Bucky’s filthy mouth and vivid imagination, and he’s determined to keep it together long enough to paint Steve a picture he can jack it to.

He pulls up Steve’s contact and waits out the final torturous minute with his heart in his throat, hitting the call button the second it ticks over to go-time. He hits the speakerphone button, dropping the phone onto the pillow next to him, and holds his breath through the four rings it takes for Steve to pick up.

“...James?”

And oh, but that bodes well...Steve uses his real name in two contexts, and two contexts only - when Bucky visits him at work and he’s in business mode, and when he’s got Bucky flat on his back underneath him, letting him have it.

If Steve’s already keyed up tonight? This just got a lot more interesting.

“Mm, there it is,” Bucky heaves a deep sigh, “that’s what I needed, that voice...”

His mind’s eye conjures up visions of Steve spread out across the bed, taut lines of muscle and bare flesh all laid out. He’s probably just had a shower, so his skin would be all warm and pink, smelling like soap and aftershave; his hair all fluffy from that irreverent way he has of rubbing it towel-dry...god, Bucky misses him.

“James? Are you alright?”

He can practically hear Steve’s brows drawing together in that way they do when he’s overworked; a tight-wound tension in his voice that Bucky has every confidence he can allay before the night’s through.

“Mm, be a lot better if it was your hand wrapped around my cock right now,” Bucky drawls, rolling his body for his audience of no one, “but I guess I’ll just have to settle for fucking my fist to the sound of your voice. Can you hear me touching myself, Daddy?”

He breathes a soft groan as he strokes himself slick and languid, and Steve is silent for a long moment that Bucky’s brain is all too happy to color in with pornographic images of how Steve might be listening; where his hands might be wandering, how his cock would be filling at the mental picture Bucky’s painting. Bucky thinks this might just be the best idea he’s ever had, and he doesn’t hold back on letting Steve hear exactly how good he’s feeling about his decision...

...Until Steve clears his throat, and unceremoniously hits him with an ice-cold dousing of you-done-fucked-up.

“I’m in a meeting right now, I have two clients with me.”  

There is zero inflection in his tone, and if Bucky thought he had experienced true panic before, he was mistaken. He can physically feel himself paling; his mouth dropping open soundlessly, humiliation warring with plain confusion as to why the hell Steve is still working at this ridiculous hour.

And then it clicks.

Horribly, harrowingly clicks.

Steve isn’t working at stupid o’clock at night.

In the perpetual haze of Bucky’s overworked brain and Steve’s ever-changing schedule, Bucky had forgotten that this trip was taking Steve to Hawaii.

For Steve, it isn’t slutty phone-sex hours. It’s very sensible, 4:45pm strictly-business hours.

“Ohmygod,” Bucky gasps, bolting upright and looking desperately around the room like it might hold the solution to his colossal screw up, “Steve, I completely forgot--”

“Mr Barnes, I can give you exactly two minutes of my time right now because I realize it’s been difficult to touch base recently,” Steve interrupts, his tone cooling abruptly with the air of professional detachment and veiled authority Bucky’s heard him use on work calls a thousand times. “Can you tell me exactly what the issue is with the redesign?”

...Bucky blinks, breath caught in his throat as he scrambles to string together some sense from Steve’s response.

Steve hasn’t mentioned any specific projects lately, is Bucky supposed to know something about a redesign? Was there something he--

Oh.

Oh.

His brain and his dick catch on at the same time in a borderline painful rush of blood. He hears Steve pull back from the phone to address his clients, placating them with an apology and the assurance that this won’t take long, and Jesus Christ...Steve is actually doing this.

Steve is actually going to let this happen, going to let Bucky have one-sided phone sex with him while he sits there in some boardroom, with actual clients sitting right in front of him.

What the fuck.

Bucky’s breath leaves him in a rush as he drops back against the pillows and wraps a frantic hand around himself. “The issue is you’ve been gone three fucking days and I wanna sit on your face.”

“Mm, I see why that’s problematic,” Steve muses, cool and unaffected, “what exactly do you need from me?”

God, Bucky can just picture it - Steve sitting there looking like a fucking wet dream in one of his distractingly well-fitting suits, with his hair swept perfectly over and his beard trimmed just close enough to show off the sharp cut of his jaw; radiating that air of quiet authority that makes Bucky want to bounce in his lap until he dies...

Bucky knows for a fact that Steve’s face will be betraying precisely none of what’s happening on the other end of the line, and why the hell is that such a turn on?

