#thirty days writing challenge

[inlocusmads]

Promises Made, Promises Kept

A thirty day writing challenge project:

Day Ten: Write with the title, "Promises Made, Promises Kept".

The universe has a funny way of assuring people. It takes everything from everyone and leaves them with scraps, before slowly supplying them with shrivels of hope.

Featuring: Maura Tauber, Sledge from Wake the Dead

Slight Gore/Teen+/WC: 1.9k

The Park Street neighborhood was a paradise the same way a desolate sewer would be a home for fugitive rats. It was empty; its buildings hollow and full of regret and shame. The people in it were told they'd be leaving and it was just a little mixup, that's all. The Drone situation was merely an outbreak and that, people would likely return home after their time in mandatory quarantine camps. And yet, they never returned.

Maura grew up in Park Street. To see it in a devastating condition was heartbreaking, but it was nothing new anyway. Behind her was Sledge and the two of them were on Scavenging Duty - gathering medical supplies, any morsel of something they could find - anything for them to get through the winter with clothes on their shoulders and food in their stomachs. Sledge surveyed the small community, as they walked briskly against each other; between long and boxy apartments. Tall, narrow and almost hollow. The act of living went from being a privilege at birth, to a chore during adulthood and in the recent years, a matter of great pride. To have survived so far; to see the children at Camp Cypress grow up with knives and armours and who were taught to defend and hold their ground was a bit of a gut punch, because children were.. children.

They were young.

Maura could imagine the days. She was just a little kid - about four years old during the summer of 2018 and about seven before the Outbreak. At some points in her life, she'd played several games of street football. She'd especially hated Gina Weissman; this notorious pig-tailed girl whose parents had just gotten her a Wii console when she could barely recite her ABC's. She hadn't been a very bright child but they'd play football like the funny men on TV.

To think that Gina Weissman was now dead was a tough pill to swallow. Likely torn apart by a Drone and she'd have been so young too. Helpless. She'd have run away with her Wii console, crying for her Ma and Pa when they were long gone and Turned. She'd have been likely bitten by one of them too. Gina Weissman was Maura's sworn enemy, but to conceptualise the fact that she was living when everyone else who'd grown up with her, who'd shared the same laughs, the same jokes and sometimes even the same food from the plate - were all gone.

"We can look for a different place." Sledge said. "I doubt there's anything good here."

"No, I know this shop just down the street. It's this pharmacy and they'd probably have coats and jackets and cardboard boxes."

"Alright, then. Let's make it quick."

***

The pharmacy was more of an apothecary owned by this gentle man named Stephan. He was half Italian and half Cuban and would narrate all sorts of stories. He'd kept the old ladies entertained and the young children out of trouble and his pharmacy had the biggest TVs. You see, when Maura got into petty little fights with her friends from class, her dads would put her on probation to make her learn her lesson. Which meant no TV, no mobile phones or tablets and absolutely no music. It is safe to assume that Maura spent all her summer afternoons, tending to her rough wounds as she listened to Stephan speak about his uncles and aunts and his weird cousin Allie, as the big TV played all the latest daily soaps, sometimes even reruns of news broadcasts and if she were really lucky, late-noon marathons of all the best Pixar movies.

The pharmacy was now a crumbling piece of infrastructure. The beams were filled with patches of dried blood, like a five year old's finger painting drawing. The columns were slowly losing themselves; being subjected to corrosion - the slowest and most painful forms of death there ever existed. There was no more Stephan or his stories or the TV or anything, really. The fridge where the best lemon sodas were cooled down, was broken into smithereens. Bloated corpses hung low and they had to be careful with their eyes and feet, because even the slightest of sounds might trigger a wave of chaos.

They couldn't make any noise. It was too dangerous.

Sledge signed in ASL. Check the cash register if you can find stationery and novelty stuff.

Maura signed back; a hand holding a shopping bag and her other hand doing the signing. We need jackets, plumbing stuff and duct tape.

Sledge gave her a little nod. She proceeded to walk to the end of the aisle in the silence. Maura turned to the cash register and quickly studied its workings before holding on and opening it without making any noise. She spotted loose change, which were unnecessary at this point and several collection of pens and pencils. Maura pocketed the stationery, then turned to the drawers to see if she could find soap. Stephan usually had an assortment of homemade soaps somewhere here…

The first thing she noticed were several bars of ginger soap. Delighted, she grabbed them all in a handful and put them inside the bag as slowly and steadily as she could. The next thing she saw were some important heavy-duty equipments. Well, as heavy-duty as screwdrivers and other tool kits could get. Either way, it was better than nothing and besides, they were running short of them anyway. Thirdly, there was a collection of pictures. Which was not odd, considering Stephan was the only one who managed, purchased and maintained the store and it was perfectly reasonable for him to store any and all important things if he wanted to.

Maura grabbed the pictures and shifted through them as quickly as she could. As Shannon once claimed, "The greatest of cures and ideas stem from the unlikeliest of places." So it was only warranted she go through personal documents - anything that might help them survive and get a scientific edge over the Drones.

The first was a picture of Stephan in his shop. It was old, crinkly, the kind of picture a grandpa would have preserved in between pages of a book, only to open years later and reminisce about the good times. It was back in 2019 when Polaroid pictures were incredibly popular and having them on your dormitories or on your walls made you preserve certain key memories. Stephan was accompanied by a girl and Maura recognised the face instantly.

Gina Weissman.

She looked so happy. She had long red hair and always wore a pink shirt. She'd been -- six then, by the looks of it and she had her arm around Stephan's side, like she was an incredibly proud daughter and had a winning smile. Gina Weissman wasn't Stephan's daughter or anything. She was just the neighborhood girl who was mean to everyone and had Wii parties every other Saturday. Captioned with the date and time and other little quotes and something in hasty Italian.

Maura turned to the next one. This time, it was a different picture. Stephan, Gina and her mother were standing in front of a beach on a winter's day. Her father wasn't pictured but it is likely he could've been the one taking the photo. Stephan had his hands cover his eyes and he had bits of gray in his hair. Maybe he was a family friend. A friend who was more than that. An old uncle, maybe.

Maura recognised the beach and the sky. It had been Silja's eleventh birthday and they'd gone to the beach to celebrate because Silja had always wanted to get one of those candy floss on a stick things they had in little rolling stands. It was all that she ever wanted and Papa and Dad had taken them there. Dad talked on and on about birthday wishes and promises and so on and how eleventh birthdays were important and what he did and everything, so much so that it got extremely boring and Papa had to silence him with a proper kiss, to which Dad became intensely flustered. Silja had chuckled and Maura had gagged and the four of them then enjoyed some falafels under the night sky.

The third and final picture had a clear shot of the night sky, with a comet whizzing by at just the right time. Underneath the picture, it said: Made a wish! and once again, in rapid, but now coherent Italian, it read: Non auguri! Promesse! Accadranno sicuramente. (Not wishes, promises! They'll definitely happen)

Her Dad had said the same thing. "You don't wish for things. You make the universe promise you that good things will happen and I tell you, the universe never fails to listen. It's hard to get there, but it is worth the run."

Silja had asked. "Is it sort of like the time when you had to run after Papa in the pouring rain because you had this massive fight?" to which Papa laughed and Dad shook his head, exhausted from being the butt of all jokes. He'd taken it well, except later that night when they'd all gotten home, ready for some celebratory dessert as a little surprise for Silja, he'd taken a bite out of her icecream in mock resistance.

Why?

Why did they have to leave?

Maura stuffed the photographs in her bag and searched the drawers for anything extra. There was nothing else left. She decided to hold onto those pictures. If Gina Weissman wanted anything, she'd have asked for everyone to keep talking about her. And if Stephan wanted anything as his last wish, he'd have hoped people would continue to tell stories, have some fun, enjoy a night out in the starry sky, make unlikely friends and find a family - even if they aren't always by blood.

Sledge emerged from the back aisles, carrying a bag full of coats and a duffel bag full of parts.

Did you find any food? She signed.

No. Just soap. Maura signed back.

We should head up to the next street. There's a bakery.

Okay. Let's go.

If there was anything she learned from Papa and Dad and Stephan, it would be a lesson in hope. Dad was a person of reason and yet, he believed, till the very end, that it was nothing more than the universe paying him back - telling him that it'd one day fulfill its promise. The promise of finding love and a family. Dad would complain. He'd spent years talking about how his twenties flew by with him moping about as if he was in a doomsday of his own making. Everyday, he'd beg the evil puppeteers that controlled his life; his every step, to be a lot more kinder. And with hope came trusting those promises. Trusting that even though nature was cold and cruel, there was something about it that made everyone feel instantly at ease.

Stephan had talked about it too. How lonely it was, being of mixed blood. He spoke Italian but he was never Italian enough. He spoke Spanish but was never Cuban enough. And there was this family that showed him hope; showed him that even in the darkest corners, that even in the crooked little mind of a vindictive little child spoiled with Wii games and three-tier birthday cakes, there existed hope. The promise that everything will be okay and the hope to fuel that belief. To trust the process and to understand that though, not everything happens within a reason, it isn't the end.

