#photo hanging systems

[somebluemelodies]

quackity really said let me put some of the most gorgeous people on planet earth on one minecraft server

[therealbeachfox]

Twenty years ago, February 15th, 2004, I got married for the first time.

It was twenty years earlier than I ever expected to.

To celebrate/comemorate the date, I'm sitting down to write out everything I remember as I remember it. No checking all the pictures I took or all the times I've written about this before. I'm not going to turn to my husband (of twenty years, how the f'ing hell) to remember a detail for me.

This is not a 100% accurate recounting of that first wild weekend in San Francisco. But it -is- a 100% accurate recounting of how I remember it today, twenty years after the fact.

Join me below, if you would.

2004 was an election year, and much like conservatives are whipping up anti-trans hysteria and anti-trans bills and propositions to drive out the vote today, in 2004 it was all anti-gay stuff. Specifically, preventing the evil scourge of same-sex marriage from destroying everything good and decent in the world.

Enter Gavin Newstrom. At the time, he was the newly elected mayor of San Francisco. Despite living next door to the city all my life, I hadn’t even heard of the man until Valentines Day 2004 when he announced that gay marriage was legal in San Francisco and started marrying people at city hall.

It was a political stunt. It was very obviously a political stunt. That shit was illegal, after all. But it was a very sweet political stunt. I still remember the front page photo of two ancient women hugging each other forehead to forehead and crying happy tears.

But it was only going to last for as long as it took for the California legal system to come in and make them knock it off.

The next day, we’re on the phone with an acquaintance, and she casually mentions that she’s surprised the two of us aren’t up at San Francisco getting married with everyone else.

“Everyone else?” Goes I, “I thought they would’ve shut that down already?”

“Oh no!” goes she, “The courts aren’t open until Tuesday. Presidents Day on Monday and all. They’re doing them all weekend long!”

We didn’t know because social media wasn’t a thing yet. I only knew as much about it as I’d read on CNN, and most of the blogs I was following were more focused on what bullshit President George W Bush was up to that day.

"Well shit", me and my man go, "do you wanna?" I mean, it’s a political stunt, it wont really mean anything, but we’re not going to get another chance like this for at least 20 years. Why not?

The next day, Sunday, we get up early. We drive north to the southern-most BART station. We load onto Bay Area Rapid Transit, and rattle back and forth all the way to the San Francisco City Hall stop.

We had slightly miscalculated.

Apparently, demand for marriages was far outstripping the staff they had on hand to process them. Who knew. Everyone who’d gotten turned away Saturday had been given tickets with times to show up Sunday to get their marriages done. My babe and I, we could either wait to see if there was a space that opened up, or come back the next day, Monday.

“Isn’t City Hall closed on Monday?” I asked. “It’s a holiday”

“Oh sure,” they reply, “but people are allowed to volunteer their time to come in and work on stuff anyways. And we have a lot of people who want to volunteer their time to have the marriage licensing offices open tomorrow.”

“Oh cool,” we go, “Backup.”

“Make sure you’re here if you do,” they say, “because the California Supreme Court is back in session Tuesday, and will be reviewing the motion that got filed to shut us down.”

And all this shit is super not-legal, so they’ll totally be shutting us down goes unsaid.

00000

We don’t get in Saturday. We wind up hanging out most of the day, though.

It’s… incredible. I can say, without hyperbole, that I have never experienced so much concentrated joy and happiness and celebration of others’ joy and happiness in all my life before or since. My face literally ached from grinning. Every other minute, a new couple was coming out of City Hall, waving their paperwork to the crowd and cheering and leaping and skipping. Two glorious Latina women in full Mariachi band outfits came out, one in the arms of another. A pair of Jewish boys with their families and Rabbi. One couple managed to get a Just Married convertible arranged complete with tin-cans tied to the bumper to drive off in. More than once I was giving some rice to throw at whoever was coming out next.

At some point in the mid-afternoon, there was a sudden wave of extra cheering from the several hundred of us gathered at the steps, even though no one was coming out. There was a group going up the steps to head inside, with some generic black-haired shiny guy at the front. My not-yet-husband nudged me, “That’s Newsom.” He said, because he knew I was hopeless about matching names and people.

Ooooooh, I go. That explains it. Then I joined in the cheers. He waved and ducked inside.

So dusk is starting to fall. It’s February, so it’s only six or so, but it’s getting dark.

“Should we just try getting in line for tomorrow -now-?” we ask.

“Yeah, I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible.” One of the volunteers tells us. “We’re not allowed to have people hang out overnight like this unless there are facilities for them and security. We’d need Porta-Poties for a thousand people and police patrols and the whole lot, and no one had time to get all that organized. Your best bet is to get home, sleep, and then catch the first BART train up at 5am and keep your fingers crossed.

Monday is the last day to do this, after all.

00000

So we go home. We crash out early. We wake up at 4:00. We drive an hour to hit the BART station. We get the first train up. We arrive at City Hall at 6:30AM.

The line stretches around the entirety of San Francisco City Hall. You could toss a can of Coke from the end of the line to the people who’re up to be first through the doors and not have to worry about cracking it open after.

“Uh.” We go. “What the fuck is -this-?”

So.

Remember why they weren’t going to be able to have people hang out overnight?

Turns out, enough SF cops were willing to volunteer unpaid time to do patrols to cover security. And some anonymous person delivered over a dozen Porta-Poties that’d gotten dropped off around 8 the night before.

It’s 6:30 am, there are almost a thousand people in front of us in line to get this literal once in a lifetime marriage, the last chance we expect to have for at least 15 more years (it was 2004, gay rights were getting shoved back on every front. It was not looking good. We were just happy we lived in California were we at least weren’t likely to loose job protections any time soon.).

Then it starts to rain.

We had not dressed for rain.

00000

Here is how the next six hours go.

We’re in line. Once the doors open at 7am, it will creep forward at a slow crawl. It’s around 7 when someone shows up with garbage bags for everyone. Cut holes for the head and arms and you’ve got a makeshift raincoat! So you’ve got hundreds of gays and lesbians decked out in the nicest shit they could get on short notice wearing trashbags over it.

Everyone is so happy.

Everyone is so nervous/scared/frantic that we wont be able to get through the doors before they close for the day.

People online start making delivery orders.

Coffee and bagels are ordered in bulk and delivered to City Hall for whoever needs it. We get pizza. We get roses. Random people come by who just want to give hugs to people in line because they’re just so happy for us. The tour busses make detours to go past the lines. Chinese tourists lean out with their cameras and shout GOOD LUCK while car horns honk.

A single sad man holding a Bible tries to talk people out of doing this, tells us all we’re sinning and to please don’t. He gives up after an hour. A nun replaces him with a small sign about how this is against God’s will. She leaves after it disintegrates in the rain.

The day before, when it was sunny, there had been a lot of protestors. Including a large Muslim group with their signs about how “Not even DOGS do such things!” Which… Yes they do.

A lot of snide words are said (by me) about how the fact that we’re willing to come out in the rain to do this while they’re not willing to come out in the rain to protest it proves who actually gives an actual shit about the topic.

Time passes. I measure it based on which side of City Hall we’re on. The doors face East. We start on Northside. Coffee and trashbags are delivered when we’re on the North Side. Pizza first starts showing up when we’re on Westside, which is also where I see Bible Man and Nun. Roses are delivered on Southside. And so forth.

00000

We have Line Neighbors.

Ahead of us are a gay couple a decade or two older than us. They’ve been together for eight years. The older one is a school teacher. He has his coat collar up and turns away from any news cameras that come near while we reposition ourselves between the lenses and him. He’s worried about the parents of one of his students seeing him on the news and getting him fired. The younger one will step away to get interviewed on his own later on. They drove down for the weekend once they heard what was going on. They’d started around the same time we did, coming from the Northeast, and are parked in a nearby garage.

The most perky energetic joyful woman I’ve ever met shows up right after we turned the corner to Southside to tackle the younger of the two into a hug. She’s their local friend who’d just gotten their message about what they’re doing and she will NOT be missing this. She is -so- happy for them. Her friends cry on her shoulders at her unconditional joy.

Behind us are a lesbian couple who’d been up in San Francisco to celebrate their 12th anniversary together. “We met here Valentines Day weekend! We live down in San Diego, now, but we like to come up for the weekend because it’s our first love city.”

“Then they announced -this-,” the other one says, “and we can’t leave until we get married. I called work Sunday and told them I calling in sick until Wednesday.”

“I told them why,” her partner says, “I don’t care if they want to give me trouble for it. This is worth it. Fuck them.”

My husband-to-be and I look at each other. We’ve been together for not even two years at this point. Less than two years. Is it right for us to be here? We’re potentially taking a spot from another couple that’d been together longer, who needed it more, who deserved it more.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Says the 40-something gay couple in front of us.

“This is as much for you as it is for us!” says the lesbian couple who’ve been together for over a decade behind us.

“You kids are too cute together,” says the gay couple’s friend. “you -have- to. Someday -you’re- going to be the old gay couple that’s been together for years and years, and you deserve to have been married by then.”

We stay in line.

It’s while we’re on the Southside of City Hall, just about to turn the corner to Eastside at long last that we pick up our own companions. A white woman who reminds me an awful lot of my aunt with a four year old black boy riding on her shoulders. “Can we say we’re with you? His uncles are already inside and they’re not letting anyone in who isn’t with a couple right there.” “Of course!” we say.

The kid is so very confused about what all the big deal is, but there’s free pizza and the busses keep driving by and honking, so he’s having a great time.

We pass by a statue of Lincoln with ‘Marriage for All!’ and "Gay Rights are Human Rights!" flags tucked in the crooks of his arms and hanging off his hat.

It’s about noon, noon-thirty when we finally make it through the doors and out of the rain.

They’ve promised that anyone who’s inside when the doors shut will get married. We made it. We’re safe.

We still have a -long- way to go.

00000

They’re trying to fit as many people into City Hall as possible. Partially to get people out of the rain, mostly to get as many people indoors as possible. The line now stretches down into the basement and up side stairs and through hallways I’m not entirely sure the public should ever be given access to. We crawl along slowly but surely.

It’s after we’ve gone through the low-ceiling basement hallways past offices and storage and back up another set of staircases and are going through a back hallway of low-ranked functionary offices that someone comes along handing out the paperwork. “It’s an hour or so until you hit the office, but take the time to fill these out so you don’t have to do it there!”

We spend our time filling out the paperwork against walls, against backs, on stone floors, on books.

We enter one of the public areas, filled with displays and photos of City Hall Demonstrations of years past.

I take pictures of the big black and white photo of the Abraham Lincoln statue holding banners and signs against segregation and for civil rights.

The four year old boy we helped get inside runs past us around this time, chased by a blond haired girl about his own age, both perused by an exhausted looking teenager helplessly begging them to stop running.

Everyone is wet and exhausted and vibrating with anticipation and the building-wide aura of happiness that infuses everything.

The line goes into the marriage office. A dozen people are at the desk, shoulder to shoulder, far more than it was built to have working it at once.

A Sister of Perpetual Indulgence is directing people to city officials the moment they open up. She’s done up in her nun getup with all her makeup on and her beard is fluffed and be-glittered and on point. “Oh, I was here yesterday getting married myself, but today I’m acting as your guide. Number 4 sweeties, and -Congradulatiooooons!-“

The guy behind the counter has been there since six. It’s now 1:30. He’s still giddy with joy. He counts our money. He takes our paperwork, reviews it, stamps it, sends off the parts he needs to, and hands the rest back to us. “Alright, go to the Rotunda, they’ll direct you to someone who’ll do the ceremony. Then, if you want the certificate, they’ll direct you to -that- line.” “Can’t you just mail it to us?” “Normally, yeah, but the moment the courts shut us down, we’re not going to be allowed to.”

We take our paperwork and join the line to the Rotunda.

If you’ve seen James Bond: A View to a Kill, you’ve seen the San Francisco City Hall Rotunda. There are literally a dozen spots set up along the balconies that overlook the open area where marriage officials and witnesses are gathered and are just processing people through as fast as they can.

That’s for the people who didn’t bring their own wedding officials.

There’s a Catholic-adjacent couple there who seem to have brought their entire families -and- the priest on the main steps. They’re doing the whole damn thing. There’s at least one more Rabbi at work, I can’t remember what else. Just that there was a -lot-.

We get directed to the second story, northside. The San Francisco City Treasurer is one of our two witnesses. Our marriage officient is some other elected official I cannot remember for the life of me (and I'm only writing down what I can actively remember, so I can't turn to my husband next to me and ask, but he'll have remembered because that's what he does.)

I have a wilting lily flower tucked into my shirt pocket. My pants have water stains up to the knees. My hair is still wet from the rain, I am blubbering, and I can’t get the ring on my husband’s finger. The picture is a treat, I tell you.

There really isn’t a word for the mix of emotions I had at that time. Complete disbelief that this was reality and was happening. Relief that we’d made it. Awe at how many dozens of people had personally cheered for us along the way and the hundreds to thousands who’d cheered for us generally.

Then we're married.

Then we get in line to get our license.

It’s another hour. This time, the line goes through the higher stories. Then snakes around and goes past the doorway to the mayor’s office.

Mayor Newsom is not in today. And will be having trouble getting into his office on Tuesday because of the absolute barricade of letters and flowers and folded up notes and stuffed animals and City Hall maps with black marked “THANK YOU!”s that have been piled up against it.

We make it to the marriage records office.

I take a picture of my now husband standing in front of a case of the marriage records for 1902-1912. Numerous kids are curled up in corners sleeping. My own memory is spotty. I just know we got the papers, and then we’re done with lines. We get out, we head to the front entrance, and we walk out onto the City Hall steps.

It's almost 3PM.

00000

There are cheers, there’s rice thrown at us, there are hundreds of people celebrating us with unconditional love and joy and I had never before felt the goodness that exists in humanity to such an extent. It’s no longer raining, just a light sprinkle, but there are still no protestors. There’s barely even any news vans.

We make our way through the gauntlet, we get hands shaked, people with signs reading ”Congratulations!” jump up and down for us. We hit the sidewalks, and we begin to limp our way back to the BART station.

I’m at the BART station, we’re waiting for our train back south, and I’m sitting on the ground leaning against a pillar and in danger of falling asleep when a nondescript young man stops in front of me and shuffles his feet nervously. “Hey. I just- I saw you guys, down at City Hall, and I just… I’m so happy for you. I’m so proud of what you could do. I’m- I’m just really glad, glad you could get to do this.”

He shakes my hand, clasps it with both of his and shakes it. I thank him and he smiles and then hurries away as fast as he can without running.

Our train arrives and the trip south passes in a semilucid blur.

We get back to our car and climb in.

It’s 4:30 and we are starving.

There’s a Carls Jr near the station that we stop off at and have our first official meal as a married couple. We sit by the window and watch people walking past and pick out others who are returning from San Francisco. We're all easy to pick out, what with the combination of giddiness and water damage.

We get home about 6-7. We take the dog out for a good long walk after being left alone for two days in a row. We shower. We bundle ourselves up. We bury ourselves in blankets and curl up and just sort of sit adrift in the surrealness of what we’d just done.

We wake up the next day, Tuesday, to read that the California State Supreme Court has rejected the petition to shut down the San Francisco weddings because the paperwork had a misplaced comma that made the meaning of one phrase unclear.

The State Supreme Court would proceed to play similar bureaucratic tricks to drag the process out for nearly a full month before they have nothing left and finally shut down Mayor Newsom’s marriages.

My parents had been out of state at the time at a convention. They were flying into SFO about the same moment we were walking out of City Hall. I apologized to them later for not waiting and my mom all but shook me by the shoulders. “No! No one knew that they’d go on for so long! You did what you needed to do! I’ll just be there for the next one!”

00000

It was just a piece of paper. Legally, it didn’t even hold any weight thirty days later. My philosophy at the time was “marriage really isn’t that important, aside from the legal benefits. It’s just confirming what you already have.”

But maybe it’s just societal weight, or ingrained culture, or something, but it was different after. The way I described it at the time, and I’ve never really come up with a better metaphor is, “It’s like we were both holding onto each other in the middle of the ocean in the middle of a storm. We were keeping each other above water, we were each other’s support. But then we got this piece of paper. And it was like the ground rose up to meet our feet. We were still in an ocean, still in the middle of a storm, but there was a solid foundation beneath our feet. We still supported each other, but there was this other thing that was also keeping our heads above the water.

It was different. It was better. It made things more solid and real.

I am forever grateful for all the forces and all the people who came together to make it possible. It’s been twenty years and we’re still together and still married.

We did a domestic partnership a year later to get the legal paperwork. We’d done a private ceremony with proper rings (not just ones grabbed out of the husband’s collection hours before) before then. And in 2008, we did a legal marriage again.

Rushed. In a hurry. Because there was Proposition 13 to be voted on which would make them all illegal again if it passed.

It did, but we were already married at that point, and they couldn’t negate it that time.

Another few years after that, the Supreme Court finally threw up their hands and said "Fine! It's been legal in places and nothing's caught on fire or been devoured by locusts. It's legal everywhere. Shut up about it!"

And that was that.

00000

When I was in highschool, in the late 90s, I didn’t expect to see legal gay marriage until I was in my 50s. I just couldn’t see how the American public as it was would ever be okay with it.

I never expected to be getting married within five years. I never expected it to be legal nationwide before I’d barely started by 30s. I never thought I’d be in my 40s and it’d be such a non-issue that the conservative rabble rousers would’ve had to move onto other wedge issues altogether.

I never thought that I could introduce another man as my husband and absolutely no one involved would so much as blink.

I never thought I’d live in this world.

And it’s twenty years later today. I wonder how our line buddies are doing. Those babies who were running around the wide open rooms playing tag will have graduated college by now. The kids whose parents the one line-buddy was worried would see him are probably married too now. Some of them to others of the same gender.

I don’t have some greater message to make with all this. Other then, culture can shift suddenly in ways you can’t predict. For good or ill. Mainly this is just me remembering the craziest fucking 36 hours of my life twenty years after the fact and sharing them with all of you.

