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onelittlespiral · 5 months ago

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Hey hi! I've heard you've got some kind of offer or sale going on, not too sure what its about but I'd like to buy your services. My best friend is a bit of ladiesman jock type and he keeps complaining he can't find a good relationship. So I wanted to know if you could maybe turn him into less ladiesman and more men's man, maybe daddying him up a bit? So i could maybe get a chance with him, and he'd get the relationship he wants.

Subject: Order #100714

Dear Dopple,

Thank you for your recent purchase from The Spiral, home for all your transformation needs! Your order #100714 has been received and is on its way as we speak. Your order includes:

(1) Daddy_From_Friend(Best;Jock)

(1) Mystery(Self)

Expect delivery in 3-5 days. Please note that joint delivery is expected.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

We knew you’d come around and round and round and round…

It was only a few days later when you heard another notification come through from The Spiral. At the same time, you hear a knock at the door. You were glad for the interruption. It was nice to head over to your friends’s apartment and hang out for the weekend. But if you had to listen to him complain again about how tough the dating market was for a white, straight, good looking guy like him you were going to scream. Glancing at the notification for a package delivery to this address, you realize that it is probably about time for the show to begin. No need to interrupt the process. You dart into the restroom as you hear him pick up the package. As you close the door, a rip is heard outside, and as you lock it, a faint poof is heard. A faint fog creeps under the door crack. It smells like fresh grass and sandalwood. Another notification comes through, as The Spiral provides you with product details:

Due to selected target changes, we have elected for our rapid delivery transformation system to best meet your needs. Upon receipt, subject will open box and full product delivery will commence. A dense cloud of product will be released directly onto target and rapidly absorbed. Your friend will age to around 35, with associated physical changes. His previously smooth, young body will change rapidly. Skin is expected to tan, hairline recede, muscles grow, and body and facial hair develop. As the product is breathed in, expect tastes to change. Your new friend will prefer whiskey and beer drinks, along with the occasional cigar. As mental changes set in, they will find themselves drawn to care and maintenance hobbies, like regular workouts, yard work, renovations, cars, and sports. He will be drawn to jeans and beat up tennis shoes or boots, and only prefer to wear a polo when they must go into the office. At the same time, his mind will be filled with images of men. Men staring at him. Men holding onto him. Men worshiping him. This will start the final change, a libido adjustment. He will feel a deep need to fuck, to control his partners, and leave his seed planted deep inside them. The added girth and heavy sack will ensure he never underperforms. As he adjusts and embraces his new personality, he will settle and seek a single partner to fulfill his needs.

Thank you again for choosing The Spiral

You finish reading and unlock the bathroom door, running from the upstairs bedroom through your friend’s spacious house to meet him on the porch.

He is standing on the porch, a box still in hand, just as described. You didn’t know he could be more handsome, but he has aged like a fine wine. He takes one look at you and simply holds out the package in his hand,

“It’s for you.”

For you? You check the label and he is correct. You grab the box and he crosses his arms, waiting. Unsure what is inside, you open the package.

“Ah, good. Been waiting for these,” he snatches it from your hands and inspects the well-worn frames. You try to turn away, but he catches you in his arms,

“This should make you behave.” He takes the sunglasses and sticks them on your face. In an instant, the world is dark. And then a pair of screens flicker to life. As spiral fills your vision, you try to take them off. But your friend is holding you tight. You can’t resist it’s allure for long. It’s right. You do feel so sleepy. As it counts down from ten, your body begins to sway and relax. But you can’t bring yourself to mind. The spiral knows best. You fade away, held in the warm embrace of release and the strong arms of a man…

You come to laying in a bed that feels familiar and foreign all at once. You scratch at your beard and inspect the scene. Lube is left open on the bedside table. Tank tops, jeans, and boxers are strewn over the floor. A pillow is still wedged under you. Heh, still got it. You wander downstairs as you stretch your muscles and rub some sore muscles from the night before. You find him in the kitchen preparing some eggs. Your love. Your master. Your beast in the sheets. You sneak up behind and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Stop, you’ll make me burn them.”

You don’t listen. You plant a kiss on his cheek. He turns around, spatula in hand, and smacks your ass.

“Act your age, boy.”

Something in that statement hits a trigger. You remember something. A younger body. Slender, taut, pale. A firmer mind. Less corruptible, less controlled. Then, you feel an arm around you.

“You okay, cuz you look faint. Don’t break a hip old man.”

You stare at your husband and the world comes into focus. He smirks and gives you a little growl, and you swoon a little in his arms,

“Give daddy a kiss,” he commands.

You lean forward, pressing your hairy chest against his, and love on your husbear.

“I’m going to finish these eggs. Go set the table and look cute,” he says with a wink. You walk off, dizzy for a new reason. You ignore the buzz in your pocket as you get ready for breakfast.

Subject: Order #100714 Fulfilled

Dear Dopple,

Your order has been fulfilled. We know you have many options, but thank you for supporting The Spiral.

Sincerely,

The Spiral

#straight to gay #male transformation #transformation #hypnosis #age tf #hairy tf #male tf #bogo

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garbinge · 5 months ago

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When One Day Comes

Chibs Telford x F!Teller!Reader Tig Trager & F!Teller!Reader 30 Day Fic Challenge (26/30)

Summary: An unexpected visitor turns into a trip back to Charming.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Angsty. Mentions of violence and injury.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989

Part 1 // Part 2

“Some guy’s here.” Thomas walked inside the house and interrupted your paperwork.

Quickly, you looked up from the scattered mess on the dining room table and stared at Thomas.

“You tell him that the market is on the next path on the highway, just like the sign says.”

It was common for people to mix up your dirt path for the one up the road where the large farmer’s market was. It had prompted you and Nero to place a sign at the top of the path to communicate that but occasionally some idiot wouldn’t read and would make their way to your home on the farm.

“I did, but he told me he was looking for you.” Thomas didn’t seem concerned, he was currently searching through the fridge for something to spoil his dinner but that was the least of your concerns.

As you stood up, you continued to ask your nephew more questions. “Did he say anything else? Give a name? Say why he was here?” While Thomas had his back turned to you, you were casually grabbing your gun from the lockbox that you kept hidden by the back sliding door.

“Nah, just that he was looking for you, he looks weird, curly hair, sunglasses– looked stressed.” He had a mouthful of something in his mouth as he spoke, still staring into the fridge.

“Alright, probably just someone trying to sell us something.” That wasn’t uncommon either, you’d get a lot of sales people to come try and sell you farming equipment, get you to join their local markets, all typical for the size of land you had. But it didn’t take away from your visceral reaction to move towards protecting yourself. That was a habit that was engraved in you from your days in Charming and you’d find that just because you got out of the toxic town, the Teller ways stayed close to you regardless.

“Oh–he didn’t have a car, looks like he walked from up the path.” The kid still was half in the conversation as he spoke but that detail was one that alerted you that maybe this wasn’t someone trying to sell something, and maybe there was something more happening here.

Not knowing what you were walking into, you tucked the gun in your waistband and draped your shirt over it before placing your hand on the sliding door handle. “Alright, do me a favor? If you see Nero, tell him to meet me outside.” It was your backup, you didn’t want to alert the young boy and scare him, you knew he had been coming in from his daily chores which meant there wasn’t going to be much that would pry him away from his playstation for the rest of the day.

As you cautiously walked outside, practically scaling the side of your back porch to get a look at who was there. Your hand was behind you, ready to grab the gun as a threat and if needed force but when you saw the wrinkled button down shirt that was pacing up and down the dirt driveway, your shoulders dropped. As you exhaled out and closed your eyes to shift your mind from one issue that was now nonexistent to the current one you were facing, it was loud enough to grab your visitor’s attention.

Now, the curly haired man was looking in your direction, taking his sunglasses off to get a better look and calling out your name in a questioning manner.

“Yea, Thomas had me convinced you were a hitman.” You were now moving down the stairs of your porch and onto the dirt driveway to meet the man. “But I guess he wasn’t too far off.”

“Your words, they hurt me.” He faked his heart breaking as he grabbed it and made an excruciating face.

“Tig.” You nodded as you approached him and he immediately stood straight up from his display of acting and brought you in for a hug.

“Hey, doll.” The squeeze was tighter than you expected but you chopped it up to being years since you last saw him. “Sorry for the surprise visit,” his voice was in your ear before he pulled back and then pointed over his shoulder, “I–uh, tried to be a little discrete, parked my bike at the beginning of the driveway, but he was driving in one one of those ATV’s when I walked up. Didn’t mean to ruffle any feathers.” He referred to Thomas.

You laughed at that and waved your hand. “Thomas is at the age where if it doesn’t have a controller he doesn’t think twice about it.”

Tig laughed at that but you could tell that it was a nervous laugh, that he was holding something back. It was then you realized he wasn’t wearing his kutte and figured that had something to do with his visit.

“No kutte.” You reached out and patted his chest.

He looked down with a frown and immediately looked up. “Oh, uh, yea, left it back on my bike,” he was pointing over his shoulder again, “he–Chibs, let me know about the rule, Hap too, just in case, you know.”

The rule. You remembered the last thing you said to Chibs the last time he was standing in pretty much the same spot as Tig was right now.

“Don’t come back here unless the ink is blacked out and the kutte is off.”

It wasn’t exactly the rule you gave, you didn’t say next time you come by don’t wear your kutte and leave your bike at the driveway. You told Chibs, he needed to leave the club if he wanted to see you again. But you had to appreciate that he had told his right and left hand men that they had to be respectful of your home, in case. In case. That got you thinking, what did that mean, in case?

“What do you mean in case?” You felt your heart starting to beat faster and faster as the thoughts danced in and out of your mind.

Tig looked visibly upset, visibly stressed, and that made you even more on edge.

“What happened?” You knew what happened but it didn’t stop you from asking the question.

“It’s bad, doll.” Tig inhaled. “He wiped out. He’s at St. Thomas in surgery right now, second one since he got there.”

“How’d he wipe out?” Again, you had a ballpark idea of how it happened but you needed to hear it from him.

“He got shot, Mayan retaliation.”

A good five seconds passed before you responded but to both you and Tig those five seconds were likely feeling like 5 minutes.

“I’ll get a bag, follow you there.” Your brain was starting to mush together, thoughts were melting into other ones, worry and panic were sparring back and forth in your gut.

But before either of them could continue the conversation, someone was interrupting you by calling out your name but with Aunt before it. Turning around quickly you saw your eldest nephew on the porch, no weapon in hand but his demeanor was firm, ready to jump into action at any moment.

“Thomas told me someone was here.” He said as he stepped quickly towards you too, Tig bringing his hand up to the bridge of his nose as he turned around.

“You alright?” He was next to you, towering over you, similarly to how your brother– his father, did.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” You squeezed his shoulder. “An old friend of mine is sick at the hospital and Alexander was just coming by to let me know.” It was a calculated sentence, Abel didn’t know much about Jax, it was a constant struggle of what information you wanted to share with him and what you should. It was a lot easier when he was younger, the story of how his father passed was watered down similarly to his adoptive mother’s but as he grew older, he had more questions, more curiosity. “Why don’t you come help me pack, Abel. I’m going to go visit him for a couple days and I’ll run you through the things around the farm you can take over for me.”

