#as u can tell my camera was not agreeing with me (typical)

[incendiobrock]

The Witches Forest

Request: heyy idk if u do requests but if u aree then can you do one where the reader is a witch and is dating colby so she goes on one of the haunted trips w them and does some reading idkk you can end it however you like <33 tyy! 

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! I loosely based this imagine off the witches forest video on the Sam and Colby channel but instead of the witch from the video giving the reading it was y/n, and instead of Colby getting lost in the forest it was y/n. Hope you enjoy! Also this was loosely inspired by an imagine I read by @annab-nana you can read it here!

Warnings: sexual joke (I think that’s it)

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It was a typical day with the trap boys. Your boyfriend Colby had finally convinced you to go on a haunted trip with them. The only reason you had agreed was because he had promised you, and Corey, that there wouldn’t be any seances. You would all be going to just spend the night there, not summon anything.

In fact, Sam was planning on doing a cleansing ritual that he had done some research on. So, you agreed. You were always super worried about the boys and the trouble that they would find themselves in, especially with demonic entities and spirits. 

One of the other reasons you had agreed to do the video with them was because you knew that the fans have been begging for you to make an appearance. Colby got tweets and comments daily about his “witchy girlfriend” joining in on a haunted overnight video. All the fans knew that you were super into crystals, and tarot cards, and different herbs, and just about anything that you believed would help protect you and connect you to the world of spirituality.

So here you were, sitting in front of the camera, Colby right by your side, his ring clad hand holding onto your thigh, as the rest of the guys surrounded the table. “Okay, who’s ready for the reading?” You questioned, looking around the table. Everyone nodded and agreed to begin. You passed the tarot deck to each of the boys, instructing them to shuffle the deck while thinking of their intention for the trip to The Witches Forest. Everyone did as told and passed the deck back to you, you were the last to shuffle.

“Alright, so I’m going to pick the top three cards and then we can go over what they each mean for us, and for the trip we are about to go on.” You stated, gently flipping over the top three cards, The Tower, The Nine of Swords, and the card of Death.

You felt the room tense as they all read the cards chosen. “It’s not bad.” You said, trying to calm everyone’s nerves. “Uh- I don’t know about you but a card that says death seems pretty bad to me.” Corey said, laughing out of fear.

“Yeah babe, what does that mean besides ‘we are going to die?’” Colby air quoted the last part. “Will you guys just give me a minute to explain it?” You laughed at your boyfriends face as his eyebrows remained scrunched on his forehead, looking desperately at you for answers. You went on to explain that death could signify the “death” of an era and the beginning of something new. The Nine of Swords means that their own thoughts can weigh them down, or cause a feeling of darkness, and The Tower means danger, chaos, but also liberation. 

“See, so nothing is necessarily bad. It actually seems like this might be good for you guys, especially since we are planning on doing the fire ritual too. That way you can begin a new journey and have a nice cleansed path before the next moon cycle begins.” You stated, leaning your head on Colby’s shoulder and cuddling into his side. He placed a short kiss onto your forehead taking hold of your hand, “Alright so let’s get on the road we don’t want it to get too dark before we set up the tent, plus it’s about an hour drive.” Colby said to the group, still holding your hand as you both stood up to go get into the car.

About an hour later you had all arrived at the forest. Colby had parked the car a little off the dirt path in a small clearing between the trees. You were happy to get out of the car to stretch after having to sit between Jake and Corey in the backseat. You brought along a small backpack of stuff like a water, first aid kit, a flashlight, and most importantly some crystals that offer protection. You took out the small ziploc with the crystal and began to give one to each of the boys, telling them to keep their crystal in their pockets for protection. 

Sam had asked you to explain to the camera what all you had brought so you showed him the black tourmaline, amethyst, and the obsidian, saying that they each offered protection and grounding properties. “Alright, now that we got our protection rocks let’s go pitch the tent we will be staying in all night.” Sam said, shutting off the camera. You all stood around trying to help as Colby did most of the work putting the tent together. You were impressed with his skills, never knowing that he could set up a tent with little to no instruction.