The future we’re resigned to doesn’t have to be the one we live in. Society can shift faster than you think. The unimaginable of twenty years ago is the baseline reality of today.

And always remember that the people who want to get married will show up by the thousands in rain that none of those who’re against it will brave.

[gallerysystemsaustralia]

Ways to Use Slimline Hooks

Slimline hooks are unsung heroes in the world of interior design and organisation as they provide a sleek, elegant and safe solution for hanging artwork and photos. Whether you're an art enthusiast looking to showcase your extensive collection, or someone seeking to add a touch of sophistication to your home decor and showcase your personal style, slimline hooks offer a versatile and efficient solution.

In this article, we'll explore the variety of ways you can display your art with this photo hanging system, focusing on two popular types: standard adjustable and push button hooks.

Standard Adjustable

The standard adjustable slimline hook is a key player in the art hanging system family. Its design allows for easy adjustment of your artwork, making it perfect for galleries and homes where artwork might be changed around frequently. This type of hook is designed to slide along a track, which is mounted discreetly on your wall. The flexibility of moving your art up or down without needing to remove the hook from the track makes it a great choice for those who love to refresh their space and rearrange their art pieces regularly.

One of the most significant advantages of the standard adjustable slimline hook is how simple and easy it is to use. Installation is straightforward: once the track is secured to your wall, the hooks can be clipped on and adjusted with very minimal effort. This simplicity doesn't compromise the system's strength, however, because these hooks are capable of supporting a wide range of artwork sizes and weights, ensuring that your pieces are displayed securely and beautifully.

Push Button

Push button slimline hooks represent the next level in the evolution of art hanging systems. These hooks incorporate a small button mechanism that allows for even finer control over the positioning of your artwork. With a simple press of the button, you can unlock the hook and slide it to your desired height, then release it to secure it in place. This feature is particularly useful for achieving precise alignments or making quick adjustments without removing the hook from the track.

The push-button model is especially favoured for its convenience and the polished look it delivers. It's an excellent option for those who prioritise both looks and functionality in their art display solutions. Like the standard adjustable hooks, push button hooks are designed to fit seamlessly into the slimline track, maintaining the sleek and unobtrusive profile that makes slimline systems so appealing.

Conclusion

Whether you opt for the standard adjustable or push-button slimline hooks, you're choosing an art hanging system that delivers both elegance and efficiency. Slimline hooks are more than just a way to hang your art; they're a sophisticated element of interior design in their own right. They allow for flexibility and creativity in how art is displayed and offer an endless array of possibilities for arranging and rearranging your space.

For those new to slimline hooks, the learning curve is minimal, but the impact is significant. Incorporating these hooks into your home or gallery not only enhances the visual appeal of your space but also provides a practical solution to the challenges of displaying art. They bring a touch of sophistication to any room, providing a streamlined and elegant way to showcase your personal style.

So next time you're considering how to hang your artwork, forget the old-fashioned way of nails and a hammer and remember the versatility and beauty of slimline hooks - they may just be the perfect solution for you. For all your picture-hanging needs, including a range of slimline hooks and other photo-hanging systems, reach out to Gallery System today.

[quiveringdeer]

I really don't want to go back to work. technically probs shoulda worked yesterday but like no one else is going in this wk pretty sure- and I technically have annual leave I can burn sooo I think I just might

ugh

[aplusdimension]

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[narraboths]

“You got anything to tell me about yesterday’s interview, Ponytail?”

Being cornered by one’s editor is rarely a good sign. Being cornered by a harried Snapper Carr one month into her tenure as a rookie reporter would be enough to give others nightmares for a month. Maybe ulcers. Kara, though, she’s been having a great week, and she’s not about to let anyone ruin it.

“Nope.” She pops the p a little. Something about Snapper’s moroseness always pushes her to be spitefully chipper.

“Nothing out of the ordinary?”

“Not at all.”

“Hm.” Snapper nurses the thought with that dour, toothachey look that Kara’s come to learn is directed at her just as much as it is a sign of his general displeasure with the world. He pulls out his phone, jabbing at the screen. “So do you mind explaining to me why my cub reporter is on the front page of every gossip rag from here to Metropolis as the Mystery Blonde Caught in Luthor’s Web?”

That can’t be right is immediately the tip of Kara’s tongue but it freezes there, along with the incredulous laugh threatening to burst out of her, because Snapper is shoving his phone in her face and–

“It’s not what it looks like,” she blurts out, instinctively, then winces at her own choice of words. Great save. “I was just being considerate.”

It’s true, really. She was only holding the door open for Lena as they left L-Corp (Lena was on the move the whole day, they did half of the interview in the back of her Range Rover, flitting between offices), and it only happened that Lena’s hand fell to her forearm, a completely innocent gesture, as innocent as Lena’s smile, as the way she swayed a little closer, saying thank you as she strode by. And sure, Kara may have felt mesmerized for a single, fleeting moment, suddenly so deeply flustered by the gentle weight of Lena’s hand that she almost cracked the door handle in two, but who wouldn’t? Lena Luthor just has a remarkable presence. Why are they letting paparazzi camp out at the L-Corp doorstep, anyways?

“I’ve never seen Luthor that affectionate with anyone.” Snapper eyes Kara suspiciously, his face screaming why you of all people, bumbling rookie who can barely even spell?. “I’ve never seen any of the Luthors affectionate with anyone at all.”

“Guess it’s just my natural charm, sir.” Kara flashes the most annoyingly innocent smile she can, then squares her shoulders. “Did you actually read my article?”

There’s a beat of silence, Snapper staring daggers at her. Then finally, finally, he lets out an annoyed huff.

“Of course I read it. It’s going out first thing tomorrow.” He pockets his phone, then rubs his face with a tired motion. “Make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

“You got it, boss.”

-

It happens again.

It happens again a bunch, really. (Kara at the L-Corp gala, at Lena’s table, the two of them in lively conversation, shoulders pressed together – she was telling me about L-Corp’s new green energy initiative, sir –, the fond smile and almost-teasing tone when Lena calls “yes, Miss Danvers?” at her press conference – she’s just nice! It’s not a crime! –, the candid of them on the CatCo balcony when Lena’s in house for her cover shoot, Kara gesturing excitedly and Lena leaning against the railing, hanging onto every word, a jacket two sizes too big wrapped around her shoulders – you know it gets cold out there. At least there’s no photos of her wrapping the jacket around Lena, their hands brushing together, the faint blush along the lines of Lena’s throat. That’d probably look pretty suspicious.) Snapper’s face takes on increasingly vivid shades of purplish red.

“Do we need to go over the meaning of journalistic integrity again, Danvers?”

Kara decides to take graduating from “Ponytail” as a win.

“We’re not– it’s not anything untoward,” she shoots back, arms crossed, only slightly blushing. In anger, certainly. “I’m doing my job. I grilled her on L-Corp still holding a contract with the government for anti-alien defense systems that Lex negotiated, just last week. There’s footage.”

“Yeah,” Snapper grinds his teeth so vehemently that Kara’s afraid he might crack a crown. “Footage of her hugging you in the hallway afterwards, too. What the hell were you doing?”

“She just thanked me, sir.” The vein on Snapper’s neck looks ready to burst. Kara makes a mental note to recommend meditation at a less belligerent time. “She said my question made it possible for her to make a public stance and really send a message.”

Snapper looks like he’s nearing an aneurysm.

“Hell, Danvers, that sounds even worse!”

It sounded pretty great, actually, Kara thinks, after the borderline unprofessional row they had in Lena’s office when Kara first broached the subject. It felt pretty great, too, not just Lena’s declaration, her renewed commitment to reject everything Lex and Lillian stand for, but the warmth of Lena’s pressed against her, her lips brushing against Kara’s cheek, the low murmur of “you’re such a wonderful friend” in her ear that gave her such a strange shiver. At least that much thankfully escaped the prying eyes and cameras.

“Either I don’t go near her, or CatCo continues to have the leading stories on one of National City’s most high-profile citizens.” She gives Snapper the steeliest look she can muster without letting her heat vision flare up. “And my covers are currently bringing in our biggest numbers. Sir.”

Snapper grinds his teeth again, but his shoulders sag just a touch, and Kara knows she’s won this round.

“You’re on thin ice, Danvers. Back to your desk.”

Kara complies with a grin and a thumbs up, and decides to take a break half an hour later, when Alex forwards her an article titled Bosom Buddies: Lena Luthor Out And About With CatCo Gal Pal with a subtle mix of skull, knife, and eyeroll emojis. She does save one of the photos, though, the one where Lena’s head’s thrown back in adorable, delightful laughter.

-

“Can you explain this one, Danvers?”

Snapper doesn’t look angry this time. No, he’s strangely calm, somewhat elated, even, slamming a whole bundle of newspapers down on her desk, jolting Kara out of her reverie. Half of them are National City publications, Kara vaguely notes, but there’s Metropolis and Gotham and Central City in the mix, too, as if it was the story of the century. Must be a slow news day.

“Of course, sir. I think the proper term is ‘first date’?”

To her greatest surprise, Snapper barks out a laugh, loud and gruff.

“You’re now barred from any future reporting on the Luthors or L-Corp,” he tells her, not without a touch of satisfaction. If Kara hadn’t been walking on sunshine for the past thirteen hours, twenty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds, since the first tentative press of Lena’s lips against her own, she might’ve felt a bit miffed. “Cat Grant’s setting aside a little time later in the afternoon to chew you out personally.”

Kara nods happily along. Withering tones and grim disapproval, the usual spiel, as if anything could dull that buzzing, electrifying feeling coursing through her body since last night, the weightless, feverish joy that grips her every time she thinks of Lena’s last text and everything can’t wait to see you again tonight could possibly entail.

“Yessir.”

“Congratulations, Danvers.” Snapper raps his knuckles against her desk. “Let’s spare each other the heartburn from now on.”

- 

(Kara shows up with a hickey on her neck and the headlines of Lena Luthor Packs PDA With New Girlfriend the next day. Snapper refuses to look her in the eyes for the rest of the week.) 

[rizsu]

"suguru, shoko... it's been nice knowing you guys. i always loved you both. please, tell y/n i loved her too, yeah?"

it's a tense moment. after satoru received your social medias, he did some snooping around and found the harsh truth — or so he calls it. comparing himself to what he found did nothing but install a depressing, hallow sadness into his system.

"satoru, get the fuck down from that chair," shoko's having none of it. the moment she glimpsed group-chat's notification she practically teleported to satoru's. her heart dropped, palms got sweaty, throat dry at the thought of satoru ending his life. when she arrived, suguru was already there, weeping for his dear friend's life.

it must've been serious, right? it wasn't.

what came into her vision was a grown, silver-headed man standing on his desk chair. around his neck held one of his ties. now, this is where it got unserious. everything seemed true until shoko's eyes traveled to satoru's neck. his tie was wrapped around it with his very own hand holding the longer piece of the tie.

in short, he's fucking dramatic. suguru doesn't fall far, too. it must be hard on shoko for being the only one with a decent brain... kind of.

"shoko, how can you be so... so mean?! he's dying over there! your own friend!" suguru wipes his tears, furious at his other friend's own indifference to such a sight.

"don't," she begins, walking to satoru's position to kick him off the chair. "don't piss me off."

satoru's now on the floor; laying on his back, body straight, arms clasped on top his stomach. this must signal his final moments. it's peaceful in his mind.

"satoru, i swear to god. get the fuck off that floor." she nudges his body with the front of her shoes, eyes twitching at the foolishness.

it takes a mere minute before satoru's tired of ignoring the obnoxious foot harming his body. so he sits up, hanging his head low.

"i just can't, y'know? it hurts," his voice cracks, radiating sadness throughout the room. his words receive two varying responses.

from suguru: "it's okay, satoru. there are many other fishes in the sea."

from shoko: "this is why you mind your business sometimes."

at shoko's response, he sighs loudly, "it won't kill you to be nice, shoko ieiri."

she sits on his bed, placing a pillow on her lap, fixing her posture, and re-positioning her imaginary glasses. "well then, satoru. tell me what you felt, what you saw, and what you think. you can let it all out to doctor shoko."

suguru stifles a laugh, eyes switching between shoko's new persona and satoru's defeated expression.

"okay, doctor shoko. i felt horrible — no, nauseous. i went through her followings and saw that she follows other men. she knows other men. i'm sick to my stomach," his rant begins. it all started when he decided to go through your profile. this meant snooping through followers, followings, tagged photos, and even comments. you both are in — what the youngsters call it — a talking stage.

there are no labels within this relationship, nor are there any confirmed feelings but this? this betrayal? what do you mean he's not the first man on your profile? this is devilish. all went well until he saw one specific comment that said: "baby you're so sexy ily," to which you replied: "i love you more."

the fiend ( as he calls them ) had the profile photo of a man. when he did the internal math, the unbearable truth was found. he is not the only one you're talking to. he feels hurt.

suguru, too, shares his friend's pain. shoko, however, doesn't. why? it's because the commenter was in fact not a man. had satoru did deeper research, he'd have known that the profile photo is the famous singer the weeknd, and the profile belongs to one of your girls who's a diehard fan of him. well, who's shoko to tell the truth? she'll wait for satoru to come to a realization.

[oval3000]

Chapter 4

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap. Assault.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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

"I don't like this," Jacob rubbed his for head, giving a few scratches. His hand on his hip with a slump posture. His eyes were giving out with annoyance and tiredness, not from the labor work, but from the system.

The fellow nurse could give an eye roll after seeing what was happening. "Anything to save some money, right?"

Mr. Miller ordered that half of the guards on the fifth floor would go to other floors to cover other shifts of guards that quit and who were..laid off. Those 20,000 thousand dollars couldn't come out from thin air as to what Mr. Miller thought it would, so it was the only option, to send some guards home.

Meaning that other guards from other floors had to move around and, unfortunately, your floor was affected by this.

The two guards that were on König, left as well as four others.

Things have now changed, your safety may now be a risk. But to to be quite honest with you, your safety is nothing to be worried about.

You did your morning rounds, assisted where there is needed. During their lunch, you heard the main phone ring from the floor. Jacob picked it up, "this is Jacob. Yes, sir. Okay...yeah...no problem." He hung up the phone taking a deep breath. He walked behind you and tapped on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the computer, "Mr. Miller wants to see you in his office."

You felt a big tull on your stomach. You were nervous. He never called you in his office before and with everything that is going on, you could only imagine worse.

Is he going to fire you?

You can't loose this job, the pay is good. You can't pack and move again to find something better.

You headed down to his office in a bit of a hurry, you didn't want to miss their lunch round check ups. You knocked on the brown wooden door with his name ingraved on a gold platter.

"Come in." You entered into his office and saw him sitting as his usual chair, writing whatever he is writing on a piece of paper. He stood up, fixing his suit. Mr. Miller, about the age of 50. Still has a grown set of hair only it's shown to have some grey strand hairs peaking through. 6 feet 3 inches maybe. Looks a bit fit, lackes muscles though. His light beard with a few grey strands of hair that follows the shape of his long jawline.

You saw photos that are in his office. Paintings of mountains and oceans. You saw his degree in psychology and business on a sharp, dark, brown, frame hanged up on the cream wall.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" You questioned standing behind the two chairs aligned perfectly in front of his desk. You hoped that he doesn't fire you. You can't hit rock bottom. Not now after everything.

"No, I just wanted to check up on you. I also wanted to apologize for the way I reacted towards you during the Gabriel incident. It was really unprofessional of me to do so. You were just doing your job, I'm sorry." He creeped in closer to you. You felt uncomfortable, a bad vibe coming off from him. He placed his hand on your shoulder, gripping it lightly. "If you need anything, my office is always open for you."

You swallowed the little bit of saliva, taking a step away from him, but it only brought him closer to you.

You panicked. You looked around to see if anyone, anyone at all can see, but nothing. The door is shut, the window blinds are closed. "It's okay sir, I should get going."

You turned around to walk away, but you felt his hands on your arm, pulling away in. "You look adorable playing hard to get"

Your eyes widen. You felt absolute frozen. "Sir. Let go of me!" He dragged you in front of his desk. The movement was so sudden, you couldn't say anything. "Please sir."

He gripped your shoulders tight that you couldn't move. You felt his body pressed against you. You felt his hips pushing in deeper. You couldn't help, but to let tears fall from your eyes. You felt so frozen that you hated yourself. This couldn't be happening to you.

You honestly wished he called you in to fire you. His body completely compressed to yours making you bend over on his desk. His hands roamed your body. His cold hands went inside your scrub shirt. You shook at his touch with fear. "No!Please! Stop!"

"You feel so good " he cupped your breast, pulling under your bra to get a better touch. Eventually his one hand left one of your breast and it landed on your ass. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. He gripped onto your scrub pants and pulled them down, including your underwear, showing your naked vagina. "Fuck. I should've fucked you along time ago."

"Please! Please! Stop! Let go of me!" You cried out, feeling his finger pressed on your area.

A beeping sound came from his phone, "Sir, you have a call coming in. It's from the CEO."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He finally let go. He yanked your body closer to him. He cupped your face with his hand. You felt his disgusting breath near your mouth. "If you tell anyone about this. I'll ruin your fucking life. You got that."

You nodded as he aggressively let go, making you fall a bit on his desk. You felt so humiliated while pulling up your scrub pants and fixing your bra. You were about to walk out when he said, "Oh and make sure no one sees you like that. Get yourself fixed."

You didn't bother turning to him. You walked about quickly and ignoring the staff by not making eye contact. You pressed the button for the elevator, which felt like an eternity to arrive. Never felt like hours waiting for the elevator. Thankfully, no one was there, it was just you. You pressed on the fifth floor button.

You wanted to vomit. You scrunched your face as the tears fell down your cheeks. You covered your mouth trying hard to cover your sobs. Even though you are alone in the elevator, you felt embarrassed. You took deep breaths as it was reaching near the floor. You wiped away as much tears as you can. Even so you know your eyes and nose are red and puffy.

You avoided eye contact with everyone. You prayed that no one will come up to you ask why Mr. Miller called you down to his office. You grabbed the medical cart with the things you need and quickly went to each patients room, the last one being Königs.