The Universe had always kept promises. It delivered right when it meant to - carefully playing around until Dad "happens" to bump into Papa; listening to Stephan and placing him right at the Weissman's place.

And if it hasn't fulfilled a promise just yet, it means it isn't the end.

___

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! I drew the ASL concept from A Quiet Place where you had the same situation with hyper-sensitive creatures with insane hearing abilities. Though Maura and Sledge don't have difficulties hearing, they prefer to use ASL in places where they're not sure about the Drone infestation and it is required to be quiet.

Thank you so much for reading! (I ended up finishing both Day 9 and Day 10 prompts today, which is.. the 25th of January 2023, if you must know lol!)

Tag List:

Perma: @tessa-liam @writing-not @peonierose @trappedinfanfiction

Wake the Dead only: @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter @cariantha

30 Days: @jerzwriter

Once again, I am super duper sorry for spamming your notifications lol. Please do let me know if you'd like to be tagged for this or if you'd like to be removed/added, etc. I want to keep people's preferences in mind!

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Day 3: Patience/Focus

Prompt List

 Pt. 3 of The Empire of Samadhi AU

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 (you are here) | Pt. 4

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: Red Son is the son of an old empire, Mei is the daughter of a new one. Red Son, consumed by fire, was put into an induced stasis sleep to stop the world from burning until his family can find a way to safely remove the fire. They find a way but he never wakes up. Hundreds of years later he awakes to discover his power resides within another as she stares at him with wide eyes on fire.

To wield the fire of Samadhi requires focus. To survive around such idiocy, Red Son requires more patience than he practised whilst creating said fire of Samadhi. But before that, Mk wakes up with a spider on his nose.  

Mk woke up warm. 

He hadn’t been warm in a long time. 

Well, honestly he hadn’t really woken up in a long time. It was all muffled sounds, freezing cold and blurry bits of scenes unfolding in front of him here and there while he was unable to move or think clearly. It was… weird to be warm and be able to twitch his fingers without first being told to. But… nice. He really thought it was a dream at first. 

He could hear muffled voices, two of them. One familiar and one not. His body ached despite the warmth as he slowly gained consciousness. His vision started out a little blurry when he opened his eyes, then adjusted after a few moments and he was greeted with a small black spider sitting on his nose. 

Mk screamed. 

He was already halfway up the cave wall, cramming himself into a space he could fit by the time Someone came running in, fire flickering around them. They looked around wildly, alarmed, fists clenched and guard up. 

“Mk!” 

The voice was loud and panicked and Mk would recognize it anywhere. 

“Mei!” 

He didn’t really think before he was practically launching himself off the cavern wall and at his best friend. He realized maybe it wasn’t the best course of action when he noticed how high up he’d been--and when he processed the fact she was on fire--but by then it was too late. 

Mei yelped as he slammed into her from above and they both went crashing to the ground in a tangle of limbs, rings and fire. 

Fire filled the cavern in a small, startled explosion. Mk’s skin burned with a distant memory of pain he couldn’t place the origin of, but before long it was clear the flames weren’t actually touching him. Despite the realization his breathing still came more shallowly than usual for some reason. 

Mei grabbed his hand and pulled him through the smoke and flames to the mouth of the cavern. Mk shielded his eyes and gripped back tightly, the warmth of her hand seeping into his fingers and even up his arm. She was really there. 

They stumbled out coughing. 

“What is wrong with you people?” came an incredulous voice, one Mk didn’t recognize. 

He glanced up, coughing and waving away smoke to try and see who it was coming from. 

“Oh!” Mk said when he saw him. “Hello! You’re really scary looking!” 

And he was pretty scary looking. With hair about as red as it could get, like, ripe tomato red, or maybe hot pepper red. It was reminiscent of many of the vegetables and different fruits he had seen in Pigsy’s kitchen over the years. He was dressed like Mk remembered his Shifu’s distant ancestor dressing in paintings and books. The clothes of a king, or maybe a prince or emperor, unmarred and pristine aside from it being a little dusty with streaks of ash and soot. His scowl was probably the scariest thing. That and his eyes, dark enough to be compared to coal, with just as little life in them. Honestly he looked like he was missing something very important, though Mk couldn’t begin to tell what it was. A smile maybe? 

The man before him puffed out his chest a bit, looking almost proud. “Well at least someone knows I-” 

“Don’t mind him,” Mei said to him dismissively, “he’s a big ol softie. He’d faint if we held hands in front of him.” 

He spluttered. “I would not-” 

“Oh,” said Mk, beaming. “Well, that’s a relief! It’s nice to meet you then, mister.” 

The man spluttered. 

Mei held up their intertwined hands for the man to see, grinning widely. “Look, grandpa. Holding hands.”

The man's entire face went nearly as red as his hair. He spat curses at them as he turned around and stomped away, kicking up ash as he went. 

“Um…” said Mk. “He seems nice.” 

“You get used to him,” Mei shrugged. She squeezed his hand lightly and glanced at him. “You okay?” 

Mk blinked. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Uh… how are you?” 

Mei laughed. 

At first, Mk was going to start laughing along with her, despite his confusion. But then he realized it was different from her normal laugh. It wasn’t light or giggly. It lacked that unrestrained joy that always erupted from her when she laughed. It was drenched in heavy, heavy relief. The shaky kind of relief that Mk had felt after a close brush with death during training. 

Then it stuttered. 

His best friend in the whole world sucked in a shuddering breath, and suddenly she was crying. Her voice was shaking between a laugh and a sob as she pulled him into a hug and held on so tightly and crushing that it made it hard to breathe. 

“Mei?” He choked out. “Are you okay?” His voice was muffled by her shoulder and a piece of her hair got in his mouth. He half-spat half-blew it out of his mouth. He made a mildly grossed out noise. “Ew, ew, hair in my mouth-” 

Her next laugh was torn from her like a sob and he could feel it through his entire body. 

She gripped him tighter. 

Something wasn’t right here. 

“Mei?” 

She only buried her face in his shoulder, her entire frame trembling. Mk could feel the heat from her and from the rings hovering above them. They were heavy. It almost felt like massive weights hovering over them, threatening to crash down and crush them. 

With her hair out of the way Mk glanced up to look at the angry red-haired man questioningly, but whatever he was going to ask died in his throat before he could even lay eyes on him. For the first time, he saw beyond the cavern and the people in front of him. 

And there was nothing but black. 

Nothing but a desolate wasteland of ashes as far as he could see. 

Mk gripped Mei back tightly, knees suddenly feeling like jello. 

“What… What happened?” 

Mei held him tighter still and all Mk could do was glance at the angry man with a lost look. 

The man rolled his eyes at him. “Don’t look at me, peasant. I’m not the one with the fire.” 

Mk glanced at his best friend in his arms and startled as he saw his hands for the first time. 

Burns stretched over his fingers, his hands, small ones, and bad ones that looked like they would never ever go away. 

Mk let out a small choked sound. 

“What-?”

“I’m sorry, Mk,” Mei choked out between sobs. “I’m sorry-” 

Mk wasn't sure what was happening, what had happened. He didn’t know where they were or who they were with or why his hands and everything around them was burned, or why he was afraid to look at the rest of himself, or why the clothes he was wearing felt scratchy and uncomfortable and unfamiliar. He didn’t know what the rings were floating over their head or why the fire in the cave hadn’t burned him. He didn’t know why he could only remember being cold for so long, or why now he felt warmer than ever. He didn’t know why a tiny part of him buried away in his chest felt nervous near his best friend. 

Mk didn’t know what was happening, but the one thing he did know is that his best friend was crying. His best friend was crying and needed him right now. That was something he could understand just fine. 

He hugged her back just as tight, squeezing until she could feel like her shaking sobs were steadied by his arms. “It's okay,” he said. “It's okay, Mei, I’m here.” 

He held her tightly and Mei fell apart in his arms. 

Mei and her friend talked just outside the mouth of the cave for a long time. Far too long in Red Son’s opinion. They had places to be. But when he’d attempted to tell the Dragon girl that, she’d actually snarled at him. Her friend’s hand on hers seemed to be the only thing that stopped her from actually trying to barbeque him. 

The amount of patience he required just being around the two of them was already exhausting. He missed the days he could simply incinerate annoying people like them. 

Eventually they stopped talking. After Mei had stopped crying. After Mk had stopped crying. After they had both stopped clinging to each other like children and crying, they finally approached him, still holding hands in a disgusting display of affection. 

“Teach me,” Mei said. 

“No,” Red Son said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Please?” Mk said, shuffling in place. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his free hand so he tapped it on the side of his leg awkwardly, arm swinging out away from him a bit after every tap. He was such a strange one. There was something about him, Red Son couldn’t put his finger on it, but it made him suspicious. 

“No,” Red Son snarled again, this time with more venom. It was highly entertaining to watch Mk flinch, up until he glanced at Mei and saw absolute murder in her eyes. Red Son cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m not teaching you anything.” 

“You taught me how to use the fire to save Mk,” Mei pointed out, infuriatingly correct. 

