#I'm going to go read chapter 27

[kimpuntoexe]

TW: SH!

These drawings are from chapters 8 and 13 of A Human Condition by @sapphosscribe on AO3, an amazing BillFord/Human BillCipher fic that I discovered a few weeks ago. It explores the characters' psychology and Bill's redemption, which pretty much comes down to: one step forward, three steps back.

Though I have to say, my human Bill design strays a bit from the fic's description, but you get the idea.

Anyway, I highly recommend this fic!!

[purenguyening]

From Chapter 573

Specifically the panel where Conan reflects on Toichi's line about him declaring himself to be the younger brother (I believe The Million Dollar Pentagram reveals Yuusaku is the younger twin, but that aside...)

I don't 100% know what other obvious hint aside from Chapter 1120 where Kaito speculates he and Conan share a common ancestor.

[cave-monkey]

So part of Yu's translation confused me, prompting me to go dig up my Jenner books because sometimes looking at multiple different versions helps clarify matters. It did not actually clarify anything, but I thought the wildly different ways each translator handled this section was interesting.

“...There’s only one thing left for us to settle, and that’s the Tight-Fillet Spell.” The Tang Monk said, “I won’t recite that again.” “That’s hard to say,” said Pilgrim. “For when the time comes for you to face those treacherous demons and bitter ordeals, and when you, because Eight Rules and Sha Monk cannot rescue you, think of me and cannot stop yourself from reciting it, I’ll have a headache even if I’m one hundred thousand miles away. I’ll have to come back to see you, so why don’t you let this matter drop now.” -Yu, Revised translation, Kindle

And:

"I won't recite it again," said Sanzang. "You shouldn't say that," replied Monkey. "If you're ever beset by evil monsters from whom you can't escape, and if Pig and Friar Sand can't save you, then think of me. If it's unbearable, say the spell. My head will ache even if I'm tens of thousands of miles away. But if I do come back to you, never say it again." -Jenner

It's like...*chin in hands* Huh.

[mercvry-glow]

He's got eyes, but he can't see | In Another Light (1)

In Another Light masterlist - Jack Abbot x Ex!reader

warnings. age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 27), exes to lovers, slow-burnish, jack and reader are really bad at feelings, reader is hinted to have some forms of depression and anxiety, more to come as series continues

summary. Night shift had once been your solace—a strange, electric kind of sanctuary where the world felt quieter, darker, and somehow more honest. Now, on your first official night back, everything and nothing feels the same. The hospital still hums with its familiar tension—beeping monitors, hurried footsteps, the low murmur of exhausted voices—but the comfort is gone, replaced by a dull ache that settles in your chest with every fluorescent flicker and passing gurney. You used to move through these halls like you were part of the machinery; tonight, you're a stranger in a place that once felt like home, and as the hours stretch ahead, thick with memory and unspoken resentment, you wonder if the night can ever truly be yours again—or if Jack’s shadow will always linger in its corners.

notes. AHHH it's here guys! Our official chapter one is here and ready for y'all to read! I'm pretty happy with this, so let me know what you guys think for the future of In Another Light!

wc. 2200+

It was 6:45 p.m. when you finally got the courage to step out of your car to leave the employee section of the PTMC parking garage. Sitting in your car, trying to stomach your six-shot iced oat milk vanilla latte, was easier than facing whatever the hell was going to happen tonight.

Jack’s truck was parked four cars to your left, and that already left a churning feeling in your stomach. He was here before you. You knew he would be—he always was. Routine ran in his blood like caffeine ran in yours. Still, the sight of his gray F-150 made your chest tighten like a pulled muscle.

You walked past it without looking twice, but your body noticed anyway. The crunch of your white sneakers on the concrete. The way the overhead lights buzzed just a little too loudly. 

Deep breaths in. 

Out. 

Then in again.

Mentally, you were already triaging yourself. Discomfort: chronic. Heart rate: elevated. Emotional reserves: low. 

You weren’t sure if the butterflies in your stomach were from anxiety or dread or both, but you swallowed them down with some more of your latte and pushed open the glass door.

PTMC’s entrance was quieter at this hour—day shift winding down, night shift still dragging their feet. You scanned your badge at the side entrance, the little green light blinking you in with an almost welcome.

The elevator ride down to the first floor felt like purgatory. Too short to fully breathe, too long to avoid thinking. The lounges were dim, a few night shifters already tucked in their corners, half-dressed in layers, sipping burnt coffee from the provided mismatched mugs.

You tossed your bag into your usual locker, the motion automatic. Your hands moved without you—pulling on your issued quarter-zip over your black scrubs, clipping on your badge, repositioning your pen light.

Parker leaned back against the wall next to your locker, having put her own stuff away, “Wow. Look who’s back.”

You gave her a dry look. “Miss me that much?”

“Like a hole in the head,” she grinned. “But you’re prettier.”

“Flatter me some more and I might actually stay.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and glanced at her watch. “We’re already one down. Tony called out too. So you’re jumping right in, and Abbot’s making Shen take triage.”

Of course he was.

You turned toward the clock on the wall. 6:59 p.m.

One more minute of quiet before it officially began.

You took a breath, steady and sharp, and told yourself: You’ve done this before. You can do it again. You do it every day.

Even if the ghosts of your past were waiting behind every curtain and trauma room door.

The board hadn’t changed much since yesterday.

You approached the nurse’s station slowly, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets as if that could somehow brace you against the rest of the night.

Little comforts, right?

Robby stood behind one of the desks, one hand balancing a coffee cup, the other flipping through a chart like it would suddenly change information. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Which probably meant he hadn’t.

“You’re early,” he said, not looking up.

“Hard to be late when you’re actively dreading it,” you replied, leaning a hip against the counter.

That got a tired huff out of him. “Still on that oat milk battery acid?”

“Still drinking it. Which says more about me than I’d like.”

He finally glanced up, brown eyes scanning you. There wasn’t judgment there—just something like quiet concern wrapped in too much familiarity.

“I want you with Shen tonight. Bay two is your guys when we get hit. Ellis and Abbot are taking one if multiple roll in.” He tapped the Ipad. “We’ve got two holdovers from earlier—MVA and a dumbass who fell off a roof trying to do some TikTok thing.”

You raised a brow. “Humanity’s finest.”

“I’ll walk you through them. Come on.”

You followed Michael around the desk and into the curtained bays. He talked through the cases, voice low and even. You nodded, asked a few important questions, scribbled notes on your pad like you weren’t here sometime yesterday. 

It should’ve been fine. It almost felt fine.

Until you glanced up—out of habit really—and saw him.

Jack.

He stood down the hall by north-six, his posture all sharp lines and quiet command, chart in hand, talking to someone you didn’t recognize. Gray quarter-zip pushed up to his elbows, scrub pants tucked into his usual work boots. Like nothing had changed.

Like a year ago hadn’t happened.

The sound around you dulled, just for a second. Your breath caught in your throat, lodged somewhere between memory and muscle. He didn’t see you—not yet—but you couldn’t tear your eyes away. 

It was like seeing a ghost. 

Only worse. 

Ghosts didn’t get to keep existing without you. 

“You good, kid?” Robby’s voice pulled you back, grounding and aware of who you were staring at.

You blinked, tore your gaze away. “Yeah. Yeah, just tired.”