“Dang brother, those Cub Scout skills are really showing right now.” Jake joked, sticking the last spoke into the dirt. “Thanks brother, you know I’m skilled with these hands.” Colby responded, sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks heated up as a small laugh escaped from your mouth. Leave it to Colby to make a sexual joke that makes the guys cringe. 

After a little exploring all together, and almost losing the location of the tent, you had all decided it was time to start the fire ritual. You were glued closely to Colby’s side, hearing a lot of motion within the trees. “Once we get the fire going maybe we will feel better, the light and heat should scare off any animals that are near.” Sam said grabbing the fire bucket that he had brought for this ritual.

Colby lit the fire and you all sat around in camping chairs. “We should’ve brought s’mores bro.” Corey said, trying to alleviate some of his fear. You agreed with him because you knew you felt the same fear as him at the moment. Sam explained what was going to happen with the fire ritual and passed out the objects that everyone was going to be throwing into the fire, in hopes to release any possible spirits that were attached to them. As soon as you guys started to watch the stuff burn Colby flew back, falling with his camping chair.

“Did you guys see that! Right there! Right behind Jake! Sam? Did you see it, it was like a shadow and it moved super fast right behind Jake’s head.” Colby yelled, standing quickly off the ground and shining a flashlight in that direction. “I saw that too!” You said, abandoning your camping chair as well. Colby took hold of the camera and began walking away from the fire and towards the trail. “Colby! Wait for us bro you can’t go alone!” Sam yelled out, chasing after him. “I have to go, I know I saw something I need to see where it’s going before it gets away, I wanna capture it on camera!” Colby said.

“Someone has to stay by the fire we can’t all leave! Jake you stay here with Corey and we will go investigate.” Sam instructed, but Jake hesitated wanting to go too. Corey ended up agreeing on staying by the fire so you three could keep up with Colby who was still walking quickly away from the group. You thanked Corey, worried that your boyfriend would get too far ahead of everyone. You began to jog to the path, already extremely behind the others because of the sudden panic. 

You turned onto the dirt path and didn’t see any of the three boys, but could barely make out their voices in the distance. You began to jog down the path, heading to the left. You had felt like you were getting closer to them but their voices still remained faint and incoherent. You knew that Sam had yelled for everyone to stay on the path in order to avoid getting lost so you kept jogging further and further into the forest, away from the fire where Corey sat.

You slowed to a walk, shining your flashlight all around, hearing tons of branches snapping and rustling. You suddenly felt very alert, almost as if something was watching you. You felt the panic really set in as it became harder and harder for you to catch your breath. “Colby!” You yelled. “Colby! Sam! Jake! Corey!”  You knew you had made a mistake going this far down the path. “Hello?! Can anyone hear me!” You heard a scream off in the distance making your eyes basically bulge out of your head. You turned sharply towards the direction of the noise, shining your flashlight out in front of your face. Your hands were trembling, shaking the light violently. Not only was it freezing out, but you were terrified of what was out there.

You began running back the opposite direction of the trail, your breath almost nonexistent at this point, but you were determined to make it back to the tent. You heaved, feet stomping away at the dirt path beneath. After what felt like a century, you saw the distant glow of the fire. You ran, the victory of reuniting with the boys fueling your return. The fire was now in clear sight as well as the figures of the four boys you were so anxious to see. The noise of you approaching causing them all to turn and look at you. 

You practically leapt into Colby’s arms, tears pouring down your face as you wrapped tightly around his torso. His hand found its way straight to your hair, pulling you as close as he could to his body, swaying you side to side. “Oh my god, baby. Where were you? I was so worried! I thought I had lost you.” He said quietly, running his fingers through your hair trying to soothe your crying. “I-I was running after you a-and then I got lost. I heard a s-scream, I’m so scared.” You sobbed, never wanting Colby to let go of you.

“We looked all over, we were calling your name like crazy but Jake said we should come and wait by the fire incase you came back. We didn’t want to keep moving further away from you on accident.” Sam said, standing closely near you and Colby. 

“Can we please go? I don’t think I want to be here anymore.” You pleaded, looking into Colby’s eyes as his delicate fingers helped to wipe away your tears. “Yes, of course. I love you, I’m so glad you’re safe. Let’s head to the back up plan, the cabin.” Colby said, directing the last sentence to the boys. You nodded gratefully, making your way into Colby’s car while Jake, Corey, and Sam packed up the mess. 