“Yea, alright.” He wouldn’t take his eyes off Tig who had only waved by lifting his hand slightly at the mention of his first name earlier.

“C’mon.” You grabbed the young boy by the shoulders and turned him around.

As you started to grab things and toss them into a duffel bag, you tried to mask your anxiety and spiral of thoughts.

“So Nero can take care of the feed deliveries and stuff that happens while you’re at school, I’ll call him on my way out, but I’m gonna need you to finish the inventory on the table, I’d ask Thomas but, well, I don’t trust he’ll pull himself away from that TV before the submissions are due.” You chuckled, awkwardly. “But besides that, just feed the critters, morning and night, I’ll toss in some extra allowance for you since you’re gonna have to get up earlier to make it all happen. Also, I’ll leave money for food, don’t cook, I’ve seen what you and Thomas make and I’d rather you order from some shitty fast food restaurant than risk one of your concoctions sending your organs into a fit.” It was then you were pulling your wallet out and searching for bills. “Also ask Nero for anything, I haven’t talked to him yet, but he should be around.”

You were rambling and Abel saw through it.

“That guy knew Dad, didn’t he?” He was staring right at you, his eyes were searching for an answer on your face.

You moved to close the door, you didn’t want Thomas to hear, but it was also a way to break Abel’s stare on you.

“Yes.” You were still trying to search for what you were going to say but you knew he needed the truth, or at least a morsel of it. “My brother–Jax–your father, lived a complicated life, one that he never wanted you or Thomas to experience or honestly even know about. I’m not sure he really thought through what that looked like once you got older, but nonetheless, his life was not suited for you kids.” Abel was glued to you, taking in every word hoping the next ones would offer up more than this reiteration of what he’d sort of heard before. You plopped down on the bed in front of him and sighed. Abel wasn’t ready for Jax’s full story, his mind was young and impressionable, the chance he’d leave here and go to Charming for answers and end up back in the generation’s curse was too feasible, but he could hear yours.

“Your dad had a group of friends, always around, honestly they became like family, my mom–your grandma, lived for it, we always had dinners, always hung out, we were all close.” You explained. “There was one friend in particular, that I got, well, close with.”

Abel laughed at that and smirked.

“Watch it.” You smirked back at him.

“Was Dad mad?” He was intrigued by the story, you didn’t often talk about this stuff.

“Annoyed at first.” You thought back and smirked before correcting yourself. “Yea, he was mad. But the guy–his friend was older and so was I, so he couldn’t really say much about it, just huff and puff.”

“Was grandma mad?”

You laughed at that. “The opposite, grandma loved it, the idea to make the family more of a family, she had been pushing it forever. Honestly, I tried to go against it but this really had nothing to do with her, this was…different.” It started to hurt talking about it but you continued.

“This guy, he was super close to your dad, one of his closest friends, and he was kind, funny, caring, had this accent that just melted my heart.” The smile on your face was contagious and Abel was catching it as you spoke. “He’d take me on these trips, we’d explore all these national parks,” you thought back to every ride you’d taken on the back of Chibs’ bike where you’d have picnics, get caught in the rain, went quarry swimming, the memory of Chibs swimming still making you chuckle. That slowly turned into you remembering other memories, “we went to Ireleand together too.” As those words left your mouth, you felt your stomach drop as you looked up at Abel who was none the wiser of why you really went.

“You loved him.” Abel was smiling.

You wanted to agree, even tell him that you still did but that was a can of worms you didn’t need Abel to open, let alone yourself so all you did was nod.

“What happened?”

“Remember how I said your father had a complicated life? Well so did his friend, and his friend didn’t want to leave that complicated life and I did.” It broke your heart saying it, you had thought it all these years but never spoke it outloud let alone to your nephew.

“You left because of us. Thomas and I.” Abel put the pieces together.

“I left for you. I’d put you before anything, always.” You were leaning over and grabbing his hands and squeezed them.

“It was that guy that was here last year. The one with the bike.”

All you did was nod. “He apparently got hurt and I just–” You looked at Abel and weren’t sure if you wanted to say the words, they felt more like something you needed to say out loud for you than for him.

“Need to know if he’s okay.” He cut you off.

Another nod escaped you but you spoke up to say something different, something that broke you. “And say goodbye if he isn’t.” A tear fell from your face and you wiped it away immediately and smiled quickly standing up to finish packing your bag.

Before you could stuff one more item of clothing into your bag, you felt an arm around your shoulder and bring you in for a half hug. “I’ll bribe Thomas with my new controller, we’ll both pick up the farm work while you’re gone.”

“Thanks for understanding, kiddo.”

______

The ride was long, longer than you remembered but it made sense that you moved this far away. As you entered the town line, everything came back to you, like a wave that washed over you. One full of memory, grief, and that one feeling that ultimately always wrecked everything. Hope.

The sounds of more motorcycles joined the one that was already behind you, you recognized some of them but not all of them. They followed you to the hospital and as you stepped out of the car, Tig was walking back up to you, a group of more MC members standing a few feet behind. Despite this being the life you grew up in, it felt strange, it felt wrong, but you pushed that all aside, or at least tried.

“Party of 15 joining us inside?” You asked looking back at the group.

“It’s a messy time, doll. Our president was gunned down, need all the protection we can spare.”

“Yea, when isn’t it.” You turned and began your walk into the hospital where you eventually saw Happy. He looked visibly upset, the Sgt at Arms patch on his kutte felt heavier today than other days and you knew that. “Hap.” You whispered and slouched down to see his face before he was standing up quickly and very awkwardly.

He didn’t move to come hug you at first, but when you dropped your shoulders and tilted your head with an accompanied “c’mere” he was moving to embrace you, an act Happy reserved for rare times in his life, but this qualified as that.

“He’s out of surgery, they said he’s in serious but stable condition.” He was now looking back between you and Tig as he spoke.

“Is he conscious? Can I see him?”

“Only letting one at a time back there, Quinn’s back there now.” Rat spoke up, bringing himself into the conversation as he stood from the seat next to where Happy was.

“We’ll tell him to jump out.” Tig’s hand was on your back and giving daggers to Rat. “Go, take all the time you need.”

You stood at the door for a minute, staring at him, all broken and helpless. You felt your fight of flight kick in as you took a step back, followed by a step forward before inevitably the freeze tactic kicked in. Suddenly you were stepping in and at his side.

His eyes moved to take in the figure next to him and they went wide before they closed. “Quinn, could you tell those lovely nurses to either cut this morphine or give me enough to knock me the fuck out, I’m bloody hallucinatin’.”

“Not hallucinating.” Your hand moved to lightly push his hair out of his face. “I’m really here.”

He stared at you for a good minute before smiling. “I must be really bad if they got you to come back here.”

“You’re fine,” you continued to stroke his hair, “Tig has a way to make everything seem more dramatic than it really is.” It was a lie but you needed him to believe he was going to get better if there was any hope for it to be true.

“If I knew escaping death was all I needed to do to get you back here, I’d have done this ages ago.” He laughed as he tried to sit up.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey–relax.” You gripped his arms and assisted him as he scrunched up his face and groaned.

“You know what happened?” He asked, moving over for you to sit but you didn’t.

“I do. Tig told me. Retaliation.” You nodded, not letting go of his head despite not wanting to cuddle in next to him.

“He tell you I’m done?”

Those words came from him but felt like they were caught in your throat as you tried to answer.

“You–You’re just saying that, scares like this, they stir up two things in you guys, either the motivation for severe retaliation–the kind that that starts a war, or it shakes up the desire to want to leave, go nomad, take the back seat.” You remembered the typical club ways.

“I’m not just a member, love. I’m the president, going nomad, taking the backseat, ain’t really a choice for guys like me.”

“Neither is leaving if I remember correctly.” You took a deep breath.

Chibs closed his eyes and took a breath similar to yours. “I’m old. Too old for this. I’m not made to hand off the gavel and take the other head of the table. I’m done. After this hit, I’ll be lucky if I can ride again, they’ll offer me a spot out of courtesy but that’s not me.”

“And what will you do with all this free time you’ll inevitably have?”

“I have a friend, real looker this friend of mine, pretty as ever, owns a farm a few hours out from here, I’d probably see if she could use the extra farm hands, might take some convincing, but I’m hoping she’ll come ‘round.”

There it was. That hope that Charming was always serving up. You had been here less than an hour and it was already happening, it wasted no time.

“Focus on getting better, you can think about your next act when the bruises fade and the bullet hole is just a scar.” You plopped down next to him, your way of softening the blow of not giving him an answer of coming to the farm. You wrapped your arm around his and leaned your head on his shoulder, lightly as to not cause him more pain, but you had a funny feeling that he wouldn’t have told you if he was in pain from it, it was something both of you wanted, to absorb every second of this moment because the next ones were still so unsure.

______

You sat on the back porch swing, coffee cup in your hand, birds chirping as the sun began to rise across the fields. You stared at the dirt path driveway, like you were waiting for someone to arrive but immediately your thoughts were interrupted by the complaints and arguments of two young boys.

As your head twisted to look at them, you saw them bickering and slightly pushing each other before they stopped as they got in front of you.

“See you tonight.” Thomas bent down and placed a kiss on your cheek before he got a head start down the porch. Abel was looking down at you and tilted his head.

“You alright?” The concern was littered all over his face.

“I’m fine. You have your keys?” You knew he did, Thomas was normally the forgetful one being the younger more daydreaming brother.

“Yes, I’ll be home at 4 today, I’m picking up a part for my dirt bike downtown.” He dangled his keys.

“Sounds good, drive safe.”

He was leaning down to place a kiss on your cheek similarly to Thomas before he began walking away. But after taking one step, he paused and looked down at you before he followed his brother. “You happy?”

Big question for two little words.

“I am, kid.” You smiled and Abel accepted that and nodded before jogging after Thomas.

You watched them pile into the used car that used to be yours that you gave Abel when he got his license. As the dirt kicked up on the driveway, you still stared down the lengthy path long after they left, only to be interrupted as the accented voice brought you back to the porch.

“Lost in thought, love?” Chibs was shirtless, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stood at the deck stairs.

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face as you stared at him. He must’ve gotten up early to take care of the animals, he had dirt on him too which meant he probably did some work in the crop fields or the greenhouse.

“Just waiting for the day someone comes down that driveway and steals you away from me.”

“Not happening.” He was walking up to you and leaned down to press a deep kiss to your lips, one that you always melted into fear it’d be your last. “I told you 3 months ago, I tied up all the loose ends, no one knows I’m here. But if you’re not comfortable, you say the word and I’m out of here.” The words were spoken so close to your lips.

You brought him down for another kiss. “I’m worried about losing you, not pushing you away. Just, hard to believe that dream you were sellin’ over a year ago was in stock is all.” You pecked his lips again. “Plus I like not having 5AM livestock duty anymore.” A laugh escaped you as one left his mouth as well.

He was standing up now and shaking his head before he realized the porch light was disconnected. His hand reached up to grab the bulb and screw it in tighter. Your eyes stared at the black ink that was spread across his back. It was healing nicely. Maybe that was a sign that you could block out the past and move forward from it, or maybe it was all wishful thinking.