“That’s different,” Red Son hissed out. “You weren’t fighting, so I did what I had to.”

“Well,” said Mk, chiming in in the most annoying way possible. “Wouldn't it be easier to get places if Mei knew how to use the…” he faltered a bit, glancing up at the rings hovering above Mei’s head. One of them was nearly directly over his head. Red Son narrowed his eyes and watched how Mk’s grip on Mei’s hand tightened. She squeezed back which seemed to give Mk enough steadiness to continue. “I just mean if we run into any other problems it would be better if one of us with big ol’ world-destroying power knew how to use it.” 

He made a good point. A horrible good one. Good enough that it made Red Son grind his teeth and dig his nails into his arms until it hurt. 

“It’s my fire,” Red Son said through gritted teeth. He missed the way his hair would flame up when he felt this way. He missed how his eyes would spark and people would stumble away, terrified of his power. As it was, the two in front of him simply stood, unphased. Mk was the only one looking even the slightest bit uncomfortable. 

“Duh,” Mei said, rolling her eyes at him. “But if any of us die you won’t be getting your fire back-” 

“The only one here capable of dying,” said Red Son, “is your friend here.” Mk flinched. Red Son pretended not to feel satisfied by it. 

“Alright, your highness,” Mei said suddenly, releasing Mk’s hand and stepping forward. Although he’d suggested she call him your highness on several different occasions, the way she said it was devoid of any real respect. The rings above her got hotter and brighter, the fire lashing and reflecting in her eyes from within. “You shut up and listen. If you die, you won’t get your fire cause you’ll be dead. If I die, you won’t get your fire because everything will probably burn to nothing. And if Mk dies you can kiss your sweet fire goodbye because I will burn you and everything else myself if anything happens to my best friend, got it?”

Truly, her tone was something reminiscent of Red Son’s mothers. Threatening, scolding and terrifying all at once. 

Red Son very nearly took a step back. 

He cleared his throat. “Well… I suppose things would go… faster if you were not quite so useless.” 

“Right,” Mei said, crossing her arms, unamused. 

Red Son straightened up, keeping his chin tilted up. “I am not doing this because you tried to threaten me.” 

“Of course not,” Mei said dryly. 

Red Son bristled. “Whatever, dragon girl. Pull yourself away from your friend and I’ll show you how not to be a useless sack.” 

“Thanks, grandpa!” Mei chirped, quite suddenly smiling brightly. She skipped back to Mk and took his hand in hers once again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

Red Son scoffed.

“Um, yes, thank you Mister uh… Mister…” Mk trailed off, looking a little lost. 

Red Son groaned. He tilted his head back for just a moment to pray for the long-suffering patience required to hold a conversation with these uncultured peasants. “The Demon of Samdhi. Or at least I’m told by your friend that it is now my title.” 

Mk jolted. His head snapped up and he gaped at Red Son. 

“Wait- you’re… you’re-” 

Mei patted his shoulder. “Oooo… Yeah… I forgot to mention. Um. Mk…this is… well, the Demon of Samadhi!” She paused then waved her free hand back and forth. “Surprise…aha….” 

Mk made a small choking sound. He looked quite pale. “M…Mei are you sure um… are you sure traveling with the… him is a good idea…?” He nervously glanced back at him. 

Red Son bared his teeth at him in a wide grin. Mk took a step back. 

It was horribly satisfying. 

At least until Mei shoved her hand into his face to cover it and shoved him down out of Mk’s sight, completely ignoring his indignant cursing and outrage. “Ah, don’t worry about him. He’s a big softie.” 

“I will kill you,” Red Son hissed. 

“See?” Mei said. “Softie.” 

“Oh,” said Mk, like he had complete faith in Mei’s judgment of character. “Phew, that’s a relief. Glad to have you on our side Mr. Demon of Samadhi!” 

“I am not on your side-” Red Son attempted to choke out to no avail. They completely ignored him. 

“Well, Sifu,” Mei said. “When do we start?”  “When you get your hand off my face.”

“Samadhi is a meditation and a form of concentrated focus. Its meaning is a form of… bringing things together. I harnessed it to create the most concentrated form of fire that exists in this world.” 

Mei sat cross legged on the ground in front of Red Son as he paced before her, his arms held behind his back loosely. She had a bored look on her face, one elbow resting on her knee and her chin in her hand. He ignored her blatant disrespect and continued. 

“A true wielder of my fire, should be able to become one with it, to make it their own and wield it through the practice of meditation and focus.” His lip curled as he watched Mei glance at where a gust of wind was blowing up some loose ash. “Though I doubt you will be able to do such a thing.” 

“Ehhhh… what was that?” Mei glanced back at him. 

Red Son sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you want to learn you are going to have to listen.” 

“I’m listening!” Mei said, rocking back and forth. “I’m listening real good.” 

“If I could kill you right now, I would,” Red Son said. 

“But you can’t,” Mei sing-songed. She giggled and winked at him. 

“I hate you so much. You are a disrespect to my fire.” He turned to Mk and barked. “You there!” 

Mk nearly fell backwards where he was balancing on a blackened boulder. His arms windmilled and flailed until he got himself steady and he stood up ramrod straight, with his arms at his sides.”Yes! What? I’m listening!” 

Red Son groaned into his hands. “Of course, of course I’m stuck with two of the biggest idiots-” He exhaled sharply and looked up at them. “If either of you want to understand my fire you are going to have to start paying attention-” 

“But I’m hungyyy,” Mei complained, continuing her rocking back and forth. “There’s nothing to eat around here.” 

“And thirsty,” Mk added. 

Red Son squinted at them both. “Idiots.” 

He bothered to glance around. He had to admit, there was some concern to be had for the lack of resources. Red Son, of course, could go a very long time without those types of substances. Mei as well if his fire sustained her the way it had always sustained him. 

But Mk was another matter. 

He was more mortal than either of them. Lack of sleep got to him quickly. Even more quickly in the form of eating away at his attention. Food and water were another thing he clearly could not do long without and there was no telling how long he’d been without it already under the white lady’s influence. 

And as long as Mk was distracted Mei would likely also remain distracted due to her worry for him and they’d blame him for it because of course they would. 

“Fine,” he said. He planted his feet firmly on the ground to get their attention before he started his declaration. “We will continue this lesson after you two get yourself some sort of substance to consume.” 

Mei blinked. “Uh… Samadhi Sifu… I don’t know how to tell you this, but… there’s not really… anything here…” 

She gestured to the wasteland stretching around them. Red Son could still feel the fire going on under his feet. The only thing for miles around were half-melted boulders and rocks in a pattern that made Red Son assume it had once been a stream or river of sorts. The fire had long since eaten up any water that had run through it previously. 

Mk blinked slowly, one eye closing and opening sooner than the other, a little off-beat.  

“I know that,” Red Son snapped. “That’s why we’re going somewhere else.” 

“Uhhhh…” said Mei. “Where… exactly?” 

“I don’t have time to explain,” Red Son threw up his hands. “Ugh. Just- stand up, fool.” 

Mei rolled her eyes but she did as she was told. 

“Give me some fire.” 

Mei blinked. “Huh?” 

“Fire. Just-” Red Son sighed. “Just light the rings.” 

“Oooookay…” Mei said slowly. She closed her eyes and after a moment the rings above her flickered to life. 

Without missing a beat, Red Son snatched a bit of flame from the rings. Mei made a little surprised sound, leaning forward curiously. He tried not to bask under her clear admiration. He may not have been able to create his own fire now that it had been stripped from him, but he could still wield it just fine. 

…In small amounts at least. 

“Cool…” Mei said as she watched him draw the circle of flame on the ground. 

“This,” Red Son said, “is a gateway. It will take us outside of the range of the fire, but only for a temporary time. Then we will be transported back here.” 

“So… it's like… yo-yo teleportation?” Mk asked, glancing over Mei’s shoulder to see the circle. 

Red Son spluttered. “What? That-that is an offensively simple way to put it-” 

“But he’s not wrong,” Mei interrupted with a grin. 

Red Son contemplated throwing them both into the circle and then running away, but that would simply be foolish and separate him from his fire. Instead he cursed their ashes under his breath and finished drawing the spell out. 

“Do you want food or not?” He gritted out. 

That at least got them moving into the circle and shutting their mouths. At least temporarily. 

“Let’s go, Sifu Samadhi,” Mei said. 

“I hope the saying of mortals melting in these portals is true for you two,” he said before activating it. 

“Wait,” Mk said. What-?” 

The portal burst into flames.

| beginning | next |

[itisjustfei]

Day 18: thirty facts about myself

Waduh, banyak amat yak, tapi gw coba dulu deh.