The night was getting foggier as you pulled into the driveway of Jenna’s cabin. You felt relief rush over you, knowing that you wouldn’t have to spend another second in the Witches Forest. You all got out of the car and huddled by the front door, rain beginning to pour down. Sam took off his backpack digging through it to find the spare key Jenna had lent him. “Uh, Colby did I give you the key earlier?” Sam asked. Colby let go of your hand and patted his pockets down, “No I don’t think I have it. Is it in your pockets?” He responded, recapturing your hand in his, knowing that you were still shaken up about getting lost. Sam flipped his jean pockets inside out, no key to be found. He began pulling everything out of his backpack, searching deep into the bag for the key.

“Let’s go back into the car maybe I left it in there.” Sam said, heading straight back to Colby’s car. You all got back in as the rain continued to pour, Sam searching every inch of the vehicle. “I can’t believe you lost the key Sam, first Y/n goes missing and now this?” Jake says from the backseat, obviously frustrated. “It’s not all my fault okay? You think I meant to lose the key?” Sam snapped back, the tension in the car rising. 

After a lot of searching, the key was no where to be found. Much to your dismay, you had to go back to the tent in the depths of the forest. You all huddle into the blue tent, slipping into your sleeping bags. It was only a few more hours until daylight, a few more hours before the suffering would end.

“I’m not going to let anything hurt you. I lost you once tonight and it was the scariest moment of my life. It’s not going to happen again, I promise.” Colby vowed, pulling you into his chest. You smiled at his kind words, despite how scared you were he always knew how to make you feel safe. “Thank you Colby, I love you so much.” You responded, nuzzling further into his chest. “I love you, to new beginnings.” He chuckled, referencing the tarot reading from earlier. “To new beginnings.” You agreed, sealing the deal with a kiss on the lips.

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 2: Right Through You

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"I'm sorry." It was the last thing Spider-Man said before he swung away, swallowed by the darkness of an alleyway. It was a whimpered choke. Fearful.

"No! Wait--" Tony tried to call, but it was too late. The man was gone. No. Not a man. A fifteen year old. Tony glanced down at his shadow and then back at where Spider-Man had disappeared. Spider-Man was his soulmate. And he was fifteen. Tony had to catch himself against the wall as his chest squeezed painfully tight and his throat closed up in panic, barely managing to mutter out, "Jesus Christ. Fifteen."

That was horrifying on an entirely different level than what had just transpired. Not only had his soulmate flinched away from him and then run off the first chance he'd gotten, he was swinging around the streets of New York and putting himself in danger and he was a kid. Did his parents know? Maybe that was why the kid had run off so quickly. He'd freaked out so horribly when he'd realized the time that Tony had to blink away the horrible memories of his own father with his backhanded slaps and harsh words that had stung even more.

Tony sucked in a cold breath as he stared at the spilled hot chocolate mixing with his own dropped coffee. How often had Spider-Man been hurt? On the street or at home? Suddenly all Tony knew was terror at the implication and newfound knowledge of just exactly who his soul was connected to. Just who the shadow that had been with him for fifteen years really had been. And all he knew was the horrible guilt that he clearly wasn't what his soulmate had been looking for. Could soulmates be wrong? Knowing himself, it was possible.

The mechanic shook his head furiously, forcing himself to stop leaning on the wall and take a deep breath. He'd found his soulmate--sort of--and he wasn't about to just let them go that easily. If he could just have one good conversation, preferably without that mask, about their connection, everything would be okay. Or, it could at least be resolved. If the kid didn't want to know him, didn't want to be his soulmate--well...

Tony sniffed, snatching the cups off of the pavement and throwing them in the trash. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Tony began to make his way back to the tower, his steps slow and stumbled, eyes fixated on his shadow whenever it came into view. After a few minutes, the hood disappeared and fuzzy hair took its place. Well, now he knew why his shadow always looked like they were bald in the afternoon and at night.

"Friday," Tony started, his glasses lighting up at the call of his voice. "I need a full search of the city. As in-depth as you can get it. Follow Spider-Man, look for his identity, and focus on kids born on August tenth, 2001."

"There are six hundred thirteen people born on that day currently living in New York."