You jiggle the kids, the guards left for you, to open his door. You swang the door a bit open and back inside his room. You grabbed the tray with his medication and placed it down on top of the cart. König watched you. He knew something was wrong.

You raised your head up, feeling the tears forming again. You hated yourself for not stopping the tears from coming out. Not now. Not when you are doing your job.

But you couldn't help it. You covered your face as tears were running down your face. You didn't want to cry in front of a patient, nevertheless, König.

He quickly got up and took your arm to pull you closer to him. He sat back down on his bed with his legs spread a bit to let you in closer to him. He couldn't see your face, which was still buried in your hands. If you could see his eyes, the look he's giving you. The same look he gave to the people he wanted to kill, to his enemies in the battle field. "What happened, schatz?" his thick accent was hard and impactful. You uncovered your face to see him, for him to see you. He saw the tears, the redness in your eyes.

The sympathetic look he gave you made those tears flowing again. Being comfort is not something you're use to. Your always dealing with everything by yourself.

He palmed your cheek, wiping your tears away. You shook your head lightly. You can't tell him. He's your patient. You can't tell your patient is a psychiatric hospital that you were almost raped by your boss. "Bitte tell me."

"H-he....touched me." You stared away, but his other palm touched your cheek, making you to look at him.

You saw the stare he gave you. Filled with sympathy and anger. "He. Touched. You."

You nodded. "He trapped me in his office. He was going to rape me. If he didn't get that phone call, he would've-." Your words turned into sobs.

He got up and pulled you into a tight hug. Your head was buried into his chest, letting out your quiet sobs.

He held you tight and close. His hand rubbing your back while the other was petting your head. "Shhh..it's okay, schatz. It's okay."

He turned his head towards the slight, opened, door. His way to freedom. Your freedom.

Away from this. From every assholes that's here. Away from everyone else.

"Mein liebling. Mach dir keine Sorgen. Ich werde ihn töten. Ich werde jeden töten, der dir wehtut. (My darling. don't worry. ill kill him. I'll kill anyone that hurts you.) " he gripped you tight. He doesn't want to let you go. He wants you to be attached to him. For you to share everything of his. "Mine," he whispered. "All mine."

[redflagshipwriter]

Nest Swap ch 1

Little Tim wakes up in big Tim's apartment.

The idea came from this chain started by @ew-selfish-art and the contribution by @faeriekit

(repost of something that's currently just in a reblog chain)

His first observation was that this wasn't his house.

Tim was new to detecting, but he thought that was a pretty dang salient observation.

He didn't actually remember going to sleep. It didn't feel like he woke up here, either. He just suddenly noticed he was sitting somewhere he'd never been in his whole 9 years of life.

Very weird! Pretty neat, though.

Tim prowled around in his socked feet in total silence, investigating by the little light that came in through mostly shut curtains. He wasn't in his own clothes, which was kind of scary. He had to keep hiking up his sweatpants to keep them on, and he rolled down his socks three times to tighten them up. At least the floors didn't creak at all, even when he stepped on the dark wood panels in between dark red rugs. It made him feel more secure to move around quietly.

He was in an apartment that seemed relatively expensive but new, no antiques or family heirlooms. It was an open plan, with floating stairs and a white sofa. It was also sterile, as if no one really lived in it. It was clean in the same un-lived in way his house was. Someone professionally cleaned this apartment. 

Tim was really, really careful not to make any mess. 

Theory one: he had been kidnapped. It seemed pretty sound. He went to bed at home, and he woke up sitting on a strange sofa. Danger alarms were going off.

He looked around for a house phone to call for help. There was none. Troubling. 

On the other hand, Tim opened the apartment door to the hallway and stuck his head out. He could see sunlight coming in through the huge lobby windows.

…Okay. He was going to consider that a viable escape route. He glanced at the side of the door where there was a pair of shoes. They were big but he could probably use them in a pinch.

So. He could just walk out at any time. He frowned. That wasn't very good kidnapping practice. He would plan a much better restraint system. Like, a rope would be a good place to start, or maybe breaking the little bones in his feet? 

“This is so disappointing,” Tim muttered to himself. “I'm not even being ransomed?” 

Just… Some effort would be nice.

Hmm. He didn't want to believe anyone that incompetent had managed to transport him into Gotham proper from Bristol while he slept. So. Tim formally recategorized his kidnapping theory to a  suspected no. 

It was undeniable that he'd been moved in his sleep, which was pretty classic. But the counter evidence? The new location looked pretty easy to escape, if he was willing to get his socks dirty outside. 

Conclusion: This probably wasn't a conventional kidnapping. What else was there?

Theory two: he hit his head or fell asleep while he was out birdwatching, and some good person took them into their house to keep him safe.

That neatly explained why he was in the actual city. Tim ran his fingers through his hair looking for a bump. He wasn't sure if he found one or not. Maybe his head was just kind of oddly shaped. Troubling. Maybe he should go to the doctor about that. 

It would have been helpful information either way if there had been another human being around to talk to. 

There were signs that someone lived here. Tim poked around in the closet and in the fridge, building a mental profile for the resident.

One person lived here, and they were clearly kind of a loser because they had no photos of friends or family up. The jacket hanging by the door told Tim they were either an average sized woman or a small man. They couldn't cook at all, which was excellent because that meant there was a really great variety of ready to eat food. Tim snacked on string cheese and a can of soda while he flipped through the books on the shelves.  He pulled a couple off to check for secret compartments. Nope. Just books.

“Boring,” Tim said to himself. 

They were all books about things like business and management. It was the type of self-aggrandizing garbage that his parents made fun of: memoirs that you knew damn well that person hadn't written, manifestos on the virtues of hard work from someone born into the financial elite, and how-to's directed at an audience who had no personal shame.

Momentarily, he entertained the fantasy that he had been kidnapped by someone who was going to mold him into the ideal Drake Industries CEO, someone who wouldn't jet off across the world to follow a passion. The suspects were the entire board of directors. 

Kidnapped theory redux: the Board of Directors did it. Evidence?

Tim sat down and made a chart for his thoughts, quantifying how much each person had been inconvenienced by his parents’ absence in the last fiscal year. He concluded that Mr. Morrison might hate his parents enough to do it, but the projected timeline was beyond his scope. Tim didn't think he had it in him to plan that far out.

So, the apartment owner was just a boring person. Tim made a note. Theory two was looking pretty good. The person who lived here kind of sucked at life but they were probably really nice.

Something started beeping. That was interesting. He followed it to the bedroom that he hadn't been brave enough to poke around yet. There was a weird tablet on the bedside table. He picked it up and it unlocked automatically. Wow, the security was so bad. He felt embarrassed on behalf of the absent apartment owner.

The screen showed an email from someone called Tamara Fox. 

“Tim, can you get me the numbers from the acquisition in Peru?”

He blinked at it. Was the person who lived here also named Tim? Surely she wasn't actually asking him. He looked around uncertainly. 

There was still no one else. The blinking display on the alarm clock told him that it was half past noon, and no one else was in the apartment. 

…. poor Tamara probably really needed that information, if she was asking for it in the middle of the workday. Tim sat down on the bed and started putting together context clothes to figure out what Miss Fox was talking about. Her email signature had her title at Wayne industries listed, so that was a pretty big clue. He had access to a team calendar that showed meetings and ongoing projects, which he used to narrow it down. 

When he figured it out, he sent her back an email and sat back in satisfaction. A moment later, he realized that the email account had an attached auto signature. It claimed to be Tim Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises. 

What.

He stopped breathing and momentarily considered that he had traveled to the future and this was really his apartment, but the name was impossible. There was no way he was going to marry either one of the Waynes. Bruce and Dick were kind of old. Tim wrinkled his nose at the thought. Gross. 

So, no. He wasn't Tim Drake-Wayne. “...It must be an inside joke,” Tim decided. “It seems really unprofessional.”

Tim was a little disappointed that he wasn't the boss of everyone, but at least he wasn't in a troubling marriage with a huge age difference. He had another cheese stick about it and the feeling went away.  Ah, good. Maybe that was how Mom dealt with Drake Industries: she distracted herself until she didn't feel bad about putting it on the back burner. It was a good tactic. He'd need more cheese sticks. He made a mental note to figure out how to replace these ones.

He found a loose blanket on a side chair and tied it around his shoulders, because the apartment was pretty chilly.

The email dinged again. Tim dragged his blanket cape back into the bedroom and stared at the tablet, lost in thought.

He didn't mean to be annoying. He really didn't. He knew people hated it when you got in their stuff. But the thing was: this guy got a lot of emails. And he wasn't here to answer them, which was pretty rude of him, honestly. It seemed like his job needed him a lot. 

Maybe when he got back, he would be mad at Tim for looking at his stuff. 

On the other hand, maybe he would appreciate it. Tim told himself that it would be fine, and he manned that email account until the end of business hours at 5:00 p.m. Then he gave a luxurious stretch and went to find something interesting in the freezer that he could microwave. 

His feelings about the email account had changed, after the hours spent together. It was their mutual email account now. Tim was willing to fight about it. He was emotionally attached to that email. People asked him all sorts of questions there, and he got to answer. It was pretty fun.

The apartment looked a little friendlier in the early evening light. He crossed it again and pushed a chair up against the deep freezer so that he could root around inside.

“Omigod, lasagne!” Tim ripped the package open in his excitement. Today was the best. He liked this place. Maybe he'd get to stay there when the owner came back to look at their shared email account.

While the lasagne heated, he went back to checking for fake books on the shelf. They were all disappointments. He did finally notice that there were pets here. 

“I should feed you,” Tim told the fish, because he was really fixing this guy's life. The fish didn't pay him any attention. The microwave beeped completion, so he went back and got his lasagne. He held it in one hand and ate while he searched for fish food. When he found it, he stuck his fork in the lasagne to free up a hand and shook flakes into the water. 

A secret compartment in the floor opened up.

Tim froze. He took a step back. He looked around the apartment, as if someone was going to materialize.

“…I might as well go see,” he told himself. “They're already gonna be mad that I answered our email.”

Down he went. 

[blue-sadie]

Flick Of A Paint Brush

Moon System

You being a artist while dating them

Steven Grant

He gets you specific things like bowls, mugs, plates, vases etc just so when he sees them or uses them he thinks of you, definitely not so if in the future they find it they'll know how much of a great artist you are.

When he finally gets the courage his asks you to teach him how to paint his curiosity sparked by watching you paint and how you get so involved with each swipe of the paint brush.

If you ask to paint him, he'll become a babblering mess, his breath catching in his throat while his cheeks turn dark red, if he agrees he'll be fidgeting with his hands the entire time.

His most prized possession from you was a vase you brought from Walmart it was plane white intill you had a free afternoon, you painted some of his favorite gods onto it even wrote a little message in hieroglyphics which he stares at everytime he misses you.

Marc Spector

He let's you doodle all over, when watching a movie he gives you his arm to doodle on when your bored, he stares at each thing you've drawn in the mirror when you have fallen asleep, he takes a photo of each one compiling a album of all of them.

He'd rather watch then join and if you 'convince' him he'll begrudgingly join in but he'll get distracted easily and just stare at you instead.

He'll be all bashful if you ask to paint him he'll joke about being naked while posing dramatically but he gets more intrigued and curious as he sees you go into great detail capturing his every detail.

His favorite was a little doodle you did while he was sleeping his naked chest was just a blank canvas waiting to be doodled on it was a little moon with a fox sitting on it with his tail hanging down you have to make him not tattoo it on so he was a photo printed out next to your guys bed.

Jake Lockley

He's more of a classical person and buys you different size canvas so he can hang them around the apartment to make it more homey and so the apartment will feel like you even if your not there but also staring at the paintings calms him down.

He's a brave man no one can deny that but never in a million years will he get enough courage to ask you if he could join he's to scared he'll ruin the paints or break the paint brushes.

He'll refuse at first but as he sees the more effort you put in into asking him he'll cave but you'll have to tell him to smile or remind him to stay still.

He loves the big canvas painting you did of your guys first date it was in a coffee shop by the ocean he finds just by looking at it he gets the fuzzy feeling again he felt on the date.

[gretavangroupie]

Exposure

Word count: 11.3k

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Stripping, Photo Exhibitionism, Touching, Oral F!Receiving, Fingering, Oral M!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Breeding Kink, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Oh! Didn't see you there! Happy February! Welcome to the very first installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy this first story in the set of four. We can't wait to share the rest with you! See you real soon!

You pull your jacket snug against your chest, your camera bag hanging heavy on your shoulder as you make the trek up to the front door of the house. You can hear music coming from the basement already, likely the bands warming up before the show starts. You sneak through the front door, breezing through the mostly empty house in search of the basement. Following the noise, you walk down the stairs and into a small swarm of people all bustling and busy trying to get things set up before the show. How you got roped into shooting a basement show on Valentine's day of all days is beyond you, although it’s not like you have anything better to do.

Your eyes search around for any sign of your friends but you know they’re probably either running late, which is not shocking, or busy unloading their gear outside. You typically never shoot events like this- well, this small, but a favor for your best friend was long overdue. You stand at a small table loading the film into your camera, her one begging request of her set being captured on film, about to be fulfilled. You look around for any other photographers but you see no one, and it’s then that you realize just how small of a gig this really is. 

You did your best to blend in tonight, donning the industry standard of black, but realizing now that it almost wouldn’t have mattered what you wore. You kept it simple with a black long sleeve shirt, and a pair of black leather pants, adding a heeled boot to give yourself a little extra height behind the lens. 

You grab an extra roll of film and shove it into your pants pocket before placing your camera bag beneath the stage for safe keeping. People are quickly starting to fill the small basement, and you’re thankful for this weeks’ cold snap, knowing that this basement would be sweltering otherwise. You pull your phone from your pocket checking for any signs of life from your friends, laughing as you see a ‘we’re running late’ text. Shaking your head you put your phone back in your pocket and start to check your settings, adjusting to the lowlight of the room.

The basement is fully packed at this point, the first band stepping on to the stage and starting things off with a blaring guitar intro. The lights dim even further, causing you to adjust your settings again, and you wonder if you need to grab your flash attachment. You feel a tap on your shoulder, a rush of nerves in your chest as you spin around to see who it could be. 

“Are you shooting film?” A pair of dark brown eyes asks, a look of genuine curiosity painted across the irises. 

You smile and hold up your camera, “Yeah, I am! How did you know?” 

A smile sweeps across his face, his long dark hair hanging well past his shoulders, but partially obscured under a red beanie. His cheeks are flushed red, either from the cold outside, the alcohol in his system, or the weight of his cable knit sweater. “I’m a bit of a hobbyist. Specifically film. I recognized your camera.”

“You did? This thing is pretty old.” you say, pulling your hair from beneath your camera strap. 

“Yeah, I have the same one. Mines the silver version though.” he says, leaning in closely so that you can hear him over the loud music. 

You look up at him, and nod, leaning back in towards him as you respond. “Oh really? Does yours have the battery door issue?”

His hand lays softly against your shoulder as he leans in closer, ready to respond but your attention is ripped away as you see your friends in your peripheral. 

“Oh! I’m so sorry, my friends just walked in and they are actually supposed to go on next.” you say holding up your camera to show your purpose of being here in the first place. 

“You’re fine, go ahead.” he smiles, pulling away from you and taking a sip from his seltzer. 

You send him a soft smile, taking a final look at him before turning to meet your friends. As you walk up to meet them you can’t help but to look over to where you were just standing, finding the mystery man gone. You scan the room as your friends talk at you, looking for any sight of him, but you’re snapped back to the present as they are called up to the stage. 

With a hug from your best friend and a kiss on the cheek she darts up the small stairs with a smile. “Wish us luck! And make sure you get my good side!”  

You make your way towards the front of the stage, checking your settings one more time as the band starts to play. Admittedly, they sound a lot better than they did the last time you saw them perform, and the crowd behind you really seems to be into them. You even notice a few people wearing their merch and wonder when that happened. Had you really been that absent?

You duck down as you work your way across the front of the stage, snapping photos of your friends as they play their hearts out. You quietly apologize to the people you block with your camera, taking a quick glance behind you with each step you take. About two songs into their set you’ve made your way to the opposite side of the stage, looking behind you only to catch a glance of your mystery guy, standing against the wall with his drink. 

You try to pretend you didn’t see him, but it’s no use as you trip over an electrical cord and make a complete spectacle of yourself in the process. However, when you don't collide with the concrete of the basement floor and instead are met with a pair of warm steady hands, you feel a sigh of relief hoping that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t see you trip after all. Turning to face your hero, you’re met with none other than your hobbyist.

A grin spreads across his face as he helps you to stand, one hand in his, and the other firmly planted on your camera. 

“Falling for me so soon? At least tell me your name first…” he jokes, letting go of you as you steady yourself on your feet. 

“Y/N…And thanks, I– guess they ran out of Gaff tape and I found the only cord not taped down.” you laugh. 

He smiles and shakes his head in faux disgust, “Rule number one, always carry an extra roll in your gig box for the ladies. I’m Sam, by the way.” 

“Well, Sam, thank you for not letting me fall in front of all of these people.” you laugh. 

“Oh, I was actually saving the camera… Precious vintage...” he winks, pursing his lips together. 

“Oh, of course. Yeah.” you stammer, suddenly feeling ridiculous. 

As if he can sense your distress he places a hand on your arm, “Wait no, I was kidding. Of course I was saving you. Let me– Can I get you a drink?” he asks, trying for a peace offering. 

“I think I’m kinda out of hands…” you laugh, snapping a photo as you focus through the viewfinder. 

“I’m not…” he counters, “Whad’ya want? I’ll grab it for you…”

You lick over your lips, deciding maybe a drink assistant wouldn’t be too bad. You turn over your shoulder as he leans close letting you talk into his ear. “A seltzer, I don’t care what flavor, surprise me.”

He gives you an understanding nod and turns on his heels, disappearing into the crowd.

You watch your friends start to close up their set and you compose another set of photos you think will be the shots of the night. 