#SOA #sons of anarchy #soa fanfic #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #chibs telford #filip telford #chibs telford x reader #chibs x reader #filip telford x reader #my writing #garbinge

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surely-galena · 2 years ago

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Stories that would never exist in a ToT card: the NXX guys and somewhat mundane little events.

Vyn and Artem run into each other at the farmer's market and pointedly do not speak to each other. They are, however, clearly competing to get the best produce and practically stumbling over each other for the mangosteen sale.

Vyn's pocket watch breaks. Luke offers to help. Unfortunately, one of the parts he needs is only available in Svart, so Luke ropes Marius into it and all three of them end up flying to Svart for a tiny little watch part.

Artem goes to the movie theater and is horrified to discover that a) not only is Marius in attendance, but b) they have seats in the same row. Marius is wearing a pair of sunglasses and a hat, but Artem knows deep down in his heart that Marius could never hope to fool him. Artem spends the whole time in the theater hoping that Marius has never seen the film before so that he can avoid spoilers at all costs.

A very sleep-deprived Luke drops a mug in the NXX headquarters and accidentally cuts himself picking up the pieces. He heads off to treat the minor injury but forgets to double check the floor for leftover pieces. Vyn walks into headquarters and steps on something crunchy. In the next NXX meeting, Vyn opens with an icebreaker game ("Who Broke the Mug?") but it's not a very fun game because he's glaring at Luke the whole time.

Luke enters a fast food restaurant because he's scouting to see if it's as good as everyone says. Instead, he finds Vyn in one of the back tables disappointedly munching on cold fries. Somewhat confused, he heads to the counter to order... and finds Marius, who has taken over someone else's shift to get experience in customer service.

#tears of themis #artem wing #luke pearce #vyn richter #marius von hagen

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wheelsgoroundincircles · 5 months ago

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1981 Cadillac Evolution I

Fashion Victim: The 1981-83 Pierre Cardin Evolution I

French-Italian designer Pierre Cardin found worldwide fame with his exuberant approach to women’s fashion, but the skills didn’t necessarily cross over to the automotive world.

The creator of mod chic and the bubble dress, Pierre Cardin (1922-2020) first made his name as a ladies’ fashion designer—one who then aggressively extended his brand marketing into consumer goods of all kinds, from perfume to sunglasses and eventually, automobiles. For American Motors he designed the 1972 Cardin Javelin with its memorable neon-striped upholstery, and in 1978 he whipped up a line of specially trimmed Cadillacs. But easily the wildest of his automotive enterprises was a customized Cadillac Eldorado called the Evolution I.

Cadillac Cardin Convertible

As we can see above, the most remarkable feature of Cardin’s restyled Eldorado is its radically extended nose, which was facilitated in part with fenders and bumpers borrowed from the Oldsmobile Toronado, the Eldo’s GM E-body sibling. It’s an odd look, especially given the front-drive E-Body’s relatively short dash-to-axle distance.

The rear end styling was rearranged in a similarly arbitrary manner, with the Eldorado’s classic vertical taillights replaced with a slim horizontal lamp assembly that spanned the width of the body. Cardin’s sales literature boasted of “30 coats of hand-rubbed lacquer” and other fineries.

1981 Cadillac Evolution I

Luxury upgrades to the interior included elaborate two-tone leather upholstery, front and rear consoles, and a Quasar video player with a Sony TV in the rear seat. Pierre Cardin Automotive originally planned to produce 300 examples of the Evoluution I, with a gold plate on the instrument panel to testify to the serial number. But reportedly, only around 100 vehicles were delivered in the 1981-83 model run, including one Hess & Eisehnart convertible conversion. One likely reason for the limited popularity, we theorize, was the price: a hefty $58,000, more than three times the cost of a standard Cadillac Eldorado. As far as we know, this would be the fashion maven’s final foray into the automobile business.

Evolution I ad

#Cadillac Evolution I #Cadillac Evolution #Cadillac #convertible #car #cars #pierre cardin

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the-common-cowgirl · 4 months ago

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The Blood of the Dragon

Chapter 1: Alice

Pairings: Aemond x OFC (Alice Strong)

Summary: Alice lives in Westeros in the year 2023 AC running her family bakery in King’s Landing. More like, picking up the pieces of what’s left of her the business as her father was murdered and she was left to take over the business and its failing financial situation since her deadbeat brother slipped off to Essos. Alice is in a bad situation, her father was dealing with unsavory people to keep the business running…and that’s when she meets him.”

Warnings For This Chapter: Strong Language

A/N: I am working to slowly repost an entire fic of mine from AO3. You can go to AO3 and read ahead or tune in twice a week for individual chapters. Please follow fics-by-the-common-cowgirl for updates when I post!

Masterlist

Flea Bottom was booming. The streets were overrun with tourists walking through the gentrified district. Many young couples walked into the store across the street; with the beautiful painted words on its windows, “Le Bookstore.”

How original, Alice thought sarcastically. The businesses in Flea Bottom was booming; every business but her’s, that was. No matter how much Alice marketed, handed out free samples outside her storefront, or opened the doors and let the delicious smells of the bakery waft out into the streets…no one came. Alice had joked with her father when he was alive that the bakery was cursed and that was the reason for poor business.

She wished she could’ve taken that back now.

The bakery was his pride and joy, aside from Alice and her brother Hardin. Oh, the stupid comments she had made to her father about this place, she would take them all back. Her father worked hard to keep food on the table and he did a good job building the business…until that was, the developers came.

The little family bakery couldn’t keep up with the businesses popping up around them. A business that once helped feed the community now watched that community vanish. The bakery persevered, on wobbly legs but it held.

Alice wasn’t sure how, but she did suspect her father had help. She saw the few customers in the bakery the few times she was around in her adult life, forty Gold Dragons in sales a day do not pay the bills, her father had to have help. Alice just never asked, she didn’t want to know how he had afforded her degree, her expensive college in Pentos. She didn’t want to know how Hardin was even able to steal two hundred Gold Dragons from her father every week to spend it on drugs and booze.

She didn’t want to know, but now she had to.

Because now, her father was dead. Murdered, even if the autopsy says “Death by Suicide,” Alice knew that was a lie. Kings Landing is not run by Westeros’ Elected Ruler. The citizens were smarter than that, Alice was smarter than that. Westeros’ Ruler is just a puppet for worse men and Alice feared those men were the ones her father dealt with. Those men had to have been his murderers. This is the only thing that made sense to her. Hardin disagreed.

Alice realized she was reflecting angrily when a couple walked into the bakery and the old mental bell above the door rang out. Quickly righting her expression, she smiled and stood straight behind the counter, preparing for hopefully her first customer of the day.

The woman approached and flipped her big sunglasses off her face, resting on the top of her head and her polished blonde hair, “Hello, I’ve noticed this bakery is not like the rest of the downtown district. May I ask why?”

Alice’s smile faltered a bit at the forward question but she blinked away the failing expression, “Uh, it’s just been in the family for a long time.”

The man spoke up next, “We’re looking for a place downtown to start a new business.” He was tall and had dark hair, polished. He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, extending it to Alice in between his pointer and middle finger.

Alice stared at the card, pristine white. A clean way out of this mess she had inherited.

A way out. A way out. A way out. Her mind repeated over and over again.

Her gaze flicked up toward the man, “No thank you, I’m not interested in selling.” She realized her warm and inviting tone had left her, she sounded much more monotone and serious than she had intended.

The man kept his same polished smile, “Well, take it, in case you change your mind.” His hand still extended with the card between his stupid, manicured hands.

Alice felt the least she could do was take the card, an amends for her earlier coldness. “Thanks,” she muttered grabbing the card and pocketing it quickly.

The woman smiled, “Yep,” and put her hand on the man’s shoulder, guiding him out of the store. Bell ringing to signal their departure and their prowl to the next suffering family-owned shop in Flea Bottom…if there were any left.

“Fucking assholes!” Alice screamed the second they were out of view from the storefront window. She took the polished, pristine white card out of her pocket and crushed it in her fingers, chucking it across the store.

Alice felt her heart beating angrily. “They couldn’t even buy something, those fuckers.” She muttered under her breath more curses as she walked across the store to retrieve the card.

Bending down and grasping the thick parchment, Alice stood in front of the large storefront window with the once-creaseless card in her hands, trying to smooth it back out. She looked outside to the mass of people passing in front of her store, then up, towards the sky that emerged behind the tall Flea Bottom buildings.

Night. It’s fucking nighttime and not a single fucking customer all day.

Alice looked back down to the card. Maybe I’ll have to keep this, she thought.

As soon as she had the thought, the old metal bell above the door rang, signaling a customer. Alice’s head snapped in the direction of the door to look upon the most beautiful person she had ever seen.

Tall. Lithe. Silver blonde hair. Dressed in a long black leather trench coat, black pants, black shoes, even a fucking black eyepatch to top it off. He looked delicious and dangerous. Alice couldn’t help but gawk at him. That was, until he commented on it. “Do you like something you see?” Damn, his voice was even mesmerizing. Low and soft.

Remembering herself, Alice blinked away her stare and made her way quickly back to the counter, “uh, sorry, I uh…” She got behind the counter, “I uh, just haven’t had a customer today.” Laying both of her hands on the counter, she smiled at him like she would to any customer, even the deliciously gorgeous ones. “What can I get you?”

The tall frame of the man took slow and calculated steps it seemed, he’d reach the counter eventually but not without replacing Alice’s foolish embarrassment with something akin to fear. She slowly retracted her hands from the counter and stood straighter, if not leaning a bit backward as he approached. Her warm smile faltered into a nervous smirk and she wasn’t sure where to look as he approached. He seemed to cut her confidence in half with his mere presence; it made her uncomfortable.

Finally, he reached the counter and his scent wafted to her nose. It was alluring, it smelled like the wood stove in her childhood home, just above the bakery. Memories began to flood her mind of the days her father stoked the stove to keep her brother and her warm in the long winters. How he smiled as he read them books in front of the stove. How she fell asleep on the floor in front of the stove, it’s warmth kissing her face like her mother would-

“What do you recommend?” His soft voice pulled her from her thoughts, his remaining eye was intensely on her but stayed kind, soft, warm…blue.

“Uh,” feeling stupid for being at a lack of words, Alice smiled, “I recommend um, the uh…” Her eyes fell to a muffin, “The blueberry muffin’s are amazing.” She looked back up to him with a warm smile, trying to keep everything within her together under his gaze.

He grinned casually, his perfect, delicate lips thinned, but he didn’t reveal his teeth. Alice thought they would be perfect too, “Hmm, then I’ll have a blueberry muffin.”

Alice quickly opened the case and retrieved a bag, grasping the muffin with parchment wrap and putting it swiftly in the bag. “That will be four Gold Dragons. How do you wish to pay?” Alice had already started getting the ancient register rung up, “unfortunately, we do not have the smart phone pay thingy set up yet, we are kind of living in the past here,” she motioned toward 40 year old register, smiling nervously.

“No worries, I seem to live in the past as well.” He extracted a black leather bound wallet, “Here’s five.” He handed her the money, his long skinny fingers made contact with her skin for the briefest of moments but if her eyes were closed, she would have sworn she touched ice.

Alice jerked back involuntarily at his touch but regained composure instantly, putting the money in the register, “Thank you and please come again!” Her smile was warm and genuine. She really did want him to come again, mostly for his business…mostly.