"Okay, filter out for boys in Queens. Between 5'7" and 5'9."" He paused, thinking about the fingers that he'd seen through Spider-Man's gloves. "Lighter skin, too."

"I have forty-two possible matches."

"Well, it's better than six hundred," Tony sniffed. "Keep an eye on them, and keep a special eye on Spidey. If he looks like he's in a situation he can't handle, alert me. Or just tell me the next time he pops up."

"Of course, sir," Friday agreed. "What shall I file this under?"

Tony mused for a moment. "Create a new file, and place it on my private server. Name it 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider.'"

Hopefully he'd have a face to that protocol soon.

 ---

  Peter stumbled up to the front door of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, his breaths quick and furious as he scrambled for a decision. After escaping from Mr. Stark's disappointment, he'd fled across the bridge and eventually found an alleyway to change into where his spidey sense had finally calmed down. Cameras were following Peter now wherever he went as Spider-Man now, he was sure, so he'd had to be painfully and slowly careful. Finding an alleyway out of the sight of any cameras had been simple enough, but it would be relatively easy for Mr. Stark to triangulate his location, so Peter had changed and thrown on a hood and forced himself to become lost in the New York crowd of people on the night shift or party-goers higher than a kite.

So far, the teenager thought he'd managed to get away with it, but he'd have to be more careful about when he went out if he didn't want Mr. Stark to find out who he was. The man already seemed disappointed to find out his soulmate was Spider-Man, he couldn't imagine what realizing it was actually Peter Parker would do to him.

Peter swallowed down the trepidation that bubbled under his skin in boiled anxiety as he shuffled in front of the door to the group home. Maybe Mr. Fowler hadn't realized he was late and he could try and sneak in through the window instead of being caught outside the door. Then again, if he did know, he was likely waiting for Peter to slip in that way and catch him red-handed. The real question was what would end in less punishment?

The teenager's musings were cut short by a spike in spidey sense and the wrenching open of the chipped red door, bringing with it the dangerous stench of stale beer. Mr. Fowler's displeased grin froze Peter to the floor in terror until an outstretched hand reached out and gripped his arm in a vice. "You're late."

Peter held back a wince as he was pulled in through the door, forcing himself to stumble along as the door was slammed shut behind him, rattling the old building. Mr. Fowler dragged him towards the dining room as he rushed to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Fowler. I--I didn't mean to! I just got caught up on the subway and my phone died and--"

"I've heard that one before," the man snapped. Peter's jaw clamped shut with an audible click. He bit his tongue to keep his feeble excuses from escaping as he was pushed into a chair roughly. The man's hand gripped onto Peter's shoulder painfully tightly, but the liquor on his breath kept the boy glued to the chair more obediently than anything else. "Now where have you actually been, Peter?"

"I-I didn't mean to be late," he tried again. "I was just--"

There was a harsh smack to the back of his head, whipping it forward. Peter winced, but it didn't really hurt, so he forced himself to sit still. He was fine. Mr. Fowler couldn't really hurt him, and even if he did, it didn't matter. Peter would heal. Every bruise he'd ever gotten here had always been gone by the morning.

"Enough with the excuses, Pete," Mr. Fowler ordered. "I just need an answer for the report now that I have to write up your next strike."

Peter flinched. The system at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was extremely strict. Three strikes and you're out. Peter already had one strike when Mr. Fowler had caught him sneaking an extra snack after dinner. He'd been drunk then too.

Four strikes meant that Peter would be moved to another home for "troubled teens." That he'd attend another school and have to forge a new system of being Spider-Man. And, most importantly, it meant he'd be leaving the younger kids here to Mr. Fowler's wrath by themselves. Peter was the second oldest at the group home of six. Jeremiah was the oldest, but he'd be aging out in barely a month, leaving Peter to try and take care of the others, all no older than twelve.

Peter would heal, they wouldn't. It was as easy as that. But it didn't seem like Peter was going to escape this strike and that he'd have to be careful about even thinking about patrolling for a few weeks. Then again, with Mr. Stark possibly looking for him, maybe it was for the best. And it would just be for a little bit. Just a little bit.