His eyes narrowed just a bit. “You sure?”

You nodded once. “I’ll live.”

Robby didn’t press you. He never did when it really counted.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s check on TikTok guy before he tries parkour off the bed.”

You followed him, one foot in front of the other.

But your pulse still beat loud in your ears.

And down the hall, Jack was still there.

Still himself. Still okay without you.

Jack leaned against the counter with a pen between his fingers, chart open but untouched. He wasn’t really reading it—hadn’t been for the last three minutes, not since he saw you walk in.

Across the floor, you were already helping an older woman with her oxygen cannula, crouched just enough to meet her tired eyes. Ellis stood beside you, chart in hand, but it was clear you were leading the interaction. Calm. Steady. Kind in a way that never felt performative.

“She’s good, all settled for the night.” Robby said, walking up beside his fellow attending.

Jack didn’t look at him. “Yeah.”

Robby took a sip of his coffee, eyes never leaving you. “Go easy on her tonight,”

That made Jack glance sideways, jaw tight. “You planning to lecture me?”

“Nope,” Robby said, popping the “p” casually. “Just reminding you of who she is,”

Jack exhaled through his nose, short and humorless. “Not your business.”

“Unfortunately,” Robby said, tapping his badge against his chest, “everyone’s business becomes mine eventually.”

Jack said nothing.

Robby watched you laugh at something Parker muttered, hand briefly brushing the patient’s arm in reassurance before you stood to check the monitor beside the bed. You looked lighter on your feet now—different than a year ago—but there was still something careful in the way you carried yourself. Like you were always bracing for an unknown impact.

“Don’t know how ready she is for this,” Robby said, softer this time. “But she didn’t miss a beat.”

Jack’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “She’s good at compartmentalizing.”

Robby turned to look at him fully. “No. She just has no choice.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the kind that settles between men who know there’s so much more to the conversation but choose, for now, to let it lie.

You were walking back toward the station now, tapping notes into the tablet cradled in your arm, focused and steady. The same soft ponytail. The same familiar way you chewed the inside of your cheek when you were thinking.

The same you—and yet entirely changed.

Robby nudged Jack with his elbow. “Don’t be weird tonight, alright?”

Jack didn’t answer.

Robby smirked. “I’m serious. Don’t screw up my best third year again,”

Then he pushed off the counter, dropped his empty coffee cup into the trash, and started down the hall. “Text me if the ER catches fire,” he called over his shoulder. “Otherwise, I’m pretending I’ve earned a full night’s sleep.”

Jack stayed where he was.

And when you passed him a moment later—eyes straight ahead, posture composed, not even a flicker of acknowledgement—he felt the space between you like an open gaping wound.

A quiet, barley-hidden one.

But it bled all the same.

The first few hours of your shift passed in a blur of motion—nothing dramatic, just the usual chaos that brewed under fluorescent lights and the buzz of cardiac monitors.

John had been decent company as always. Never quiet, but sharp. Efficient and funny was his personal motto. You handled the procedural tasks while he managed some of the floor, the two of you slipping into a rhythm that felt vaguely comforting.

Just like riding a bike.

By the time 9 p.m. rolled around, the ER had cooled just enough to breathe.

You stood at the nurses’ station once again, flipping through an empty triage packet when Shen handed you a fresh set of vitals.

“Room four’s post-fall. Nothing major—glucose crash and a bruised ego.”

You gave a tired smile. “Copy that.”

“Want me to take it?”

“Nah, I’ll knock it out.” You glanced at the clock again. “Might refill my water first though.”

He just nodded and wandered off, already charting something else. You made your way to the break room, tugging on your badge as you continued on your short adventure. The soft click of the latch gave way to the familiar quiet—a rare, sacred kind of silence in a place like this.

Inside the breakroom, the hum of the old refrigerator and the ticking wall clock were the only sounds.

You leaned against the counter for a second, letting your shoulders drop. The muscles in your neck ached from standing too stiffly. Your back protested in all the usual places. You grabbed your bottle, placing it under the watercooler tab for a few seconds, before taking a drink without looking up.

The door opened.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Something in your body went still—recognition without welcome. You focused on the water tumbler in your hand.

Jack stepped inside like he’d done it a thousand times, because he had, he worked here too for christ's sake. His steps paused briefly when he saw you, but he didn’t speak. Just moved to the counter next to you and pulled open the top drawer where the extra coffee pods were always stashed.

You watched the bottle twist around in your fingers. “You’re still drinking the hazelnut ones?”

His hand stilled on the drawer handle. “Yeah.”

You didn’t say anything else. Neither did he.

The silence between you was thick but not hostile—just full. Like everything neither of you said since your last encounter had gathered into the empty air around you.

Jack moved slowly, methodically—cup under the Keurig, pod locked in, button pressed. The smell of cheap coffee started to rise.

“You look tired,” he said finally, voice low and even.

You let out a quiet breath. “You still open with that line?”

“Only when it’s true.”

You glanced at him then—just for a second. His hair was a little shorter than you remembered. He hadn’t grown back the stubble he used to keep, jaw freshly shaven like he was trying to keep everything clean and simple.

“You gonna be okay tonight?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, you’re here,” you raised an eyebrow, “Plus John and Parker, even if we’re down a few people you three can hold down the fort.”

You hummed an affirmative. “Robby seem to think we’re the dream team.”

That earned the smallest twitch of a smirk. “He’s getting delusional in his old age.”

You didn’t dare tell him he was getting old too.

Jack took his cup and leaned back against the counter, a few feet from where you stood. The room felt smaller now, like the walls had pushed everything a step closer.

Neither of you looked directly at the other.

“You doing okay?” he asked quietly, like it was an afterthought. Like he already knew the answer.

You took another drink of your water. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jack didn’t push.

He just stood there for a moment longer, sipping his coffee like it wasn’t burning his tongue. And then, with a soft nod and no goodbye, he pushed off the counter and walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And you were left with the silence again.

Alone, just like when he left you the first time. 

[iamthepulta]

By now I know from the pattern of my writing that the hardest thing for me to do is write a new arc, no matter how brief, but Chapter 28 is just eating me alive, wtf.

Two months just to sketch out the outline based on the motivations, and now it's another two months to get halfway through writing it... It's so hard to see the story. Usually I have a vision of scenes that align with their motivations and fuckin' nothin' is coming up for the last half of 28 to bridge the scenes I want to end with and the setup for the final arc.