1. Height: ±160 cm

2. Weight: varies, but usually around 40-50

3. Hair color: black

4. Eyes: brown

5. Gigi yg udah dicabut 4

6. Umur 4 bulan udah tumbuh gigi

7. Pernah hampir kena tumor

8. People say I looked intimidating

9. Kata mereka jg setelah deket dan ngobrol, oh ternyata agak sedikit gila ya (true testimoni)

10. Coklat is lyfe.

11. Lemak berlebih langsung bikin jerawat

12. My go to outfit: kaos oblong + celana kain

13. Hyperfixation is my middle name

14. Pernah punya rambut panjang sepantat

15. Lebih suka rambut model cepak karena oh God having a long hair is such a pain

16. Pacaran pertama kelas 2 SD

17. Latest breakup almost 9 years ago

18. Boyfriend count: 2

19. Aquarius Sun Pisces Moon

20. I cook, but only if I wanted to.

21. Can speak: Indonesian, Sundanese

22. Can read: Indonesian, Sundanese, English, Korean alphabet, partially japanes hiragana & katakana (last two only can read, doesn't mean I understand them)

22. When I was around 7-10 yrs old, had shoplifting stuff

23. Straight, or as the scale say, I was accidentally do gay things

24. Caffeinated drinks is a must

25. Currently in a dire need (want) of an ereader

26. I do have marriage in mind, just don't like to be settled just to anyone

27. I wear glasses, but mostly don't.

28. My username cames from first syllables of my first name, I get creative beyond that

29. A middle child, only daughter.

30. Very much indecisive.

[shardkeeperwip]

Thirty Days, Thirty Lines Day 1:

Well I did actually manage to write today, so here we go under the cut! (From Draft 2 of Shardkeeper).

“All right. I think we need a plan,” said Paige. “Regardless of who’s after Shard, we know we don’t need it camping out in Rebecca. And anyway, if those guys are still poking around at our troop it’s only a matter of time before they get some sort of lead. So what we need is a new body for Shard. Once it’s out of our hair, it can figure out its own plans.”

“We were thinking of a shell,” said Shard. They lifted my right arm to gesture to Alma. “Like yours.” Alma recoiled.

“I’m using mine, thanks.”

“I’m sure Reb – Shard was just using yours as an example,” said Paige. “We were kind of hoping you’d know how we might find a spare?”

Alma sighed. Once again I thought about how her shell didn’t actually breathe.

“Do you two need me for everything?”

[mrsnobodyimportant]

Writing challenge Day 18: Thirty facts about myself

I'm a grammar freak. It triggers me when something's written wrong, be it a missing apostrophe or a mistake in general.

I love poetic writing. No not poems. Writing that feels like poems.

I'm very forgetful, like I forget everything. That's why my whole room is covered with notes.

I always watch/read multiple things at the same time and sometimes get some stuff confused.

I have a bad feeling of what time it is, so it makes me nervous not knowing the time.

I can get annoyed very easily, but I often don't show it.

I can have very bad mood swings. Like one moment I'm annoyed and the other moment I'm the sweetest person you've ever met.

I'm a respectful person. You have a different opinion? Cool, I respect it.

If I show my serious side with you, it means I fully trust you.

When I text you that I'm fine, then I'm definitely not. I'm crying.

I joke about serious stuff sometimes.

I'm always tired, no matter how much I slept.

I get headaches and nosebleeds very often, so be prepared for that.

I can't do sport because of a medical condition, but I will go in walks with you.

I'm not religious,but I love churches and graveyards because of their atmosphere and if I take you there then it means you're either one of my best friends or I have a crush on you.

I have books everywhere in my room. On my desk, my nightstand, my wardrobe, my shelves and so on.

I always wear long pants, no matter the temperature.

I care very much about my little sister.

Don't have money? No worries I'll give you some and you don't have to pay me back.

I hate long driving, because it makes me dizzy.

I tend to roast people I don't like at the most random times.

I love languages and I'll randomly talk another language in a conversation because I can.

I'll send you my writing whenever I can. It's kinda a way to show that I care about you.

I always carry paper and a pen with me to write down things. Yet, I always ask for a piece of paper at school.

I love matching pfp.

If you tell me about a game/movie/series/anime/game/etc. that I don't know, I'll try to found out about it as much as I can so I can talk to you about it.

I'm supportive<3

If you're my friendz you're automatically my child. Accept it.

I'll send you homework if you ask for it, because I'm nice.

My handwriting is terrible tho, like nobody can read it.

[31-daysofhorror]

It's the Final Day of 31 Days of Horror!

Today's prompt is: Epilogue

Check out this month's prompts here!

[thearcreflector]

The 30-Day Write Challenge

Day Six

Imagine a world where dreams are tangible and can be traded like currency.

[visionsofmagic]

day 6: roronoa zoro [cock warming]

࿓ synopsis • you ask to zoro whether he needs any help or not, and in return, he makes you sit on his cock so that it can get warm while he’s sleeping.

―❦ nsfw, opla!zoro, f!reader, reader is being needy & brat, pussy slapping, pet names, teasing, swearing, ‘is all! • 1.2k • a man that takes all my attention to himself in an instant in every type of universe; live action, manga, and anime. I chose to write for la!zoro version ‘cause why not? enjoy, hope I did everything right! [kinktober m.]

“stop moving, you're distracin' me.”

his deep voice cuts your actions of trying to stay still on his lap, adjusting your position so that your numb legs will fix, but, the struggle causes your pussy to clench around his length because of sudden movement which ends up by earning an unsteady thrust. looking at his face, hands gripping the collar of his sleeve, you see his closed eyes, trying to continue the nap he’s taking in the middle of the day.

 “sorry –“ you say, smiling innocently knowing he cannot see, “I didn’t mean to, it’s just –“ you try to find a solid word to describe the situation you’re in now but the weight of lust running through your pussy takes your brain away, wanting to break free, letting yourself go and wasting the last thirty-four minutes waste, waking zoro up, being a greedy brat – only to make him not sleep, instead, fuck you. “so much.”

you can’t bring yourself to say what you’re thinking aloud – just fuck me already! Just move this thick cock and fill me up! – pathetic.

you’re here, sitting down on his cock, warming it, being useful.

the moment of the morning came into your mind; the crew went to bring food and new clothes to the ship, and when they left, only you and zoro were on the ship, you said ‘I wanna be useful for you’ because he’s still healing and you wanted to help – anything, you added, which was a bad idea – maybe, it wasn’t that bad though.

zoro, being a greedy boyfriend even if he tries to hide it, decided to make you a useful one – for his damn cock – to warm it up!

“so much?” he teases you, taking you back to reality, making the sensation on your pussy grow bigger each passing time, moving his hips, acting as if he just adjusts his position like you did minutes ago – only this time, it’s an act – to try you, seeing how much you can handle this. folding his arms, he opens his eyes slowly, an eyebrow is raised, questioning, “what’s so much? I even didn’t begin to fuck you, did I, doll?”

opening your legs wider, challenging him, a whimper leaves your mouth yet zoro doesn’t show any sign of being greedy to fuck you – oh, what self-control!

but you’re not done yet. “it seems you will never do,” you say, shrugging, hands on his shoulder building up to his neck, playing with the hair on his neck – the most breathtaking man you have ever seen – he’s so beautiful that you would beg anytime now but you should try first – to break him into the point in which he will let himself go and move his hips. “I know I am here for the help – to warm your cock,” you point to the sight in front of him – your pussy beautifully covering his thick cock, wetness that comes out of you soaking his veined length. “am I helping?”

opening his arms, he puts them behind his head’s back instead as he leans to the wall of the chair you’re sitting on – eyes travel from your tight pussy to your face, meeting with your innocent smile and sparkling eyes.

“u-huh,” he says, trying to understand where you’re heading with this question, because he knows you well enough to realize you want him to move, yet stubborn and prideful to beg, not until the right moment which zoro waits to arrive. “warming my cock so well that I can feel you dripping into it – hot.”

nodding to him, heat rushes to your face at the sudden compliment, making you gain a confident manner, and continue on with your act; being a fucking brat, using his jealousy to achieve your goal – you would feel bad under other circumstances but not today, not when you want him to devour you – he’s hard to resist, and you’re so greedy to be a good girl.

“anything for my crewmate,” not boyfriend – a crewmate. it takes his attention, eyes on your face, daring you to go on with piercing gazes, jaw getting tight, straight face expression that screams danger. it only turns you on further. “I will make sure to provide my service to the captain as well than because he can need – agggh – zoro –!”

your words are cut by him; raising your body up a little until his tip releases you, and then, without missing a heartbeat, putting it down on his length, thrusting into your dozy pussy, earning a scream out of your mouth.

holding his shoulder tightly, you try to stay in balance while he keeps doing that without any particular rhythm and steadiness so that you get cockdumbed mind right away – all dizzy, just moaning, feeling him shoving his dick into you, balls hitting the ass – finally!