“Well I was gonna describe in graphic detail all the things I want you to do to me when you get back,” Bucky huffs, breaths coming faster already, “but if I’m on the clock now, guess I’ll have to settle for sayin’ I need you to bring that dick home ASAP...fuckin’ miss it.”

“I see,” Steve sighs, “well I’m not back in New York for a few days yet, how do you plan to manage this in the interim?”

Bucky curses under his breath, tightening his grip on himself. “Just have to fuck myself, imagine it’s you.”  He sounds every bit as unconvinced of the efficacy of this plan as they both know he is, and Steve hums thoughtfully in response.

“I’m going to need more detail, paint me a picture here.”

Bucky knows he’s blushing, feels the heat of it all the way down his chest, and fuck this shouldn’t be as hot as it is. Dirty talking at Steve and getting nothing back but clipped responses, void of emotion and the usual undercurrent of affection he’s become accustomed to?

Work-Steve needs to come to the bedroom more often.

“I’ll touch myself, like I’m doing right now,” he twists his grip a little on the upstroke, hissing at the change in sensation, “get my fist all wet and tight around my cock...pretend it’s your mouth.”

How close are Steve’s clients sitting to him? Steve wouldn’t be letting this happen if there was any way they could hear...but what if one of them has some kind of medical condition that gives them enhanced hearing? What if one of them can read minds and is hearing this entire conversation play out in stereo quality in their head?

Why is there a part of Bucky that hopes one or both of those things are true?!

“...And?” Steve prompts, almost brusque, and Bucky gives himself a second to revel in the way his dick twitches for the hard edge in Steve’s voice.

“And I’ll, fuck- ” Bucky stutters, rocking his hips with the rhythm of his strokes, pushing himself up through his grip, “I’ll use my toys, fingerfuck myself.”

“Right, well why don’t you go ahead and start that for me now,” Steve says, off-hand; pulling back from the phone to place an honest-to-god coffee order with the oblivious intern who’s now seemingly in the room too, and Bucky’s never felt more of an affinity for the whole bored-and-ignored thing.  

He slicks up the fingers of his free hand and shifts a little onto his side, hiking a knee up as he slips a finger inside himself.

“Can I take that as a yes, Mr Barnes?” Steve asks at the breathy moan Bucky lets out as he presses in first with one, and then with two fingers, and Bucky nods frantically even though Steve can’t see him.

“Yes, fuck...I'm doin' it...feels so fucking good, Steve.”

And it does. It’s a difficult angle, and he can't quite hit the spot he wants to inside himself, but the steady stroke-tug against his rim while his fist flies over his cock is working for him; winding him towards what would, in any other non time-constrained circumstance, be an embarrassingly fast orgasm.

He can hear Steve shuffling papers, making quiet sounds of agreement along with whatever conversation is going on in the background between his clients whilst they wait, unknowing, and Bucky can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or an immense disappointment that Steve has to bite his tongue right now; that he can’t unleash any of the filth he’d definitely be spitting if he didn’t have an audience. 

Steve fucking loves to run his mouth, and Bucky loves to hear it; lives for the endlessly colorful obscenities Steve comes out with in the throws of it.

Just listen to you, he’d be laughing a little; his voice dripping with that indulgent, self-satisfied grin he gets, so goddamn easy for it, ain’t that right baby? Three fuckin’ days and you’re gagging for it...should be ashamed of yourself…

But Steve is in a very public forum right now, in the middle of a meeting no less, trying to give the impression that he’s very decidedly not having phone sex. Right now, he’s Steve Rogers - CEO, consummate professional.

But he is also an asshole, and when he asks Bucky “do you feel you have a firm grasp on the situation, or would a second set of hands be helpful on this one?” Bucky swears he can hear that faint hint of a smirk all the way across the fucking country.

“Might just have to go find myself a second set of hands if you stay away too long,” Bucky retorts, emboldened by the distance, and a little morbidly curious to see what sassing gets him when Steve can’t say shit about it.

Turns out, what it gets him is a full-body shiver and a throb between his thighs as Steve’s tone dips to somewhere in the realm of politely-veiled threat. “I would not advise that, Mr Barnes.”

It occurs to Bucky, then, that this won’t just be done and dusted once they hang up. At the end of the week, Steve will come back to New York, and he will absolutely have some Things To Say about this little interruption.

He can picture it now, the way Steve will stand there all calm, staring him down with his mouth upticked at the corner while Bucky fumbles his way through an explanation. 