“A drink for the lady…” he says, as he holds a drink up in front of the lens. You lower your camera and spin around to grab it from him, watching him crack the lid open before he hands it to you. 

“Prickly pear, huh…” you pause, taking a sip of the fizzy drink. “Did you know that was my favorite or just a lucky guess?”

“Well, I figured… you have great taste in cameras…” he trails off, taking the drink back from you so you can continue to shoot. 

You feel him lean into your shoulder, his warm breath on your neck. “The red light really does nothing for photos, does it…” he laughs. 

“No, and I’m half convinced that’s why they do it.” you retort. 

“Oh, it definitely is. Trust me. That and it looks badass.” he laughs, stepping back again. 

As the set ends you watch your friends leave the stage, ready to drink and party with the rest of you. The room quiets to a dull roar as the next band starts to take the stage, ready to set up their equipment. You lower your camera around your neck, letting it hang freely as you turn back to Sam. 

“You get the shot?” he asks, sipping the same Prickly Pear Topo Chico. 

“I think so, looks like I’ve got…” you pause, checking your dial. “Two left on this roll. Should probably change over before the next act. Here, smile.” you say, holding the viewfinder to your eye. 

He blushes a little, holding both of the drinks in his hands and giving you wide open mouth smile. 

You capture those last two images and hear the winder start to spin. “That’ll do it!” you say, dropping your camera around your neck and pulling the extra black film cartridge from your pocket. 

“Oh here, let me help you. You have your drink…” he offers, holding out your can. 

“No! You don’t have to do that, it’s totally fine, I’ve got it. Just need to find a table or something so I can–”

“I know I don’t have to, I just– want to. I wanna help.” he says, his eyes sweet and genuine. 

You think about it for a second, and consider that you really don’t have anything to lose. He wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t know what he was doing. 

“Okay, sure, I’ll hold your drink now.” you smile.  

His eyes are focused as he works to remove the used film, replacing it with the new roll as quickly and efficiently as he can, making sure not to expose the roll. He clips the door shut and makes sure it's secure before placing the camera strap back over your head, pulling your hair out from beneath the straps as gently as possible. 

“There. Perfect.” he says, a warm smile on his lips. 

“Thanks Sam.” you answer, offering his drink back to him. 

“You can call me Sammy. All my friends do.” he says, accepting the wet can. 

“Oh, are we friends now?” you ask playfully, all the while thinking that you might want to be a little more than that. 

“I’d like to think so. Or– I hope so. I think you’re cute, film camera girl.”

“Do you?” you murmur, holding the can to your lips. 

As if feeling a little shy, he ducks his head a little and licks his lips, “I do.”

Before you can reciprocate his sentiment the third band starts, and somehow they are even louder than your friend's band previously. The drums are blaring loud and you can tell they need their mics turned down about three notches. You take a few photos, figuring you can never have too much in your portfolio, but after a few shots and the crowd becoming a little too rowdy, you quickly decide you are done ‘working’ for the night. You lower your camera down and spin to talk to Sam, but you find he’s gone.

Your eyes scan the crowd for him, but again, you see no trace of the cream colored sweater or his red beanie in the sea of people. You do, however, spot your best friend off in the corner of the room being hit on by someone you know to be exactly her type. You lock eyes with her, raising a brow and she just smiles at you as she continues to talk to the tall dark haired man. 

Letting her have her time with him, you make your way back to the stage to grab your camera bag. You head up the stairs, grabbing a new drink from the bar area and again searching for any signs of him. You mingle with a few strangers, making pointless small talk about work and the latest gossip before excusing yourself to the bathroom to pee. As you wash your hands you sigh at the missed connection with such a thoughtful and good looking guy, but chalk it up to being Valentine’s Day and not wanting to fall into that stereotype. 

With your new friend gone, you decide to seek out some of your old ones. With your gear bag slung over your shoulder, you head towards the thick crowd in the main living room. As you make your way through, your neck cranes around the bodies in your way, searching for a familiar face. Looking out the back window, you see your friends near their band’s van. You push open the squeaky screen door and are greeted with a harsh gust of freezing cold wind. You retract, and before you can regain your senses, you hear someone calling your name from a little ways away. 

When you get your eyes open, Sam is standing against the side of the house, exhaling a puff of smoke. He’s giving you a sweet, closed lipped smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. You feel a few butterflies in your stomach as you take in his sweet face, relieved that he’s happy to see you hasn’t disappeared like you thought. You approach him with a sweet smile, holding on to your bag strap with both hands while your main camera hangs around your neck.

“It’s cold as fuck out here.” You say honestly, suppressing a grin. He nods, taking another inhale off the cigarette between his fingers, his smile making it a little difficult. “I thought you left.” you add while he exhales the smoke away from your face.

“What, without you?” He says with a quirked brow and a playful smolder. You laugh, stunned silent by his charisma. He realizes and laughs it off, reaching towards you. “You need a hand taking that stuff to your car?” He asks, dropping his cigarette onto the lawn and stepping on it. He offers you a hand and you willingly offer up your bag, even though you really don’t need to. 

“I didn’t really feel the need to get any more photos of the third band. I didn’t think the headache was worth it.” You say, a little tongue in cheek as you walk. Sam laughs loudly once, like it slipped out, then shakes his head looking at the ground in front of him. 

“I was trying not to be too judgmental but, yeesh. They’re really something, aren’t they?” You laugh and pop open your trunk and he sees inside as he puts your bag in.

“You have a Pentax too?” He asks, seeing the other bag you left in the trunk.

“I do. I have a couple lenses for it, I use it when I shoot… bigger stuff.” You say, not trying to sound braggy. 

“That sucker is heavy though. You must be jacked if you’re holding it up for an entire show.” He jokes, reaching for your bicep and squeezing twice. You flex a little, giving him a wink before you break character and laugh with him. You pull your camera from around your neck and slip it into its case.

“No but, I uh, I have a couple lenses too. I have a pretty big collection… It’s actually getting a bit out of hand at this point. If you ever want to borrow anything...” He mentons, helping you close the trunk. When he reaches up, his sweater rides up a bit and reveals that he’s got a white shoestring laced through the loops of his pants like a belt.

“I’d love to check it out,” you say honestly, rubbing your arms to try and warm up. The wind is brutal but the conversation is worth freezing for.

“This may be a bit forward… but the weather sucks, this music sucks… We could go have a drink at my place and I could show you?” He offers, shrugging a little bit. 

“Well…” you start, looking over at the van on the other side of the yard. Your friend seems to be deep in conversation with the guy who was helping her load up, so you’re sure she won’t miss you if you slip away. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.” 

“Two things, though. One, we have to take your car, since my friend was my ride. Two, I’m driving, because you’ve had a few.” He says, giving you a boyish smile and holding out his hands so you can put the keys in them. You eye him with playful suspicion for a moment, but then figure you’ve got nothing to lose. 

“Fine.” You flick open your car key and offer it to him between two fingers with a grin. 

As he gets in, you can’t help but micromanage his actions with your car as you buckle your seatbelt. “The emergency brake is down by your left foot, and just ignore the light on the dash.” 

“I guess I should have told you that I have, indeed, driven a car before. I’m qualified.” He says, starting it and adjusting the mirrors. He’s a good bit taller than you, so he cranks the rearview upwards quite a bit. You roll your eyes at his comment, letting the radio play quietly rather than anything from your phone for fear of judgment. 

“There aren’t any street lights on these back roads. You should put the high beams on.” You comment, looking over at him for a moment, taking in his side profile. He cracks a wry smirk and flourishes his hand, turning them on.

“You’re kinda bossy, aren’t you?” He asks, not looking away from the road. You snicker softly.

“When I want to be.” 

Before he can say anything in response, his phone starts to buzz in the center console. He reaches for it, swiping quickly across the screen to answer the call from a contact named Danny.

“Daniel!” He shouts, putting the phone on speaker. Without hesitation, you take it from him so he can use both of his hands and drive. He doesn’t object as the voice from the other end of the phone pipes up.

“Where’d you get off to?” 

“Uh, I left. Are you good to get home?” Sam answers, flipping the brights off when a car drives by on the opposite side of the road. He puts them back on once the coast is clear.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?”

You huff a laugh and look over to Sam shaking your head. Is this really how guys talk on the phone?

“Daniel, a lady doesn’t kiss and tell…” he jokes, sending you a wink.

“Right, are you going to that event tomorrow?”

“I had forgotten about it until this very second, but yeah. I said I would. Are you?” Sam says, and you pick up a bit of an accent. There’s a long A in forgotten where the second O should go. You smile softly as you watch the road and listen to them talk. 

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Daniel says, and you can hear him getting into his car on the other end of the line. 

“Fuck. Alright, get home safe.” Sam says, sighing. They end the call and you’re more than tempted to ask him the meaning of all that, but he’s pulling into his driveway and the nerves start to take over, shutting you up. “Sorry about that,” he says, parking your car in his driveway next to his own. 

“Do you live by yourself?” You ask, getting out of the passenger seat. The wind is still strong and it chills you to the bone. Sam sees and picks up his pace as he leads you to the front door.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” he says, looking over his shoulder as he puts his key in the door. It’s warmly lit inside his house once he steps inside and flips on the lights. There’s an array of musical instruments scattered about as soon as you enter, amps and drums and guitars either hanging on the wall or resting against each other. You raise your brows, looking over at him.

“You’re a musician, too?” You ask as he puts your keys on the cabinet near the front door. There are sliding doors across the front that are opened just slightly to reveal a substantial vinyl collection. 

“I have many hobbies.” 

You smile as you follow him through the house, looking around at the art covering his walls. It smells like incense and it’s warm- a little warmer than you would keep your house, but it’s cozy. 

“I keep everything in here,” he starts, flipping on the lightswitch in one of the bedrooms. It’s furnished with a daybed, like a guest bedroom, but the opposite wall has a desk and shelving full of cameras, cases, lenses, accessories, attachments galore. You raise your brows, surprised, but mostly impressed.

It’s a solid half hour that you spend going item by item, gently looking over everything he’s collected, from vintage to like-new, functioning and under repair. He makes a point to tell you where he got each one, the quirks and intricacies of them all. 

“That one’s really my favorite for portraits,” he says as you look over a lightweight film camera with a noisy lens, clicks filling the room. “She’s got a way about her that makes everyone look good, you know?” You nod, looking it over, peeking through the viewfinder.

“I dunno, I might be a lost cause.” You say, a little self deprecating. He sucks his teeth at you in playful disappointment.

“I just mean that, you know, as photographers, there aren’t many photos of us. I don’t think I’d know how to pose myself for a portrait.” 

“Well, you don’t pose yourself, silly.” He says, looking up at you, not lifting his head and moving only his eyes. There’s a little smirk on his lips. “We should try it.”

You give him a suspicious look, laughing nervously. 

“I look like a mess from the wind and… I’m hardly wearing any makeup..” You say, starting to rattle off excuses as your cheeks heat up.

“So? You look perfect. I don’t want to take… fuckin’ headshots. I want to capture you. This version of you, the pretty photographer that I’ve spent my evening with.” 

The two of you lock eyes for a moment, his honeyed irises so warm and kind and sweet that you probably can’t say no to him if your life depended on it.

“Okay.” 

That’s how you end up in his sunroom, sitting patiently on his couch as he gets set up, sipping a glass of wine. The room is full of plants and you brush your hand against the burnt orange velvet upholstery of his couch underneath you. You watch him move around the room, pushing the ottoman out of the way, adjusting the throw pillows on the opposite end. He reaches behind his head and pulls his thick sweater off, his shirt riding up to show that little shoestring belt and this time, a light dusting of hair above the waistband of his pants. He tosses aside the sweater, leaving him in a white t-shirt. You swallow a gulp of your wine, feeling a little warm.

“I like how you said, ‘as photographers,’ like you looped me in there with you,” he muses. “You’re a professional. I don’t belong in the ranks with you.” He says, grinning as he uses an app on his phone to mess with the lighting from the lamp in the room. It’s a hazy, warm light when he’s done, absolutely flattering to the eye, so you can only imagine how it’s going to look when he captures you.

“If you take pictures, and you enjoy it, you’re a photographer. I don’t think it’s fair to gate keep art of any kind, or… something that brings people joy, you know?” You say, watching as he grabs a cream colored, cable knit throw reminiscent of his sweater and drapes it behind you. 

“That makes sense. Not all photographers are as humble as you, though.” He says, looking down at the camera and making some adjustments. He holds it up and looks at you, then he pulls it away. He looks again, then he hums like he’s thinking about something.

“This black shirt is kind of one-dimensional. I feel like it’s swallowing you up, you know? I feel like there's too much contrast with the colors in the room.” 

You sip your wine and think for a moment, looking around. He’s probably right. 

“What do you think about green?” you ask, leaning forward, placing the wine glass on the table in front of you. 

“Do you have another– oh…” he starts, but is effectively silenced when you start to pull your shirt over your head. Underneath, you’re in a sage green longline bralette, the band of lace under your chest covering a good two inches of your waist. It’s not too revealing and from the shoulders up, it probably looks like a shirt. You shake out your hair and look up at him, tossing your shirt aside.

“Does that look better?” You ask, smirking at his reaction, pretending to be all business. He looks at you through the viewfinder and you hear him clear his throat.

“Much better. Yep. Uh huh.” he says, hiding his face behind the camera, but you know he’s looking at you. “Sit up for me?” 

You adjust the way you’re sitting, sitting up straighter. He lets the camera hang around his neck as he approaches you, reaching out to gently position you. He puts your hand in your lap, then gently pushes some hair behind your shoulder. The other side, he wraps around his finger once, making sure it lays in a flattering way. He looks at you, not scrutinizing you, but deciding what he wants to do with you. His touch makes you feel like you’re on fire, his hands warm and so gentle, his motions purposeful and confident despite the delicate way he handles you.

He crouches down in front of you, holding the camera to his eye, and you feel a wave of panic wash over you. You suddenly feel exposed in front of the lens, and it must be evident on your face as he moves his finger from the shutter release and lowers the camera from his eye. “You feel nervous.” he states with the nod of his head. 

You shrug ever so slightly, finally feeling the nerves your clients tend to feel. You try to shake it off, but Sam, ever perceptive, pulls the camera from around his neck and sits it next to you on the couch. He pulls his own shirt over his head, leaving him in the same state of undress as you are. “There. Even?” he asks with a cheeky smile. 

You smile and nod, doing your best not to stare at the small smattering of a happy trail at the top of his pants. You bite your lips together before looking back into the lens, hearing the shutter click and the film wind. He brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face to the side with the gentle touch of his index finger. He pulls it back quickly, returning to the shutter button and snapping another photo. He hums from his place behind the lens, standing quickly and scanning the room for something. 

His heavy footfall pads across the room, snatching something from his piano bench before returning to his place on the floor in front of you. In his hands is a multicolored jewel tone pashmina, soft and worn, and clearly a staple in his wardrobe. 

“Can we try this?” he asks, holding it up against your skin. 

“Let me see…” you answer, grabbing it and draping it over your chest. With your torso completely covered you reach beneath it, pulling the green bralette over your head as he watches you with wide eyes. You toss it to the floor next to him, and reposition the fabric to just cover your chest as you lean back into the couch. 

He swallows nervously as he stretches up towards the couch, adjusting the fabric how he sees fit. Your stomach shows beneath the edge of colorful fabric, the curve of your breast just peeking from the top. 

“I– I think this is gonna be a good shot.” he says, looking at you through the lens. “Lean your head back a little more, and turn it to the side, just a touch.” 

You follow his instruction, knowing the angles of this shot have to be incredible from his place on the floor. 

“Perfect, I just…Didn’t want any shadows on your throat…” he whispers from behind the camera. You hear the shutter click, and a murmur of ‘fuck’ leave his lips. 

You stay where you are as he lowers the camera, his breathing picking up a little bit as he tries to remain calm. “Your skin is so…pretty…” he breathes, letting his eyes sweep over you. 

Your eyes connect with his, and in an act of insanity you pull away the pashmina, letting it pool at your side. His eyes can’t help but to flick down to your chest, his jaw dropping slightly before he notices and looks back up at your eyes. 

“We don’t have to–”

“Do you not want to?” you ask, settling back onto the couch. 

“No, I very much do.” he answers a little too quickly. 

“So go ahead. Capture me.”

He takes a deep breath, holding the camera to his eye and lowering it back down. He grabs your hand and places it gingerly over your chest, letting your fingers rest just over your nipple. He brings the camera back to his eye, and takes the photo. “Fuck you’re gorgeous.”

Your cheeks blush and you hear the shutter click again. 

“Sorry, but I think that's the prettiest shade of pink I’ve ever seen.” he says. 

You smile and shake your head, letting your hand trail to the button of your pants. You slide the button through the loop and pull the long zipper, until just the smallest glimpse of your thong is visible. 

You watch him swallow nervously again, focusing the camera on your hand as it lays across your stomach. As he captures the photo, you watch him try to recenter himself, knowing that he is probably just as turned on by this as you are, if not more. 

“Take them off…” you suggest, watching his eyes flick up to yours. 

“You sure?” he asks again, making sure you’re still comfortable. 

“Very. If you are, I mean.” 

“Lay across the couch. On your stomach.” he instructs, moving himself to sit on the edge of the chaise to your left. You position yourself against the plush couch, propping yourself up on your elbows, as you look back at him sitting behind you. 

“Yeah, just like that. Stay there. Look at me, beautiful.” he says, growing more confident. 

He leans forward, swiping your hair over your shoulder, giving him an unobstructed view of the curve of your back. And just as your eyes connect with the lens, he presses the button. 

“Perfect.” he breathes, lowering the camera again. He stands from his place behind you, hooking his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, pulling them gently down your hips until they rest at the apex of your ass. Your thong is fully visible now, only the floral lace resting against your hips. 

He moves back and you feel the couch dip as he kneels behind you, straightening the seam of the pants to rest perfectly in the center, his fingers brushing against your bare skin. You feel the goosebumps rise, and you hear the shutter, smiling as you know he’s caught the moment. 