“is this what you wanted, brat?” he asks, hands open your skirt by damaging its buttons, nearly tearing it apart, cupping the breasts through the fabric of your bra before letting them watch how they bounce in sync with your body, raising up and down on his cock with more rapid pace now – devouring you – the things you wanted for a long time. “want me to break that pussy, pretty doll – ohhh – uhmm – y/n – you – you will fuckin’ get it!”

his hands are positioned on your waist, looking down, seeing your clit getting wider with each of his hard and strong thrusts, warming it with all the juices you make – you literally soak now, close to the edge, and zoro smirks at you the moment he hears the crew entering the ship.

his possessive and rough side takes control of his mind – his soul as he picks you up, you already begin to beg for him to put his cock inside, pleases coming out of your parted pink lips that you bite so hard. you let him turning your body, abdomen touching the surface of the bed, cock’s tip resting on the entrance of your pussy, then, he slaps it with his dick, a hand finds your neck, putting your face down onto the pillow – his body hovering behind you as your ass gets higher and higher.

it feels so vulnerable to be in this position as if you’re his own fucktoy to play with, and you can’t deny the fact that even the thought of it can make you cum in an instant.

“zoro – aggh – I –“ you try to say when his dick slaps your clit once again, your body jumps – feeling both shy and shameless at the same time but he cuts you out, cock enters you in one go, jolting your body forward.

“cut it. you don’t want to waste your breath now, you will need it when I make you scream my name enough to make all the crew hear it,” he chuckles – the rings of danger echo inside your head, making you look behind and see him; standing on his knees, eyes on your face, a smirk is visible that gives chill down to your spine at the sight – his glory has one meaning – is that he will not leave this room until others – and your brat brain understands only he can have you like this.

“will make sure everyone knows who’s fuckin’ you day and night, including you, you dumb doll. should’ve learned it sooner, but, I’m always open to teaching you how to be a good fuckin' girl for me.”

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina & @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear *cuties*

[reiderwriter]

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC. 

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future. 

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field. 

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe). 

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.” 

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all. 

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat. 

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab. 

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?” 

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly. 

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder. 

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes. 

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things. 

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused. 

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen. 

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general. 

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies. 

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face. 

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day. 

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.  

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way. 

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips.  When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping  his bag a little tighter to him. 

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.” 

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” 

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away. 

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk. 

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.” 

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent. 

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable. 

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional. 

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence. 

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading. 

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time. 

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.”  He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him. 

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply. 

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away. 

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.  

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could. 

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond. 

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?” 

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space. 

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen. 

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you. 

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office. 

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt. 

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat. 

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you  grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention. 

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same. 

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer. 

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.” 

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line? 

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you. 

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move. 

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before. 

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face. 

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again. 

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist,  and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now. 

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat. 

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed. 

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?” 

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove. 

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now 

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.  

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.  

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind. 

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day. 

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?”  You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him. 

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands.  Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands. 

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night. 

-X-

[minarisplaything]

High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung

Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.4k Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7 Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody

Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.

Or maybe that was just you.

When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.

All this was to say it wasn’t easy.

But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.

“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.

You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.

Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.

“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.

“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”

“So you follow them?”

“Them?”

“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.

One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.

You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.

That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.

It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.

“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”

“Oh, I remember.”

You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.

“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.

“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”

You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”

“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.

The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.

“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”

“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”

She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.

“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.

By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.

“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”

Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.

“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”

Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.

If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.

Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.

"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."

Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."

She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."

Oh.

You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.

"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.

A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.

"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.

Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.

"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.

"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.

There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.

"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."

"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.

"Is the princess feeling full?"

"So, so full…" she cooed.

"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.

You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.

You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.

A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.

"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."

She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.

"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"

One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.

"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."

Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.

"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"

It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."

You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.

"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""

You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.

Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.

Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.

After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.

"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."

You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."

Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.

"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.

Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.

"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."

A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[inlocusmads]

Tightly Knotted To A Similar String

A thirty day writing challenge project:

Day Two, Three, Four: Write a scene without dialogue; write using the words: kitchen, music and date; write about your MC's personal style.

The importance of pockets is discussed as a strange man interrupts Ethan, Jane and their dinner.

Featuring: Ethan Ramsey, Jane Fletcher & Unnamed Man from Open Heart.

No Warnings/Teen and Up Audiences

WC: 1.4k

Jane had put her entire life in her pocket; knowing that wherever she dug and however she did it, she’d find something new and bold. It just sort of happens, because she never bothered to clean her pockets out. And if she was really lucky, she’d find all sorts of useful tools and tinkering material sitting in jumbled clamps; with the pocket wide enough for her to put even the largest of knives in. 

Everyday, she donned on a dark full-sleeved shirt, well-done with collars and buttons. She’d tuck it in her ankle-length formal pants - which was at a wonky little length that was a tad bit smaller for her, but she couldn’t do much about it. Everyday, she walked in as strict as a sailor with her hair coarsely cut to reduce the ruffly curls and left with a pair of old-looking scrubs; a dockworker. 

Ah, but the pockets. One such incident involving the fantastic use of her pockets involved her and a horrible confrontation and it went as follows:

There was a date.

 In fact, it had been a date or well, whatever you’d call two people going out for a brief period of time, getting something to eat and chatting over pointless air-filling subjects and in this case, even though they were good friends and had everything in the world to talk about, Ethan and Jane stuck with the familiars: how good the food was at La Cuisine de Fougère and how Ethan knew a person who knew another person who was best friends with the brother of the owner, Fern Devereaux and how she’d brought about a culinary revolution to the downtown area of Boston with her European fusion cuisines and so on. Jane spotted a Monet painting, specifically a copy of the Rouen Cathedral in Normandy and she was on and on about it- the impressionist and modern eras and World War Two and D-Day to which Ethan was grateful for.

And there’d been a man. He seemed to be tapping his feet to the slow, mellow New York-esque jazz they played in the background.

A tall one; possibly a little shorter compared to Jane herself, who was nothing short of a wardrobe anomaly herself (she was going to need to manually stitch her clothes if she’d ever run out of them). Ethan noticed the man was sort of lingering around, keeping an eye on them. He didn’t mind. For one, he could be drunk or worse, he could’ve possibly seen him from the papers and elsewhere. After all, he was a bit of a celebrity himself and there wasn’t a day he couldn’t get by without someone recognising him.

A minute passed. Jane had her hands in her pockets as they waited for their main course. 

He seemed to be looking at her. She didn’t notice him.

An ex-partner? Ethan’s mind was running against his own wishes at this point. Jane was going into specifics regarding Monet’s paintings and brushes and oil pastels and so on and he only pretended to listen, while he tightened his attention to the mirror behind the bar - directly in front of him. The mirror was perfect because he could see the Man without turning his head and looking at him. 

The waiter brought their main course. Jane had ordered herself a vegan pasta dish and Ethan stuck with something adventurous - well, as adventurous as maple-dijon chicken could get. They took a sip of their waters and talked as they ate, because that seemed to be the norm. Nobody’s ever heard of a date that went without any talking, even though they’d rather prefer that than filling the air with pointless information. Jane knew Ethan didn’t care much for art. Ethan knew Jane didn’t care much for French cooking.

By that time, the man had advanced a little closer. Ethan could finally get a good glance at him. 

His coat had a lot of pockets.

He had a mess of brown hair and had grey eyes; a scar across his chin. And before Ethan could swallow down his bite of chicken, the man had arrived at their table; clutching a champagne bottle he’d nicked (which Ethan didn’t see) from one of those cooling stands with the ice buckets and stuff. He’d appeared swiftly as he’d arrived, his short dark cloak hanging loosely.

Jane instantly recognised the face. Instantly, her hands dug into her pockets pulling out any random thing she could find and fortunately, she’d been very lucky that day; for her hands found the presence of a sleek Swiss knife with its five attachments for maximum slashing action. She stood up, holding the crooked end of the small penknife against him like a sword. The Man gently placed the champagne bottle on the table.

For a moment, there was some heavy breathing.

Ethan could tell that they were not going to get along very well.

“Hello.”

“No. Go away.”

“I’m-- I’m just here to--”

The man had an accent which was vaguely similar to that of a Scottish one. 

“Champagne--”

“No.”

“You’re with a friend?” he asked.

Jane nodded. Ethan felt a twinge of dejection, but he didn’t show it.

“Couldn’t have picked a more wrong time.” he chuckled a little. “Erm- could you just-- put the knife down, please?” - and he lowered his voice a little, “In ieders belang, Jane. Laten we gewoon niet overal een grote ophef over maken.” (For everyone's sake, Jane. Let's just not make a big fuss about everything)

“Zes jaar! Zes jaar absoluut geen contact! Je neemt niet de moeite om met me te praten. Je hebt Ma en Pa niet eens gebeld!” (Six years! Six years of absolutely no contact! You don't bother to talk to me. You didn't even call Ma and Pa!)

Ethan could sense it was Dutch. Which explained the Scottish-like accent perhaps, or the fact that the man was rolling his “rs” a lot. He put his fork down, not knowing where to stare. Should he look at them? Should he open the champagne and pour this man a drink? Should he get up and get himself involved or mitigate the disagreement? He couldn’t understand Dutch very well, but he did pick up on a few words. “Zes” means six. “Geen contact” would probably mean “no contact”.

“Ik was op zoek naar een baan! Ze zouden me daar niet terugbrengen. Niemand deed het. Ma en Pa hielpen me ook niet. In godsnaam, ze lieten me niet eens binnen!” (I was looking for a job! They wouldn't take me back there. Nobody did. Mom and Dad didn't help me either. For God's sake, they wouldn't even let me in!)