He’ll probably do that thing where he doesn’t say much but his eyes say everything, and Bucky will have to try really hard to seem remorseful even though they’ll both know he’s not actually all that sorry. And Steve won’t want him to be, not really, but it’ll be something he can use to their mutual benefit, nonetheless.

Fuck, Steve might spank him.

Bucky smothers a moan into the pillow next to him, twisting his fingers inside himself and brushing his thumb across the head of his cock as he turns that thought over, Steve bending him over his knee, or better yet, over his desk...

“Oh,” Bucky gasps, a sudden rush of heat twisting tight in his gut, “fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Steve huffs a vaguely incredulous laugh, and there’s a faint creaking sound like he’s settling further back in his chair. “Oh really? Who authorized that?”  

Bucky lets out a deeply undignified whine, his whole body strung tight enough to snap; caught between the sensations of his hand moving frantically over his dick and his fingers scissoring inside himself.

“Come on,” he whimpers, teetering on the knife edge of losing it, “tell me I can finish, please.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

Oh, fuck him, fuck him...how is he still edging Bucky when he was the one who put the rush order on this?

“Please, Daddy,” Bucky doesn’t try to hide the desperation in his voice as he changes tact, “if you don’t authorize this orgasm I think I’m gonna go blind, just fucking let me come!”

Steve pauses a beat, humming a considering sound. “No, I’m not comfortable signing off on that. We’re tabling this until I get back to New York.”

Bucky freezes, both hands stilling; his face crumbling into a mask of abject disbelief.  “You can’t be serious?”  His stomach drops, even as something in the back of his mind says he really should have seen this coming...or, not coming, as is the case.

“I'm sure we can come to a far more satisfying resolution in person,” Steve says, maddeningly cavalier.

Bucky’s gearing up to plead his case, but Steve’s not done ruining his night yet.

“In fact, Mr Barnes,” he piles on, “I’d like to make you personally responsible for ensuring no further action is taken on the matter until I return. Can I trust you with this?”

Bucky gapes down at his poor, oblivious cock still standing at eager attention in his grasp, unaware of the disaster that’s just befallen them, and he takes his hands off himself with a pained groan.

“This is criminal,” he objects, flopping heavily onto his back and throwing his arms out to his sides, “if my dick falls off, it’s your fault!”

“Great! Glad to hear it,” Steve chirps, as if he's not the worst person alive, “I’ll be in touch.”

“Whatever,” Bucky scowls at the shadows stretching across the ceiling, willing his mind off the throbbing ache of injustice between his thighs, “I’m totally not answering any of your calls.”

Steve’s smile bleeds into his tone a little when he responds, the closest he’s come to fondness yet. “Okay, speak soon, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky tries, really tries, to inject some petulance into his tone as he signs off with a grumbled “love you, I guess,” but he can’t quite bring himself to sulk as much as he feels the situation warrants.

After all, in exactly four days, Steve will come back to New York.

He’ll come home, and they’ll laugh about this, and in exactly four days…

Steve will make him forget what he was even upset about in the first place.

(Part 2 of the series here!)

[reflectionsofneptune]

The Moon Transit the Signs

My thoughts on the Moon in Astrology through the 12 Zodiac signs. I've mentioned things to be mindful of during the transit, as well as how to work best with the energy.

Moon transiting Aries

When the Moon transits Aries, collectively we feel more confident in ourselves and are more inclined to put ourselves out there in life in the hopes of propelling us forward. The world is viewed with childlike wonder and inner faith is our guiding star. We feel more passionate and encouraged to go after our goals. During this transit, we are more apt to be assertive and say what we feel; sometimes with a directness that lacks tact. You are the creator of your life, and during Aries Moon transits, use the cardinal energy to get things going.

What to be mindful of:

- Impatience

Aries energy is very dynamic, full of energy with a preference to be on the go. Aries wants what it wants, and it wanted it yesterday. During this transit, you will have incredible force behind your actions but might find yourself getting frustrated if things don’t come to fruition as fast as you like. This impatience could veer off into a domineering attitude to those around you. Breathe. Inhale, exhale, repeat. Let things run their natural course.

- Acting selfish

Aries is the baby of the zodiac and concerned with the self. Nothing bad about a lil self-awareness but make sure the actions and decisions you carry out don’t have negative repercussions for those around you. Try to be aware of other people around you. Think things through. Its no good furthering your place in life if you’re stepping on other’s people toes unnecessarily to do so. When faced with decisions, try and look for one that can be made which benefits everyone.