[kazutteoks]

GO FOR IT! 𝜗𝜚 ; masterlist

the one were heeseung and you have been rivals since you started hogwarts, and only takes one event that will turn your world upside down to realize what heeseung's presence in your life truly means for you. you have to do something! you just have to go for it!

pairing: ravenclaw prefect!lee heeseung x ravenclaw prefect f!reader

content: harry potter au , social media au , written parts , rivals to friends to lovers , bickering , friendly rivalry , (something i consider)humor , a tiny bit of angst (school pressure, expectations, fear of failure, yk typical of ravenclaws) , drama lots of drama , peeves mentioned (a lot) , heeseung is a great emotional support , reader is called snow for funsies , reader last name is ashbourne , heeseung is down bad but he knows how to hide it very well , tbh it's just heeseung and reader babysitting the ravenclaws and their friends while preparing to be head boy and head girl of hogwarts , but actually there's a plot , eventually reader is so down bad (as she should) , he fell first but she fell painfully harder , and that's it, that's all.

featuring: the rest of enhypen, bts jungkook and taehyung, nct 127 doyoung, johnny and yuta, ateez seonghwa, yunho, yeosang and san, njz hyein, boynextdoor taesan, txt soobin and beomgyu, p1harmony keeho, zerobaseone gyuvin, hanbin and yujin, riize anton, ive wonyoung, aespa karina, illit yunah and wonhee.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⋆. 𐙚 ˚ - read more undercut! ˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ ₊

warnings: this is the beginning of a series i've decided to call enha-gwarts (so original i love myself sm /pat pat), timestamps and dates are not relevant so please ignore it, minecraft references cz ima freak, lots of harry potter world references, lots of swearing, mention of insecurities, anxiety, self-sabotaging thoughts, kms/kys jokes, threat jokes(?, daddy issues jokes idk, modern hogwarts, nothing has really sense i swear it's not that deep believe me (😔🙏🏻), english is NOT my first language, I'm still learning, please excuse any mistakes or nonsenses! lmk if i miss something!

updates: monday , thursday , saturday

start date: 2025/04/19

end date: tba!

༺ ⚝ ; taglist is open!

a/n: lately i've been reading a lot of enhypen hp!au, and after rewatching the harry potter saga last week i really needed to make my own, hope everyone likes my little baby.💗

PROFILES:

0A. purebloods and daddy issues

0B. hogwarts boyband

0C. ravenclaw coven

0D. sides

CHAPTERS:

1. yuta's favourite student

2. i am a supporter

3. you can laugh, but you will cry

4. you were what

4.1 the sleeping charm incident

5. first hw with....

6. oh...

7. you two need to talk

8. coven meeting

9. kicking my feet, twirling my hair

10. come get your brat kid

11. pookie is missing

12. and the drama begins

12.1 worry about it later

13. winter break is over

14. idk what's wrong with me

15. you just have to believe in yourself

16. calm before the storm

17. you think?

18. year is over and we're still the same (1.09k wc)

19. literally flabbergasted

20. the storm (0.5k wc)

21. i failed

22. life looks different from here

23. something weird

24. i have a bad feeling

25. the return of lovely yeosang

26.

27.

28.

29.

30.

mtba!

❗ this is a work of mere fiction, the characters attitudes do not reflect at all the artist's personality here mentioned

© kazutteoks 2025.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series. Setting In A Honeymoon - You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series. The Best Thing - Request! You, Ben, and Ryan get a cat. You Can Feel It - Ben has a birthday. Takes place on May 19th, post-series.

Stuff By You Guys!!! (Art, Memes, and Anything more)

Early Chapters Moodboard by @deans-yn Ben and Sunshine Inspired Art by @castielsfoot

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ due to language and mature themes, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), a lot of time travel talk, set partially in 1942 and the present (alternate S3 ending), PTSD, Soldier Boy before Soldier Boy (aka no powers yet, plus meet his childhood home and parents), slight Beauty/Beast vibes, enemies to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff, humor, angst

A/N: Been wanting to write about time travel again since this fun one-shot. Got the idea while writing Bad Reputation years ago but never got to it. Felt challenged again after rewatching the Community episode where Dean Pelton whines, "Time travel is really hard to write about." Welp, challenge accepted 😂🤍

Main Masterlist || Soldier Boy Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 1: Of All the Gin Joints…

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s?

Chapter 3: I’m Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris

Chapter 6: I Don't Mind a Reasonable Amount of Trouble

Chapter 7: Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

Chapter 8: Frankly, My Dear, I Don't Give a Damn

Chapter 9: As Time Goes By

Chapter 10: Here's Looking at You, Kid

Chapter 11: When You’re Slapped, You’ll Take It and Like It – Coming June 6 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 12: You’re Not Just a Man, You’re a Monument! – Coming June 13 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 13: It's Alive! It's Alive! – Coming June 20 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 14: I'm Going to Have a Lot of Drinks – Coming June 27 || Read now on Patreon

Chapter 15: I May Be a Thief, but I Am Not a Cheat – Coming to Patreon June 6

Chapter 16: I Don’t Care What the Papers Say! – Coming to Patreon June 13

...and more to come 🕰️

[theweirdhybrid]

@where-does-the-heart-lie KICKS OPEN THE DOOR

OKAY I WENT BACK THROUGH AND FOUND ALL THE FORESHADOWING MOMENTS/HINTS I POSSIBLY COULD (i think. i could be reading too much into some of these + might've missed some) OF STELLY AND SALLY'S (AND APPARENTLY MANNY'S!!!!!!) TRUE INTENTIONS IN WITTB HERE WE GO (this was originally an ask but it was too long so I made it into a tumblr post lmao)

(and to anyone seeing this w/o context all art in this post belongs to Whery- the person I mentioned above- and it's from their One Piece fancomic Water is Thicker Than Blood and you should all go read it RIGHT NOW)

First up here we go WAYYY back in chapter 26 (almost two years ago!!! woah!!!!!!) we get the first mention of the letter!!! Stelly tells Sabo to wait until someone comes out, which I know was just him saying that so Sabo wouldn't leave, but imagine if Sabo had Actually waited. Can you imagine how long it could've taken for Sabo to realize Stelly lied?? Definitely would've added to his anger. And Stelly also mentions he wants Sabo to read the letter when he gets home, which means it was meant as an apology for how awful the day would've turned out for him if it had gone according to Stelly's plan, though it still turned out awful for Sabo, just not in the way Stelly intended

And in chapter 27... this moment. When I first saw it I thought Stelly was asking cus he was Afraid, but personally I think this was him hoping Luffy would help Sabo wreck things OR he DIDN'T want him to be there bc he was worried he would help calm Sabo and Stop The Carnage (which he did in fact do at the end. kinda. lmao)

And then again in chapter 28 Stelly says THIS. He might've said this with innocent intentions BUT knowing he was purposefully trying to make Sabo's day Awful it's possible he was just trying to add on to that (especially considering his reaction when Sabo DOESN'T maul him) Idk, this one's up in the air but STILL. EVERYTHING HE SAYS IS SUS NOW. anyways moving on

Next is chapter 39, Manny Does His Thing and psychoanalyzes Ace, thus pissing him off a few moments later. Could this have been innocent on his part, especially considering his embarrassment when Ace shuts him down? Could be, could be... BUT THAT SMIRK.... THAT DAMN SMIRK......... I am CONVINCED this was intentional on some part because if it wasn't, well. Manny needs to learn what boundaries are lmao (i could also just be salty over BJG being a little TRAITOR and dragging his name through the mud but shhhh)

And then here!!! Right here in chapter 42!!!!! The panel that made everyone start to wonder what could've possibly been in the letter that would've made Sabo so mad!!!!!!!! This is one of the more obvious ones but I spent like five hours on this so compiled this for a reason HAHA

Chapter 43! Manny has drawn his Iconic Capricorn!! He acts cagey and hesitant, but I'm onto him [insert suspicious squinting emoji here] I half feel like I'm gaslighting myself here but then I remember That God Damn Smirk Manny makes a few chapters later, and I KNOW he was in on it from the beginning. Why was he riling up Ace??? To make it harder to keep Sabo in check, but JOKES ON MANNY bc Ace has a REMARKABLE level of self control and a WHOLE LOTTA LOVE FOR HIS BROTHERS!!!!!!!! Manny underestimated Ace I fear (or I'm just reading too far into it LOL)