“Are you always this responsive to touch…” he asks, sliding your pants further down over your ass, pulling each leg free until the leather fabric is in a pile on the floor. 

“No. Only when it’s really good…” you answer. 

“Lift your hips up for me, rest on your knees a little, and arch your back.” he says, kneeling on the edge of the couch. His hand slides down your back to assist you, and slides back up, stopping at the hem of your panties. Two fingers hook into the fabric, pulling it down just slightly as you hear the camera shutter. 

You can feel your arousal between your legs, not too far from where his fingers linger, but he releases your panties, sliding them back into place and letting his hand drift over the curve of your ass. He stands up in front of you, and you drop back down, stretching fully across the couch. You lay your head on your hands as you look up at him, watching him crouch down in front of you. He pulls a few pieces of hair over your shoulder, and moves your arm further up to reveal the swell of your breast as it presses against his couch cushion. 

“Pop your hips up just a touch...” he breathes, holding the camera to his eye. “Look at me, baby.”

You bat your eyes as you look at him, seeing the photo in the reflection of the lens as he takes it. 

His chest is heaving as he pulls the camera away, crawling towards you on his knees as he dusts his fingers over your spine. “You make an incredible muse…”

“A good photographer knows that seeing isn’t enough. You have to feel it.” you answer, melting into the feeling of his skin on yours. 

“I think I feel it too much…”

He slides his hand down your arm, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to a sitting position. He reaches for your wine glass, turning back to you and placing it into your hand. You bring it to your lips, but as you tip the glass a stream of red wine trickles down the stem, dripping rapidly onto your stomach. 

His eyes flick to yours, then down to the small streak of red against your skin, leaning his head forward and letting his warm tongue lap at the spilled alcohol. 

Your eyes close on their own, a breath leaving your lips at the feeling of his lips on your body. He pulls back from you, waiting for your eyes to open, and as they meet you can see he’s asking for permission to continue. 

You open your legs allowing him to move closer, and he takes that as his consent to move between them. He pulls the camera from around his neck, placing it gently on the couch next to you, before grabbing your wine glass and placing it on the coffee table behind him. 

His hands slide up your thighs, his eyes examining every inch of your skin until he meets the edge of your panties. His eyes meet yours and you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel his lips on your skin again. 

He hooks his fingers through the fabric and pulls them over your hips, tossing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He takes in a deep breath, lowering his face to your heat, but never breaking the eye contact he has with you. You let a hand slide through his silky waves, silently telling him you wanted this, and he obliges, pressing a kiss to your groin. 

You feel his tongue swipe up through your center, long and slow, hot and soft against you. You fist his hair at the contact, a hum leaving his lips as they vibrate against your clit. Your legs open wider, allowing him to hook his arms beneath your legs, pulling you down the couch to meet his mouth. His tongue works at your clit, flicking back and forth as wet sounds fill the air in the room. His cheeks are flushed as his wet lips suction around you, his brown eyes fluttering closed with every pointed lick. 

You can hardly tear your gaze away from him, your chest heaving as he brings you closer and closer to your release. Your hand reaches out to grip into the cushion, instead landing on the body of the camera next to you. It feels cold against your hand, and as you look at him you realize you might feel it a little too much, too. 

Grasping it in your hand you pull the viewfinder to your eye, positioning him in the frame as he continues to work you towards your orgasm. As his eyes flick up to you, he's met with the camera lens, hesitating momentarily before pulling an elastic from his wrist. He doesn’t cease his actions as he pulls his hair into a messy bun, resting low on the back of his neck. He places his soft hands on the insides of your thighs, looking up into the lens with his blissed out eyes, ready for you to capture the scene below you. 

Hearing the shutter, he grips into you harder, sucking your clit into his mouth with more force, desperate to get you there. His fingers brush your entrance, and with a carefully timed swipe of his tongue he presses them forward until his thumb replaces his tongue applying pressure to your clit. His fingers work inside of you until your legs start to shake with desperation. He replaces his thumb with his lips once more, the warm, wet sensation inching you closer and closer. 

You take a few more shots, hoping to capture the way his dark lashes kiss his cheeks, and the way his nose brushes against you so delicately. Knowing the most vulnerable shots are usually the best. 

He ruts his hips into the couch, desperate for some relief and the groan that leaves his chest is all it takes to push you to the edge. You drop the camera to your side, pulling his face to your body as your orgasm rocks through you. A pathetic sounding whine leaves your lips as his mouth slows, he pulls his fingers from you as gently as possible. 

You’re left a panting mess as you ride the waves of your high, but as you open your eyes and see him licking his fingers, you reach for the camera once more, capturing the act forever on film.

He stands, offering you his hand with a smirk. You can’t help but to notice that his fingers are still pruny and soft as you place your hand in his, letting him pull your shaky body from his couch. He bends over and snatches the camera from the couch cushion before pulling you down the hallway towards his bedroom. 

As you step over the threshold into his bedroom, you’re met with the dark walls and rich earth toned bedding. He drops your hand, and checks his film, before setting the camera on the edge of his bed. He grabs your hand again, and pulls you into him, snaking his other hand around your waist and pulling you close to his body. His eyes search yours before his lips crash to yours, a heady mix of cigarettes, red wine, and you. 

Your tongue tangles with his as his hands grip into your hips, his hardness pressing against your bare stomach. You pull away, locking your eyes on his as you fall to your knees in front of him. You slide your hands up his thighs until you reach the thin white shoelace at his waist, pulling the tip until it unknots itself and slides to the floor. You feel him reach for the camera, letting it hang around his neck once more as he watches you.

You unbutton his pants, feeling the brush of his length against your hand. You work quickly to pull the pants and boxers to the floor, letting him step out of them as you take in the sight of him bare in front of you. You lean forward to kiss at the smattering of hair at his happy trail but you’re quickly stopped before your lips ever make it there.

He grabs your chin in his hand, placing his thumb over your swollen pink lips, pulling the plump flesh down to expose your bottom teeth as the camera snaps the image above you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can think of nothing but the feeling of your mouth around him. 

Unable to wait any longer you grab him in your fist, stroking him a few times back and forth as his eyes study your movements. You wet your lips in preparation for him, letting your tongue dart out to lick a hot stripe up the underside of his cock. 

He pulls the camera to his eye again, “Stay like that. Just like that baby. Look up at me.”

He rests the tip of his cock in your open mouth, snapping a few shots as he leaks onto your tongue, before tossing the camera to the bed. “Fuck, are you sure you’ve never done this before? You look so fucking gorgeous.”

You smile around him, closing your lips and humming in response. You let your tongue slide up his length, taking him as far back as you can the first few times before working into a steady rhythm. Your eyes are locked on his, a look of awe and desperation written into his features. 

His hand finds grip in your hair, moving with you as you work him, gentle whines falling from his lips as you swirl over his tip with each upward stroke. 

Swallowing around him he sucks in a harsh breath, letting you slide back up before repeating the action. You tense around him as you gag, your eyes blinking away tears wanting to continue. Your eyes roll back as you taste the saltiness on your tongue knowing he is nearing his release.

He pulls away from you, cupping your face in his big warm hands, his thumbs swiping away errant tears.  

“I– You’re– Get on the bed for me, sweetness. Wanna ruin that pretty cunt before I cum.”

You look up at him, swallowing thickly, a little shocked by the side of himself he just showed you. You take his hand with a grin as he offers it to you, standing and hopping up onto his bed, laying yourself back on his pillows. He follows you, leaning over to reach for the camera on the nightstand before doing so. He leaves it on the pillow next to your head, focusing all of his attention on you for the time being. 

He’s tender for a moment, leaning down to kiss you briefly before he situates himself between your thighs. He kneels above you, looking down at the sight before him. He traces a gentle line down your sternum, then back up, dragging lightly against the expanse of your clavicle, then back down once more. His eyes seem to roam over every inch of you while you wait patiently for things to advance.

“You…” he starts, a breathy laugh leaving his throat, like he can’t bring himself to finish the sentence. “So gorgeous.” 

“You’re sweet.” you respond, parting your thighs a bit more for him. He hasn’t stopped his feather light touches just yet though.

“Is that how you like it?” he asks, catching you a little off guard. Your eyes flick up to his and you can’t help the way you squirm a little at his directness.

“I…” you start, but he promptly silences you with a pinch to your nipple, pulling a wanton moan from the depths of your chest.

“Ahh. There she is.” He says, smiling. He lets go and leans down to give it a kiss. “Just trying to get a read on you.”

He palms your breast as he pushes back up, unable to take his eyes off of you. You watch the wheels turning in his head as he squeezes firmly, his eyes cutting to the camera next to your head. 

He picks it back up, adjusting it with lightning speed. He looks through the viewfinder once before reaching for your tit again, your nipple slipping between his long fingers. He snaps a photo, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration while the aperture adjusts, the settings on auto now to save time. 

“That artistic part of your brain just doesn’t turn off, huh?” you ask, reaching up to run a hand down his stomach, your patience running out.

“Blessing and a curse.” he mumbles, reaching forward into his nightstand. As he’s leaning over you, you can’t help but take a moment to place a few wet, searing kisses to his jaw and throat. You know they’re appreciated when he bucks his hips against you, his dick dragging against the inside of your thigh.

He sits back up, tearing the foil of the condom with little difficulty and flipping it over once or twice to check which way is right. He eventually distinguishes top from bottom and starts to slide it on, looking down in concentration. 

After he’s done, he leans down towards you, placing hungry, wet kisses wherever he can find purchase. He reaches between your bodies, taking himself in his palm and brushing the head of his cock through your folds. 

“Wait…” you say, and he rests his head on your chest for a moment, looking up at you with patient eyes. 

“Yes, sweetness?” he says, pulling back, unsure if you’re about to call the whole thing off. You take a deep breath, reaching down to touch him gently. 

“Can we take this off?” You murmur, your hand waiting to pull it off the moment he gives you the green light. 

“God, yeah,” he says enthusiastically, a little chuckle leaving him as you haphazardly pull the condom off of him and toss it by the wayside. “Absolutely. Fuck. I want to…” He trails off, like he’s about to say something else, but once you slip the tip of him inside of you, he can’t get a word out. 

He pushes in about halfway, stopping to settle and watch your reaction. You gaze up at him, reaching up to play with one of your nipples. He takes in a sharp breath at the sight before pulling out a little before he pushes all the way in, slowly. 

“Oh… oh my god,” you manage to get out, unable to help the way the words scratch their way out of your throat. Sam’s eyes are glued to your center, watching himself enter you. 

“Everything about you…” he says, taking a trembling breath, “...is fucking picture perfect.” 

You smile at the compliment and watch his face for a moment, the way his dark lashes move quickly with his blinking eyes trying to process everything at once. He starts to move slowly, the drag of him making your breath hitch. 

He fucks into you slowly, deeply, your head swimming at the sensation. It’s good, but it’s not quite enough, and you can’t help but speak up. 

“Sammy…” you begin, calling him by his nickname, like he asked, affectionately. “Harder. Please.”

He snaps his hips into you in response, giving you a dirty smirk from above.

“You’re a backseat driver in the sack, too?” he quips, moving back on his heels a little to change the angle and give himself more range of motion.

“Shut up and fuck me. How’s that?” you bite, grinning up at him. Before you can even prepare yourself, he snatches your wrists, pinning them above your head in just one of his big hands, your slender wrists slotted between his lengthy fingers.

He looks like he’s about to snap back at you, but then his eyes narrow a little. He reaches for the camera again, holding it against the side of his body to flip the switch and open the aperture. He lifts it to his eye and snaps a picture of his hand pinning your wrists together, the strap of the camera falling a little bit into the frame.

Once he’s done, he drops the camera again and braces himself with his free hand, picking up an almost brutal pace. You can’t complain, because it’s what you asked for, and god did he deliver. The sound of skin on skin, his body meeting yours, rhythmically bounces off the walls of his bedroom. You cry out at the feeling of him, reeling at the sensation of him so deep inside you. Warmth starts to build in your stomach, your head getting dizzy.

“Are you getting close?” he asks in your ear, slightly breathless. You whine in the affirmative, spreading your legs further as if you need him even deeper. He lets go of your hands, sitting up a little straighter but still thrusting into you hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Your eyes start to flutter closed, your back arching, and you feel his hips stutter slightly as he moves a bit on top of you. 

There’s some clicking and you know what he’s about to do, but you can’t be bothered to change a single thing about what you’re doing. You reach for your chest, holding your tits steady as he pushes you towards the edge, waiting for the moment. 

“Gonna cum…” you warn, your brows knitting together. 

“Come on, beautiful. I’m ready.” he coos as it hits you, your lips parting, your head tilting back as you gasp for breath. You don’t register when the shutter sounds, but you feel the camera hit the pillow again and Sam’s got both of his hands on your waist, so you know he must have gotten the shot. 

He slows his pace, allowing you to catch your breath and come back down to earth. His hand slides up to your throat, running his thumb over your lips in the same manner he did earlier, but this time instead of letting him tug at your lip you suck his thumb into your mouth.  

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, pulling his hand back and slowly pulling out of you. “Turn over for me.” 

You blink up at him, a little bashful, your eyes darting to the camera, then back to his. You try to suppress a grin and give him a little shake of your head.

“Do you trust me?” 

Feeling a little giddy, you roll over, pulling your hair over your shoulder before propping yourself up on your knees. You keep your face in his pillow, your eyes watching the camera laying near you as he presses inside you, the position allowing him somehow deeper.

His hands find your hips and as he starts to move, the grip tightens, pulling little hiss from between your teeth. You’re glad he doesn’t hear because you’d hate it if he stopped. 

“Gotta be careful…” he mumbles, his voice strained. “Feels a little too good.” 

You hum, a little laugh leaving you. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met, and definitely different from anyone you’ve ever slept with. His playfulness mixed with the dominance that peeks out on occasion is a potent combination you can’t seem to get enough of.

He uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into him, his pace slower, but the feeling of him nudging at your cervix with every stroke makes up for the change in speed. He rubs a hand over the curve of your ass as he slows down and releases his grip.

“Goddamn, that’s beautiful.” 

The camera disappears and you push up on your forearms, suddenly shy and nervous and feeling like a shot of that isn’t quite as artistic as the rest of your photos. You look at him over your shoulder, a little suspicious.

“No, no no. Your back, your hair on the pillow,” he reassures you, a warm hand on your back. You giggle a little, laying back down. He splays your hair across the pillow, then taps your arm. “Move this up under you.” You do as he says, one arm and hand under you, the other hand above you, fisted in the sheets. His hand drags slowly up your back before he speaks again. “Arch a little more. Like you were before. Yeah, perfect.” 

Click.

It lands on the bed, then he starts to move again. He groans, a bit louder than he has been, and you know he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Are you… Are you on birth control?” He asks, his voice slightly boyish in this moment. You can’t help but laugh softly.

“What, you don’t want to knock me up on Valentine’s day?” you joke, and he freezes. You wonder if you said the wrong thing for a moment, but then he speaks softly.

“I’m confident you won’t like my answer, sweetness.” 

It takes you a moment to understand what he means, and when you do, you can’t stop the words that fall from your lips. 

“Try me.” 

He pushes himself deeper into you, so much so he leans over and braces himself on his palm next to your face. He’s closer now when he speaks, his breath hot on your shoulder. 

“I’d love nothing more than to knock you up on Valentine’s day.” 

Holy shit.

“So no plans in November, then?” you quip, grinning as the weight of him pushes you into his pillow. 

“Mm, nothing too big, just a world tour.” he responds, thrusting a few more times. “Super flexible.” he grits out. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, feeling him start to twitch inside you.

“The answer is yes, by the way. About the birth control.” 

“....It’d be cooler if you weren’t, but alright.” he jokes, his voice straining as his hips start to falter. You can hear him breathing through clenched teeth as his grip on you tightens. You tighten around him, arching your back just a touch more and as you drop your head between your arms, you see his hand frantically reaching for the camera one last time. 

You can feel the tension in your stomach tightening, his hand sliding up to your shoulder to pull you back to meet him. “There you go, baby. Keep squeezing just like that. I’m right there.” he says, and you can tell by the lilt in his voice he is waiting for you. 

You rock back, your bodies slamming together with a lewd smack, the sound itself just enough to tip you over the edge. You feel the rush wash over you as he pulls you in, wrapping his arm around your waist as his hips continue to move. He lets out a small grunt with each forceful spurt inside you, and you feel a wave of euphoria sweep over you as you realize he wasn’t joking after all. 

“Fuck…” he whines, pulling out of you. You can hear him adjusting the lens of the camera and you’re so caught up in your own bliss you couldn’t care less that he is documenting his work. You feel him rest his hand on your ass, palming your cheek to the side for a better view as he leaks down the inside of your thigh. 

The camera clicks, and just as you start to lower yourself down, you feel his fingers swipe up through the warmth dripping down your leg, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to look at him, his eyes completely fixed on you as he slides his cum covered fingers inside of you. 

“Just for good measure, huh beautiful?”

You hear the shutter click a few times, a few indiscernible mumbles of praise from his lips, and finally the thud of the camera as it lands next to you on the sheets. He pulls his fingers from you, tapping your ass softly as an indication that you’re good to relax.

The mattress shifts as Sam gets out of bed, his footsteps heading towards the bathroom. The light shines for a moment accompanied by the sound of running water as you wait patiently. He’s back soon after with a warm, wet washcloth, and he gently parts your thighs to start cleaning the mess he made.

It’s quiet as he tends to you, his breathing slowing down as he does. Once he’s done, he slips into bed behind you, pulling your back to his chest.

“So… what are you gonna do with those pictures?” you ask, the smile on your face audible as you speak. 

“Well, get them developed, I guess. But aside from myself and the poor person at the film lab, nobody will ever see them. Cross my heart.” 

“And me,” you remind him.

“Yes, yes. And you, sweetness.” Silence hangs over the two of you for a moment before he speaks again. 

“Will you stay?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. You wrap your arms overtop of his where he’s holding you tight, nodding.

“I don’t think you could force me out of this bed.” 