There was a horrible shiver up the teenager's spine, and Peter had to force himself to stay still as there was another slap to his head, this one harder than before. He bit his lip as Mr. Fowler leaned in closer, the staleness of liquor on his breath making the boy's nose crinkle in barely concealed disgust.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, son," Mr. Fowler sneered. "Failure to do so can end in another strike, y'know. Two in one day and you'll be shipped off to Jersey tomorrow morning. So?"

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and grit his teeth. He knew what the man wanted to hear. What he wanted to put in Peter's file. It seemed to be a personal pleasure of his to fuck with his file, and all the other boys' really, as much as humanly possible.

"I was out goofing off with some friends. We were smoking and throwing cans at cars and I lost track of time."

Mr. Fowler tutted. "So irresponsible, Pete. I will have to write that up, y'know, and you'll receive the usual grounding. One week. Now why don't you go and head to bed?"

It wasn't a question, so Peter stood shakily and forced himself near the stairs, knowing better than to ask if he'd get some kind of food before he went to sleep. He wouldn't be getting any dinner for the entirety of his grounding anyway. Peter was lucky that he got away without any bruises, instead only escaping with a dull pain in the back of his head.

He slipped up the stairs and into the room he shared with Jeremiah and Tim. Jeremiah had his back turned to Peter, clearly just fixed to keep his head down for the next month, but Tim was sat up straight in bed, bright black eyes staring at Peter in awed worry. The teenager forced himself to look away, instinctively turning to his dull shadow but snapping away from that as well to stare at his bed instead.

"Go to sleep, Tim. You have school tomorrow."

"But, Peter--"

"Go to sleep, Tim," he said again, a little more forcefully this time. Tim stared at him for another painful moment before slipping down under his covers and turning to face the wall opposite Peter. It dragged a stone of guilt into his stomach, but Peter just couldn't at the moment. Even as he changed out of his ratty clothes into even rattier pajamas, the new knowledge of who his shadow really was wouldn't leave.

Peter turned the light off in the hall and closed the door to him and the other boys' room, grateful for the first time in his life to see his shadow disappear. He knew he was being just a little ridiculous, it wasn't like Mr. Stark hated him or anything, at least, Peter didn't think he did. But, well, the teenager was exactly that; a teenager. One that was poor and alone and had superpowers that he used to do little good deeds around his neighborhood. And Mr. Stark was Mr. Stark. The universe had to have been wrong this one time.

And what was worse was that Peter had just run away. He'd acted like an overdramatic romcom character when discovering that their soulmate was the quarterback they hated or something. It was possibly the worst part of all of this.

Peter kept in a sigh as he dropped onto his old mattress, pulling the lumpy covers over himself and squeezed his eyes shut in a half-assed attempt to bully out the pain of hunger in his stomach and the ache of undeserved longing in his heart. He so desperately wanted to be able to know his soulmate, but there was no way that Mr. Stark would be excited to actually know him. Besides, Mr. Stark pushed the Accords, and Peter was an unlicensed vigilante on the street. It was the man's job to find out who he was and turn him in.

Being soulmates didn't change that, even as his vision flashed to show a dark and fancy lab. Well, now he knew why his soulmate had always had such nice stuff.

 ---

"You what?"

"I found my soulmate," Tony snipped. "Keep up, honey bear. You're losing your touch, old man."

Rhodey ignored his comment, still staring at Tony from where he sat on a box in the Avengers common room that was probably filled with either dishes or Avengers gear. Tony passed the colonel a horribly green smoothie that he accepted without complaint, still staring at Tony but this time with a wide smile on his face.

"You really found him? Just walking around Manhattan?" Rhodey asked.

"Well, technically someone was trying to kidnap me, but sure."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Relax. Everything turned out fine since my soulmate showed up."

Rhodey gave him a look, eyes glancing from the billionaire to the short shadow on the ground. "Your soulmate who is fifteen, saved you from a kidnapping?"

"Well, yeah. But he's got superpowers, so I don't think it was much of a sweat for him."

"Super--who the hell is your soulmate? Is this Twenty Questions? First guess: Ant Man."

"Hardy har," Tony joked. "No, not Lang. It's the spider kid."