And then, of course, chapter 55, we get This Scene, the evidence that Manny is most DEFINITELY IN ON IT!!!!!!! Sally knows what's coming up, and is giving Manny a heads up. Why? Yet to be seen. Maybe Manny had a hand in how it all went down, but she whispered to him FOR A REASON. And it was about the later scene, where They corner Sabo at dinner!!!!! Ace has a right to be sus, they're tryna make Sabo's day worse!!!!!!!! And they did!!! The fuckers

Next chapter, chapter 56, we see Sally nervous about approaching Sabo with the letter. For good reason! She doesn't give it to him, actually she does something aguably worse but!!! Now we know why she was SO nervous lmao

Lotta hints in a row here. Chapter 57, Sally hides the letter (or at least the name on it) to ask A Super Invasive Question Of Someone She Literally Just Met!!! Girl. I honestly can't tell if Sally was against upsetting Sabo from the start (especially considering this entire chapter) and trying to avoid upsetting him or was just Nervous in general, but either way. She could've said ANYTHING instead of going right for the goddamn THROAT like GEEZ

And chapter 58... That smirk.... that DAMNED smirk.......... he was in on it. There's no way he wasn't. That is an EVIL little smirk he was ABSOLUTELY trying to make things worse, or at least he was looking forward to the chaos. I can just imagine him in the background eating popcorn like "fight fight FIGHT FIGHT FI- oh man he's walking away :( damn"

I really don't think Sally wanted to upset Sabo considering this panel in chapter 59, at least not actually coming face to face with him. Her "this is too far" comment tells me that Stelly hired Jalmack ON PURPOSE (and also that she had NO IDEA. backed up by her initial reaction to learning who the priest was) Like, good grief ANYONE would recognize that as too far, except for Stelly apparently. Rereading I am SHOCKED I didn't put together what was going on considering this one, but it's such a blink and you'll miss it moment because oF WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SAME CHAPTER

That face she makes!!! We all knew she did it on purpose but that face she makes really drives the whole thing home like WOW...... Grim determination with a hint of remorse.. harsh.

Rereading, the panel here in chapter 65 where Stelly and Sally are leaning on each other lowkey reads as them being like "Omg look at him go he's finally going apeshit!! Our hard work has payed off honey :D" but I also know this was likely them leaning on each other for support considering. everything. yeah. But Stelly at least was at LEAST a little relieved Sabo was finally losing it. Sally likely needed the hug. But yeah no this was DEF another hint (also Stelly when did you get here.... we didn't see him sit down I'm just now realizing, but to be fair we were more focused on Sabo than Stelly so it makes sense we didn't see him lol)

Breaking the mold a bit w the format of this post by adding two panels at once here but I feel it's needed to drive the point across. This right here, in chapter 66, was ABSOLUTELY Stelly realizing he went too far. And it was ONLY because he got sent into a flashback too. THIS was Stelly realizing what exactly he was doing to Sabo, because his plan ended up backfiring and hurt him instead of just Sabo. I would LOVE to see what exactly Stelly's reaction was when Sabo ran out. The mix of emotions he was probably feeling here is DELICIOUS to imagine. When I initially saw this I thought he was getting angry on Sabo's behalf, and maybe he was a little but it was mostly him realizing how Badly he fucked up, and also the emotions that come with getting trigged like that. An entire bag worth of emotions and I am so HDAWJDKAJDAHK that I went back after the latest chapter to find moments like this because WOW

This panel here in chapter 67 is a bit of a smaller moment, and I realize this was mostly a reaction to an Angry Man Storming Up To Them, but their combined flinch and Stelly's expression was NOT just because of what just happened. Sally was ABSOLUTELY feeling guiltly and so was Stelly, who didn't appear all that shocked Sabo flipped a table. It feels more like he was startled he went for the table they were sitting at, or like he was startled out of the flashback. But this was def part of it. Or maybe I'm just adding this bc this was the ONE thing Sabo wrecked and I'm proud of him for it LMAO

And then, in one of the recent ones, chapter 82, Sabo is expecting Stelly to snitch on him like Stelly always has and he DOESN'T. And now we know why!! Because THIS was what Stelly wanted!!!! Sabo's finally about to wreck something and Stelly's here for it!!!!!! Even though he's very much still afraid of Sabo as seen in the next panel

Stelly was absolutely returning these because he felt guilty. I thought he'd just felt bad in general, but no, it was guilt. He orchestrated this entire night to make it as Horrible As Possible for Sabo and the ONLY reason he feels bad about it is because IT HURT STELLY TOO. I mean yeah I think his regret is genuine, but he hasn't even APOLOGIZED YET. If he really wants to have Sabo at his REAL WEDDING, because he WANTS TO MAKE AMENDS, he NEEDS to apologize and follow through. THIS ^ IS NOT AN ACTUAL APOLOGY. Fuckin. Little bastard man I love how complicated he is so MUCCHHHHHH but also Stelly. My Man. APOLOGIZE. Urgh I love how you can still see his canon characteristics shine through with this reveal but I also HATE ITTT because WOW. HE'S AN ASSHOLE.

And here's a bonus of Stelly trying to run before Sabo can read the letter and failing LMAO

Anyways yeah that's all I got I'm going to bed now it is. way too late and I am NOT tagging this whatsoever and I apologize for any spelling errors the screen is blurring around the edges hwadhkadja

This is my small love letter to WITTB Whery bc I adore how you wrote everything, from the characters to the pacing to how you draw the faces and convey emotions and just dhwajwjkdak yeah. yeah. I'm not even hyperfixated on One Piece anymore (still keeping up w it tho) but this series STILL holds a special place in my heart and I love it to bits!!! Thank you so much for making this and I personally cannot WAIT to see Sabo's full reaction to Stelly's manipulative little scheme HAHAHAAA okay i'm crashing now goodnight

[lozeyart]

What am I doing in the year of our lord 2025 drawing Junjou Romantica fanart

Goodness me, I got into JJR back in 2008 when the anime aired and then I got into the manga that same year. At the time, I wasn't really drawing people, I was drawing animals, but I was OBSESSED with this yaoi with my whole heart and wanted so badly to draw fanart for it. So now here it is! 17 years in the making! Btw, trying to interpret anime hair logic with my style is easier said than done, but I did my best lol. All just colored sketches and then some scribbles for funsies.

But I definitely have some complicated feelings about this manga/anime. More below the cut (its A LOT, I'm so sorry).

JJR was one of the first yaois I ever got into, and back in 2008 when I didn't realize being gay was an option, this silly little manga/anime felt like an escape for me. Well, it's now 17 years later and upon rereading this manga (I still have volume 1-12, I could never get rid of them, they mean to much to me) I realize that it has aged POORLY.