–

You’re woken by the warmth of sunshine on your face. Blinking and trying to remember where you are, you refamiliarize yourself with Sam’s bedroom in the daylight. Your eyes clear and focus on the camera sitting on the nightstand. 

Sam is in a deep sleep, snoring softly with his mouth open, a few strands of his hair stuck to his face. You can’t help but smile at the sight before slipping out of bed and quietly sneaking through his house to collect your clothes strewn about.

You peek into his bedroom once you’ve gathered all of your belongings and he’s still out cold, only his feet poking out from beneath the sheets. Your eyes are pulled to the camera again, and then an idea forms. You tiptoe inside and carefully grab it, doing your best to remain quiet. 

Needing darkness, you head for the bathroom and wind the film. You duck into his other bedroom on the way and grab an empty film canister. Hoping it’s quiet enough to not wake him, you close the bathroom door behind you and wait a moment before taking the roll out and putting it in the black container. 

Once you’re done, you retrieve your keys from the cabinet by the door and grab an old receipt he must have just pulled out of his pockets when he was putting his keys in their usual spot. There’s a pencil on the music stand of the nearby piano, so you snatch it and leave him a little note. You write out your phone number, draw a little heart, and put the camera over the corner so you know he’ll find it. You silently sneak out the door and lock it from the inside behind you.

The drive back to your home proved to be shorter than anticipated, the light of day giving you a better sense of your location. You glanced over to the rolls of film laying in your passenger seat, taking mental stock on how many bottles of developer and Blix you had sitting on your shelf. It was times like these you were grateful for your little makeshift film lab, knowing that Sam said he would probably send these rolls off somewhere, and that some poor guy would have to see every lewd act appear right before his eyes. 

You snatched the rolls from your seat and grabbed your camera bags from your trunk before making your way inside to your warm house. Feeling grimey, you ran yourself through a quick shower, eager to see what was waiting for you on these rolls of film. 

Stepping into your lab you place the film rolls on the table, grabbing your Patterson canister, your chemicals, and your scissors to start the process. You trim the leads on the film rolls, smiling as you see your roll next to Sam’s. With the leads trimmed, you flip the light switch in your completely blacked out guest room, leaving you in total darkness as you pry the bottoms off of the rolls of film. 

You load the long slippery strips of film into the plastic spools, screwing the lid back onto your canister before flipping your lights back on. You grab your chemicals and make your way to the kitchen, running the faucet to heat the water bath. It’s been a while since you’d done this yourself, but the process was ingrained into your memory, and you were careful to not miss a single step. You drop your bottles of Developer and Blix into the water bath, grabbing your thermometer from your junk drawer. 

Your phone buzzes on the counter as you wait for the temperature to rise, your heart pounding as you see a new number flash across the screen. You make your way back to your lab, grabbing the canister off the table as your chemicals reach temperature. You carefully pour the developer into the canister, agitating it every few seconds while you read the message on your phone.

Unknown:

9:12am: Off so soon? And with my film? Should have known I’d never see those beauties. 😏

Your timer goes off letting you know it’s time to move on to the next step, so you set your phone down, ready to pour the developer out of the canister. Satisfied with yourself for not making a mess, you pour in the Blix, leaning away from the fumes as they waft through the air. You do your duty, agitating the chemical as directed, waiting the allotted time until it's ready to pour out. 

You debate answering him right away, trying to leave just a touch of mystery in the air. You decide that you’ll wait until the film is done, teasing him with a photo for his eyes only. 

You rinse your film with water to rid it of the chemicals, knowing there’s only a few more steps until you can see just how talented of a photographer Sam really is. You pour in your stabilizer, letting it sit for a minute, biting your lips together as you suppress the urge to text him back immediately. 

With a deep breath you pour out the stabilizer, and unscrew the lid, ready to see if the evidence of your night came out in the wash. With shaky hands you pull the film strips from the spools, seeing 36 clear images appearing on the transparent roll of sepia film. A huff of laughter leaves your chest, seeing the negative image of your body in the tiny rectangles. 

You suck your teeth as you hang the rolls of film to dry, knowing that in about an hour or so they will be ready to scan into your computer. 

—

It seems like it’s taking longer than usual for the film to dry, at least it feels that way as you check for the hundredth time. An hour and some change later you’re dashing back to your computer with the film, scanning it into Lightroom to start inverting the images. 

Your breath is stolen straight from your lungs as you see the first image. Your cheeks flame red at the sight of yourself, spread below Sam. You continue to click through the negatives, completely shocked at how good his composition is. You knew he was a hobbyist, but you start to wonder if maybe he missed his calling. You swallow harshly as you continue to look through them, but then you realize just how beautiful the photos actually are. You almost feel bad that you stole them away from him. 

You work through each image, inverting the colors until they appear as they really are. You note the vintage look on the film and check the empty roll for the date. You smile as you read ‘86, knowing he shelled out a good amount of cash for that roll, and he decided to use it on you. The film comes out warm and grainy from the low light, but you feel that it adds to the photos, and you can’t think of a better turnout. 

Your eyes catch on one photo, and after inverting the colors your suspicion is answered. The long finger shaped outlines on your hips were forever cemented in time. The memory of his grip burned into your mind. His body is connected to yours, and you can almost remember the feeling of him inside you as you look at the photo. You feel a rush wash over you, and you grab your phone tapping a few buttons on the screen until the camera opens. You bring it to the screen and snap the photo before attaching it to a text.

You

10:47am: *Attachment*

10:47am: I had something… pressing…to tend to. 😉

You snicker at your comment, hoping he will get the joke as you add his contact to your phone. You bite your bottom lip in concentration as you continue to work on the images, fixing the coloring and resizing them to the appropriate proportions. 

As you reach the beginning of his roll, you start to see images of daily life, with people you don’t know, but are clearly happy to be having their photo taken by Sam. Bright smiles and warm moments captured by his keen eye. 

Sammy

10:53am: Wow, um…

You

10:54am: I think they turned out pretty good, what do you think?

10:54am: *Attachment*

You attach another image of yourself draped across his couch, his pashmina spread across your body, the light hitting your throat exactly how he planned. 

Sammy

10:55am: You’re so gorgeous, I don’t even know what else to say if I’m honest. I have to see the rest.

10:56am: Do you…Need help? I normally send my film off to be developed but it would be cool to watch. 

As you click to the next image you sit in shock, trying to place the face next to Sam’s on his couch. You drop your phone to the table in front of you, trying to focus. You’re going positively crazy running through faces in your mind until it hits you. You take in the features and realize the man sitting next to Sam is the guy your friend was flirting with all night. Your heart starts to race as you make the connection. Is that the friend he left last night? Did she go home with him?

You blow out a deep breath and finish up the last photo of Sam and another long haired man, drinking foamy beers in what looks to be a foreign country. You smile at the bubbly mustaches on their lips and grab your phone to reply to his message. 

You

11:02am: You’re a really great photographer, Sam. These shots are really, really good. All of them. 

11:03am: If you really want to see the process you’re more than welcome to, kind of makes you feel like a mad scientist haha. I don’t have much going on at the moment, probably going to work on this next roll if you want to join. 

Sammy

11:05am: What are you up to tonight? I have a work event I have to go to, but I’ll probably dip out early, especially if I have a good reason. 😉

You

11:06am: I have to shoot a show tonight, but I’m free after that…

Sammy

11:06am: So…

You

11:07am: Bring your film and a bottle of red. I just might have a few rolls we can use while we wait. 😏

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[ystrike1]

Twisted Love from My Coworker - By Starling-chan (8/10)

A delusional yandere. This one is maxed out on crazy. It's kind of a shock that he can function normally in society. He believes he's dating his cute subordinate, but they're not even friends. She snaps one day. She tells him to stop giving her gifts. To stop being so creepy, and he steals her away. It's scary.

Aoi is a cool, capable and handsome guy.

He's kind too. It doesn't seem to be a mask, but Ichino can't handle his flirting. He's too bold. He doesn't just compliment her.

He says he's her boyfriend, as a joke(?) The joke goes too far. It starts to scare her. He knows her favorite drink...and things about her family too. At first she just thinks he has an inappropriate sense of humor, but it doesn't make sense. He's unfailingly polite to everybody else. Why would he make up such a weird, elaborate joke with her? When she clearly doesn't find it funny??? They're not close enough to joke. They're subordinate and manager. Ichino can't complain, because she doesn't want to be branded a troublemaker at work.

They both live nearby.

She meets Aoi when she's out on a date. Her dates keep abandoning her. He's stalking them too. Ichino thinks she has bad luck in love, because that would be crazy.

Aoi is just joking. There's no way. Why would her boss systemically ruin her life and future?

He planted microphones in her house.

He also thinks she is neglecting him. Aoi genuinely believes they are already dating, so his feelings are hurt.

When Ichino keeps rejecting his date invitations he gets worse.

His mental state crashes.

He's still sweet.

He loves Ichino. She's the best girlfriend. He's kind of inexperienced. He started going to the gym, and taking care of his looks, to impress her. He successfully won her over!!! She blushes when she sees him!!! They're in love!!! Ichino is really inconsiderate though!! How can she hang out with other men alone, when she has a boyfriend!!! Who is being sorely neglected!!!

Why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!WHY?????

It gets worse.

Ichino knows her photo is his lock screen picture. He's not hiding it. He's delusional. Ichino thinks the joke has gone waaaayyyyy too far, but she likes her job. Aoi is actually a really competent and talented businessman. Ichino has lots of friends in the office.

She's willing to put up with the jokes until he gets bored.

It sucks because this is the perfect office. Ichino has known some of these friends since university, and she's super good at her job. Life is great.....but the girlfriend jokes make her extremely uncomfortable. She avoids being alone with Aoi, but it keeps happening.

He always finds her.

He gives her a really expensive gift, for no reason. He just wants attention. He'll use money to get it. He thinks his beloved is mad at him. He shows her that he cares about her health, down to the smallest detail.

It also comes with a GPS feature, usually used for children and teens.

Ichino snaps.

They have one sweet moment.

Ichino gets drunk. She wakes up in a car. Aoi is driving her home. She's grateful. He does always take care of her, and she admires his work ethic. She thanks him, for being such a good coworker.

He has a key.

To her house.

She can't believe her eyes when he opens her door for her. They argue again. She can't pretend its a joke anymore, and he kidnaps her. It's implied that they start dating because of the manager/subordinate power imbalance.

[nikka-v]

Apocalypse - Joel Miller x fem! Reader smut

Summary: y/n is raised by Bill and Frank and since they found her they always protected her. Then when two guests arrive, she found a herself crushing on the handsome, older man.

Warnings: nsfw, swearing?, smut, first time (p in v), oral (fem! receiving), age gap! (reader is in her 20s), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it guys)

Minors DNI, please!!

Hope you like it and I really hope that there won't be many mistakes because I'm not from English speaking country so the grammar is sometimes a bit complicated ♥️

When you first met Joel you were only a child and you technically did not meet him, you just saw him through your window. Bill did not want Tess or Joel to see you or even know about you even though the second thing quickly happened as Frank told them accidentally.

"Have you met any other people around here?" Tess asked Frank who was the only one mainly talking. Bill was his usual self, sitting quietly and carefully watching the two newcomers while slowly drinking his glass of wine.

“Except y/n no. Not even any raiders actually." firstly he did not even realize that he talked about you but Bill quickly shot him a displeasing look. He was extremely protective of you even when you were not his kid. He was the one who found you and brought you home to Frank so he felt the need to protect you all the time.

"y/n? Who is that?" Tess was curious, well who would not be in a world like that when the only 'people' you mainly meet are these undead creatures or people who are trying to rob you? Frank looked at Bill as if he was asking for his permission to tell them about you but even if he shook his head it would not make difference as Frank already started talking.

"She is like our daughter. Well, obviously not by blood but we are raising her like that. Bill found her when he went to see one of the towns a few miles away, it was completely burned but he found there some of the infected hoarding around a small wooden cottage. The parents left their kid there to die because they could not handle taking care of her anymore when she broke her ankle. They even told her that and then said that she will manage on her own better, that the raiders won't kill, they did not think about infected at all." Frank was explaining and surprisingly both Tess and Joel were hanging on to all of his words. "That happened two years ago, she was seven at that time and let me tell you, she was stubborn and had a heart of a fighter, which is making her really hard to raise but we love her. Actually, it would be fun to show her some new people, don't you think?" that question was meant for Bill who quickly rose from the table and shook his head at Frank.

"Not a chance. We do not know these people at all Frank, they will not see her!" Bill was almost screaming at Frank which made him feel really bad later that day but at that moment he thought it would be the only thing stopping him from showing his little girl to some strangers. They did not see you standing near the window, watching the whole situation, carefully so no one would notice you took your small polaroid camera, taking a quick photo of the strangers who were just quietly watching your two guardians arguing. As you looked at the photo and then back at them you felt the man's gaze on you, he could not see you properly, just saw a figure but you quickly hid anyway and stayed hidden until they left, looking at the polaroid photo you took.

You've seen them a few more times but they never saw you, as Bill was strictly against it. So when they stopped coming over you were not that mad but kept the photo anyway, just so you could maybe one day recognize them.

Years went by, during days you helped both Bill and Frank when they needed and later when they fell asleep you disabled the security system and sneaked out. You were walking outside of the fence, waiting for something to happen, for some infected to show or a person to show but for such a long time nothing happened so you kinda started to wish you could go explore other towns and cities. Just to escape the boring life, even though the boring life kept you alive, or at least that's what Frank told you when you confessed to him about your small trips and the wish of going away. He was not angry, that was the difference between Bill and him, Bill would scream and say some nasty stuff but Frank just stared at you blankly and then told you to be careful and take a gun with you. You felt terrible and that's maybe the reason why you stopped thinking about leaving for another few months. Until Joel came at least.

It was one of the calm days, you just celebrated your twenty-second birthday few days ago so you were sitting on a roof with camera that you got from Frank. You got there from the window of your room, watching the area through the scope of your rifle which Bill gave you so you could train shooting and you were surprisingly good. At first, you did not want to believe it, thinking it was maybe just a lost infected but later you realized it was in fact a human being. Actually two of them. Taking your walkie in your hand you quickly informed Bill and Frank who were cooking lunch together.

"Dads? We may have a problem here." you started to call them that when you were twelve. They saved your life and took you in as if you were their kid so it was not a huge surprise that you felt like they were fathers to you.

"What is it y/n? Are you okay?" Bill answered worriedly and you heard him run out. You quickly got down from the roof thanks to a rope you had there from your night walks (a few weeks ago you said to Bill that it was there for emergencies if something happened) and pointed to the horizon where walked the two figures, letting him take your rifle to look through the scope.

"Son of a bitch, get inside y/n and do not come out until I tell you so." you hesitantly looked at Bill who gave you back the rifle and murmured quietly 'please' which made you get back on the roof and to your room. You wanted to know what was going on so you hid behind a curtain and looked through a small hole. You expected Bill to take another gun but he walked closer to the fence, Frank right behind him and opened the gate. Because of the distance, you could not hear what they were telling the other two people but when you took your binoculars to at least look at these people, you recognized them. They were the people from the photo you kept in your nightstand. Joel and Tess. You remembered their name only because Frank told you and you wrote it on the back side of the photo.

"Come in, oh my God Tess, it is so nice to see you again. And the same goes for you Joel." you finally heard Frank's voice as the four of them got closer to the house.

"We are travelling to find Tommy. He's not communicating so we just wanted to stop by and ask if we could stay here one night and tomorrow get going again." Tess explained carefully, probably not to upset Bill but Frank immediately stepped into the conversation.

"Of course, it will not be a problem, right Bill?" he looked at Bill with a stern look which he rarely had to use, mainly because Bill listened to almost everything that Frank wanted.

"Thank you so much, look, we have some new seeds which of course won't be enough to pay for your generosity, but we are willing to give your also some of our supplies and help you with anything you want of course." Tessa was now talking to Bill who just nodded and they all started to walk towards the house again. You leaned towards the window a bit more as you could not see them too much, knocking over a box with some vinyl which you kept in your room. Before you could hide again, Joel's head looked up, making quick eye contact before hiding again. On his face appeared a small smirk as he saw you for a brief moment. He immediately knew who you were.

"No, you can't take her there to meet them." you heard after few minutes Bill's voice behind your door, so you quickly skipped towards them and leaned your ear on it so you would hear the conversation.

"They proved themselves to you many times before, why would they all of sudden do something to us?" Frank was speaking quietly so you barely heard him but they were really close to your room.

"We have not seen them for many years and all of sudden they show up here, that is strange." you tried to remember when you saw them for the last time and it was really a long time ago.

"That is not strange, we were communicating through the radio once in a few months, they are our friends or at least mine, so I am sure it is going to be okay." there was silence behind the door for what felt like few minutes, you already started to think that they left but then a knock on your door startled you, making you jump from the door a bit.

"Yes?" you opened it, seeing Frank who was smiling almost as much as when you first told him to teach you how to play piano.

"We want you to meet someone if you are up for it." it did not take even two seconds for you to nod.

"Yes, of course." Frank led you downstairs, where in the kitchen were sitting the only other people you've ever seen in the house.

"We thought that now when you will be here for the night it would be good to introduce you. This is y/n, the girl I've been telling you about a few years back. Y/N, this is Tess and the grumpy man is Joel." you smiled at them, shaking hands with Tess who smiled at you as well and then when you turned to shake hands with Joel, he was completely and absolutely captivated by you. His lips were parted a little, looking into your eyes as if he saw a miracle. You felt the heat in your cheeks as you smiled at him again and then quickly turned to Frank who was setting up the table meanwhile.

"Can I help you somehow?" you asked him, wishing for him to send you for some stuff but he just shook his head.

"It's all set actually, so no need, but thank you." Frank poured wine into the five glasses on the table and after a few more minutes, when you all sat at the table and were waiting for Bill to bring the food, he brought some fish he caught in the morning that day. The whole time when you were listening to Tess and Frank talking you felt Joel's gaze on you. It was not uncomfortable, not at all, you wanted that man to watch you and maybe even touch you. He was trying so hard not to look at you but he was failing so hard, he just could not help it. You were sitting opposite him, next to Tess so he could pretend to just look at her but actually, it was you and you were aware of that.