”Thank you, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name?” He was overly polite, his smile seemed warm and genuine as well so she gave it.

“Alice. My name is Alice Strong.”

He nodded as if he already knew that, “It’s good to meet you Alice Strong.”

“Thanks and you too-uh… well, I didn’t seem to get your name?”

“Aemond.”

“Aemond, who?”

“Just Aemond.” His smile left him and he nodded a goodbye before striding across the bakery shop floor slowly and out of the building. The bell seemed to ring longer than normal to announce his departure.

Just Aemond, she thought as she slowly closed up the bakery. Just Aemond.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are never necessary but always appreciated!

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #fanfic #hotd #dark aemond targaryen #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond fluff #house of the dragon aemond #aemond fanfiction #Aemond #OFC: Alice Strong

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year ago

Text

Proposal

Part One of Three Years

Masterlist | Year One

Pairing: Nathan Bateman x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only.

Length: 4.3K

Notes: ....Hi! This is the first of 2-3 fic drops. I'm hoping to push all five chapters of this fic out this weekend. Also I started writing this before the current AI market explosion. Not beta-read. Never beta-read.

Warnings: Cursing; angst; enemies to enemies who fuck; tech-talk; angst (I know I said it before but really); Nathan being Nathan

Summary: He��s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter.

Of all of the things that you thought you’d feel about Nathan Bateman’s visit, surprised wasn’t what you thought would be first. Shit-scared, sure. Insanely nervous, absolutely. Surprised by his height? Not on your list.

“This could be huge for us.”

Jenn looks at once desperate and wild-eyed as she paces in her office. You watch her closely, taking in the dark circles under her dark eyes. Her typically California-tan skin is pallid from her recent late nights, and her days spent indoors. The company is running her ragged—and this potential seed money from Nathan Bateman is throwing her into the craziest tizzy you’ve ever seen. She sweeps her hands through her frizzed auburn hair before she raises her nails to her mouth.

“I mean,” She mutters, continuing to pace, voice muffled as she chews her nails, “If we get Bateman’s backing, that’d be great, but if I can get him on the board.” She stops finally, turning to face you, lowering her chewed nails from her mouth. “That would send us into the fucking stratosphere.”

“...Okay,” You sit up a touch. You don’t want to be a buzzkill, but you need to bring Jenn down from the fucking stratosphere. “Nathan Bateman has scheduled a meeting. Okay? A meeting. One,” You raise your finger.

“He’s having his team go over our numbers—”

“I know that. He’s doing the due diligence that anyone coming in would be expected to do. Just, don’t put all of your eggs in one basket when we haven’t even gotten the basket yet.”

“Come on,” Jenn groans. “I could be the next Steve Jobs!”

“Yes, you absolutely could. But if you keep putting your focus on the idea stuff and not on the structure and application stuff, you’re going to be the next Elizabeth Holmes. And honey, I love you, but you do not look good in orange.”

Jenn deflates just a little, slouching back against the windows that stretch from the floor to the ceiling.

“...It clashes with my hair,” She grumbles.

“I’m not saying don’t be excited at all," You insist, "I’m just saying…We’re bringing him in to talk about financing. How freaked out would you be if you went on a first date with someone and instead of asking for a second date, they said, Hey this was fun, let’s get married.”

“...Pretty freaked.”

“Right. And asking someone to join the board is like a business-y 3.5 carat pear cut diamond on an infinity band. So. Let's schedule an All Hands, give the team a heads up, get them prepped. Before that, though, we need to get you some fucking lunch and some sunshine.”

“You’re my sunshine.”

“Awww,” You coo before you get up, adding, “Seriously. Get your phone and your sunglasses, we’re going out.”

“But I have an email from prod—”

“Production about the user profile settings set to drop at the end of the week. I know, I answered it already. Phone. Sunglasses. Lunch. Let’s go.”

"You'll be here, right?"

You frown, shaking your head in slight confusion, and Jenn clarifies: "For his tour. You'll be here?"

You consider, glancing at your phone. If you can get the time off—but that's no guarantee.

"I'll try."

When Jenn started Sc(ai)le three years ago, you’d had no idea that it would take off the way it would. You knew that Jenn was brilliant, you’d never had a doubt about that. But you couldn’t have anticipated how quickly varying industries moved to scale AI. Jenn had assembled a team of engineers, scientists, and sales reps. She trusts her teams, and they work hard to keep the company in motion.

But Jenn still insists in being very much hands-on everywhere she possibly can, sometimes to hers and the company’s detriment. She needs a Chief Knowledge officer, a Chief Information officer, and a Chief Marketing officer. She has a Chief Tech officer, a Chief Financial officer, a Chief Compliance officer, a Chief Data officer—all incredibly knowledgeable in their fields. She wants a board, too, but you’re worried that the company may still be too young for it.

You work with the SVP of Marketing now and again, helping her to manage the way marketing materials are created, where they’re stored, and how they’re distributed. You’re working with Sc(ai)le part-time, on a temporary basis (though it’s technically been ‘temporary’ since the company started). Jenn needs an official team, with people that can work with her full-fucking-time. You have a full-time job at a separate tech company, one that’s well away from the AI space. You’d been worried their hackles would be raised when you informed them that you’d be taking a part-time position elsewhere, but they hadn’t even flinched.

Hell, your manager had asked you if you’d be able to get them an employee discount. You may just have to take a few days off for Bateman’s visit.

You don’t blame Jenn for being so excited, or so nervous.

Nathan fucking Bateman? This is huge.

But if both of you have your heads in the fucking clouds, neither of you are gonna make it out of orbit. So you’ll keep yourself grounded, and bring Jenn back down to Earth if you absolutely have to.

He’s shorter than you thought he’d be.

Nathan Bateman isn’t unattractive, or short, even, he’s just…Shorter.

You glance over at Jenn to find her tipping her chin up, slapping on her I Should Be On the Cover of Forbes smile. It’s the smile that’s brought every other investor on board. It’s the smile that’s brought on every single team member in the company. Now, you can only hope that it’ll bring Nathan Bateman into her coffers.

Where you’d typically leave Jenn to finesse any other investor, you stick close by. You trail Bateman and Jenn by a few steps as she directs him around the offices, and the facility.

He asks a fair number of questions. A few are unexpected, but for the most part, they’re things that you and Jenn had anticipated. The three of you come to a stop overlooking a row of engineers. You don’t want to appear nonchalant, but with Bateman and Jenn focused elsewhere, you allow yourself to lean back against the wall, eyeing the room. It’s then that you see an engineer flagging you down, a harried look on her face. You glance toward Bateman and Jenn’s heads and make sure they’re distracted before you push yourself off of the wall, skirting around the two and walking over to her as calmly as possible.

“What’s up?” You ask, crouching down beside the engineer’s desk.

“The marketing team sent through a brief about the user profiles—”

“Uh-huh—”

“And there’s an error regarding the, uh—The functionality.”

“Okay. Where’s the problem, what’s the fix?”

“Our systems are starting at Mac- or Blue-OS compatible.”

“But not Windows?”

“Most of the companies we use don’t touch Windows OS anymore.”

“But we have got a few clients that do.”

“Yes, we’re—We’re working on it. But this can’t go out like this, it’s not correct.”

“Okay,” You nod, mind racing through the possible, necessary fixes. “Okay. Could I use your laptop for a second?”

“Sure.”

The engineer starts to stand, but you wave her back into her seat, just turn the laptop toward yourself. You hurriedly log into your email on a web page, and tap out an email to the marketing SVP.

“Mac and Blue only,” You reiterate as you type.

“—But not Windows, yep.”

“Do we have an expected date on Windows functionality?”

“Q2 of next year—Maybe Q1, but—”

“We don’t wanna over-promise and underdeliver,” You shoot the engineer a smile. “I appreciate the honesty.”

The engineer nods hurriedly. You feel her casting a glance behind you, but you’re already turning back to the laptop, practically hammering the keys as you send out the message. You lean back, reading and rereading the message before you CC your work email, Jenn’s, and the engineer in question. Then you send it, straighten up, and sign out of the email.

“I’ve put myself and Jenn on the email, we will take it from here. Thank you so much for flagging that—And if anything comes up, please text, email, slack me. Anything.”

“Thank you!”

“No, thank you,” You insist, patting her shoulder. You straighten and turn, and freeze immediately at the sight of Jenn and Bateman standing just behind you. You swallow thickly, fighting to keep a straight face.

“I didn’t mean to hold up the tour,” You apologize. “You guys could’ve moved on, I would’ve caught up.”

“Everything alright?” Bateman asks, nodding toward the engineer.

“Yes. Just a little communications update.” You give them both a reassured smile. “Why don’t we continue?” You add, nodding down the hall.

“What are you doing for dinner tomorrow?”

It’s a question that he should be asking Jenn, and that’s why your mouth works wordlessly, your brow furrowing heavily. It’s a bad look—Nathan Bateman has asked you a simple question, and you’re floundering like a landed fish.

“Uh—Shoving something in the microwave, probably?” You manage with a shaky laugh as you put your laptop into your bag. You haven't been able to take the time off as much time as you’d hoped, and you’ll have to make up what time you have taken to keep yourself on track. “I’m working a double, so, I’ll get off shift around one in the morning.”

“A double.”

“...Yes? It’s when you work two shifts at—”

“I know what a double is.”

Jeez, of course he does.

“Right. Sorry. You seemed—...Anyway.”

“I seemed what?”

Confused is the wrong word to use with this man.

“Inquisitive?” You offer. Nathan’s brows tip impossibly higher, his chin angling down to gaze at you over the tops of his glasses.

“One,” He finally confirms. “How’s 1:30 for you?”

“For what?”

“For dinner.”

“I—I don’t think I’ve ever eaten dinner that late in my life. I don’t even go out that late anymore.”

“But you’ll make an exception?”

“Do I have to?”

When he smiles, you know that you will have to.

“I’ll send you the details.”

That’s it. He breezes away from your desk space. He doesn’t offer to walk you to your car; he doesn’t ask you any questions about what you want to eat, or what you like to eat. He just walks away. You look after him for a moment before you look down, taking up your laptop chord and wrapping it with a mutter of,

“Dinner at 1:30 in the morning? Not in fucking college anymore…What’s even gonna be open that late for fucking dinner?”

You think, and then giggle.

Maybe Nathan Bateman is going to take you to McDonald’s.

“You ever been here before?”

“Uhh…” You peer down at the menu. It’s timeworn, and splattered with what look like gravy stains. At least—well, you hope it’s gravy. “Nope, can’t say I have.”

The diner has a vintage bent to it. The seats are all coated in robin’s egg blue vinyl; the floor is tiled like a checkerboard; the walls are pepto-pink. There’s a jukebox in the corner, but the oldies being played in the diner are coming from a few recessed speakers in the ceiling. You glance up again as you hear Bateman shifting in his seat. He’s lounging back in his seat like he owns the damn place.

…Maybe he does own the damn place.

It could explain why they’re open so late, at least. There are a few other people in the diner, a ways away. Now and again, an explosive swell of cackling laughter will pass over your way before one of their party hurries to hush them. You glance back curiously as you hear one of them add,

“Dude, you’re gonna get us kicked out again.”