“Waarom ben je hier?” (Why are you here?)

“Ik kan niet terug naar Canada. Ma en pa en ik, we spreken niet met elkaar. Ik kan ook niet terug naar Groningen, want ik ben blut en Clemence kan ons niet alle twee onderhouden. Ik heb een baan nodig en -- nou, jij bent hier.” (I can't go back to Canada. Mom and Dad and I, we don't speak. I can't go back to Groningen either, because I'm broke and Clemence can't support both of us. I need a job and -- well, you're here.)

Jane slowly lowered her knife down. She gave him a stern glare before pocketing it. Of course, she didn’t want to threaten him like that, but he gave her no choice. What surprised her most wasn’t his arrival, but the sheer swiftness with which she was able to withdraw whatever that existed in her pocket, use it as a way for him to open up because he never did. And she couldn’t blame him either.

“Ethan, this is Hugo. He’s my brother. Younger one. ”

“Erm- hallo.”

“Hello. It’s nice to meet you.” Ethan drew a hand. Hugo gently shook it. “Would you like to join us for dinner?”

“No, I must get going. I have to get to my hotel.”

He dropped his hands into his pockets.

“You two have a good dinner.” he nodded, before politely taking his leave, not long before he turned around.

“Nice coat,” he said. “Is that one of mine?”

“Yours wouldn’t fit a rat. This is from a street shop.”

“Well, it has some fantastic pockets. You still keep a knife, though? Don’t tell me you’ve still got a spoon.”

Jane didn’t say much. She graced him with a short smile. “Phone me later.”

“Once I get a phone and a working phone plan, I will.”

Hugo had his entire life sorted in his pockets too. Perhaps it was a family thing but his Ma and Pa were more into suitcases and neat bags than putting faith in the Unknown, like say in a good pocket in a good coat or a shirt that looked nice. It was a trick he’d picked up from his older sister after years of watching her nick things from people and hastily putting them in places he would’ve never guessed. He’d seen her stuff all sorts of strange instruments in her pockets (kitchen spoons, boxes of taffy and needles and pins) and Ma and Pa would never notice and hence, after all those years, he’d gotten himself a decent coat with lots of them. 

Possibly enough to say, to hold an entire champagne bottle inside, for example.

____

A/N: Here's a little background history for Hugo that I ended up tweaking a little:

Hugo served in the Canadian military as a part-time combat engineer. Now he's out of a job and his engineering degree is useless without knowing the right contacts. His parents are a tad bit homophobic (even though they're fine with it, they're stiff in accepting him as their son) and he'd lost contact with them for nearly six years, including Jane, his sister. He spent several of those flying in and out of the Netherlands and living with their cousin, Clemence before she couldn't support the two of them anymore.

I'll definitely be writing more Jane/Hugo-centric stories very soon.

Tag List:

30 Day challenge: @jerzwriter

Perma: @quixoticdreamer16 @writing-not @trappedinfanfiction @tessa-liam

Open heart only: @cariantha @jerzwriter @ofmischiefandmedicine

(I ended up combining the prompts for Day 2, 3 and 4 because I didn't have time to write them out, one at a time! Hope that's all right!)

[iateyourparents]

wiping kisses | c.b.

pairing: colby brock x fem!reader

summary: you decide to prank your boyfriend with wiping his kisses.

warnings: use of y/n, bad writing and grammar(i’m sorry, english is not my first language)

an: i present to you colby’s version of wiping kisses! here’s sam’s version!

pictures are from pinterest:)

Your plan wasn’t exactly easy but you were determined. Your goal was to prank Colby.

You saw a tik tok where a girl pranked her boyfriend by wiping places where he kissed her. And you decided that you need to try it on Colby.

One thing about your boyfriend was that he was very affectionate. One of his love languages was touch and kisses so you knew he probably wouldn’t like you wiping his kisses. But you still decided to tease him.

You already knew it wouldn’t be an easy task - hell, you loved kissing him as much, if not more, as him, so just a single thought about wiping those places was difficult.

But you liked challenges so why not?

So here you were, sitting on a couch and busying yourself on your phone while Colby was editing in your sharing bedroom. You knew him like the back of your hand and from his groaning coming from upstairs you knew that no longer than five minutes later he will come to you, ask what to order for lunch and sit next to you just to ‘sneakily’ make his way into your arms.

It always looked like this on his days off.

True to your words, whole two minutes later he was hovering over you with his phone in hand.

“I will order lunch for us. What would you like?” he asked.

“What about some pasta?” you looked at him with smile which he reciprocated and nodded.

“Sounds good to me, baby.” then he sat next to you and started ordering on his phone “Should be here in thirty.” he stated.

“Alright, do you want something to drink?” you asked quickly when he tried to kiss your cheek and then you stood up and started making your way to the kitchen.

“Water, please.” you heard him shouting from other room.

You took water and your favorite drink from refrigerator and made your way back to Colby.

When you gave him his bottle and sat next to him, he thanked you quietly and kissed your cheek.

It took everything in you to lift your hand and wipe the place off.

Colby didn’t seem to notice anything weird and just placed his hand around your shoulders, leaning into you.

Next time he kissed you was maybe five minutes later. He just lifted his head from your shoulder and kissed said shoulder. And this time he noticed you wiping it since you had to change position to reach your hand there. He furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing when you hugged him again.

Couple of minutes later and he placed his arms around your waist to lift you and place you on his laps so now you were straddling him.

You placed your hands behind his neck but didn’t do anything else even though you knew he wanted you to start a kiss. He finally was done with waiting and started placing little kisses all around your face and when he stopped and you wiped all places he touched with his lips, he knew something was off but decided to keep quiet and see what will you do next.

But when you did nothing apart from smiling softly at him, he placed a delicate kiss on your lips just to deepen it a moment later. You reciprocated it but literally a second after you stopped kissing you wiped off your lips with the back of your hand.

“Is everything okay love?” you could see concern in his eyes.

“Yeah, why?” you asked innocently.

He shrugged “I don’t know, you seem…kinda off?”

“No, I’m okay.” you assured with a smile and laid your head on his shoulder.

He still wasn’t convinced but decided to just kiss side of your head. Again, you wiped it.

“Okay, what did I do?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and tilted it “What do you mean?”

“You’re wiping my kisses off..” he whined.

“I do not?” you faked confusion.

“Y/n.” his ton was lower and you knew you were testing his patience.

“What?”

“Stop it” he kissed your nose and when you tried to reach your hand there he caught your hand in the air then doing the same to your other hand “What’s going on?”

“Nothi…”

“Don’t even try lying love.” he interrupted you and you pouted. Well, you kind of achieved your goal, he was irritated but you also felt bad seeing him upset.

“Alright” you smiled softly kissing his nose “I saw this prank with wiping kisses on tik tok and decided to do it on you.”

Colby analyzed your words and then shook his head with small smile.

“You’re lucky I love you so much because right now I want to throw you into cold water.” you only laughed at that. Then you kissed him and well, he no longer could found it in himself to even try to be mad at you.

[icanhearcolors]

I really love the idea of Tav drawing Astarion to show him what he looks like, could you maybe write something about that? ^-^

Hiiiiii! I can indeed thank you for the request :b

Welcome back to another episode of Abby tries to write something short and can't make it less than two thousand words.

EVERYBODY LOOK AT THIS GIF CUZ KJNKBJHGFRRETFO

Sorry I think I got possessed for a second there

Word count: 2.1k

The night sky had never been this gorgeous in the city. In Baldur’s Gate, the upper city was illuminated by mage lights that adorned the cobblestone paths. The light was bright enough that the citizens split into two factions, the night life and the day. Even those without dark vision could operate solely at night in total comfort if they chose to. In the lower city, fires were always burning, sending plumes of rich smelling smoke into the air constantly, obscuring the night sky.

But out here, under the blue light of a full moon, you can see every star and constellation in vivid detail. A soft purr-like snore hums against your back, and you brush a hand over the downy feathers of the owlbear cub you rescued from the goblins. He was getting so big. If he gets half as big as his mother was it is going to become a challenge to travel with him. It’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make. Besides, you could always cast the reduction spell on him in a pinch if any problem arose. He sleeps curled around your back, alongside his friend Scratch the dog, whose fluffy white head is resting in your lap.

The campfire crackles a few yards ahead as Wyll adds a few logs, humming a Baldurian tune you recognize but can’t quite recall the name of.

For the first time since the nautiloid crash you feel peaceful. Safe.