This yaoi is definitely a product of its time (2002/2003) and it SHOWS. I find myself disappointed in the dynamic between Usagi-san and Misaki and wish that Misaki would show Usagi-san SOME sort of affection outside of the bare minimum (cooking and cleaning for Usagi) and Usagi definitely has some... Issues of his own. Now, I'm an adult, and I can see that consensual non-consent (CNC) can be fun and exciting for a couple (you know, if agreed upon beforehand), and it can be fun for your partner to initiate things out of the blue, but Usagi definitely toes the line of what that is. Now, I know that this was the early 2000s and yaoi relationships tended to have that dynamic (One being the seme who didn't listen to "no" and the uke who said "no" constantly but actually secretly liked what was happening), like I said, this series is definitely a product of its time. But I don't know man, its not fun (for me) reading sex scenes where one of them is constantly telling the other one to stop over and over again. (I also think it'd be cute as fuck if Usagi-san asked Misaki if he could kiss him and Misaki shyly said yes instead of yelling at him like he always does).

I even went online to read up to volume 27, but all I can express is that same disappointment. Misaki rarely even likes to acknowledge that he's in love with Usagi-san, or is dating the man, or even likes him (it seems to be only under duress that he admits these things STILL. IN 2022 when that volume was released!)

I wish there had been more character development in the years since I stopped reading the manga, I wish we could see Misaki and Usagi-san acting like they actually like each other outside of when they have sex (yes there are small moments between the two, and a bickering couple can be a fun dynamic, but dear lord lets shake things up A LITTLE. I'M BEGGING).

Lets not even get started on the sketchyness that is (at the start of the manga) a 28 year old falling in love with an 18 year old (And we're not even going to TALK about Miyagi and Shinobu) -don't bring up the age of consent in Japan, I do NOT wanna hear it-.

Listen, I'm 29, and I would NEVER even DREAM about dating an 18 year old (or 19 year old) at my age. (Fuck, the youngest I'll date is MAYBE 23 but even THATS pushing it for me).

All of that to say is that I still can't help but have an extreme soft spot for this series, and there are still moments that I love from this (Volume 9, the Christmas chapter, am I right? Gets me EVERY time), and fuck, Shungiku Nakamura is probably still making bank with this series so who the fuck am I to say anything lol. I'm just a rando online with an opinion, you don't have to agree, and you can think that whatever Misaki and Usagi have is fuckin' AWESOME. I'm just an old fart

But, I dunno, I think it'd be interesting to explore Misaki's internalized homophobia, and Misaki slowly but surely growing more and more comfortable with not only accepting Usagi-san's affections and even reciprocating and initiating on his own, but also accepting HIMSELF and being happy with who he is instead of the constant self shame he puts himself through for being with a man. Let's be so real, he is gay, he can't stop looking at other attractive men and FAWNING over how hot they are (Nowaki, Todo, Injuin Sensei, the list goes on).

But who am I to complain, I went and drew fanart of these two anyway. Rock, meet glass house.

Unrelated, I love the art style in volume 3-6 a lot because its very "late 90s early 2000s" art and I think the art peaked in volume 9. And now its unpeaking. Bring back Usagi-san's yaoi chin so help me god.

I do have yaoi I prefer over this one a lot more, and involve older couples (which I find that I prefer), and have fun, cute stories. If anyone has read this far and wants those recs, lemme know (dear god I'm so sorry, this has gone on so long.)

Anyway I do want to redraw some of the sex scenes and post it to my bluesky.

[coraltinyrose]

FANFIC DATA [15 Minutes to Save Him]

Most of the images I made for the story. Keep scrolling for close-ups and some new sketches.

FANFICTION DATA (4-june-2025) 🕙Title: 15 Minutes to Save Him 🕙Genre: Romance (F/M) 🕙Style: Canon rewrite 🕙Main pairing: Ranma x Akane 🕙Length: +20K words 🕙Ranking: Teen and up 🕙Where to read: ·AO3 - Fanfic with embedded fanart [Read here] ·Tumblr - I will share one fan art or so + a text excerpt for every chapter released. So it works as notifications. ·(Maybe FF.net - Fanfic with text only [account]) Summary: Ranma makes life plans right after the battle in China, but his daydreams crumble when darkness swallows him. Meanwhile, Akane witnesses his decline and is undeterred by his new, closed-off behavior. She'll uncover the root of his change and help him, even if it takes a counterintuitive approach! But will their secret 15-minute deal work? And can she keep taming her hopes of reciprocated love? ------ Progress update (4-June-2025) The fanfic started its release on AO3! See the cover and get further updates in this new tumblr post. Progress update (29-May-2025) New art at end of post. Fanfic edits/beta ongoing. Progress update (18-May-2025) Beta checks are ongoing, which made me start rereading the manga (focusing on specific parts) to improve a particular character's arc. I'm happy I can follow it in Japanese decently well! Level up~ New art added to this post.

Progress update (13-May-2025) -Cover art and some other sketches done -Publishing system decided -Beta reading pending

Progress update (8-May-2025) Drawing art while waiting for beta reading. Cover WIP added at the end of this post~

Progress update (2-May-2025)

The first chapters are as polished as my current skills allow, and they’ve already had some beta reading—kyaa~ (TYSM! @luna12-ranma-akane-otp ). The rest of the fic is also pretty far along, totaling 18k words.

Again, don’t expect regular updates from me, but know that things are happening behind the scenes.

Progress update (27-Apr-2025) The project is progressing nicely, but that means fewer posts as I keep editing the fanfic (not drawing art). Don't worry if you see me post less in the next days/weeks. I added a new sketch at the end of this post's close-ups!

Progress update (24-Apr-2025)

My amazing pro writer friend read the first draft and gave me super useful and sweet feedback. I'm so motivated to improve the story and release it ♡ RELEASE TIMELINE

I have a lot to rewrite and, as this is a for-fun project, there's no set date. But I can say this: I'm the type of creator who finishes projects to keep things consistent, start to end, and then releases them into parts. That lets people savor each installment and perhaps speculate with others on what will happen next.

Yes, I'm evil, not giving it all at once. But at least early readers have security that there is a (hopefully) satisfying ending coming ^^ Then, even if I could start publishing the fanfic once the texts are fully finished, I also want time to do art accompanying the story (like this post's images). So I'm considering whether I...

A) wait to release until I have all texts + images = regular release schedule but longer wait B) just release when I have the text and do images on the go = irregular releases, but we start earlier Probably I'll go with a mix of both, having a buffer of images before the start. Which, in a way, I already have.

What is your preference as a writer or reader?

Publish all at once, "chaos" irregular but release as soon as you have it, monthly, weekly, daily,...

----- *Characters by Takahashi Rumiko

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just���” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

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[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 11)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 1.3k (Shorter than usual but it's because it's Part 1 Epilogue and I'm posting this back-to-back with Ch. 10!)

CHAPTER 11: August 27, 2024

“Hey, Avery?”

You looked up at Mandy, blinking at her smile while the edges of your lips twitched upward in response. “Yeah?”

She giggled before placing a white paper bag onto the countertop. “I brought you your favorite.”

You lightly smiled, taking the bag. “What’s the occasion?”

She chortled, shrugging as she walked past you. “What? I can’t get you an eclair now and then?”

You gave a small, quiet laugh. It was a little strained, but Mandy’s energy was enough to make you try. “No, I’m not saying you can’t.”

“Good!” She winked before chucking her bag into the back room, which always made you roll your eyes. “You can’t go wrong with getting a sweet treat while working!”