How to work with this energy:

- Be your own hype man

The Fire element in Astrology is connected with our life force. The very fibre of our being. One thing you can’t deny about Aries energy is the unwavering confidence. During an Aries Moon Transit, find a mantra or create a mantra, and repeat it to yourself throughout the day. Cultivate an inner faith in yourself. Big yourself up.

- Say yes more

Aries energy is pretty much up for anything. Let’s use this daring energy to apply it to situations in our life that we feel uncertain about it. Tune in to the gut. During this transit can you take a risk in your life somehow? It can be big or small. What area of your life can you be brave in? I bet you’re still be breathing after you do it.

Moon transiting Taurus

As the Moon passes through Taurus, our feelings become more grounded and stable. We’re more conscious of what makes us feel emotionally secure. Collectively, we’re more inclined to see beauty or the lack of it, around us; taking stock of the material things in our life. Taurus energy is all connecting deeply with the self and its comforts. Emotions take on a practical and more steady approach. That being said, there is also danger of uncomfortable emotions being pushed down or past hurts being ruminated over incessantly. Let whatever comes up flow freely through you. During a Taurus Moon transit, make sure to smell the roses and appreciate the simple but essential things you have in your life.

What to be mindful of:

- Indulging too much in the wrong things

Taurus rules pleasure - especially connecting to the body - so during this transit, your relationship to food, sex, money and your possession may be highlighted. Be mindful of your consumption of these things and whether or not they are used as a tool to fill a hole in your life. Take a moment to tune in the body and its needs. Are the habits you have have with these things hindering or helping you to affirm yourself and your self worth?

- Stubbornness 

Taurus energy can be very stubborn and clinging tightly to their views. During this Moon transit, be mindful of ways in which you tightly cling to a narrative or a belief system. It doesn’t matter if it’s right or wrong. Do you take into account other people’s viewpoints? Or do you shut people down before giving them a change? The great thing about life is that we have the freedom of expression. Be open to change in your life. 

How to work with this energy:

- Come back home to self

The Moon is exalted in fixed earth sign Taurus, meaning that the highest vibration of nurturing and care can be expressed here. Show your body some TLC. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Go on Pinterest for DIY beauty treatments; some of the ingredients needed may be in your kitchen cupboard. Connect with your body. If issues surrounding your body come up, try and dig deeper into where they stem from. Think about your body’s ability to get you where are today.

- See abundance

Gratitude is a powerful tool in improving one’s life and during this transit, it is a good time to take stock of what you have to be grateful for you in your life.  Write down 3 things you can be grateful, big or small, detailed or not, and remind yourself of these things when you feel a sense of lack. Taurus is a very fertile energy and by noticing the good in your life, you are sure to attract more of it.

Moon Transiting Gemini

When the Moon transits Gemini, collectively we may feel more light-hearted about life as feelings become more curious and playful. We feel mischievous and delight in pushing people’s buttons. Socially inclined, we gain emotional stability by connecting with people or exploring our immediate environment.  There is a possibility that we find ourselves doing multiple things at once so be mindful to try and finish things as you go. Gemini energy can be quite restless so there is a danger of spreading yourself too thin. During this mutable airy transit, try and approach things from an inquisitive manner and not taking this too seriously.

What to be mindful of:

- How you spend your energy

Be careful of just engaging in pointless things. Gemini energy needs constant stimulation and movement which may lead you to giving out your energy carelessly, in hope of finding a release. You may find yourself in conversations that really add no value to your life but in order to feel accepted by your peers, you keep yourself plugged in. There could be a possibility that the mind can go off on a reoccuring ramble so it’s important to catch yourself if you fall into that pattern.

- How you’re using your voice

Gemini energy is connected to the throat chakra so it’s rightly so, during this transit we feel more talkative and want to connect with people. Gemini energy is all about connecting with people. However, Gemini is not adverse stir the pot to spice things up. Be mindful of the words coming out from your mouth. Are you bitching about people? Maybe you’re complaining a lot. When the Moon transits this mutable air sign, it is a good time to take stock of your communication style. How you use your words and how you think dictates how you life looks around you.

How to work with this energy:

- Communicate

Got an idea racing around the walls of your mind? Spit it out! When the Moon transits Gemini we may feel mentally overstimulated so it’s best to find a method of transferring all that energy outside our mental dome. Write it down, paint it, express it one way or another. Gemini energy is highly creative as the mental plane runs a million miles a second. Allow yourself to discuss what’s on your mind!