“So how long have you known Jenn?” Bateman asks.

“Oh, gosh,” You turn back to him. “Since Kindergarten. She’s my oldest friend.”

“You two seemed pretty close during the tour yesterday.”

“Did we?”

“Insomuch as you were her shadow.”

You close your mouth, reaching for your water. You had shadowed because Jenn had asked—but you’re in no position to quibble with this man. You’ve no need, either; he goes on:

“How was your double?”

“It was fine.”

“What are you working on?”

“I work at a company that produces technical books and longform guides for—”

“I know where you work, that wasn’t my question. What are you working on.”

The bored, irritated tone in his voice raises your hackles, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. But you swallow your annoyance in favor of giving a straightforward answer: “Right now, a quantum software engineering roadmap.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“The writing can be a little dry, but the subject matter is interesting.”

“Hm…” Bateman nods, his eyes sweeping your face curiously. You fight the urge to shift or fidget under the scrutiny of his gaze.

Can you ask questions? Are you allowed? Why does this man make you feel like you’re in a damn interview? Your gazes break as a waitress comes over, a pad in hand and an expectant smile on her face. You instinctively offer her one in return as you order. You don’t really hear what Bateman orders; you’re too busy wracking your mind for things that came up on yesterday’s tour—pain points, questions that Jenn promised she’d get back to him on.

“So,” Bateman’s voice snaps your focus back to him, and you arch your brows as you meet his eyes again. “In your opinion, what’s the company lacking?”

It’s a slap of a question. Your brows manage to inch higher. Oh…God. No wonder he didn’t want to do this with Jenn around.

“Uh…” Is your initial succinct answer. You clear your throat, taking your glass up for another sip, gathering yourself. You could say that Jenn has everything she needs, save for capital. You could say that the team is rowing as one one, your little unsinkable ship, the Sc(ai)le.

But Nathan Bateman is a genius, and a billionaire, and a man with a low tolerance for bullshit.

“She needs a complete C-Suite,” You admit firmly as you set your glass aside. “She needs a solid, knowledgeable team behind her. We’re doing the best that we can now, and the Chief positions that she has filled are pushing the company in the right direction, but the ones that she doesn’t are slowing down growth. We need a CMO and a CKO and a CIO, like...Yesterday. We have a lot of data, and we have a lot of marketing materials—and the seniors VPs in those positions are doing the best they can, but you can only fill a leaky bucket so many times before the handle breaks. The company doesn’t have the capital to bring those positions on, and until it does, the company’s going to continue to grow at half-speed because the plane’s being flown while it's still being built."

Bateman doesn’t react for a moment. His silence makes your stomach twist with nerves; your palms are sweating.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” He finally says. You can’t help but laugh a little.

“Look—I could tell you that we’re all one happy family, and that the only thing wrong is the fact that bluebirds don’t land on our shoulders and code for us—” Your stomach flips as Bateman’s lips twitch with a smile, “But you’ve already been inside. You’ve looked through our books, you’ve seen the facility. And if you’re going to go in on investment, you’re going to see the dirty laundry anyway. I may as well show you where the hamper is.”

“You like your metaphors.”

“It’s the writer in me.”

Bateman’s brow quirks a touch as he nods.

“...Why aren’t you full time?” He asks. That question throws you for a loop. You shake your head a little—like it’ll knock an answer loose. But the answer—the truth—is that you and Jenn haven’t worked well together in the past. Sure, you’re part-time now, but you hardly ever interfere with her day-to-day unless it’s to coax her out of her office to get some air or a meal. You prefer to take your time with a project, and Sc(ai)le is in a growth period where time is of the essence.

“...It’s not…” You start, brow furrowing as you grapple for a reasonable answer, “What Sc(ai)le does, it isn’t what I do.”

“The company has technical writers.”

“...Yeah—”

“It needs someone that knows how to compile the information, translate it for the average consumer—”

“But—”

“Just tell me they can’t afford you.”

Your chest twinges with indignation.

“That’s not true,” You insist.

“So they can afford you.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Which one is it?”

“You’re twisting my words, and I don’t appreciate that.” It leaves you more harshly than it should, and you damn your tone immediately. There’s no way scolding this man is gonna bring him on board. You realize that your shoulders have scrunched defensively and risen toward your ears, and you force yourself to relax them. But Nathan’s lips just twitch again, his eyes bright with amusement.

“...Why aren’t you full-time?” He repeats.

“I told you. This isn’t what I do.”

“It could be.”

You don’t want to make the concession, but the look on Bateman’s face tells you that he’s got you pinned. So you give a small, begrudging nod.

“Hypothetically.”

His smile widens at your confirmation. You want to smack him.

But that really won’t bring him on board.

You expect Jenn to grill you for your time with Nathan the second you get in, but she’s grabbing your hand and hissing, “He’s here, and he’s waiting.”

“What?” You ask dazedly, pulling your sleeve back to eye the watch face where it rests on the inside of your wrist. “He’s not supposed to be here for another two hours! I didn’t see an email—”

“He didn’t send one! He just showed up!”

You pull Jenn to a stop in the hall, slowing her with a gentle, “Whoa, whoa—Okay. Look at me.”

Jenn stops, eyes wide, head shaking minutely as she tries to continue walking toward the conference room, insisting, “We’re already late—”

“Slow down!” You urge. She looks stricken, and you immediately feel guilty. You take her hand in yours, giving it a squeeze before drawing in a deep breath. Jenn hesitantly does the same, pushing it out when you do. You draw in another, and are relieved as she copies you, some of the tension melting from her face as she closes her eyes. You watch her pull in and push out one more deep breath before she opens her eyes slowly, nodding.

“Thank you,” She breathes, patting your hand before she tugs down the hall again.

“I like what I’m seeing.”

Bateman’s assertion shouldn’t surprise you, but it does. Sc(ai)le is a good company, something that would make sense in his portfolio. But he’s so steady and calm as he peers out of the office of Jenn’s window.

You don’t like how he’s commandeered the space behind her desk. She shouldn’t be sitting on the other side of it with you; she should be behind it, with him—or he should be on your side.

Still, Nathan pushes himself off of the window, turning to face Jenn. His gaze flickers to you before he looks down at something laid out on the desk.

“Your initial proposal was…Whadda we got here…” Bateman tuts as he turns a page. You think he must be dragging it out for suspense—there’s no way he doesn’t have those numbers memorized. Sure, it must be chump change to him, but it’s still a big fucking number. “One million for a fifteen percent stake in the company.”

“That’s right,” Jenn nods.

“I’ll give you four.”

“...Four?” Jenn repeats dazedly.

“Four million for what percent?” You ask before she can leap up, kiss the man on the lips, and accept.

“Fifteen,” Bateman affirms. Your eyes narrow at him. This doesn’t feel right. He adds, “I have one condition, though.”

“Name it,” Jenn nods. You glance at her nervously. You’re certain that if he told her to strip naked and run through the office covered in spray cheese, she’d do it right this second.

“You come on as CKO, CIO, and CMO.”

Your brow furrows as Jenn turns to you. Who comes on? Jenn? She’s already CEO for fuckssake—

And then Jenn turns to you, eyes wide and insistent as she nods toward Bateman. Your head snaps to him, stunned. He’s waiting with that same patient, bored expression that he'd given you with all throughout dinner.

“You want me to take on three C-Suite positions?” You ask, brows raising. “Are you that strapped for cash that you won’t spring for two more people?”

Jenn hisses your name in warning. You know it’s the wrong thing to say, but to your surprise, Bateman just smiles and leans against Jenn’s desk.

“Hear me out,” He waves your irritation off. “I want to roll the positions of CKO and CIO into one. Chief Knowledge and Information officer.”

“And add Chief Marketing officer on top of them.”

“That’s right. You’re much quicker on the uptake than you were the other night. No, it’s alright��I’m sure the double shift and the late dinner had you off your game.”

You want to argue, but Nathan is already turning his attention to Jenn.

“Four mill for a fifteen percent stake,” He reiterates before nodding toward you. “And her.”

What would Jenn get if you didn’t come on? One million at fifteen? Two million at thirty? Nothing at all? You can’t bring yourself to look at Jenn just now—you know you’re getting a pleading expression. So you keep your eyes on Bateman, and his expectant expression. He knows he’s got you backed into a corner.

“...Does this condition have a term limit?” You ask. Bateman purses his lips, seeming to think for a moment. Then he levels you with an ungodly answer:

“Three years.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. You only just manage not to double over with it. Three years. Three years inhabiting two positions that you never wanted or asked for. Three years working with your oldest friend on her passion project, knowing that you will lock horns on approach. Three years of Nathan Bateman hanging over your head.

You can’t face Jenn. One look at those hopeful, doe-like eyes and you’re going to fold like a house of cards. You can’t look at Bateman. One look at him and you’re going to lunge in, slap him silly, and ask what the fuck is wrong with him.

You look down at your lap.

Three years. Three years or what? Nathan pulls his backing? Asks for repayment? That could level the company, and everything that Jenn has worked for would disappear overnight.

Three years.

You don’t ask about the pay. You don’t care about that. You’re not doing badly as it is. Two C-Suite positions (well, three) would surely pay you more than you make now, but still.

Three years.

You’ve been considering leaving your current job. You’ve been chugging along happily, though you’ve started to get too settled, too bored. Too complacent. But you've been ducking away from management positions at job after job because you just don't want to be in charge of people. You want to be fully in the action, working on the words, not floating above them and giving them a thumbs up or a thumbs down. This isn’t like anything you’d consider throwing yourself into.

Three years.

This is bigger than you and Jenn. Pumping more money into this company would give Sc(ai)le the chance to expand its staff, upgrade it's tech, bring on a more comprehensive QA team.

You draw in a deep breath, giving a small hesitant nod.

“Alright,” Leaves your mouth before you can talk yourself out of it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Bateman bats back without missing a beat. You can hear a note of triumph there, one that makes you want to reach into his throat and rip out his layrnx. Jenn is springing out of her seat, pumping Bateman’s hand enthusiastically and telling him that he won’t regret it. You’re staring down at your hands, your head and chest feeling hollow, like you’ve just been jailed for three consecutive life sentences.

Three years.

Bateman’s hand enters your field of vision, outstretched and patient. You eye it for a moment.

You could still tell him to go fuck himself. But you glance up at Jenn, and find her beaming down at you. Her eyes are bright with joyful tears; her hands are clasped to keep from visibly shaking.

You can’t tell him to go fuck himself, and he knows it.

So you suck in a deep breath and raise your hand, shaking Bateman’s without meeting his gaze.

“We should grab a drink to celebrate,” He insists. You let go of his hand and push yourself up shakily.

“I—Have some things I need to sort out. You two go on,” You add, slapping on an encouraging smile and turning to Jenn.

“Sure,” Bateman concedes. “You have a letter of resignation to write.”

You pat Jenn’s shoulder on the way out, hardly meeting Bateman's eye as you go. You get into your car, and drive back to your apartment. You mechanically unlock your door, drop your keys in the bowl by the entryway, kick your door shut. You don’t bother to turn the lights on. The sun is streaming in through your front window with a vengeance. You walk over to your bar cart and take up a bottle of whiskey. You don’t bother with a glass. You just plop into your favorite armchair and curl up. You don’t cry. You don’t scream. You just stare blankly at the wall.