You hummed before crossing your arms, your small smile still present. “Yeah? And tell me—why are you here today? I said you didn’t have to come in.”

Mandy shrugged again. “I don’t know. I was bored.”

“Aren’t you writing a novel?”

She shrugged again.

You shook your head before reaching for one of the stacks of books beside you. “Well, if you’re really that bored, you can help me put these back where they belong.”

Mandy scoffed. “I swear,” she began while grabbing a stack, “why the hell is it so hard for people to put books in the right spot?”

“Incompetence?”

“Stupidity,” she concluded with a dramatic sigh. 

You chuckled again as you walked around your store, your body moving on autopilot. Finding every book’s home was an easy task for you, and your movements were slow as you reached their rightful place. Your fingers traced the spine of each book before sliding them back onto the shelf.

Behind you, Mandy was watching you from the corner of her eye. You had noticed that she’d been more present in the past few weeks, but not necessarily that she had been watching you carefully. She was always perceptive, but she was keeping an eye on you in ways even you hadn’t realized.

Maybe being shaken had somehow made Mandy nervous too.

Over a month ago, you were reading a novel on your couch, the television playing softly in the background while Brooklyn murmured outside of your window. It was supposed to be a calming night, but then the news started to report on an attack at the GRC voting by the Flag Smashers.

By the way, you thought that was a stupid fucking name.

When you raised the volume, you saw him on the screen.

James Bucky Barnes.

You tried your best not to fall apart, but nothing was ever in your control. Crumbled to the floor, you watched his face shine underneath the streetlights as he walked to the building. He glanced at the camera, his frost-blue eyes dimmed by the night and the weight of the incoming battle, but there was still the same sharpness and softness within them that made you feel afloat. His hair was cut shorter, and his metal arm was no longer silver, but black and gold like the beautiful art of kintsugi.

That was what he was. Beautiful.

God, he was so beautiful.

The footage had cut to different moments of the night. Civilians rushing around, James speeding by on a motorcycle, and Sam Wilson, the new Captain America—which, thank fuck, because that John Walker guy was not it—soaring around and fighting a helicopter.

Whenever it cut back to James, you were on your feet, hands to your chest as you tried to keep your breathing calm. You’d seen him fight before—the way he moved so precisely and gracefully through the violent nature of his punches. But seeing that the last time you watched him fight led to a knife wound in his stomach, you couldn’t help but feel terrified.

Then you felt proud.

You felt so proud when the camera showed him breaking open a van full of hostages. The reporter called him a hero, but you already knew that. Your heart leaped to see James doing what he always did best—protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. 

At that moment, you felt so much relief—relief that he was surviving without you. There was a second where you wanted to run out and find him, throw yourself in front of him from any dangerous threat, but you didn’t. You stayed in your quiet apartment, watching James fight for others and himself.

You were happy.

Then your chest began to hurt.

Seeing James again after ten years tore you apart. He was alive again, but that didn’t revive you. You weren’t there when he needed you the most—you couldn’t do the one thing you were cursed to do. The world took him away from you and spat him out when you were at your weakest. Too weak to move. To feel. To love.

Well, actually. That last one was a lie.

You were never weak enough to love, but to act upon it? It exhausted you. It hurt you.

Seeing him hurt you because you knew you couldn’t let him back into your life.

You flinched at the sound of a book hitting the floor, and you looked down to see that you were the problem. Sighing, you bent over and scooped the novel off the floor before sliding it into its home. A dull ache seeped into your chest and you shut your eyes, focusing on your breathing as the world tried to spin you around.

“Avery?” Mandy called behind you. “Are you okay?”

You exhaled and walked back to the front desk with a forced smile. “All good,” you replied, grabbing another stack of books.

When you turned back around, Mandy continued to stare at you. She had also seen the news—watched James Barnes run around and save the city alongside Captain America. The entire night, she only thought about you and how you must’ve felt seeing the man you loved back in action.

She tried to ask you about it the next day, but you said you didn’t want to talk about it. You didn’t lie and say you were fine—you definitely were not. For the past few weeks, you moved slower, sighed heavier, thought longer.

Loved harder, even when you didn’t want to.

Mandy didn’t push it any further, but you could feel the weight of her stare. So you kept your back turned to her—to the customers roaming around—to the front door that would open and close now and then.

Eventually, with three books left in your arms, you gazed at the top shelf. Rolling your eyes at people’s stupidity to put things back where they belong, you rolled the wooden ladder to the shelf you needed to get to and climbed up.

You reached up, sliding the book back into its place before carefully climbing down the ladder. But then, right as you were close to the bottom, you heard a snap and you felt your foot fall through one of the steps. With nothing underneath it, your foot swung forward while the rest of your body fell back. Your one hand lost its grip while the other let go of the books, and you yelped as you braced yourself to fall—

Into a pair of arms. 

You opened your eyes, blinking as you found yourself in someone’s grasp—very sturdy and comfortable, you noticed. With one foot still on the ladder, you were leaning back into this man’s chest, his arms underneath your armpits and wrapped around you. You could suddenly smell his cologne and hear his soft sigh, definitely out of relief that he happened to be right where he needed to be. Your cheeks went warm as you slowly stepped off the ladder, and he helped you stand up.

“Damn.” You couldn’t help but sigh in embarrassment, turning around to face your savior. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the ladder was ready to—”

Frost-blue eyes met your gaze, and you froze.

END OF PART 1: LIFE ON YOUR LINE

NEXT CHAPTER >

AN: We'll be back in 3 weeks with PART 2: BREATH IN YOUR MARGIN :) Thanks everyone!

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys 

Thanks for reading :)

[zosan-secondchances]

The Pirate King of the North: Part 26

Warning: Story contains One Piece spoilers, strong language and explicit content.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 (Special) | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29

Hiya! I'd like to thank my readers for getting this far. You inspire and motivate me to do my best with this little big fic. You're beautiful and awesome human beings! I've never been so driven to draw and write so much in my life.

I'm back to work after my little rest period recovering from surgery so my updates will slow down from here on but I'll aim to get a chapter done every 1-2 weeks.

Fish-Man Island x Straw Hat World will be the last chunk of adventure(s) of this book. I got a tonne more ideas so I'm considering a sequel or some one-off stories but we shall see!

I'm going to pull back on posting the texts in Tumblr as editing here is actually a bit of a pain and the block limits with my format are limiting.

Happy reading and enjoy your day/afternoon/night!

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [27] - Midnight

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some arguments have more tension than others.

Word Count: 2500

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship (I'm serious, they have issues), mentions of sex and fighting. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Well then.

As it turned out, your plan to make your cousin look weak was working.

The first hit was an absolute success, and Ian was already crumbling. It was lucky for you that your father wasn’t getting involved and was giving him a chance to prove himself after the first attack to the shipment, because Ian was acting exactly the way you thought he would act.

Good.

It was going to make things much easier.

Bucky had dropped by to the apartment in the middle of the day to go take a shower which was quite surprising but judging by the blood stains on his shirt, it was needed. You were sitting comfortably on the couch, resting your feet on the coffee table with a book in your lap when he came into the living room and made a beeline to you to fling himself on the couch as well, pushing your book away to put his head in your lap. You pulled your brows together, tilting your head.

“Can I help you?”