- Connect with people

Gemini energy is all about sharing information and ideas with people around them. When the Moon visits the social air sign, connecting with like-minded individuals will make you feel good.. It can be through conversation, text, email, letters, video call, the list is endless. Practice active listening so you can really engage with the people you care about. If you’re feeling daring, use this Moon Transit to flow in a flirty comment here and there. 

Moon in Cancer

When the Moon transits cardinal water sign Cancer, you can bet your bottom dollar we’ll all be in our feels. On the bright side, this placement is where the Moon is in its rulership, so this transit offers us an advantage to really connect with our feelings if we’re willing to see the opportunity for what it is. Emotions can be highly nostalgic at this time and we may find ourselves reminiscing over the past or over our family. Collectively we may want to stay close to ‘home’, feeling tentative about putting ourselves out there. We may be more sensitive to criticism.. We need to be mindful over not letting our emotions dictate our actions and thoughts so strongly. When the Moon transits Cancer, our true feelings can be articulated more clearly as we feel them intensely at a core level.

What to be mindful of:

- Your feelings

Feelings are felt quite strongly during this transit and so we have the opportunity to tune in to them deeply. However, with this transit, we may feel more protective over our emotions. There could be a tendency to act out in an emotional manner that we hope the people around us, can identify our reasons for doing so. Not everyone is a mind-reader. Be mindful of any triggers that present themselves and the way in which you deal with them. Just because you’re feeling sorry for yourself, it doesn’t mean everybody wants to be invited to your pity party. 

- Emotional manipulation

During this transit, be mindful of the people/places/things that you may be holding on to with a vicious grip, too scared to let go. Don’t turn to using emotional manipulation to get people to stick around. If that’s the method you take, you’ve already lost them. Change can be a scary thing but its inevitable in life. If all else fails, you will have always have yourself to count on. 

How to work with this energy:

- Revisit your childhood

Give your inner child some love and attention. What did you do as a child that made you feel good? Was it making necklaces out of Pasta shapes? Or maybe it was watching that one film you had on video. Look back into bringing that into your present life. Home is where the heart is and you can always recreate that feeling of safety in your life.

- Connect with your family

It doesn’t have to be your biological family. It could be your soul family. Maybe a friendship group that feels like it’s your inherited family. Maybe online you’re part of a community that feels like home. Whoever it is, make an effort to reach and solidify your bonds. Cancer energy is all about connecting to your tribe. 

Moon transiting Leo

When the moon transits this dramatic and eye-catching fixed fire sign, our emotions desire to be released creatively and in a dramatic fashion. Collectively, we aspire to be centre of attention and revel in praise from those around us. Romance is a driving force for us emotionally and we gain pleasure from flirting and connecting with love interests. We can be a little pouty when things don’t go our way. I die a little everyday when I realise the world doesn’t revolved around me. When the Moon transits Leo, take up space proudly knowing how amazing it is to be the unique individual that is yourself.

What to be mindful of:

- Your ego

Take some time to be mindful of being too self-centred and focused solely on yourself. Everything in life works on give and take. Are there areas of your life when you’ve been hogging up all the attention? Or thinking about only how things can benefit yourself? Praise someone else’s achievements. It’s great to be successful but isn’t even better when you have people around you to share that with?

- Dramatics

Be mindful not to act up in a way to to stir up attention from people around you. During this transit, we may be inclined to extravagance in our behaviour which can have the effect of repelling people away from you. We may feel slighted or take a hit to our self-worth when we don’t receive the adoration we think we deserve. What we crave from others, we can give to ourselves.

How to work with this energy:

Get creative

What talent of yours deserves to see the light? Leo energy is all about creative expression coming from the heart. Take this time to get stuck in to something you enjoy - being a fixed sign it will give you staying power -  and just allow yourself to have pleasure. Try not to get swept into comparing your art with other people’s. Just accept it for what is. A beautiful creative piece of work, coming from you.

Work on your confidence

What have you accomplished in your life that looking back on you weren’t so sure you would make it? Fire energy is all about the self, and Leo is its own biggest fan. Use this Moon transit to tap into your inner confidence. What qualities about yourself do you need to give recognition? What makes you shine?

Moon transiting Virgo

Collectively, our feelings become more concerned with the details of our every day life, as our emotions are filtered through this analytical mutable earth sign. We have more discernment over what is working and what is not. We are more willing to make changes to improve the quality of our life. Virgo energy is all about refinement, so when the Moon transits this sign, we are more emotionally inclined to make changes in our lifestyle. We should be conscious of being too critical of ourselves and other people. When the Moon transits Virgo, remember that what you see in others, you see in yourself; the good, the bad and the ugly.