Three years.

Next Part: Year One

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @aellynera ; @writefightandflightclub ; @thedukeofcaladan ; @beepboopyoda ; @foxilayde ; @revolution-starter ; @rachelwritesstuff ; @queen-of-elves

#Nathan Bateman x Reader #Nathan Bateman x You #Nathan Bateman/Reader #Nathan Bateman/You #Nathan Bateman fic #Nathan Bateman imagine #Three Years

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dailyspnpolls · 2 years ago

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THE FINALE IS HERE!!

From your top two of each previous poll in this series comes this finale showdown of Dean's many outfits!

Will Dean's LARPing costume be his ultimate dress up? Or will the hoodie blorbify it's way to the top? Maybe you prefer the cheeky grin behind those rock star sunglasses... or the suspenders fit for a Ken doll... or maybe you like your Dean to be in his comfort clothes, fixing his Baby or making dumb jokes while lounging around the bunker. Get your votes in, and make sure to campaign for your fave!

#cat: character #ultimate dean fit off #spn #supernatural #spn polls #daily spn polls #dean winchester

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mordenheim · 15 days ago

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Just say what you want

She sighed as she relaxed on her couch with a nice cup of warm chamomile tea. Her husband was at work and wouldn’t be home for hours and most of the chores she set for herself were finished for the day. She had just picked up the remote control to turn on the television when the doorbell rang.

Sighing, she pushed herself up to her feet and padded towards the door. Her husband had wanted one of those doorbell cameras, but she had been adamantly against it. Now she wondered if she should have let him get one after all.

She hadn’t even gotten to the door yet when she made out the shape of someone with their face pressed against the window beside the front door, their hands cupped around their eyes as they tried to peer through the curtain.

Sighing, she put her eye up to the peephole in the door and was greeted by the sight of a woman who looked to be in her sixties. She was dressed in a short sleeved blouse and yoga pants that looked at least one size too small for her. She had large, dark sunglasses on and a pair of massive, sparkling earrings. Her short hair was swept to one side and an annoyed expression just seemed to rest on her face. She rang the doorbell again before also knocking impatiently.

She pulled the door open and looked at the woman through the storm door. She let out a gasp and stepped quickly away from the door, almost falling backwards off of the porch before she pulled herself together and put a familiar saccharine sweet smile on her face.

She lifted her hand, looking annoyed at the older woman and blurted out, “Just say what you want.”

The smile fading quickly from her face, her lips pursed into what is often referred to as a “catt-butt face”. “Well, no need to be so rude. I saw online that this house was for sale and I came by to take a look at it.”

Now it was the younger woman’s turn to look confused. “For sale? This house isn’t for sale. We just moved in here a little over a year ago.”

“Are you sure that your husband didn’t put it on the market without you knowing?”

She opened her mouth to say just how stupid that idea was, when she had a thought. “Hang on one moment. I’ll be right back.”

Closing the door behind her, she walked over to her laptop sitting on a desk off to one side. She logged into the real estate website that they had bought their home from, only to see that it was still listed as for sale. She gave a grin and nodded to herself. She would have to fix that with the agency soon, but in the meantime.

Heading back to the front door, she was now all smiles as she opened the storm door wide. “It turns out you were right. He wanted it to be a surprise. Please, come in, let me show you around.”

“Hmph, it’s about time.” Her eyes darted around, searching for anything and everything she could complain about, obviously aiming to drop the value of the house. She just rolled her eyes and took the woman’s abuse with a smile for a few moments before she finally chimed in.

“You know, this house is a bit of a rarity. It’s one of the only homes in this entire area with a fully finished basement!”

The older woman’s eyes lit up with greed at that. “Oh really? Well, that’s not really so unusual, I doubt it adds any real value to the home,” she lied.

“Well, why don’t you come down and take a look for yourself. See what you think?”

Opening the door onto the darkened staircase heading down, she reached in and flicked on the basement lights before leading the way down.

A few hours later, she let herself into the garage, sipping at a fresh cup of her tea. Setting the mug down on the workbench in the gloom, she crouched down and pulled a battered cardboard box from its hiding spot in the darkness. Reaching into that box, she pulled out a small lock box and set it on the bench before producing the key and opening it wide.

There inside of the smaller box were dozens and dozens of identification bracelets from a few different hospitals across the country. She ran her fingers lovingly over them, shivering a little as she let herself remember each and every one of them. Finally, she reached down into her pocket and pulled out a pair of huge, gaudy earrings, small droplets of blood marred the fake diamonds that crusted the pinchbeck that was already threatening to turn her fingers green. She tossed them into the box with a soft chuckle and locked it back up, stowing it away safely.

She needed to get in touch with the real estate agency about getting the false listing corrected, but maybe she could wait a few more weeks.

#fictober24 #horror #serial killer #cw blood

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got-into-worm-by-mistake · 4 months ago

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Shell 4.1 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

“Funny thing is,” I replied, turning my attention back to my notebook, “You’re the only person today who seemed to notice I was gone. If you aren’t careful, I might actually think you cared.” I wasn’t being entirely honest there. My art teacher had noted my absence, but that was only after I’d reminded her I hadn’t turned in my midterm project.

The degree to which Taylor lives rent free in Emma's head is remarkable.

“Every time I see you, it’s this irritating little reminder of time I wasted being your friend. You know those embarrassing events in your past that make you cringe when you think back on them? For me, that’s basically every sleepover, every juvenile conversation, every immature game you dragged me into.”

Really sounds like a you problem, Emma. Like, they do make therapists for that.

“Really, Taylor? Tell me, what are you doing with yourself? You’re not going to school, you have no friends, I doubt you’re working. Are you really in a position to call me immature, when I’ve got all that going for me and you just… don’t?”

And you have all that going for you and still feel compelled to focus on Taylor? Who's the pathetic one here?

coming behind a one and a half page story on an Amber Alert

Dinah Alcott?

The market was open all week, but most people just rented the stalls on the weekends. It was fairly cheap, since you could get a stall for fifty to a hundred dollars on a weekday and two hundred and fifty to three hundred on weekends, depending on how busy things were. The stalls showcased everything from knick-knacks handicrafts put together by crazy cat ladies to overstock from the most expensive shops on the Boardwalk, marked down to ten or twenty five percent of the usual price. There were ice cream vendors and people selling puppies, there was tourism kitsch and there was a mess of merchandise relating to the local capes. There were racks of clothing, books, computer stuff and food. If you lived in the north end of Brockton Bay, you didn’t have a garage sale. You got a stall at the market. If you just wanted to go shopping, it was as good as any mall.

I'd like to go there. Sounds fun.

Lisa added, “The big trigger for Rache is mistreatment of dogs. I think you could kick a toddler in the face, and she wouldn’t flinch. But if you kicked a dog in front of her, she’d probably kill you on the spot.”

I get that this is meant to be like, a thing Rachel does because she's kinda fucked in the head, but like, there are like, actual people that would at least be more worried about the dog than the toddler.

“Precedent,” Brian said as he tried on another pair of sunglasses, lowering his head to examine himself in the mirror that was hanging from the side of the stall. “He hasn’t screwed with us yet. It doesn’t make sense for him to to pull a fast one, when he’s already invested more than that in us. If we were failing most of our jobs, maybe he’d keep the money to recoup his losses, but we’ve done well.”

In the criminal world, mutual threat and mutual gain are the only currencies you can trust.

“Come on,” Tattletale grinned at me, grabbing my wrist, “I’m stealing you.”

HALT! VILLAIN! :p

We parted ways with the boys, Lisa wrapping her arm around my shoulders and going on about what she wanted to get. Her enthusiasm was catching, and I found myself smiling. Murderer. I had to remind myself. One of these three was a murderer.

Give it time. You'll be one too.

#Worm #Wormblr #Kylia Reads Worm #Shell 4.1

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redrose10 · 7 months ago

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Hey, here's the first pill to ease your anxiety

Member's fashion company is going under and only a collab can save them. Problem is, you, the Creative Director of the other company he aims to collab with, are not easy to impress.

Shenanigans ensue, where he tries to convince her to take the job

But what if the outcome is something else?

Basically OC has her Shit together and her A Game on and our poor member doesn't. 🤣

Here you go! I really hope this is okay. I know absolutely nothing about how fashion brands work. Thank you for sending the request! @sumzysworld

Tiniest little hint to some possible smut at the end

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Sir the quarterly reports are in and the company sales are down 54% from this time last year. I don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to hold out at this rate.”, Jin spoke slowly sliding the reports over to his boss, Jimin Park, also known as the the ceo of Filter, a once very popular fashion house that was slowly failing.

Jimin sighs, “I know, I know. I’m going to figure something out. We need to bring the brand back into the spotlight.”

“What about a collaboration with another brand? You know like Fendi and Versace or Dior and Nike did. Something to get people talking.”, Taehyung, one of Jimin’s top designers spoke up.

“That could possibly work. Let me think about it for a while and see where we go.”, he replied gently shooing the other two men out of his office.

Jimin spent days calling around to any and all contacts he had trying to get a collaboration going, but no companies wanted to associate themselves with a failing brand such as Filter. Jimin had one final number he could call, but he was really really dreading it. After hitting call he waited a few seconds before hearing a familiar voice on the other end.

“I’m sorry, you what?”, you laughed into the phone.

“Y/N, please…We really need a good collaboration to get Filter back in the game or we’re going to shut down and lots of people will loose their jobs. I really think working together with your brand can help save us.”

Jimin nervously chewed on his lip while he waited for your response.

You sighed into the phone, “Alright fine. We’ll meet in one week and you can present your ideas for this collab, but you better bring your A game Jimin because I’m not going to risk loosing everything for you.”

“Wait so we’re going to collab with Y/N? Like Y/N from Purple You Fashions? I’ve heard she incredibly hard to impress.”, Taehyung asked after being informed of the upcoming meeting.

“Well we’re going to try. It’s all we really can do.”, he replied.

Jimin along with the rest of his team spent the following week coming up with branding, markets strategies, new clothing designs, and anything they could think of to convince you that working together together would be a good thing.

Jimin stood outside your office trying to catch his breath with the few minutes he had to spare. Of course the first time he forgot to set an alarm since he was in high school just had to be the night before the big meeting. He took the fastest shower of his life, nicking his neck when he tried to shave a little too quickly causing him to be even later and also having an unsightly cut. He grabbed the wrong tie, but didn’t realize until he was already half way here so he spent the rest of the drive trying to convince himself that his tie printed with a chicken wearing dark sunglasses and the pun ‘What the cluck are you looking at?’ (a gag gift from his best friend Yoongi) actually looked nice and professional against his tailored suit.

After taking one final breath he knocked twice on your door before hearing your faint voice giving him permission to enter.

“Nice tie Park. I didn’t know that chickens were in this year.”, you smirked.

“Uhh yeah well you know me, always trying to be a trendsetter.” Quickly he took the tie off while you weren’t looking and shoved it in his pocket mentally smacking himself for not thinking of doing that earlier.

He placed a to go cup down in front of you, “Here Y/N, I got you a Caramel Macchiato. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hope this is okay.”

“With almond milk?”, you asked. “I’m allergic to dairy.”

Jimin felt his stomach twist, “Oh I’m sorry. I did not know that.”