You turn your gaze to Astarion’s tent, probably for the thousandth time tonight, and stare at his profile as he flips through the pages of the seemingly sentient necromancy tomb you had discovered a few tendays prior. A faint green light curls from the pages like mist, illuminating half his face and casting the rest in shadow. You’d never really understood the saying “so beautiful it hurts'' until you met Astarion. An unknown emotion compresses your chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe sometimes when you look at him. You think it started out as empathy. Every detail of Astarion’s story he revealed to either warn you about vampires or shock you for his own amusement painted a picture of a horrific life full of trauma and misery that you found hard to reconcile with your enigmatic companion. He was always the first to crack a joke. He laughed loudly and on a constant basis. From an outsider’s view he’d appear almost carefree. Happy even. You wondered now how much of that laughter was real, and how much of it was the armor he’d donned a couple hundred years ago when he breached the surface of his own grave. You recall a conversation you had with him a while back about vanity. In his two hundred and forty years, give or take, he’d only been able to see his reflection for thirty nine. An incredibly young age to die for a high elf, and a small fraction of his life-span. Even if any fuzzy memory remained of that past life, it was no longer accurate anyway. 

He was something different now. 

Your eyes slide to your pack. You had found something yesterday- something rare indeed. A merchant selling art supplies outside of the city. You had everything you needed to give Astarion something you took for granted every day. His reflection.

Slowly, both as to not disturb your sleeping friends and not alert the elf in question to your actions, you slip a hand inside the bag. Your fingers find a pencil easily, the paper next, and you begin to draw. At first you draw him as he is, using his current unmoving form as a model, but you had been quite the artist in your time in Baldur’s gate, and you finished that drawing almost too quickly. So, you draw him again from memory, this time with his head thrown back, face scrunched with laughter. Then you draw his frown, his smirk, the condescending expression he so often gives Gale, the softer one you don’t quite understand that he reserves for you. You don’t hide or downplay his vampiric traits. You draw him exactly as he is, blending colored chalk to capture every shade of red in his eyes. Time falls away as you lose focus on everything but your work. Eventually, some time much later, the cramps in your muscles wake you from your trance. You stretch, and your knees, shoulders, and spine crack loudly. Scratch wakes up, stands, shakes himself off, and trots into the bushes. Your owlbear notices, and trills a soft sound before standing too, following him into the woods. You smile as you watch them amble off, happy they get along so well. You turn back to your drawings and examine them with new eyes. You expected to feel excitement, pride maybe, but instead a cold feeling ties your insides in knots as you realize you can never give these to Astarion. The drawings are some of your best work, but they’re also… reverential. A glimpse of Astarion through your eyes. Anyone who saw them would think you had drawn your lover, not your less-than-trusting involuntary traveling companion. He would take one look and realize exactly what you’ve been hiding from him since- well since you met him. You were infatuated with the vampire, and somehow, miraculously, despite the fact that you’d slept with him once already,  he seemed to be unaware.

He was going to find out.

You eye the campfire, half tempted to toss the whole pad of paper into it.

In your panic you turn your gaze toward Astarion’s tent.

He’s not there. 

His tent is open, and no one is inside it. You can see that from here. 

Somehow- maybe it’s the tadpole, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with the rogue, you realize you know exactly where he is.

Slowly, as if to avoid instigating an attack from a stalking predator, you turn your head to find Astarion standing behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Even though you were expecting it, you still startle out of your skin. Astarion drops to his knees on the ground in front of you and claps his hand over your mouth just in time to muffle your screech. You both look at eachother with wide eyes before turning slowly and in unison towards a sleeping Lae’zel. She’s frowning in her sleep, which isn’t unusual for her. She twitches, and then rolls over to her other side, sound asleep. You sigh in relief, through your nose because your mouth is still covered by Astarion’s hand. You swat it away and throw him a withering glare.

“What the in the hells is wrong with you?” You whisper-shout.

Astarion presses his lips together and turns his head away from you for a moment, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“Oh yeah, laugh it up. If she’d woken up we’d be dead right now.”

“Look it’s not my fault you weren’t paying attention. You haven’t moved in almost four hours, I wanted to know what you could possibly be writing.”

You clutch the drawing pad to your chest and swallow nervously, eyes darting around for any glimpse of something you can use to distract him.

Unfortunately as you’ve come to realize, regardless of what they used to be, once turned vampires become lethal predators. Astarion sees your darting eyes, catches the scent of your fear, and you see the shift in his demeanor. 

His movements become slower, more fluid, as he tilts his head in malicious curiosity.

He reminds you sometimes of the big cats that roam the mountains of Faerûn. Once something captures his attention, there’s little use in trying to pull him off the hunt.

Still, you’re going to try.

“I’m not writing.”

His eyes flick to your hands, dusted in red powder, then back up. He hums.

“Drawing then. What have you been drawing Tav?” 

His voice is darker now. Persuasive. 

“It’s- uh… personal.”

Astarion lowers himself fully to the ground and stretches his legs out in front of him, leaning back on his arms. 

“A personal drawing?” He purrs, “Well now I have to see it.”

“No-” You cover your face with your hand, “That’s not what I meant and you know that Astarion.”

A moment of silence passes, so you lift your hand away from your face.

Astarion is gazing at you with that unknown expression again. His eyes look earnest, a soft smile on his lips, when he speaks the words that are your undoing.

“You can trust me, Tav. I already know how talented you are, you don’t have anything to worry about. Just show me.”

You sigh, and his smile grows. He knows he’s won.

Bastard.

“Fine you can see my drawings, but I need to tell you-”

The drawing pad is already out of your hands, your permission apparently all that was keeping Astarion from snatching it away from you.

Your heart stops at his first look at the paper. He stills, flipping through the drawings slowly, his eyes tracing every detail with excruciating slowness.

Finally, he puts you out of your misery.

“I-” He clears his throat, not meeting your eyes. “These are...”

He grips the paper tightly when you attempt to take the drawing pad back from him. You’re confused, and a little… well actually very hurt for a reason beyond your understanding.

Does he hate it? Did you overstep?

“What are you thinking?”

Astarion finally looks at you, his expression guarded. He points to the drawings.

“Who is this?”

Oh.

You’re shocked silent. You should have anticipated this. Of course Astarion wouldn’t recognize himself in your drawings. That was the entire reason you drew him in the first place.

“He’s um-” You fall silent again.

Astarion looks both terrified and heartbreakingly hopeful. You’re sure he already knows the answer. You’ve spoken to him at length about what he is. You know that he knows he’s the only vampire spawn you’ve ever met, and you’ve been traveling together without much separation ever since.

He still needs to hear you say it.

You stare at your wringing hands in your lap and take a deep breath.

“I remembered that conversation we had about how you don’t know what you look like, you just have to go off of what other people tell you, and I bought these art supplies earlier and I haven’t drawn in so long, I used to all the time but with everything that’s going on- and I meant to just draw you once but I wanted you to know what you looked like when you smiled too and then I got a little carried away I’m so-”

You don’t hear him move. Your rambling speech stutters to a stop at the sensation of a hand on your cheek. Astarion hooks his thumb under your chin and lifts your head just enough to press his lips to yours.

Your eyes widen in surprise and then flutter closed. All thoughts cease, replaced by a languid warmth that melts you into a puddle on the ground.

You tilt your head and kiss him back, a tingling sensation racing down your spine. His hand slides from your cheek into your hair, and he gently pulls your head back, deepening the kiss in a way that steals the air from your lungs.

All too soon he pulls back, just a few inches, and smiles.

A real, genuine smile that shows his teeth and lights his eyes. You think you would do terrible terrible things to see that smile more often.

He brings his other hand up to frame your face, holding you in place as if he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Thank you.” He says simply, his voice hoarse.

“This is a gift. I won’t forget it.”

He repeats the words he said to you what feels like centuries ago, the night you found out he was a vampire and agreed to feed him. 

“You’re welcome.” Is all you can think to say.

With absolutely no warning at all Astarion drops his hands to your shoulders and yanks you toward him just in time. A pillow, rather violent in its velocity, grazes the back of your head in its catapult into the forest. Somewhere in the dark woods, Scratch yelps.

“Next time it will be my sword Isticks”

Growls Lae’zel from her bed roll on the other side of the campfire.

You turn back to Astarion with an amused but also terrified expression, and he smiles knowingly, rolling his eyes.

He picks the drawings up off the ground from where they’d been scattered at some point and gathers them in one hand. He stands, hoisting you up with his free hand, and practically drags you across the camp to his tent.

You’ll have to draw him more often.

[diedoverahat]

Can you please please please write a smut FIC where reader and Mike is on the Night Shift and we end up thigh ridinggg!!!!

- ps we call him Mikey 😭😭😭

Body Language

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pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

word count: ofc it's 1.9k+

warnings: nsfw 18+

authors note: hi anon! thanks so much for the ask, i had so much fun writing it! hope you love it! mwah <333

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“About time you finally show up.”

Were the first words Mike heard as soon as he walked into the security office of Freddy’s. He sighed loudly, shrugging his rain coat off to hang it on the back of the door.

"Don't start," he said gruffly.

Mike turned to face you, your body leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed over your chest. You had a smug smile on your face. "I was starting to think you got too scared to come back."

Mike scoffed. "Don't get too excited," He deadpans. "I just had some trouble with the babysitter.”

You don't respond, only following him with your eyes as he walks over and sits down in the one office chair in-front of the monitors. Mike can tell you've been here for a while now, if the half-drunken water bottle and empty protein bar wrapper sitting on the desk is anything to go by.