"Could you show Joel one of the guest bedrooms? I am going to take Tess to see the garden, so I will show her the other one later." Frank asked you nicely after lunch when Bill was cleaning up alone from the table and then in the kitchen even though both of the guests and you offered your help.

"Sure." that was the only thing you managed to get out of you as you stood up and started walking towards the stairs where you waited for Joel. You could not help yourself but look properly at him, almost scanning him with your eyes.

"Thank you for showing it to me, darling." you had to take a deep breath when he called you that. You basically knew him for only like an hour, so you did not want to show him how attracted you were towards him but let's be honest, after so many years with only your 'fathers' you were horny as fuck and could not handle men affecting properly.

"Here it is, we do not use it normally but the bathroom works and some men's clothes are in the closet, so you can take shower and then change if you want." you tried not to make eye contact by opening the curtains and looking out of the window but after few seconds you looked anyway.

"Thank you again, you really are a good girl." that almost made your knees stop working so you quickly smiled and walked to the door, before saying quick 'bye' and sliding to your own room which was just a few steps from the one where he was. Leaning your back on the door you almost shouted from the feelings that were screaming inside your head.

---

For the rest of the day you were in your room, hiding from everyone, mainly the brown-eyed man who made you want to have sex with him so much. You thought that maybe he did not do it on purpose, that maybe you were imagining all these things but that was not true at all. He was thinking about you the whole day when he was helping Bill around the fence and the house. He could not get you out of his head. You were an angel sent from heaven, that's what he thought.

You wished that they would not have to leave the next day and somehow your wishes came true. Tess fell from a ladder when she was trying to help Frank pick fruits from his tree garden. She did not break her ankle but she bruised it really badly so it was hard for her to walk, so they had to stay for another few days. Both you and Frank were thrilled, even though you did not show it that much but Bill was almost ready to kick them out. It was only because you said to him, that you like the company, that he let it be and let them stay longer.

Joel was always trying to be close to you when it was possible. Helping you carry heavy stuff, even though you were more than capable to do it by yourself, sitting next to you at the table and more importantly leaving small touches on your body when walking around. For example, on your waist, as he was walking around you in tight spaces or just leaving his hand on yours for a brief second when you gave him his coffee or some tools when he asked you to bring him something.

It all happened two days before he and Tess were supposed to leave. Everybody was already in their bedrooms sleeping, that's what you thought when suddenly you heard a quiet knock. You were on the roof but the window was opened so you called on whoever was behind the door to come in. When you saw Joel, you almost wished you could jump from the roof because of how much chemistry was built between you two in the previous days. You could not take any more of it. You were planning on telling him everything the next day so if he laughed at you, he would leave the next day and you would not have to see him again for a long time.

"Can I come in?" he asked as if he did not already close the door behind himself and walked closer to the window.

"Sure, you can come out here as well." you offered and watched how he hesitated for a second but then got out of the window and sat next to you. You were wearing only a long shirt and shorts so your naked legs were touching his because he was wearing just shorts and some hoodie which he found in the closet. You immediately felt goosebumps all over your body so you took a sip of a wine which you brought from the kitchen. Bill did not like you to drink alone but what he does not know does not hurt him, right?

"Why are you sitting here?" he asked nonchalantly and drank from the bottle which you handed him. You had to think about what to tell him but the silence between you was comfortable so you were not in a rush with your answer.

"I like when the world is dark and quiet like this. I can freely think about anything, for example, how is the world out of here. It is such a long time since I've been out there with Bill and saw other places." you explained, looking at the moon which came out from behind the clouds. Of course, you've done a fair amount of exploring by yourself but you were curious about bigger cities and other groups.

"The world is beautiful but terrifying out there. Infected are almost like the smallest problem there. Raiders who are killing anyone in their way and doing other bad things." you knew what he meant by that. Both Bill and Frank told you that many raiders would take advantage of finding a girl like you out in the world.

"I would love to see the world, I don't want to be stuck out here. I love Bill and Frank and I know they want the best for me but I just can't stay here my whole life." you were not complaining but you somehow knew that Joel would understand you.

"I get it, I really do, but let's be honest, even if you could fight and shoot like a pro, it is so hard to survive out there by yourself. You can't leave alone." even though you were looking at the sky, you knew that he was watching you. He was so scared that you would be by yourself and some people would come and kill you or hurt you any other way.

"I know, I am not leaving today if that's what you want to hear." he did not say it out loud, but he felt relieved because of that.

"Okay, that's good to hear, I am sure Bill and Frank would be devastated if you left without saying goodbye." he said instead, making you feel a little hurt because you thought that he did not care about you at all and just was thinking about how your 'dads' would feel, but you quickly shook your head when he was not watching you, to make yourself think straight.

"You and Tess are leaving in two days, right? It is nice to see a couple like you." you still were not sure what exactly was the deal between them. Were they a couple? Friends with benefits? Just friends or partners? You were hoping he would correct you.

"Yeah, that's right." again the hurting somewhere close to your heart before he spoke again. "And we are not a couple. There were some moments where we could be called a couple but we are just friends," he added, watching closely your reaction which you tried to hide but you breathed out with relief anyway.

"Okay, sorry if I am snooping too much." he laughed, quietly but you heard it anyway. His hand on which he was leaning was dangerously close to yours and you started to realize that and moved it a bit closer. Just a few millimetres so he would not realize it, but he did. He was studying all of your moves, wanting to know what was going on in your head.

"Don't worry about it, I don't mind." the bottle in your hand was quickly empty so you put it away next to a few other bottles which you hid so Bill would not find out about you drinking alone.

"I will probably head to bed," you said quietly and looked into his eyes while starting to get inside, where you waited for him to get in, and then you closed the window, making sure to close the curtains as well. Joel was watching you curiously and before you realized he was behind you, you stepped back and bumped into him. "I am so sorry!" you quickly turned to him but did not step away and neither did he. Your faces just were just a few centimetres away from each other and his hands gently touched your waist.

"That's okay, actually I really like to have you so close," he whispered, his eyes jumping from your eyes to your lips. But you were the one who broke the distance, connecting your lips to his. Your hands moved from his chest where they were resting to his shoulders and then behind his neck, pulling him closer to you. He immediately kissed you back, not hesitating for even a second his hands moved to your cheeks, holding you as if you wanted to run away.

So many emotions in just one kiss. You could not believe that this was happening and neither did Joel who for a split second thought that it could have been a dream. He dreamed about you almost every night. You, in his bed or in the shower with him, touching him all over and him doing the same before pressing himself against you and fucking you senseless. But then he realized what was happening and pulled you away just a few centimetres, looking straight into your eyes.

"y/n is this your first time doing anything?" you were a bit scared of this question, thinking that if you said 'yes' he would not want to have anything with you.

"Well, yes but I want it." you had to look away so that if he said something bad you would not have to see his face. But he took your chin with his fingers, making you look at him.

"If you really want it, I can give it to you. I would do anything for you. I can not tell how much I wanted this to happen." as he was speaking you felt sort of relieved that he was saying that but still you were a bit scared. No of the act itself or that it would hurt but because he would think that you are bad at it or something but all these worries melted away as he kissed you again. Slowly his hands travelled down your body, searching for the hem of your shirt which you helped him pull over your head. As he saw your naked body with just shorts on, he had to stop himself from hurrying, he wanted to make it nice for you, wanted to be gentle as much as possible so you would enjoy it.

You put your hands on your breast, shy a bit because of how he was watching you even though the room was kinda dark, just two candles lit at your nightstands. Joel quietly laughed, kissing your forehead before putting his hands on yours, pulling them away so he could see you.

"You are so pretty, baby," he whispered, kissing your neck suddenly, making you whimper quietly as he touched your ribs and then his hands travelled to your chest, caressing your breast. His hands were gentle but rough at the same time and he started to move lower with his kisses, stopping at your stomach as he kneeled in front of you. He then touched the hem of your shorts, questioningly looking at you, asking for permission, which made it even more erotic more you.

"Please, Joel, just touch me somehow." you were needy and who wouldn't if someone like Joel would kneel in front of them? On his face appeared a small smile again, he loved finally seeing you from this perspective. Slowly pulling down the shorts along with your thongs which you stole in a lingerie shop on one of your night runs to the small town nearby.

"Oh god, so beautiful." all these compliments he was giving you caused you to get wetter every second. He looked you in your eyes, waiting again for any sign of discomfort but you gave him the type of look which told him every reassurance he needed. You were absolutely devoted to him, wanting to go all the way with this man who you properly knew for only a few days.

Before you could beg for his touch again, his hand move to your thighs, making your legs spread a little and as you looked at him, he moved closer to you, gently with one stroke licking your clit. You were thinking about one thing, if this felt this good, how will the sex feel? Can it be even better? You could not think much more, he started to suck on your clit, his hands still on your thighs, thumbs rubbing small circles on your skin.

"Joel, that feels so good." you moaned, maybe a bit too loudly, but lucky for you, no one was in the room next to yours. You almost did not notice one of his hands disappear from your wast, entering you with one finger.

"Do you touch yourself, love?" he moved just a few centimetres away from your clit, looking up at you, provoking you with the naughty smirk he had on his lips. Of course, you did, lately more than ever, but who could judge you, it was an apocalypse and you could not be sure if you would ever meet men or women with who you could be sexual.

"Sometimes." you definitely did not want to lie, but why would you tell him how often, right? He probably believed you or if he did not, he did not show it on his face, instead, he put his mouth to use again, hitting the important spot with his finger to which he added one more. You were trying to get steady as your knees started to buckle under the rush of pleasure you were feeling. Joel probably noticed that, as he pushed you a little, so you could have leaned back on the window sill, at least gaining a bit of balance.

One of your hands was in Joel's hair, gently pulling so you would not hurt him but instead of it to show him how good he was making you feel. Of course, you were moaning more loudly because of how close to your first orgasm of the night you were but you were all in for physical contact as it was really important for you.

"Come on baby, cum for me." the hoarse voice of Joel, made you realize how close you really were. As you tried to contain your moans, you bit your lower lip, your head tilted back and the knuckles on your hand with which you were holding the window sill, got white as a result of how much you pressed it.

When you once read about women's orgasms, you found the book in the library, you read about the stars in front of the woman's eyes when it was really good. Well, Joel was definitely good at what he was doing as you really saw stars and it took you a few minutes to calm yourself down. These few minutes Joel was holding you in his arms, letting you lean on him with his full weight.

"That was amazing," you whispered to his chest, your hands on his stomach under his hoodie, He was looking down at you, a tender smile on his face, contemplating how beautiful you were with red cheeks, a bit teary eyes and chewed lips.

"Do you still have energy?" he asked, softly kissing your forehead. You looked into his eyes from under your lashes and smiled as if you still had the energy to do anything. He slowly picked you up and let you put your legs around his waist as he brought you to your bed, where he gently, so he would not hurt you, laid you down and then leaned above you to kiss you on your lips. The kiss lasted probably a few seconds but you wanted it to last forever.

Joel kneeled above you, took off the hoodie and threw it somewhere next to the bed. You already saw him without his shirt when he was helping outside in the sun and was too hot in his usual shirt but now it was much more erotic. He noticed you looking at him and kissed you again, he could not resist you, and probably would do anything you would ask him to at that moment.

"You sure, you wanna do it?" he asked you and somehow that made you more aroused. You liked how he wanted your permission, it was important to you.

"More than anything right now." your voice was more like a whisper as you were starting to get a bit nervous but man, you wanted him to do it immediately. You wanted to feel him inside you, you needed it.

"Look, I am going to be careful, if something was too much, just tell me okay? I will stop immediately." he was a bit worried, you could have heard it in his voice.

"I am sure, it's gonna be okay. No need to worry." you smiled at him, trying to make him feel better, which helped as he smiled back and raised from the bed to take off his shorts and boxers which he had underneath. Before you could properly look at his naked body, he already was above you, between your knees, massaging your sensitive clit again to make you wet, but that was not a problem at all so continued with himself.

He stroke himself a few times but he was already rock hard for some time now. He had to relieve himself the day before just because he saw your side boob in one of your shirts before you went to sleep, so he could not get more aroused by you. He guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing himself into you, not wanting to make it painful.

It was okay for a few seconds but Joel was a lot bigger than you thought, making you stretch around him. You rigged your nails in his shoulders, chewing your lips again, your eyes closed.

"Slowly, please," you whispered to his ear as he lean closer to your neck to kiss you. He tried, he really did and it was really hard given the fact that it was a long time since he had sex and you were so damn tight. It took you some time to get adjusted to him but it was still not enough.

"It's okay baby, we can leave it be, we can try tomorrow, I can prepare you better." he was trying to talk you out of it so he would not hurt you but you were stubborn and too needy for this. You shook your head, not wanting to give up.

"I can try to sit on you." just this sentence almost made Joel cum, you were just so innocent. He pulled himself out, laying on his back, helping you to get above him. You weren't scared, you knew that if he hunted you like this, it would not be his fault but yours because of how stubborn you were, but you just wanted it, needed it.

"Slowly okay? No need to hurry." he tried to calm your movements and hold you by your waist as you took his cock to your hand to guide yourself to it. Slowly you started to lower above him, stretching more than before. The soothing words that Joel was whispering, like 'it's okay, take your time my love' and 'you can do it baby' helped you a lot with the pain which started to disappear. You did not sit at him properly, you both knew that Joel will have to do the last movement but he wanted to wait for your signal.

He turned you both so he could be again above you and with a long kiss on your lips he thrust into you, making you moan and cry out a little.

"So brave for me," he whispered after a few seconds before he started to move a little. The pain was slowly fully replaced by pleasure and you could not hold the moans anymore, kissing Joel to silence yours and his whimpers.

One of your hands was on his shoulder, the other you moved to his waist and then lower, to his ass, pulling him closer to you with each thrust. The little whimpers he made when you moved to kiss his neck made you feel so good, hearing that he was also enjoying that.

"I don't think I will last any longer, my love." when he called you like that a few times, you started to feel this nice feeling in your stomach and now it really affected you a lot more. And in just a few more seconds you felt his fingers on your clit, rubbing circles on it to make you cum along with him. And you did. As you got closer, you tightened around him, making him grunt a little and accompanied by your loud moan you felt him filling you. It was like ecstasy, you thought that you've never experienced such a good feeling as sex with Joel.

The only noises in the room were your deep breaths. Joel lay next to you, pulling you into his arms, which made you feel really good. You needed someone to hold you for so long. All the nice feelings made you suddenly realise that he was supposed to leave soon and leave you there only with Bill and Frank. You looked at Joel with tears in your eyes which scared him a little.

"What is it, baby? Are you okay, is something hurting you?" he asked with concern in his voice but you shook your head to reassure him, that you were okay like physically.

"You are leaving soon." in his eyes appeared the sudden realization of the fact that he still was planning to leave to find his brother. He loved his brother and needed to know that he was okay but he really cared about you and did not want to leave you. He wanted you by his side, actually no, he needed you.

"I need to know my brother is okay." he wanted to take you with him but did not want to risk your life even though you would have him and Tess to protect you. He was not sure what to do.

"I will go with you," you suggested immediately, knowing that he was already thinking about it from the look on his face.

"You know I would love to have you with me, but what if something happened? Your dads would kill me." he tried to joke a little but you just wanted to go with him, not caring about what they would think. You knew they would be doing just fine without you.

"I do not care, Joel, please, let me come. I know how to fight and shoot, I can take care of myself and help you and Tess." you were looking into his eyes, almost begging him to take you with them. Not only that you would be with him but you could explore the world and finally see the proper cities you wanted.

"We will talk about it tomorrow, yes?" he asked, kissing your forehead, and making you close your eyes. "We will try to think of something," he added as if he was convincing himself more than you.

And as you nodded and started to slowly fall asleep, the last thought you had in your mind was, that he could disappear before you wake up and come back only if he will find his brother and survive.

[gallerysystemsaustralia]

Hanging artwork can be a daunting task. It requires precision, balance, and a keen eye for aesthetics. Photo and picture hanging systems are designed to make this process easier, allowing you to display your art in the best possible way.

[afterglowsainz]

fresh out the slammer | max verstappen

summary: after you broke up with your boyfriend, you join your friends for a night out in monaco and decide it's a good idea to invite max

warnings: fluff, mentions of breakups, drinking

word count: 1.8k

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet at the thought of a situationship with max

the tortured athletes department series

it’s been one month since you and your ex-boyfriend of one year broke up. you couldn’t say you were heartbroken because you really weren’t, like most men do at some points in their lives, he was disappointing you long before you broke up with him, so in a way, you mourn your relationship while you were still in it. now you just felt a bit lonelier than before, but you had definitely moved on.

on a saturday night, you had a few friends over to your monaco apartment for dinner and a very well deserved gossip session. you told them all about your breakup with your most recent boyfriend and how you were feeling almost too good.

“guys, what if we go out?” one of your best friends suggests. “a friend of mine is having a party at this club downtown and is supposed to be this very exclusive thing.” you thought about it for a few seconds after agreeing. it has been a while since you went out with your friends, especially in monaco where everything can happen. you got ready in less than ten minutes since you already were put together and joined your friends in the car on your way to the club. 

during the quick ride you check your instagram and saw that your friend max posted a story. you and max have had this weird relationship for years, were you’re both really close friends who’ve also liked each other forever, but none of you had actually made a move on each other (except for that one time, but you’ve never talked about it). you clicked on his profile picture and the story popped up, a picture of him and his friends playing fifa on his couch. you smiled and liked the photo, putting your phone away.

once you got to the club your friend led you all to the entrance and when she gave her name to the bouncer they let you all in. the place was completely packed, but she took you all to a place on the top that was a bit less full and looked more like that exclusive event your friend was talking about. soon enough, alcohol was running through your system and your body was moving along with the blasting music at the club when a thought almost made you stop on your tracks. you looked for your best friend all over the place and ran over to her when you saw her near the bar.

“hey.” you call out loudly over the music.