You chuckled before handing the drink over to your assistant for her to enjoy.

“Sit down Jimin. I don’t have all day and we’ve already wasted quite a bit of time.”

“Oh sure sure.”, he said frantically trying to set up his laptop. He hit the power button and nothing happened. No lights no sounds. Nothing. He pressed it again and again, but nothing. Then his hand came up to smack his forehead. He’d forgotten to charge his laptop last night after double checking everything one more time.

“Sorry I seem to have forgotten to charge it. Let me just grab the charger from my bag.”, he awkwardly chuckled. He continued to dig around in his bag trying to find the elusive cord when like a truck it hit him that his charger was in fact neatly wound up and sitting safely in his kitchen drawer where he put it last night to stop his cat, Mr. Fluffybutt McWhiskers the fourth (yes that’s his real name), from chewing on it.

“Umm I really apologize. It looks like I’ve left my charger at home.”, he nervously chuckled.

Feeling kind of bad for the guy you decided to throw him a bone, “Call one of your team members and have them email the presentation directly to me. I’ll go through it on my laptop.”

Frantically Jimin called Jin and asked him to send the file over to your email. A few minutes later a notification popped up on your feed showing an email from a sender listed as Mr.WordWideHandsomestFace7. You chuckled, but Jimin just wanted the floor to swallow him whole at this point. Jin must’ve forgot to switch to his professional email.

You clicked on the link but no power point popped up as expected.

“Oh I am so sorry.”, Jimin whispered in disbelief. Instead of the presentation that he had spent hours and hours working on he was looking at an email he had sent to Jin in the early morning one day last week after a particularly exhausting night and one too many glasses of wine. He didn’t think his face could turn any redder.

You on the other hand found it hilarious and started reading the email out loud for all to hear. Detailing how Jimin referred to you as an evil snake queen that he’d still very much like to touch even though he knows he’d probably end up dead. Jimin groaned from his seat next to you and made a mental note to remind Jin to double check his work.

He knew everything was falling apart around him so he resorted to what he knows best. Last he heard he was still a legend at his old college for being the only person to ever get an A+ in Ms. Yen’s World Literature class and it was all thanks to his shameless flirting abilities.

After reading the letter you looked over noticing Jimin staring at you seductively. He had hit bottom lip between his teeth while his fingers gently rubbed a small circle on the back of your hand. Somehow his eyes sparkled like little diamonds. His voice lower and more sultry than normal when he spoke, “You know Y/N, how about we just forget this whole presentation and I can take you out for lunch. Get a few drinks. Maybe we can just discuss things that way.”

As you watched him smirk you seriously considered it for a moment until you shook that thought out of your head, “Not a chance Park. You’re not going to buy my business with flirting and some cheap drinks.”

Jimins shoulders dropped as he came to realize that he was about to loose his only chance. He started to pack up his belongings when you stopped him.

“You know I don’t think that it would be a good idea for our brands to collab. It’s just not going to work.”

He nodded, “I know Y/N. Thank you for your time though.”

“But I do know of this up and coming brand. They’re newer, but already making a ton of noise especially with the younger crowds. It’s called HopeWorld. The owner is a good friend of mine, Hoseok Jung. I’d like to get you two together and see about working something out. I think your two brands would compliment each other well.”

Jimins face lit up, “Y/N thank you so much. That would be amazing and so incredibly helpful!”

You smiled as you gathered your things and headed for the door.

“Oh and Jimin, I expect you to pick me up at 8pm tonight. We’ll go have dinner and some drinks and who knows what else. We’ll see how the night goes.”, you said with a wink.

He nodded in agreement as he watched you walk out the door before popping your head back in a few seconds later, “And maybe don’t wear the chicken tie tonight unless you want to bring it for uh other things.” You walked back out the door and he smirked to himself making sure the tie was still safely secured in his pocket.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts fic #jimin #jin #bts hobi #taehyung #bts crack #Yoongi #send requests

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harveyguilleniconodelamoda · 4 months ago

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New Summer Staple? Vintage Stripes!

This short-sleeved button-down from Only & Sons has made several appearances over the last several weeks, from brunch with the boys at New York Pride to fun with friends and family at Disneyland parks over the July 4th weekend.

Only & Sons is a menswear brand that emphasizes denim in their product line and markets primarily to young men, describing their signature style as "a subversive take on contemporary classics."

Only & Sons is part of the BESTSELLER international fashion company, which also owns fashion brands such as LMTD and Vera Moda. They have made sustainability a cornerstone of their marketing and PR strategy, and in June announced their participation in an effort to reduce CO2 emissions in the fashion industry.

The shirt features a slightly open resort collar for a more relaxed appearance and is made of a lightweight viscose blend that will breathe beautifully in the summer. Its textured fabric, fitted cut, and classic stripes evoke the timelessness of vintage style, which is one of the hallmarks of the brand. It comes in several colors, with the one Harvey chose being labeled as "Turquoise/Mountain Spring." It is available in sizes up to Men's XXL (47-inch chest measurement) and retails for €29.99.

Harvey typically styles this shirt with navy slack shorts, a pair of clear-framed, retro style sunglasses, and most recently, a pair of exclusive Club 33 65th anniversary mouse ears.

Affordable Options

All of the elements of this outfit are already pretty affordable, save the sunglasses and (depending on the resell source) the ears. More on both of those accessories coming in future posts!

The shirt, as mentioned above, is €29.99 (roughly $32.52 USD). You can find a pair of nice navy shorts at almost any clothing retailer that sells clothing for men this time of year, but here are some of my favorites:

Old Navy Linen Blend Chinos - These shorts are a linen blend fabric that tends to wear and wash well over time, and come in a soft navy. They have a pleated waist, a 7-inch inseam, and come in sizes up to a 54-inch waist. Originally $32.99, currently marked down to $16.47 on clearance.

Land's End No-Iron Chinos - These shorts are a dark, true navy 100% cotton twill. Note they may shrink slightly on the first wash. They have a stretch waist for added comfort and a 9-inch inseam. Originally $59.95, currently on sale for $29.97.

#harvey guillén #fashion #plus size fashion #menswear #street style #only & sons

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 1 year ago

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The Angel Marker: Part Three

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You still feel guilty for what happened to you and Hotch even though you shouldn't. If you had seen that bomb before getting blasted back, then maybe you wouldn't have so many problems with your "abilities".

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

You and Rossi are going to talk to a woman named Shara, but the entire car ride is silent. Rossi is driving but you can feel his eyes on you the entire ride there.

"Did you lose something over here, Rossi?" you ask without looking up.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing."

You get out of the car and put on your sunglasses to counteract the brightness of the sun.

"How are you doing?"

"Why does everyone keep asking me that? My head hurts, I had stitches, but they're out now. It'll get better."

"That's not why they're asking. What happened to you wasn't your fault."

"It kind of is. I connect with energies and see things that aren't there. I went with Kate and Hotch because I felt like I needed to protect them. My abilities told me to go with them, but Kate still died and Hotch and I still got hurt. Now, I wasn't able to see that our unsub is a woman. Normally, I would have seconds after arriving."

"Knowing our unsub is a woman earlier might not have changed anything. We're still in the dark about who she is, and we have no leads. You're doing everything you can."

It's like you're not listening to what he's saying. You shake your head and walk towards Shara's work building. Rossi called her before you two left, and she is expecting you two.

"Shara Carlino visited Ryan over seventy times. She waits an average of three hours for a ten-minute visit and a mandatory strip search," you move on.

"Would you endure that for a guy?"

"For Spencer, always," you say truthfully. "Shara was a marketing VP in Cincinnati until '99, then she moved here and took an outside sales job. It was a serious pay cut from what she was making before."

"I'm guessing she came for the view."

You and Rossi walk into the building and head to her office on the third floor. She greets you with firm handshakes, and you two take a seat at her desk. You remove the logs from the prison that show how much she was visiting Cortland when he was in prison.

"According to these logs, you were the Angel Maker's number-one fan."

"His name is Cortland, and I wasn't a fan."

"How would you characterize your relationship?"

"We were lovers."

"Last time I checked, they didn't allow conjugal visits on death row," Rossi comments.

"It wasn't about physical interaction. When you take away the flesh, there's only the soul. Everything was understood. There were no secrets. Cortland made me feel alive, in a way no free man ever could."

"Where were you on the 16th of this month?" you ask.

"Why?

"We believe this copycat killing was committed by a female fan, someone who knew Cortland very well."

"I was out of town with the company. Ask anyone here," she shrugs.

"Do you know of another woman who--"

"There were no others," she cuts you off.

She's very adamant that she and Cortland were exclusive, but you know that's not true.

"Ma'am, I can show you prison logs, copies of fan letters, and items that women have sent Cortland dozens of times."

"They didn't mean anything to him."

"Whatever connection you had with Cortland was severed when he died, not the copycats. Every time she kills, it reinforces their love. That is unless you help us stop her."

The gears turn in Shara's head, but she ultimately gives in.

"He sent me a letter a few months before he was--" She can't say the words, so she quickly moves on. "I knew it wasn't meant for me, because it was addressed to 'My Dove'. He never called me that."

"Do you still have it?"

"No, I burned it."

"Did the text reveal anything about the woman?" you sigh in frustration.

"The text was a joke. Usually, his prose was seamless and beautiful, but this was pedestrian and crude."

"You never asked him who this dove was? I thought there were no secrets between you," you shrug.

"You've never been in love, have you?"

"I have and currently am, but thank you for your time."

You're not going to get anything useful out of this woman, and Rossi knows it. You two leave her office with more women to talk to. They were all a bust, and the rest of your team didn't have much luck either. Whoever this unsub is, she's not on your list.

By the time you got done talking to every woman on your list, it was nightfall. You picked things back up in the morning, but as soon as you walked into the police station, there was news of another woman dead.

Her name is Maxine Chandler, and you find it weird that this is the only female victim from this copycat. You, the sheriff, Hotch, Emily, and Derek head over to her house where Maxine is still inside her home. The crime scene is fresh, so it must have been discovered not that long ago.

"What can you tell me about Maxine?" you ask one of the officers who is already there.

"Her neighbors say she's lived here her whole life, all twenty-eight years of it, anyway."

"How many kids does she have?" Hotch asks.

Inside her house is filled with children's toys, so one can only assume.

"None of her own. She runs a daycare. The guy that called 911 came here to drop off his toddler and found Maxine in her bedroom. Coroner's in there with her now."

"Did you check all entry points?" you ask, shoving your sunglasses further up your nose.

"Yeah. There was no damage and no tool marks, so the same as the first."

"Now that we have two victims, we have data we can compare. We should see what victimology can tell us."

"I'll get JJ to bring us the files on the first victim," Derek says and takes out his phone.

The coroner comes out of the bedroom and heads over to your team when he spots Hotch.

"What did you find?"

"Well, I put the time of death around two in the morning. The victim was struck multiple times with a blunt object, and there are signs of penetration with fluids."

"Does she have the same post-mortem mutilation?"

"Yes, it's the same but different."

You frown and head inside the room where Maxine is lying on her bed for everyone to see. Her abdomen is on display, so it's easy to spot the marks made by the unsub. You put on some gloves and move her clothing out of the way so you can see the pattern clearly.