He only just starts flipping through the different channels when you speak up again. "You're in my seat."

He doesn't look up from the screen when he replies. "You weren't sitting in it."

You scoff loudly, he can hear you push off the wall. The sound of your footsteps getting closer and closer as you walk toward him. "I was sitting in it for thirty minutes before you even got here."

"You sound like a child," He replies, swiveling around to face you. Your body is close enough to slightly loom over his seated form. "Just go get another chair from the dining room."

"No, I was here first. The comfy chair is mine," You press. "You go get a chair."

"Comfy chair" was definitely a stretch, the office chair was only slightly better than the dining chairs.

Mike stares at you for a moment before swiveling back to the monitors. "No." He says, completely dismissing you.

It's quiet for a moment, before you let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine." You state, with a small shrug before shoving between Mike and the desk and unceremoniously plopping down in his lap.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mike asks loudly, raising his hands up to avoid touching you. You've already gone back to work, idly flipping through the monitors like this is normal.

"You won't move, so you have to share." You say simply.

Mike stares daggers at your back, slowly placing his hands on either side of the chairs arm rests. "You're crazy." He mutters, but the last thing he's going to do is get up and let you win this weird ass game you've decided to challenge him to.

He tries his best to ignore you, he really does, but after a while he can feel his heart start to beat ever so slightly faster. Mike's not proud enough to admit that you're definitely attractive. He'd always thought that, even though you drive him crazy 90% of the time. You have a gorgeous face, and an amazing figure. Of course he would never tell you any of this, you would never let him hear the end of it.

So he doesn't, but on his lonelier nights, he lets his mind run rampant with visions of you on your knees, mouth open and waiting for his release. Or you on all fours, moans pouring out of your mouth uncontrollably as he thrusts in and out of your dripping cunt, hitting the spot inside you that makes you light up like a Christmas tree. Or you on your back, hands gripping his hair so tightly because you can't handle how good his mouth feels sucking on your clit.

Those nights are becoming more and more frequent these days, and he can never refrain from shoving his hand down his sleep shorts and fisting his hand over his hard cock furiously until he ruins his boxers.

Mike's brought back from his thoughts running rampant in his head by the mortifying realization that currently, with you mere inches away from his crotch, he's hard as a rock. It's not helping that all he can see is your silhouette directly sitting in front of him. Your curves fully on display, in your form fitting shirt and tight jeans. He can't help the way his eyes scan down your body. Greedily raking from your shoulders to your waist that tapers down to the swell of your ass sitting pretty inches away from his growing bulge.

Worst of all, you just won't stop fidgeting. Tiny, unconscious movements that jostle Mike just enough to make him feel his dick scrape against the zipper of his jeans. All he can do is stare, sweating bullets basically white-knuckling the chair in order to stay still, scared to even breathe too deeply.

Then it all goes to shit in a matter of seconds. You knock the water bottle off the desk trying to switch monitors, and when you go to pick it up you scoot back just the tiniest bit, but it's enough to grind your ass directly over his dick.

Immediately Mike has his hands tight around your hips, jerking you back up into a sitting position as quickly as he can. His whole body going rigid against the chair in embarrassment, eyes wide and mortified.

You're still too, back sitting up straight as a board. He's waiting for you to say something, to laugh at him, but you're silent. There's an apology on the tip of his tongue, when suddenly you push the chair out from the desk, sending you and Mike flying backwards. In a flash, you flip to face him sitting directly over his thigh. Slotting your knee between his legs and the chair.

Your pupils are blown, eyes swallowed almost entirely by black. "How long?" You ask, softly. It takes Mike a second for your words to break through the fog clouding his brain, but he's just confused. He tilts his head to this side in question, not trusting his voice to sound anything but fucked.

"How long were you sitting here with this," You specify what you're saying by pushing your knee more firmly against his hard dick, making Mike's hands spasm on your hips and choke out a soft whine. "Before you planned on doing anything with it?"

Mike can do nothing but blink up at you slowly. You look almost predatory, staring at him so fiercely he swears you can see his soul. You still haven't moved, he can feel the warmth radiating between your legs against his thigh. His hands jerk almost unconsciously, trying to get you to grind forward. You smile, looking down at your position splayed over his lap and back up to his face.

"What do you want?" You ask sweetly. "Do you want me to move, Mikey?"

Your words hit him like a truck, he moans loudly, nodding his head frantically. "Yeah? You want me to move?" You ask again, tipping into his personal space, hands flat on his chest. You lean forward, breath puffing out over his ear.

"Move me then." You hiss, directly into his ear.

Mike lets out a guttural groan, eyes snapping shut tightly. He wants to, so badly but he just can't.

"Come on Mikey," You goad, your eyes glassy. "Move me."

Mike opens his eyes, looking down at his grip on your hips. Ever so slightly, he shifts you forward. Your eyes flutter closed, lips parting to let out a small moan. Turns out that's all the encouragement Mike needs. He grinds you backward before roughly dragging you forward again. It's absolutely lewd.

"Fuck, Mike." You say breathlessly, chin dropping down to your chest, going completely pliable in his hands letting him move you. He can only stare incredulously at you, beyond shocked that this is really happening. He's waiting to jolt awake home alone in bed with a soiled pair of boxers at any moment.

But he doesn't, you're actually here. Sitting on his lap grinding a wet patch into his jeans. Mike hardly knows what to do with himself. Your body is warm between his hands, alive in ways he never thought to be possible. "Jesus," He whispers to himself, sweat dripping down his brow. “Fuck…!” Mike grits out, wrenching his head up to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t look”

He feels you falter the slightest bit, hips slowing down a fraction. “Why not?” You ask softly, a hint of insecurity puncturing your tough exterior.

“It’s too much,” Mike admits breathlessly, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t look or I’ll come in my pants.”

You let out a small shocked laugh, but it’s quickly drowned out by another moan. Your body trembles with pleasure. "Shit, faster…go faster," You mutter, taking it upon yourself to speed things up. Hips moving frantically on his thigh. Your knee is still slotted tightly to his now aching cock, he can feel every move you make. The friction feels amazing, it's taking everything in him not to hump up against your leg like a horny dog. The heat from your body feels scalding.

The absolute vision you make sends Mike's nerves quivering. He needs more. He brings his hands up to your face, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb gingerly. Your eyes open, looking back at him, not ceasing your movements.

"Can I?" He pants, hoping to god you understand what he's asking. It takes you a second, but eventually you nod. He tips forward and seals your lips with his. His fingers sliding into your hair to hold your head in place as he kisses you.

He takes control of the kiss, tongue brushing against your bottom lip. You part your lips willingly for him, letting his tongue explore your mouth. He greedily swallows your moans, groaning all the while.

You break the kiss first, only a string of saliva connects your lips before breaking under the pressure of gravity. Your lips are swollen and red, glossy from kissing.

“Oh god…” Your whimpers ghost over his lips, forehead resting on his. “Oh, god, Mikey…”

“Yeah,” Mike replies, voice deep and scratchy from lack of use, he rolls his hips up the tiniest bit. “Yeah that’s it…Fuck you look so pretty, so pretty for me.”

You nod, hips moving even faster than before, losing the rhythm you’d built up. Your hands fumble down to furiously unzip his hoodie, tearing the zipper down to reveal his plain white tank top underneath. Your hands greedily rake down his chest, nails brushing over his nipples making him whimper out moan.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck, Mike,” You whine, grip tightening into the meat of his chest. He can tell your close without you even saying it.

“Fuck yes, come, come on my thigh.” Mike begs, gripping your hips so tightly it could border on painful.

“Shit! Mikey, I’m gonna come,” Your eyes are screwed shut, sweat making your hair stick to your face.

“Do it.” He pleads, not taking his eyes off your face.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Mike can feel your nails digging crescent moons in his chest as you careen over the edge. Hips stuttering as you ride out your orgasm, he can almost feel the way your pussy trembles as you work yourself through the aftershocks, cut off little moans forcing their way out of your mouth. Your body finally gives out, tipping forward to lean on his chest, wet breaths puffing against his neck.

Mike follows suit, eyes dropping closed as he unloads into his boxer shorts making a second wet patch seep into his jeans. Hips twitching up every other second. He moans loudly into your hair, trying and failing to muffle his noises.

When you both come back down, it’s silent for a few moments as you both wrack your brains for what to say. As always, you’re the first one to speak up.

“So…” You say between panting breaths, he can feel you start to smile against his neck. “Same time tomorrow?”

Mike chuckles up at the ceiling, pinching your waist lightly.

“Fuck off.”

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taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz

[31-daysofhorror]

It's Day Thirty of 31 Days of Horror!

Today's prompt is: Nail

Check out the rest of this month's prompts here!

[thearcreflector]

The 30-Day Write Challenge

Day Five

Write about your biggest phobia, but make it sound adorable or lovable.

Ideas:

Mysophobia

Trypanophobia

Arachnophobia

Zuigerphobia

Nomophobia