Rhodey paused. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

Tony shrugged, twirling the straw of his own green smoothie for a slight distraction from the fact that his soulmate had flinched and then ran away from him. It had kept him up with an anxiety-filled kind of drive as he'd tried to pick out which of the kid's was his little shadow. He'd only managed to weed out a few of the kids of the forty-something.

"No. He, uh, ran away. Friday's on the job looking for him right now, but he's a slippery one, 'cause, uh, no luck so far."

"I'm sorry, man," Rhodey apologized. "That sucks. Do you...do you know why he ran?"

"Something about a curfew."

"Then maybe he'll be out soon looking for you. Once school is out for the day, of course."

"Yeah. Maybe," Tony agreed, but he thought differently. The shake in the kid's voice, the flinch as he'd ducked away from Tony's hand, and the horrible defensive tenseness when he'd looked away from their switched shadows to look at him. He didn't think Spidey was exactly thrilled, or that he'd be looking for a way to tell the billionaire exactly who he was.

"Any flashes?" Rhodey asked. Tony hummed in confusion. "Since you realized you were soulmates?"

"Oh, uh, just a room last night. I don't know, it was pretty hard to make out." Tony had turned off all the lights in his lab once he'd arrived in it, hoping for some kind of flash of where his soulmate was. It had been reassuring to see the connection still intact, but it wasn't like the dark and bare bedroom had been much help. "I think he has siblings or something. There was another bed in there. Oh, add that to the search engine, Friday."

"Of course, sir. Now down to twenty-eight kids."

Tony smiled. Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.

  ---

"You what?"

"Shut up, Ned," Peter shushed, curling forward in another sit-up to hiss at his best friend who was staring at him in amazement. Ned didn't seem deterred in the slightest, but at least his voice dropped to match Peter's hushed whisper.

"I can't shut up. I'll never be able to shut up again! You met Tony Stark last night! This is the greatest day of my life."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal," Peter lied. He had conveniently left out the part where the billionaire was his soulmate, and considering Ned's reaction of his just meeting the guy, Peter was going to keep that to himself for the time being. Or forever. Whichever came first. Ned continued to stare at him in astonishment, and Peter relented as he curled up again. "Okay, it was pretty cool. He bought me a drink."

"What, like a beer?"

"No, Ned, a hot chocolate."

"Ohhh. That makes more sense."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "And keep it down. Please? I don't need anyone thinking I drank last night. Mr. Fowler already put a new load of bullshit on my record and you know all the teachers get updates on the shit I do."

Ned's eyes darkened. "He gave you another strike?"

"Yeah," Peter panted, curling up faster as anxiety pumped underneath his skin. "My fault. Stupid. Shouldn't have been late."

"How late were you?"

"Like, ten minutes I think."

Ned spluttered, "But it was just ten minutes!"

"Mr. Fowler's a rule stickler," he half-truthed. Ned didn't need to know how shitty his group home leader was. "I'll just have to be more careful for a while and get back on his good side." Like Mr. Fowler had a good side. "It'll be fine in another week or two."

Ned clearly wanted to protest more, his friend was always so suspicious of Mr. Fowler and so insistent that Peter should just tell the man that he was Spider-Man and that he was helping people. Well, Ned thought they should tell everyone that he was Spider-Man, clearly thinking that it would help him get away with late assignments or missing curfew, but really it would only succeed in him getting arrested. Besides, now that Mr. Stark might be looking for him, he was determined more than ever to keep his identity safe.

Coach Wilson passed by, complementing, "Looking good, Parker."

Peter slowed down, faking a tired grimace and just wishing with every fiber of his being that PE would be over soon.

"So I guess that's a no on Liz's party, then?" Ned asked. Peter turned away from watching Coach Wilson walk away to stare at his friend.

"Liz is having a party?"

"Yeah? She talked about it last decathlon practice. Were you not paying attention?"

"I guess not. My bad," he mumbled. "Is it tonight?"

"Yeah, but you're probably in trouble aren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed, thinking about the dinner he was going to miss tonight. Then again, if he went to the party, not only would Liz be there, but there'd probably be some snacks too. "But my curfew doesn't change."

"It doesn't?"

"I don't think it ever will. Like I said, Mr. Fowler is a stickler for rules, and the curfew is his favorite. It's completely unmovable in his mind."