“hey.” she smiled at you. “having fun?” she asks and you nod.

“can i tell you this idea i just had?” she takes a sip from her drink and nods. “would it be a good idea if i invited max?” her eyes widen with surprise and gives you a knowing smile.

“max like max verstappen?” she asks. “like your max?” you nod again, this time more euphorically.

“yes, my max.” you took a sip of your drink and cleared your throat. “he’s in monaco, so why not? the worst that can happen is he says no.” you shrug, like the idea of him not wanting to see you didn’t kill you a bit inside.

“go for it!” she exclaims. “absolutely, yes, invite him over.”

you smiled and headed over to the balcony, relieved to feel the cold air of the monaco night hit your skin, cooling you down. you took out your phone and hover over max’s contact for a moment, wondering if you should text or call first. you decided to call since that would be much more immediate. you listen to the phone ringing for a few moments and when you thought it would send you to voicemail, you heard max’s familiar voice.

“hello.” he answers.

“heyyy.” you greet him with a smile that he couldn’t see.

“y/n.” he calls your name with happiness. “how are you?”

“i’m good, how are you?” you ask. “what are you up to?”

“oh, i’m good, yeah.” he says. “just hanging out with some friends. you?”

“i’m in monaco.” you say looking at the stars. “actually, i’m at this club, i was wondering if you wanted to come? you can bring your friends, my friends are here too.”

you waited for him to answer so long you thought the line had dropped.

“what club are you in?” you gave him the name and heard some loud voices in the background. “okay, we’ll be there in twenty.”

you smiled at the sky and bit your lip.

“okay.” you answered and finished the call.

when you got back inside you met your friends again and let them know that max was coming with his friends. twenty minutes later, you were still dancing in the middle of the place when someone tapped your shoulder with tenderness. when you turned around you saw those blue eyes that you loved staring back at you.

“hello, you.” you smiled at him and he returned it.

“long time no see.” he said, giving you a small kiss on the cheek. you felt yourself flustered and were grateful that the place was mostly dark with a few colored lights.

“you should’ve told me when you got here, i would’ve gone outside to get you.” you frowned, ignoring the blush on your face.

“i wanted it to be a surprise.” he defends himself. 

“it can’t be a surprise if i invited you.” you fought back and he placed his arm around your shoulders.

“you know what i mean.” he clicked his tongue, teasing you.

you spent the next hour dancing, drinking and talking with max. it was like the world around you had disappeared and it was only the two of you left in that club. when you took a quick break from dancing he got close to you and whispered in your ear.

“do you want to go outside?” he asks. you felt yourself blush again but nodded.

he was about to guide you to the balcony but you redirected him to the exit of the club. you stopped briefly to let your friend know that you were leaving with max for a moment so she wouldn’t worry and she just winked at you. you took his hand so you wouldn’t lose him while walking through all the people at the club and once you were outside you dropped his hand, even though you didn’t really wanted to, but the last thing you wanted was to make it uncomfortable for him.

“you wanna take a walk?” he asks while taking his jacket and putting it around your shoulders.

you nod and smile at him, grateful for his jacket. you both start walking along the streets, talking about nothing in particular until he makes the question you knew he wanted to ask all night.

“how’s it going with your boyfriend?” he doesn’t look at you while asking, no matter how much you wanted him to do so.

“we broke up.” you answer dryly.

“oh.” he finally looks at your face for any hint of sadness, but there is none. you’re not sad about it.

“how’s it going with your girlfriend?” you ask now, remembering the gorgeous redhead he was dating a few months ago.

it was on one of those few occasions both of you were in monaco at the same time. you were leaving from café de paris with your best friend and you crossed him at the entrance, next to him was one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen, holding his hand. you remembered she introduced herself as his girlfriend and your heart skipped a beat at the word, even though you had no right to feel anything like that since you had a boyfriend yourself. you said your goodbyes and he did too and that was the last time you saw him.

“what was her name again?” you asked. “i can’t remember.”

“we broke up.” max ignored your last question, answering the first one you asked instead.

“oh.” you frowned, sad for him for whatever reason. maybe it was the alcohol in you bringing out all the emotions. “what happened?”

“it just didn’t work out.” he answers simply, giving you a reassuring smile.

“when did you break up?” you knew you were a bit out of line meddling into his relationship. especially when he didn’t ask you these types of questions about your own breakup, but you couldn’t help it.

“a few months ago.” he said, completely unfazed by your curiosity. “actually, it was the day you met her.”

“at the café de paris?” you questioned with surprise and he nodded. “why would you break up with your girlfriend there? it’s such a lovely place.”

he wanted to laugh at your remark, but bit his lip instead.

“i saw you.” he whispered and you felt like all the air was leaving your lungs.

“you broke up with your girlfriend because you saw me?” you ask incredulously and he nods again. “why would you do that?”

“why do you think, y/n?”

he holds your eyes for a few seconds until you turn your head and continue walking. you didn’t answer him and he didn’t say anything else, his words hanging in the air while you got wrapped into a comfortable silence. you were trying to process his train of thought while also processing yours. could his words have such an impact on you? did he feel about you the same way you’ve always felt about him? would he want to try something with you? with each question you asked in your head, you felt yourself leaning more and more into max until the back of your hands brushed each other while walking. he felt so familiar in so many ways.

before you could realize it, you were both outside of your apartment building. did you really walk this much?

“well.” he said, breaking the silence. “i guess this is where i leave you.” he pointed with his chin at the building.

you looked at him for a few seconds, your mind racing ten thousand miles per hour.

“you could stay.” you whisper.

max looked at you, a sparkle in his eyes you knew too well.

“you’re drunk.” he murmured, just like you had. you shook your head and got closer to him, touching the collar of his shirt gently.

“just as much as you.” you were so close you could see every speck of color in his eyes. “i think the walk here sober me up, anyway.” you joke, taking your eyes off of him, fearing that looking at him a second longer would make you do something unexpected.

“are you sure about this?” he took your face between his hands, forcing you to look at him. the beautiful blue of his eyes was now much darker and you fell a little bit more in love just by looking at them.

“of course i’m sure.” your voice low, only for him to hear. “i’ve always been.”

his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, and then back into your eyes.

“come inside.” you ask.

he smiles at you like he just won a championship, taking your hand and pulling you into the building.

[becca-e-barnes]

The Study

Not only is this the start of my 'Moving In' series, I'm also calling it my birthday piece! I turn 24 on Tuesday and I'm trying hard not to think about the fact I'm overdue a quarter-life crisis.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 2.7K (oops)

Warnings: Pleasure Dom!Bucky, sub! reader, spanking, use of a vibrator, forced orgasms, kinda Dom vibes but totally consensual, degradation, safe word system but safe word not used, pet names

Summary: Bucky spends the weekend at your new house and you take him on a tour.

Minors, do not interact

Turning the key in the front door still feels odd. One of the very first changes you made to the house was installing a new locking mechanism on both doors and it hasn't had a chance to stiffen up yet.

The smell of paint is starting to dissipate but it hits you hardest when you open the front door. The hallway was one of the last areas of the house to be redecorated so the smell seems to be most noticeable right at the door.

"Damn, this place is deceptive." Bucky's remark makes you smile to yourself while you hang your jacket up. "It's a whole lot bigger on the inside than I thought."

"It surprised me too. All of the rooms are a nice size."

The house had ticked so many boxes for you. More than two bedrooms in a quiet development, a low maintenance garden, off road parking, a downstairs bathroom and the whole house has plenty of potential. The plan isn't to live here forever, after all. It should be easy enough for you to sell when you decide to move on.

You flick a few lights on in the hallway and toss your keys into the bowl on the hall table before you turn your attention back to Bucky standing in your living room. Despite the fact you hadn't removed your own shoes, he's taken his off, leaving them neatly at the doorway of the living room beside his travel bag.

He's respectful of your space; he always has been but it's nice to just have him in your space. It's nice to have him be part of it.

He walks slowly around the little living room, looking at the few ornaments and picture frames you'd collected. "That's cute." He's looking at a picture of you and your best friend, sitting on the floor of your old kitchen, laughing yourselves to tears over the fact your Christmas tree was three inches tall and cut out from the back of a cereal box. The photo brings a smile to your face every time you see it.

"Are you hungry? You've had a long day." You move over behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing his back through his clothes while he looks at your pictures on the fireplace. He's had to travel for a few hours just to get here so you imagine he's bound to want something.

"I'm okay for now." You nod at his response, taking in the fact he's actually standing in your home.

The time you have with him is limited. That's how this works but for just less than two days, he's yours. After that, he'll go back home so you've learned to make the most of the time you have with him.

"Help yourself to whatever you like. Kitchen is down the hall." You don't even really want to move but you can't stand like this forever.

He turns in your arms so he's facing you and captures your lips in his. It's a soft, slow, gentle kiss; the kind you've been dreaming of since you last saw him. You need him to feel exactly how much you've missed him without having to tell him.

The kiss lasts for minutes, far beyond its natural end but neither of you care.

After what feels like forever, your lips part but your foreheads stay pressed together, both of you determined not to pull away.

"I still haven't gotten the grand tour." He's got the most beautiful eyes and they're locked on yours to the point that you'd almost forgotten he's never been here before. "But I want to start in your favourite room."

"Well, the study is my favourite. I converted one of the bedrooms into an office space."

"Show me."

You don't protest. Instead you head out of the living room and up the stairs to the furthest end of the hallway, with Bucky following closely behind you.

"These all used to be built-in storage units around a headboard for a bed. I took all the doors off the cabinets and made it into shelving." You'd turned the room into a space that you love. The walls are painted a light shade of cream with houseplants lined up between books on the shelves. Instead of storage around a headboard, you now have book shelves, arching around your desk. The other side of the room has a sofa that converts into a bed for extra guests and there's a beanbag in the corner by the window to read on.

"I see why it's your favourite. Odd mix of books here though." Bucky's eyes flick over the titles, ranging from your collection of political figures' autobiographies, the 'Diary of an Oxygen Thief' trilogy, the selection of books providing commentary on the criminal justice system and a good few classics.

"It is. But I like this room. It'll be cosy in winter once I get some fairy lights and nice and bright in summer. Somewhere to unwind." You're thinking out loud as you reach up to close the window and that's when you feel Bucky step behind you.

"I think we should celebrate." Bucky’s voice is low, his lips trailing up the side of your neck, heading towards the spot just behind your ear that he's always loved to kiss.

"I think..." He stops briefly on his path, taking a second to inhale deeply, determined to slow down. "I think we should make love in every room of your new house this weekend."

Fuck.

"Are you sure you're up for that? Because I can really stretch it out. I'm not sure how we're going to make it work in the pantry or the downstairs bathroom but I'm happy to try."

"Your 'pantry' is a cupboard." Bucky's breath is hot on your neck, and you feel his lips have curled into a smile.

"I know. You promised every room though." You can't help but tease him, although you're half serious. It's not your fault that you're keen. Not when he's kissing down your neck like that and holding your waist so your back is flush against him.

"You're a handful." You feel his fingertips graze the bare skin of your waist and you remember how nice it is to just be touched the way he touches you.

"I might be a handful but I can promise if I have my way, after you leave here on Sunday, you won't even be able to think about cumming again until Thursday at the very earliest."

"Jesus, that's one hell of a promise." He turns you around to face him and you notice his eyes are damn near twinkling with excitement.

You've got all weekend together; there's no need to rush but you can't help the overwhelming need to feel him sliding into you. That's when you feel closest to him and it's the closeness you're craving more than anything.

Your hand cups the side of his face, your thumb tracing across his freshly shaved jawline and you allow yourselves a second to just be together.

He smells familiar. The heat of his body against yours makes you feel safe. He makes you feel safe.

"I want to start with you though. I brought you a little something." He kisses your lips gently and smooths a hand down over your hair before he retreats downstairs to the bag that he'd brought a few changes of clothes in.

He returns with a small cardboard box with the tape on one end already cut.

"I didn't have time to wrap it. It arrived last minute." You're so busy trying to get into the box that you hadn't even noticed.

Inside the box are a few instruction manuals, a thin white cord and a black satin pouch. Inside the pouch is a neon pink toy that's thicker at each end, narrow in the middle and nicely curved.

"I've already charged it and paired it to my phone. This end slips inside you." He points to the thicker end, studying your face to make sure you're okay with this.

And why wouldn't you be? This is pretty damn close to a dream come true.

"Remember what you said last time I saw you? You wanted me to spank you. Maybe we should take it a little further." He's always been hesitant to do anything that would hurt you and that fact is the very reason you want him to. You know how much he wants to protect you and knowing he cares about you has you convinced that he's the right person to explore this with.

"Please." You whisper, beyond excited at the thought of getting everything you've begged him for. "What did you have in mind?"

"I'm thinking about you bent over this desk with this inside you and we'll start off with a couple of light taps to that pretty ass." He presses the button on the narrow part of the toy and it give a short buzz, coming to life in his hands.

Fuck, you're into this man. You're into his hesitation just as much as you're into his willingness to try something new.

"Traffic light safe word system. 'Red' and I'll stop, 'amber' and I'll give you a break, 'green' to keep going." He wants to be fully sure you know you're in control here, not that you ever had any doubt.

You nod and stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time with as much passion as you can manage. Your hands run through his hair while his trail over your body, your tongue flicking gently against his.

Just being around this man makes you wet, not that you'd ever admit that to him. Even the thought of him has you throbbing with arousal so now that he's here in front of you, your whole body feels like it's buzzing.

He touches you like he can't get enough. He can't get you close enough and it's beyond thrilling to be the subject of his need.

It's almost embarrassing that you get yourself worked up so easily but from the hungry look in his eyes when you undo the button of your jeans, he doesn't seem to mind.

You step out of your jeans and panties and Bucky helps you out of your top and bra, leaving you naked in your study.

"Look at you." Bucky sounds like he's almost in awe, no matter how many times he's seen you naked.

He kisses you again, matching the same passion he'd had earlier, trailing his hands over your soft, warm skin until his fingers are nestled between your thighs.

"Fuck, you're soaked." His fingertips trail between the folds of your sex, gathering the wetness he's responsible for. "Good girls don't get this wet at the thought of being spanked. You know that, don't you?"

You're almost too turned on to even respond to him. "Bend over. I want to see how well you take your toy."

You do as you're told, bending over your desk while Bucky drops to his knees behind you to slip the toy inside you. You feel him trail the thicker end of the toy against your slick cunt, gathering enough wetness to let it slip inside you comfortably.

Within a minute, the toy comes to life inside you and there's no way to stifle the moan that catches in your throat.

Not only is the internal part vibrating at a low, delightful buzz, the other end is pressed right to your clit and is stimulating it at the same strength.

"Did I say you could make a sound?" Bucky quizzes, sounding harsher than ever and when he gets no response, his hand comes down on your ass with so much force that it makes you yelp.

It was a hell of a spank and you can feel heat blooming under the skin of your left cheek, quickly followed by another spank to the right.

"For the record, you can make as much noise as you need to. But only because I've told you that you can. You see the difference?"

You force yourself not to nod and it has the effect you were hoping for. Two more harsh, painful spanks are delivered, one to each cheek, the same as before.

You don't know if you imagined it but the toy inside you feels stronger. You can't be sure if you're just focusing on the pleasure over the pain or if Bucky really has turned it up.

"Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" He needs to know you're enjoying this because a little part of him is surprised at just how much he's into it. He gets to control both your pleasure and your pain because you want him to and the trust alone is enough to get him off.

"Feels amazing, fuck. Making such a mess." Stringing sentences together isn't easy but you swear you're about to cum already. Your nipples rub delightfully against the wooden desk and you swear every sensation is heightened.

"I wish you could see the mess you're making. Looks fucking delicious." He turns the toy up ever so slightly but that's enough to send you spiralling, gripping the edge of the desk as pleasure ripples through your entire body.

You can do nothing but sob, cumming relentlessly because he's refused to turn the toy down. Even after you're done, he keeps it at the same intensity, moving on like nothing happened.

"You say the sluttiest things. That promise of yours to totally drain me. Who says shit like that? So fucking filthy."

"I mean it. I want every drop of cum you can give me. And then more." You know saying something like that will earn you another spank and it does.

"You're not just acting like a slut. You are a slut. You spend your life hiding it from everyone else but you can't hide it from me." A shiver runs down your spine. You almost feel like you've been caught. Like he's figured you out and now you have nothing left to hide. "Say it."

It's a clear instruction but saying it makes it real.

Your hesitation earns you another sharp spank, heat prickling both your face and your ass at the same time.

"Don't make me tell you twice." For someone hesitant to slip into a dominant role, he's absolutely nailing it.

"I'm your slut." Your voice is less steady than you would've hoped but the words at clear at the very least.

"My slut?" He almost sounds like he can't believe what he heard.

"Yours. Your slut." You repeat, wishing you could see his face.

"Oh sweetheart, that's cute." He means it too. He turns the toy up as a reward and even though it's only at half its full strength, you can't help but cum again, pleading your way through another blinding orgasm.

"Such a good girl for me. That's it. Cum nice and hard. Give that slutty little pussy what it needs." He lands one more harsh spank on your ass and you swear it only makes you cum harder, to the point that your legs are shaking.

But all of a sudden, the sensation stops completely.

"B-Bucky?" You ask, turning around to look at him, wondering if something went wrong.

"Don't want to wear you out, sweetheart. I think that'll do for now." You agree that it's probably a good place to stop and you have no problem taking the toy out for a while.

He pulls you in close, resting your head on his chest, letting you catch your breath while he holds you and kisses your forehead.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" His voice is soft, hoping that you'll tell him the truth.

"No. It was perfect." You smile, capturing his lips in yours, hoping to relieve some of his fear. You're almost giddy with excitment. It truly was everything you needed and you fully intend to thank him for it before the weekend is over.

"Good. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would." He's back to the gentle, tender touches that you're so used to from him and it's a blessing that he can flick so effortlessly between both personas.

"How about we order in and stick a movie on?" He suggests, kissing the tip of your nose. "Go put on something comfortable. I'll find a takeout."