What to be mindful of:

- Being too hard on yourself

Virgo is notorious for being too damn hard on themselves. Perfection is the enemy of good. Not everything can be perfect. Sometimes, just showing up is more than enough. Under this transit, if you find yourself feeling hyper-sensitive to faults in your life, in your body, whatever the case may be, try and commend yourself for getting this far. Life is full of problems, so try and change your mindset into a solution focused mindset as opposed to a problem focused mindset. 

- Worrying

Worries may be heightened under this transit, as does a feeling of rigidness and a desire to control the outcome. Worrying about something you cannot control is pointless and does no good for the mind, body or soul. Lean into not knowing everything or being able to account for everything. It’s okay to just flow with life and not know what’s around the corner. Sometimes you just have to let go and let God, Universe, whoever/whatever you believe in, take the wheel.

How to work with this energy

- Get back on your habits

Do you have some some goals in your life that you want to achieve? This Moon transit is a perfect time to outline necessary steps that will get you there. Anything you want in life is possible, you just need to prepare for its accordingly. Feel free to mix it up with spreadsheets, vision boards, or just write our the steps you need to take. Virgo energy favours diligence and organising your life, to be the best version of yourself possible.

- Declutter

This Moon transit will have you looking at your current lifestyle with a magnifying glass with things that are not working, standing out loud and clear. Virgo is all about efficiency so this transit is a good time to ‘Marie-Kondo’ your life. Holding on to excess mental, physical and emotional baggage can slow you down in life. Use this energy to get back on track.

Moon transiting Libra

When the Moon transits Libra, collectively we aspire to implement more harmony in our life, through our ability to relate to others. We are more apt to compromise for the sake of others. We gain great emotional satisfaction in our one-to-one relationships. Sometimes things just feel better when you have someone to share it with. There is a danger though, of conceding too much for the other party in hope of keeping the balance. Libran energy is very good at social etiquette but there’s no point in acting like everything is okay in front of people, only to feel the stark opposite when alone. When the Moon moves through the sign of Libra, balance must be sought out within, not just in external situations.

What to be mindful of:

- passive aggressiveness

Libran energy is very much tied up in their relationships with other people and sometimes this becomes a safety blanket. When the Moon is in Libra, we are very driven to maintain harmony in our life and so may not bring up issues that we feel like are unfair. This creates resentment in ourselves which isn’t healthy for us or in maintaining healthy relationships. Do yourself a favour and speak up about any imbalances in a relationship you may feel. There is a tendency to avoid confrontations of fear of losing approval in someone’s else eyes.

- Idealising people/situations

Libran energy is very attuned to seeing beauty in things. Be mindful of only allowing yourself to see what you deem is beautiful and acceptable. See the good but also see the ugly, in all its entirety. Use this insightful energy to weigh up situations for what they truly are. Not just for what you imagine or hope them to be. Give yourself the reality check. 

How to work with this energy:

- Bring balance into your life

Where can you take back your power? Where you can honour your own needs and say no? There is a danger of being a pushover during this transit.Use the cardinal energy of air sign Libra to assert yourself.  As a result, you will gain respect and attract the right people around you. Libran energy is good at playing the mediator so under this transit, you will be more inclined to see relationships from a detached point of view.

- Extend the olive branch

During this transit, the energy is diplomatic and favours seeing situations from someone else shoes. I’m not saying that you have to be beg for someone else’s forgiveness during this transit, but rather, use this Libran moon to your advantage and reach out to another. You don’t lose anything when you admit you were in the wrong. Try and mend any relationships in your life that you hold dear to your heart.

Moon transiting Scorpio

When the Moon in in Scorpio, it is said to be in fall. Vulnerability and emotional expression do not come as easily in this sign. Collectively we may feel more deep, intense, intuitive but also paranoid and suspicious. Unconscious childhood behaviour pattens may come up to resurface. We’re more inclined to want to appease our sexual desires or desires for power. Feelings of jealously or possessiveness may run strong and we may be more stubborn. When the Moon transits Scorpio, it’s a good time to get real with yourself and the nitty gritty of a situation.

What to be mindful of: 

- Your shadow:

During a Scorpio moon transit, things that you have buried down within you are apt to say hello. Try not to ignore them. They’re coming up for a reason. Use this transit to be a A1 detective on yourself. Why do you behave the way that you do in situations like this? Why does that one thing trigger you so much? Opportunity is being presented for you to to heal yourself on a soul level. It may feel very uncomfortable but the rewards on the other side are priceless.