If you didn’t know it better, you would’ve thought he was pouting.

“I need like five minutes to rest my eyes,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “How someone can be so goddamn stubborn, I’ll never understand.”

“Ah,” you said. “This can only be about—”

“Becca.”

You nodded your head. “What happened?”

“Mom wants to meet her girlfriend and Becca is acting like that’s a natural disaster.”

“Hurricane Winnifred,” you muttered and Bucky opened his eyes to look up at you, but then closed them again when you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair to play with it.

“Can you tell her she’s being nonsense?”

“I don’t think she’s being nonsense,” you told him. “Have you met your mother?”

“She’ll be nice.”

“Like fuck she will.”

“She’s nice to you.”

“Because she knows I won’t be nice if she won’t,” you told him. “Leila on the other hand…she’s way too polite.”

Bucky hummed and looked up at you again.

“Is Becca serious about her?”

“Oh absolutely,” you said. “Picket fence house and all that nonsense.”

“With a civilian,” Bucky mumbled. “That’s going to be fun.”

“Becca would never get with someone in the business, you know that.”

“Oh I know that, but I don’t think my parents do,” Bucky said. “They still hope it will happen.”

“Winnifred and my aunt would get along well,” you muttered. “Both boy moms.”

“So are a lot of people.”

“No there’s a difference between a boy mom and a boy mom.”

“You make zero sense, Charm.”

You shrugged your shoulders, still playing with his hair but his phone buzzed, making him let out a groan.

“No!”

“You’ll be fine,” you said and he sat up with a sigh, his eyes darting over the lines before he chuckled.

“Jesus, he really is the worst heir ever.”

“Ian?”

“Guess where he’s routing the next shipment.”

You frowned. “Where?”

“West side second dock.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Has your father never taught him anything, seriously?” he asked and you covered your mouth.

“West side second dock, Jesus Christ…”

“I’d better have a decoy shipment then,” Bucky murmured. “Just in case.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you said. “The cops will follow that shipment and bust it with any other shipment that day.”

“I’ll talk to my guys in the force, let’s see how that plays out.”

“Both us and the cops winning,” you mused. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“They’re not winning, it’s just going to be their small victory so that they’ll shut up for a while,” Bucky said as he stood up. “I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Sure,” you said as he kissed the top of your head. “I’ll meet my dad but I’ll be home around dinner time.”

“Have fun,” he said and walked out of the apartment, and you heaved a sigh.

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”

                                                    *

Your lunch with your father was pretty interesting, because you knew he was trying his hardest not to let you know about the so-called attack, but he was way too tense for you to think everything was going well. You took a look at the bodyguards in the restaurant, then sipped your rosé, leaning back.

“So,” you said. “How is everything with the business?”

He shot you a look.

“You took longer than I thought you would,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m just making small talk—”

“Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Fine,” you said. “I heard about the attack.”

“Of course you did,” he muttered more to himself, then sipped his drink. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

You tried to control your expression.

“I know,” you said. “Doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Do we know who’s behind the attack?”

“Not yet,” he said. “We’re searching for it though.”

Tension churned at your stomach but you nodded your head calmly.

“What shipment was it?” you asked. “You normally have multiple men around the perimeter, but Bucky said it looked like a sneak attack. How did they get past your people? Did they kill them?”

Your father licked his lips and heaved a sigh.

“Ian was responsible of that shipment,” he said, making you arch a brow. “He must’ve—Y/N.”

“What?” you asked innocently and he licked his lips.

“He will stumble a bit, everyone does when they first start taking responsibilities.”

You hummed.

“Funny,” you said. “I didn’t notice that with Bucky. Or Sam. Or Steve.”

“Ian is a bit more…enthusiastic to prove himself than they were, perhaps.”

You tried not to grimace at the blatant lie and took another sip so that you could control your expression.

“I’ve been told he’s fixing the situation,” your father said. “He’s much more angry at the situation than you or me.”

“But are you angry?”

“It happened in my territory, and it was my shipment, my business that they attacked,” your father said even though his voice was calm. “Of course I am angry.”

Guilt burned at your stomach but you knew you couldn’t let it affect you; what you and Bucky had done was necessary.

It wasn’t just your father’s business, it was going to be yours one day and you had to prove that Ian was a terrible option.

For the business, and the city.

One of the bodyguards came closer to mutter something to his ear and he nodded, then wiped at his mouth.

“Duty calls,” he said and you took another sip of your wine, then put the glass on the table.

“Alright.”

“Want me to drop you off?”

“No need, my driver is here,” you said as you both walked out of the restaurant. He hugged you and you kissed him on the cheek.

“Be careful.”

“Always am,” he said and one of the bodyguards opened the door for you, but before you got in, you heard your father’s voice again.

“Y/N.”

You turned around to look at him better. “Yeah?”

“How would you prevent it?” he asked. “If it was your shipment?”

A smug grin threatened to pull at your lips but you bit inside your cheek, then heaved a sigh.

“Twenty men around the perimeter,” you said. “Additional ten in every half mile, three hour shifts in rotation. Couple of cops under our pay in the outer skirts, preferably by the bridge and at least three people watching the street footage so that we would know the license plates of every car that gets a bit too close for future reference.”

He blinked a couple of times, the impressed expression on his face impossible to miss and you felt your stomach do a happy flip, then shrugged your shoulder, forcing yourself to focus.

“But it doesn’t matter,” you told him. “I’m not your heir, am I?”

With that, you got in the car and the bodyguard closed the door, the driver starting the car immediately. You grinned to yourself and leaned back in the seat as the car started moving through the street smoothly and you closed your eyes.

“Yet,” you corrected yourself. “I’m not your heir yet.”

                                            *

Bucky had texted you, saying he would miss dinner because of a meeting taking long so you had ordered some takeout, curled up on the couch with Alpine in your lap. Towards midnight he still hadn’t come home so you texted him only for him to text back the meeting was still going on, and you picked a show to bingewatch in the meantime.

For some reason you liked it when Bucky was beside you on the bed when you went to sleep.

You were so focused on the episode that you hadn’t even noticed when your phone buzzed, so when you saw the text notification from Ian, you frowned slightly.

You and Ian didn’t really text each other.

You touched the notification and sat up straighter much to Alpine’s meow of protest the moment you saw the picture of Bucky and Anna by the docks. Bucky was leaning back against the car with Anna right beside him, laughing at what you could only assume something he said.

From: Ian

Ouch. Didn’t last long huh?

Fury spread through you so fast that it made your head spin and you stood up from the couch, Alpine jumping to the floor as well. Your jaw clenched as you zoomed into the picture, then ran a hand over your face.

Of course.

The so called meeting was just a fucking excuse.

You didn’t even know why you were getting so angry, after all this whole thing was just a business deal but that was the thing; you two had a deal. That was his only request going into this marriage, that you two wouldn’t see anyone else behind each other’s back but there he was, breaking the same rule he had implemented. A mob boss not being faithful wasn’t supposed to be a surprise; you had grown up seeing it over and over again, Bucky’s own father included but this?

This was disrespect, and the fact that Ian was the one telling you about it made it so much worse.

You tried to see through the fury pounding in your head, tossed the phone aside and dug your fingernails into your palms, gritting your teeth.

That motherfucker.

How dare he?