"Weird."

"Yeah. He's pretty strange," Peter agreed. "So, what time tonight?"

"Seven, I think. And anyway, remember my idea about telling everyone that you're--"

"No, Ned. We're not telling people that I'm--" he lowered his voice dramatically, "--that I'm Spider-Man."

Ned pouted. "Fine. But could you, I don't know, appear as Spider-Man?"

"What? Why?"

"C'mon! Think about how cool it would be if you dropped down and were like, 'Hey, Ned! Whattup? Where's my buddy, Peter? 'Cause we're besties and I'm a cool superhero!' Wouldn't that be cool!?"

Peter stared.

"Ned, literally no one cares about Spider--"

"Now, see, for me, it would be F Thor, marry Iron Man, and kill Hulk," came the voice of the girl's sitting on the bleachers. Peter and Ned turned to listen.

"Well, what about the Spider-Man?" Charles asked.

"It’s just Spider-Man," Betty replied. Peter raised an eyebrow at Ned in a way that meant, See?

"Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys," Liz argued, her voice climbing just a little higher. Peter's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, she’s crushing on Spider-Man."

"No way."

Liz shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "Kind of?"

Peter turned back to Ned. "Yeah. Okay, sure, I'll bring the suit."

  ---

"Thank you, Mrs. Leeds!" Peter called, waving at the woman through her beat up green Toyota. She waved back at him and Ned with a cheery smile.

"See you two boys later! I'll be back at nine to make sure you're home on time, Peter."

"Thank you!" he said again as she drove off.

"Bye, Mom!" Ned said. There were a few looks sent their way, but Peter didn't really care. Even when Flash liked to humiliate him in front of the other kids at school, Peter never felt more than surface level embarrassment. He was past the point of caring about high school drama, but Ned ducked his head nervously, readjusting his new hat. His friend turned to him and whispered, "Dude, you have the suit right?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Peter gestured to his backpack. "Yeah."

"This is gonna change our lives," Ned squeed as they stepped up the driveway. Liz had a large house on a well-lit street in the suburbs. He could see even more colorful lights inside, just as bright as the music was, and anxiety rolled in his chest. He didn't care about what other people thought of him, he really didn't, but he couldn't stop the nerves at such an unfamiliar environment.

Peter stared down at his shadow on instinct, searching for comfort in the familiar fluffy hair. Catching himself, he forced himself to turn away and stare forward as he stepped through the door behind Ned.

He almost stumbled back as the noise hit him. There was the movement of chatter and the blaring of shitty and loud music. Peter stared as some girls walked past, swallowing nervously as his gaze went from them, to Flash DJ-ing, and then landing on Michelle, who glared at them as she spread jam on a piece of toast.

"Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party," she said. Peter frowned in confusion.

"But you’re here too," Ned said, confused hesitation taking up his voice.

"Am I?" And then she stalked away. Peter and Ned glanced at each other in confusion.

Ned recovered first, tapping his backpack. "Okay, anyway, we’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight, and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro-hugs and--"

"Oh, my gosh!"

Ned was cut off as Peter turned away from him to look at Liz. Redness flushed onto his cheeks as she approached them with a wide smile and a red cup in her hand.

"Hey, guys. Cool hat, Ned."

"Hi, Liz," Ned said with a wave.

"Hi, Liz," he said, cursing himself as his voice broke immediately.

"I’m so happy you guys came. There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself."

Peter's stomach rumbled at the thought, but he forced it down with a smile and a warbled, "What a great party."

"Thanks," Liz smiled. There was the shattering of glass, making her turn sheepishly. "Oh, I... My parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta--"

"Yeah."

"Have fun," she said, hurrying away. Ned turned to him furiously, gesturing to where the senior had left.

"Dude, what are you doing? She’s here. Spider it up."

Like a flip had been switched, Peter remembered that Iron Man was probably looking for him. No way he could get away with showing himself at a high school party. This would be all over social media in barely an hour. "No, no, no. I can’t... I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I’m just gonna...be myself."

"Peter, no one wants that."

"Dude," Peter snapped, but even as he walked away, he knew it was true. He thought of the image of Mr. Stark's face when he'd realized they were soulmates.