"There it is again," you mutter.

"What is it?" Hotch asks.

"This looks like the Carina Constellation. Did you find paper in the wounds?" you ask the coroner.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Our unsub needs to use a template. These marks mean something. The Angel Maker didn't need to use a template because he knew exactly where to put the markings. That's why there is paper found in the wounds."

"We need to go back and re-examine each of the patterns. Where's Reid?" Hotch asks.

"He's at the station going over the notes."

Spencer is reevaluating the notes that were addressed to "Dove". One of the letters is as follows: "Weather is good here. Out in the garden all day. Bids land on the fence. The moon is full now." It doesn't make sense because Cortland only got an hour a day in a concrete yard. There was no garden or birds. It sounds like a death row haiku and a bad one at that.

Spencer thinks Cortland did that on purpose. Cortland tries very hard to put each word and letter in the right word. It's a code. The steganographic method would allow him to write letters that don't appear enciphered. The real message would be hiding in plain sight.

Spencer can do it. He's very smart and the team doesn't realize just how amazing that is. They all tease him about his intelligence, and you kind of hate it even though you know they don't mean anything bad by it.

You gather with everyone in the living room to discuss the next steps.

"Small towns suck for victimology. There's too much overlap," Emily sighs. "I've got both women at the same church, same doctor, and same grocery store."

"She's mimicking the Angel Maker. Maybe we should look at his victims," JJ suggests.

"Yeah, but there's a disconnect. The Angel Maker chose women because they excited him sexually. The copycat's satisfaction isn't sexual. It's about perfectly re-creating the murders," Hotch says. "

"So, what she looks for in a victim is someone who's easy to kill," you explain, "which, for her, means easy access to their homes. What did Delilah do for work?"

"She made jewelry and sold it out of her home," JJ answers.

"So, they both had home-based businesses. A stranger could walk in off the street and be a prospective customer. The unsub poses as a client, uses the bathroom, and cracks the window so she can get back in later."

"Let's check their business records and see who came by on the day of the murders."

Everyone shuffled through the case file for that kind of cross-reference, but nothing pops up. You're getting really frustrated, so without another word, you get up and leave the house. The neighborhood is quiet, so the front porch seems like the perfect place to go.

Moments later, someone walks out to check up on you. You know exactly who it is based on the energy you feel.

"I'm sorry, Hotch," you sigh and sit on the porch steps.

"For what?" he asks, taking a seat next to you.

"If I had just seen the bomb earlier, then maybe Kate might still be alive and both of us wouldn't be hurt."

"I never blamed you, Y/N. You shouldn't either. What matters now is getting better. Kate would have wanted that."

"I hear you, and I'm trying, but when you have the ability to help prevent something, then it's on you to do something about it before the bad thing happens. But you don't, so you don't understand," you sigh.

"I know. I don't fully understand, but the best thing any of us can do is try, and you tried. That's all I can ever ask of you. You can't predict everything."

You look up at the night sky in thought, but you pause when you notice something about the stars in the sky.

"I knew it," you mutter and get off the step.

"What is it?"

"Both Cortland and our unsub were puncturing constellations in their victims. That's the pattern I keep seeing." Both you and Hotch head back inside the house. "The puncture wounds on the victims represent constellations."

You go through the files of every victim and prove this by using pictures from the internet of each constellation.

"Constellations? Don't tell me this guy was following the zodiac," Rossi states.

"No, these are from a family of constellations known as the Heavenly Waters. It's probably why the windows are open after each kill so their souls can be released into the sky." You take out the files from the Angel Maker's victims to show each and every constellation. "Delphinus is the dolphin and Equuleus is the little horse. There are nine constellations in the Heavenly Waters. The Angel Maker killed six. Our unsub continued where he left off. First, she did Vela and last night she did Carina. The only one left is Columba, the Dove."

"One more kill and she completes his set," Rossi says. "She knew the meaning of the stomach wounds. That's something even we didn't know."

"She must have been a lot closer to Ryan than we thought."

"They weren't just close. They were in love," Spencer says with copies of the notes in his hands.

"How did you crack it?"

"I profiled the author. Cortland Ryan was on death row with several high-ranking members of the Aryan Brotherhood. He either got the code from them or he read a lot of 16th-century literature. The Aryans liked to use a cipher based on a four-hundred-year-old code written by Sir Francis Bacon."

"So, it's a binary code?" you ask.

"Yeah. Bacon used a twenty-one-letter alphabet. This one's twenty-four. Each letter is assigned a bit string of five binary digits. This combination yields thirty-two possible encodings. Normally, you'd use a computer to run all these combinations, but it was quicker just to do it longhand until I found the right one."

Emily reaches out with a shocked expression and pokes Spencer on the cheek.

"He's so lifelike," she jokes.

Spencer rolls his eyes and moves on, but for a split second, you can feel his annoyance towards her.

"Emily," you say in a stern tone, but Spencer has moved on so she doesn't have time to respond.

"Now, we don't have a complete record of their correspondence, but I was able to make a chronology. The woman he calls 'Dove' established contact shortly after the trial."

You take the letter the unsub wrote back to him, and you read it out loud.

"My dearest Cortland, thank you for writing back to me. The day the verdict was read, we shared a silent moment. I knew then there was a force willing us together. Every time I see you, I feel warmed as if by the sun, and yet, I fear if I come too close, I'll be consumed by your fire. Already, you've entered my dreams. Each time you appear to me, I'm embraced by a feeling of trust and belief, as if I've known you all my life. As always, I am touched by your words, but I long to see you again. Days pass quietly, one into the next... If only they would let us marry... I could finally hold your hand... But I can't leave this world before seeing your face one last time. I will bring a part of you back into the world, and forever you will watch over us from the stars."

"What do you think she meant by that last line: I will bring a part of you back?" JJ asks.

"Maybe the murders? She brought him back to life."

"What if she was talking about his child?"

"Well, she did say, 'Watch over us from the stars'. She used the semen samples to plant evidence and to get pregnant. If she actually had his kid, we might be able to track her through birth records."

"Agent Hotchner?" the sheriff asks, coming into the living room. "We just got a report of a woman attacked in her house by a female assailant."

"Is she okay?" JJ asks.

"It sounds like it, but I can't say the same for the attacker, though. Neighbors heard cries for help, and pretty soon half the block was on her."

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fiction #spencer reid fan fiction #spencer reid fan fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #criminal minds series rewrite #series rewrite #cm season 4

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pbandjesse · 1 month ago

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I looked exhausted in my picture. My eyes looks so tired. This is so true. I had just woken up from a two hour nap. But honestly today was a really good day. Callie just left and it was so nice to spend a few hours with her. She's great.

But the rest of the day was really good too. I slept alright. And waking up wasnt to bad. I was happy to see my husband. And I got washed and dressed and wasn't sure what shoes to wear because I have blisters on the tops of my feet from my sandals. I would wear boots and it only bother my right foot a little bit. I would mostly be fine and comfortable.

I was very surprised when we went outside and it was cold!! I went back to get a fleece. I honestly could have worn tights too for the begining of the day it was so chilly and windy. But in the end it would be fine and I would be pretty comfortable.

We left here and James had made sure we had all of my stuff for the market. I ordered breakfast on my phone to pick up at McDonald's. I was nervous for no reason because I was worried about doing it wrong. But they had my name on the screen and were super nice and the food was just what I wanted. I did accidently spill ketchup in my purse but mostly just on my sunglasses so it was fine and washable.

When we got to the market it was really windy. It was nice to see everyone. And it would be a really nice day. James would get all my stuff out and helped me set up the table. We didn't have a ton of people come through today but it was still a nice day for me. I was hoping that the children's market (which was inside the musuem) would push more people to come out here. But no luck. There was a new musician who was awesome. Sung a lot of early 1900's blues. And he just had a really good voice. I would follow him on Instagram. And I made a few sales. But mainly I was just enjoying how beautiful it was today. Once the wind calmed down I was able to just. Enjoy being near the water.

I worked on my knitting. I brought the yarn I cut out on Thursday. And was able to completely finish the month of August for the temperature blanket. And it was such a nice piece to focus on. I would even have two little girls to come over and helped with the last 6 rows. And their parents were like. Woah!! You're learning to knit! And it was just really sweet.

I would have lots of nice interactions. About my pieces and the teddy bear hospital. I made a few sales. But I was more focused on my knitting and people watching.

And there was very good people watching!! Specifically we had a local celebrity! Barry Glazer, local attorney known for his ads where he says don't piss on his leg and call it rain. It's hilarious. And I would have just thought he was some strange blonde old man but Ann was like omg look over there and pointed him out. Hilarious.

I would buy some stuff today. I got two pies, a peanut butter pie and a cherry. And I would buy apple cider and some apples. I asked the farmer what was the tartest apple and she suggested one of the heritage varieties and it was a little softer then in used to but it tastes great. Very pleased with my purchase. I also got a few mini pumpkins to decorate with. Super cute little gourds.

We finished up and I would go get my wagon to pack things up. I said goodbye to Ann and went to hug on James for a bit. I would fill up their water for them. The main bathroom had a pipe break so it was closed and so everyone was having to go to the back bathrooms which is so inconvenient for James to get water. So I hope it helped. I told them I loved them and headed home.

I was so tired. I texted Callie to check in about dinner and recommended we get ekiben. She offered to pick it up and bring it to our house. Love her for that.

Something was up with my phone though and isn't getting all my texts or sending others. So that's frustrating and I hope that no one is trying to reach me and isn't able to.

When I got back here I would change and get in bed. Sweetp has been insisting on being held and cuddled for a moment when I get home. But apparently I did not hold him long enough because he but my calf! Rude. So I hugged him for a little longer. I warmed up a little bit of the pizza I saved from the zoo yesterday. And laid down.

Sweetp would lay on my shoulder. Being incredibly needy. Which is nice but also made my eyes really itchy. I would still sleep for two hours and it was a very good sleep.

When I got up I didn't feel amazing. I would have a popsicle and tried to wake myself up.

James would get home right as Callie was letting me know she had gotten out food and was on her way. I was really looking forward to seeing her and also ekiben.

When she got here I was excited to show her our new door and also how nice the baby room is coming together. And it was just so nice to talk to her and catch up. James would join us and we had our room. They both got chicken bao buns. I got a rice bowl with tofu and it was so good. It is $18 which is crazy but I was able to make 4 portions with it for leftovers. So sort of worth it when you look at it like that.

We hung out until 8. And while I would have loved to keep hanging out yelling about camp and school and being pregnant, she was getting tired and I was getting tired. And so we had hugs all around and she went home.

I would fix my keychain that I broke earlier. And then went to separate my leftovers. And would go and take a shower.

I washed my hair real good. And got cozy. I put oil on my belly. And now we are in bed. Tomorrow is going to be a long day but I think it will be fun.

James is biking to Philly. And I'm going to act as a relay to get them across a bridge. And then continue on my way to my parents house. So that when James is done biking I will go get them. But I will spend time with my parents. I am hoping me and mom can go thrift and I would like to go to salad works because we don't have those here and I just think it will hit. But mostly I'm just really excited to see my parents.

Now it is time to sleep. I hope you all sleep well. And have fun tomorrow. Wish James luck and safety on their long bike ride!! Goodnight everyone!

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