- Your bite

This fixed water sign can be quite ruthless when scorned so be mindful that you don’t act out on people around you in a way that you might regret lately. Try not feed into negative thought patterns. You can run yourself wild seeing everyone as a suspect or an enemy. Just because you’re feeling a type of way, doesn’t mean other people deserve to be treated in a horrible way.

How to work with this energy:

- Purge your feelings

Be honest with yourself. Be honest with someone else. Scorpio energy is all about the raw truth. Use this Moon transit to do just that and release any emotional turmoil within. This is a good time for releasing your frustrations out in a journal entry. Scorpio energy is linked to a phoenix rising from the ashes to be reborn. What’s weighing you down?

- Research

This Moon transit gives you the drive to dig a lil deeper. Find a topic that interests the hell out of your and go to town. Whatever it is, during this transit you have the motivation and drive to really get to the bottom of whatever you set your mind to. You more likely to understand and see the intentions behind other people’s motives too.

Moon transiting Sagittarius

When the Moon transits the fiery mutable sign of Sagittarius, collectively we feel optimistic and inspired about our place in life. Feelings are expansive and desires are juuuuust over the horizon. We feel restless, wanting to explore all that life has to offer. But be careful, you may over do yourself. There is a tendency to overdo things. This energy is all about grandeur and doing things bigger and better than what’s been done before, so be mindful that your actions aren’t unnecessarily aren’t over the top. When the Moon transits Sagittarius, you’re more likely to see the bigger picture in life, with an innate knowing that everything is interconnected. Everything happens for a reason.

What to be mindful of:

- Your risks

Sagittarius is in general a very lucky sign but sometimes their risks don’t pan out they way they had envisioned. Be careful not to put your foot in your mouth by overestimating a situation on your abilities. For what it’s worth, you had good intentions right? Be humble. Passion is essential in life, but sometimes you need to temper that fire with some realism. 

- Running away

Sagittarius energy can be known for just running away to escape situations they would rather not deal with. Not dealign with something is not dealing with something. When the Moon sign transits Sagittarius, be mindful of just tapping out to daydream in order to avoid the harsh realities of life. Life has its various ups and downs. It’s all in your perspective. Feel confident in your ability to handle whatever life throws at you.

How to work with this energy:

- Immerse yourself in something different

Sagittarian energy is far reaching, with a connection to foreign places, spirituality and higher learning. When the Moon is in Sagittarius, try to connect with something different that what you already know. Perhaps you try your hand at learning a new language. Maybe it’s a new recipe. Perhaps you watch a film in a different language. Open your eyes to the beauty that exists outside your own culture and in this thing called life.

- Get inspired

This Moon transit is a good time to spend some time watching or listen to someone motivating. Dare to dream big. Look at the bright side of things. A lot of the luck linked with Sagittarius is really down to their ability to take risks and go for opportunities that other may pass up. What can you do to create space for abundance in your life? 

Moon transiting Capricorn

When the Moon transits Capricorn, our feelings turn to our achievements and long-term goals in life. Our emotions are linked to our productivity. Collectively, we’re more inclined to want to get things in order and create structure in our life. Be mindful not to be so pessimistic about your current position in life or in our society. Moreover, pay attention to any tendencies to be dismissive of your own feelings and that of others around you. You may feel as if time is of the essence, and don’t want to be bogged down by people, places or things you don’t place significance on. The Moon is in detriment when it is in the sign of  Capricorn, so extra care needs to put into actually feeling our feelings and not busying ourselves with work. You are enough.

What to be mindful of:

- Being too hard on yourself.

You may find yourself comparing to other people and feeling frustrated at where you are compared to them. Use this energy to motivate you instead of making you feel sad. Get clear on your long term goals that are crucial for your success in life and work towards them. What you want in life you can achieve, dedication and work is all that required to go the distance.

- Focusing too much on work

Ambition is heightened during this transit. Be mindful of focusing too much on work that you neglect the key relationships around you. Try and cultivate balance in priorities in your life. When the Moon transits Capricorn, there is a higher likelihood of feeling lonely so its crucial to have solid relationships to fall back on. 

How to work with this energy:

- Network

Who can you email or reach out to to help get you where you want to be in life? Reach out to someone you admire. This transit can deliver some reality checks on your long-term vision. Revisit and revise your plans. A this cardinal earth sign will give you the steady confidence and practical vision to cement your way in the world. Capricorn energy is good at seeing the potential in things, so look for opportunity around you to strengthen your position in life.