By the time the front door opened, you had been pacing in the living room for the last half an hour, still lost in your own anger but Bucky’s voice made you stop dead in your tracks.

“Honey I’m home,” he joked as he walked in and you narrowed your eyes at him, making him tilt his head.

“What happened?”

Even if anger was radiating off of you and you knew that he could tell, you managed to smile but you had a feeling it was more of a snarl.

“How was the meeting?” you asked, your voice eerily calm and he licked his lips.

“It was fine?” he said like a question. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to be shot?”

You walked to the couch to grab your phone, then found the pic, your hands nearly shaking as you tossed him the phone with more force than necessary. His gaze fell on the screen before he looked at you again.

“You put people on my tail?”

“You fucking asshole!” you lunged at him but he had the same training as you had – probably heavier considering the cage fight- because he caught you basically in mid-air and twisted your arm, then pushed you before you could grab him.

“Sweetheart,” he said. “You know what the psychiatrist said about open communication, let’s talk about this.”

“You’re going behind my back?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, it was a business—”

“Bullshit!”

“A business meeting,” he said as you took off your earrings to toss them aside, making him pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance.

“Charm baby, let’s not.”

“Oh no, let’s,” you said as you jumped over the coffee table but he caught your leg before you could reach him and threw you easily to the corner of the room. You landed on your feet just as easily but the vase by the corner fell off its stand to smash into pieces. Bucky’s bodyguards by the hallway must’ve heard the noise because the door slammed open, Hannah and Paul walking inside with their guns raised.

“Mr. Barnes?”

“Leave,” Bucky ordered, rolling his shoulders back as you gritted your teeth and pulled the pocket knife out of your waistband, flipping it open.

“…Sir?”

“Everything is alright, me and my wife are just having a small disagreement.”

“Mr. Barnes, are you—”

“She’s not going to do anything to me Paul but I can’t guarantee the same thing for you,” Bucky said. “Leave, close the door behind you.”   

Hannah and Paul lowered their guns, exchanging glances.

“Leave!” you snapped and they both rushed out of the door, closing it behind them in a hurry. Bucky gave you a smirk and opened his arms as if inviting you.

“It was a business meeting, princess.”

“In the middle of the night?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, both of you circling each other. “By the water? Are all your meetings that romantic?”

“We had to go check the shipment’s security because I don’t want to raise any alarms when Ian’s shipment gets busted—”

“Do you seriously think I’m that much of a gullible idiot?”

“Nah, I think you’re just jealous. It’s adorable, really.”

“I’m not fucking jealous!” you exclaimed as you lunged at him again, this time wrapping your legs around his neck to slam him to the ground even if he managed to knock the blade off your hand in the meantime. As soon as you two hit the ground, he caught your leg and flipped you two over, his hand shooting up to grab you by the neck, not putting any pressure but still strong.

Oh—

Oh fuck, this wasn’t supposed to make your heartbeat faster.

The only sound in the room was both of you breathing hard while you glared at each other for a moment, desire roaring through your veins, making your head spin.

Then his lips crashed into yours.

All your senses were too full of him for you to even think it wasn’t the best idea and to be completely honest, you couldn’t give two fucks whether it was a good idea or not, especially not when he was kissing you like this. You had no idea when you two had started ripping each other’s clothes but it was only when you felt his fingertips brush your bare waist, awakening fire underneath your skin did you realize you were only in your bra. You pulled at his crisp button up shirt until the buttons scattered around the room before you impatiently pushed it down his arms and bit at his lip, making him hiss for a moment to pull back to look down at you.

“Behave,” he warned you, smirking slightly and you tilted your head, arching a brow.

“You first.”  

He let out a chuckle, then winked at you and leaned down to kiss you again.

Chapter 28

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 26] || [Chapter 27]

Pairing: 141 x gn!Reader Words: 500~ (in the video + picture) cw: accidental exhibitionism/voyeurism, good natured teasing Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: This chapter is **different**. You can read it OR watch it live! So sorry btw that the video is not embedded 😭😭🙏 a/n #2: Also this chapter is 100% inspired by this fanart by @ramvur but with Simon, instead of Price.

Chapter pre-27: Away (UPDATED!)

If you'd rather watch their text convo: CLICK HERE

It's 6 A.M. when your phone start buzzing repeatedly on the night stand next to you.

You paw at it languidly, blinking away the sleep as you attempt to unlock the phone and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

johnny: baby guess what!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11 johnny: baby johnny: babyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy johnny: if ye dont answer my texts 🙄 you: jesus christ johnny its 6am what are you doing up??? 😑 johnny: good morning love!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! johnny: weve got training today 😙 johnny: guess what happened you: what simon: Good morning sweeheart. johnny: WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING ANSWERING? you: good morning si 🫶 you: wait what do u mean u were calling for me no? johnny: I MEANT SIMON HES IN THE INFIRMARY HES NOT MEANT TO BE ANSWERING johnny: HOW DO YE EVEN HAVE YOUR PHONE you: i feel like u need to stop asking how he does things you: uve known him for longer than me and im not surprised anymore you: also IN THE INFIRMARY? johnny: thats what i was coming to tell you!!!!! 🙄🙄🙄🙄 you: why did u frame it like its a good thing?????????? johnny: because he got put there by Kyle during training johnny: we were practising chokeholds and he passed out you: I STILL DONT SEE HOW THATS A GOOD THING JOHNNY johnny: HES FINE YE DON'T UNDERSTAND johnny: HE GOT ROCK HARD WHILE KYLE HAD HIS LEGS WRAPPED AROUND HIS THROAT you: WHAT??? you: tell me more 👀 johnny: 😏😏 johnny: he was wearing shorts and his cock just popped out you: LIKE OUT OUT? johnny: out out 🍆 you: wow 😮‍💨 you: did u get any pictures? 👀 johnny: i did bonnie do ye want them? 😏 johnny: even caught the look in prices and kyles faces when it happened you: send me send me send me you: wait it happened in front of them???? johnny: worse happened in front of everyone 🥴 we were training with other units you: oh shit you: that has to have been embarrassing you: is he okay though from passing out? you: johnny? you: wow imagine ignoring me kyle: johnny's a little occupied at the moment lovie! kyle: good morning btw! 😚 you: good morning ky!! 🫶 you: occupied? kyle: ghost's chasing him for telling you everything and johnny's running for his life 😭 you: 🙃 you: normal day then? kyle: normal day 🥴 you: okay then well hope the training went well kyle: it did! 😏 anyway got to go kyle: pls go back to sleep need you well rested lovie you: i will i will.

Sighing a bit, you set your phone down on the charger again and attempt to go back to sleep... unsuccessfully so.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, you find yourself grabbing the phone again and your thumb clicks on John's name in your contacts.

You don't text him often, the last time having been nearly a week before, but, right now, you felt like you should.

you: the lads just woke me up you: johnny more specifically 🙄 you: now i cant get to sleep again john: if it's any consolation john: I told him not to john: need help? you: how would u help? john: can call you and sing you a lullaby? you: pls dont john: then I'm out of ideas darling you: u could help in another way john: and what's that? 😏 you: remember how u said u had a house of ur own you: and if i ever needed a break we could go there? john: i see 😏 john: want me to take you away for the weekend darling? you: yes please

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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

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