- Respect your duties

Take some time to look over other areas of your life which require responsibility such as your bills, your savings, food shopping and any other obligations that may be present. Capricorn is often linked to being the breadwinner in a family and that is because this sign often has their ducks in order. Find a sense of peace in dealign with the little things that set up to be great. 

Moon transiting Aquarius

When the Moon transits Aquarius, collectively we may feel emotionally detached as our focus turns towards society and our involvement in the wider world. We may be thinking of ways to improve the planet and the lives of those around us. in addition, during this fixed air sign transit, we may feel more connected to organisations or groups that share our common goals. The internet may be a ground upon which we connect with like-minded individuals. There is a danger though of feeling alienated or taking a stance of my way is right for all, though. When the Moon transits Aquarius, emotionally we feel secure in thinking of ways to advance humanity somehow.

What to be mindful of:

- Feeling close-minded

During this transit, you may be struck with sudden ideas on how to improve society but find that other people are not as open minded to it as you had hoped. Or perhaps, you yourself are resistant to others ideas. Be mindful not to be too attached to your ideals. There is no one size fits all. Not all opinions are gospel. Be open to other people’s points of views.

- Losing yourself in the group

It's great to be apart of something bigger but make sure that you are not losing your sense of individuality in the process. Take a moment to look at your motivations for aligning with a particular group. Make sure it truly reflects your values and there isn’t fear or shame behind your involvement. Be conscious of your ability to firmly identify with yourself in and out of a group.

How to work with this energy:

- Shake things up!

This Moon transit is the perfect time to deviate from your normal routine and try something new. Be rebellious and test boundaries (where applicable). Aquarius energy is all about the unexpected so who knows how great the results could be if you dare to be different. It could be something simple as switching the hand that you brush your teeth with, in your fashion choices or perhaps something quirky in your appearance. Whatever it is, try something bold!

- Think of your mark in the world

When the Moon transits Aquarius we may be subject to sudden insight about contribution to society. How are you fitting into the wider world? What can you do today that guarantees a better tomorrow? Perhaps you think about investing in more eco-friendly brands or donating to a cause that resonates with you. Aquarius energy is altruistic in nature, forgoing one’s individual needs for the betterment of society

Moon transiting Pisces

When the Moon transits mutable water sign Pisces, collectively we feel more liable to go with the flow, prone to daydreaming and engaging in our fantasies. We cringe away from the harsh realities of life by secluding into the comforts of our minds. Emotionally however, we may not be all that present. Emotions can feel confusing and subject to disillusionment. Profound insights about our life can be gained if we’re open to the subtle guidances. When the Moon transits Pisces, it is a time to be mindful of the level of your vibrations as you are more impressionable during this time.

What to be mindful of:

- Your secret vices

Everything in moderation, yes? When the moon is in Pisces, any addictive behaviours we have may rear their head. Addictive behaviours in all forms, be it through food, sex and people. Addictions are usually created to mask a feeling that we don’t want to feel. Use this transit to really dig deep into your feelings. There is a danger to wallow in self-pity during this transit but that approach won’t help solve your problems. Be real with yourself.

- Accountability

Pisces energy can be very much in the clouds, not wanting to deal with reality. Be mindful of telling little white lies or stretching the truth so that it fits in the with the version of reality in your head. Take ownership over your mistakes and where you have played a part in the demise of situations. Transparency is key in life. Not wanting to hurt someone’s feelings is not valid reason to not tell the truth.

How to work with this energy:

- Meditate

When the Moon transits Pisces, our intuition is heightened. However, we may find it difficult to separate fact from fiction. Pisces energy is great for getting silent and letting your higher guidance speak to you. You can start off small with just 5 minute guided mediations or practice being mindful in simple things such as having a cup of tea. Open up space for your intuitive wisdom to speak with you.

- Protect your energy

When the Moon transits Pisces, collectively we all are a little more in tune with each other. Boundaries could get blurred and what’s mine vs what’s yours could get a little confusing. Take some time to remove yourself from people, places or things that just don’t sit right with you. You’re more impressionable at this time so why spend it around low-vibrational people/places/things? Energy levels are subject to being low during this transit so its crucial that you surround yourself with what makes you feel good and nourishes your soul.

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/pt 1 - cancer placements sun - saturn

/pt 2 - thoughts on the moon in astrology

/pt 3 - twelve questions for cancer placements

/pt 4 - thoughts on cancer decans

/pt 6 - more thoughts on cancer placements