Now more than a little out of it, the teenager finally made his way through the house, searching desperately for wherever the pizza was. He didn't make it very far down the hall when there was the screech of his name over a microphone.

"Penis Parker, what’s up?!" Flash yelled over the microphone. People turned to stare at Peter and Ned, sneers or sympathetic smiles decorating their faces. Peter tensed, glancing over to Ned. "Thought you were stuck at the group home! And didn't you know you were supposed to dress nicely for a party?"

Ned gave Peter a look, and that was how the superpowered teen ended up on the roof in his shitty superhero costume with his mask in hand as he chewed his lip in jittered fear.

"Hey, what’s up?" he said in a deepened voice, grabbing his mask from the bag and straightening it out. "I’m Spider-Man. Just thought I’d swing by and say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh, what’s up, Ned? Hey, where’s Peter, anyways? He must be around..." Peter sighed, dropping his hands and digging his fingers into the mask as his brows furrowed. "God, this is stupid. What am I doing?"

Peter stared from the roof down at where Ned was waiting, looking around anxiously, his friend's shadow bright underneath the lights. He glanced out of the corner of his eye down at where his own was scrunched beside him, wondering what Mr. Stark was doing right now. Maybe he was doing cool Iron Man stuff in the lab he'd had a flash of. Maybe...maybe he was wondering what Peter was doing too.

Just as he was about to sigh about how unlikely that was, there was the sound of a distant crash and a plume of bright blue. He began to push himself up, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the thing as his senses rang.

"What the hell?"

Peter stuffed on his mask and swung away, making his way through the neighborhood. After running across an embarrassingly long golf course, the sprinklers biting against his skin with the freezing water, he finally arrived at where he'd seen the blue smoke. Spider-Man dipped himself low, clinging to a small bridge and popping his head around the corner.

There were three men, a broken down old car, and a classic kidnapper white van. Peter watched as one guy whooped at the explosion that burst out from the weapon in his hand against the car. The two other men cringed back as he flinched at the bright light. The man returned to the van, putting the gun down and grabbing another one. It looked extremely similar to the one that had been used against Mr. Stark last night.

"Now, this is crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron arm straight from Sokovia. Here. You try."

The guy passed the weird arm-gun to the man with curly hair, who examined it in confused disdain. "Man, I wanted something low-key. Why are you trying to upsell me, man?"

"Okay, okay, okay. I got what you need, all right?" the guy placated, moving back to look through the van. "I got tons of great stuff here. One sec. Okay, I got, uh, black hole grenades, Chitauri railguns..."

"You letting off shots in public now? Hurry up," the tallest one warned. He stepped up to the curly haired guy. The buyer, Peter guessed. "Look, times are changing. We’re the only ones selling these high tech weapons."

"Oh, so this is where bad guys are getting their stuff," Peter whispered to his shadow out of habit. He shook his head, glaring forward and away from where Mr. Stark's silhouette extended.

"I need something to stick up somebody. I’m not trying to shoot them back in time," the buyer complained.

"I got anti-grav climbers," the guy at the van suggested. That seemed to finally get the third man's attention.

"Yo, climbers?"

And then, of course, Peter's phone rang. Immediately guns were drawn, clicking towards the buyer as Peter tore his phone out of his pocket, almost swearing as he caught sight of Ned's caller ID and shutting it off.

"Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Did you set us up?"

"Hey, hey, man."

His senses ringing, Peter dropped from the bridge, catching the men's attention. "Hey! Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me."

"All right."

The gun clicked towards him. Peter shot a web, tearing the gun away, and then ran forward. His senses spiked and then pain jolted through Peter as something bright smashed against his face. It launched the teenager straight into the leg of the bridge, the concrete crumpling under his force. He groaned in pain, forcing himself onto his elbows.

"What the hell?" he muttered. The revving of an engine tore his head to where the van was beginning to drive off. He shot a web to the back of the van, attempting to stick to the ground but only succeeding in being dragged away and onto the harsh road, eliciting a surprised yelp from the high schooler.

Spider-Man shot another web in an attempt to right his balance, gritting his teeth as the road tore at his skin. The van dragged him around, swerving intentionally and smacking Peter through at least five trash cans before finally losing him into a pillar of solid brick. He groaned in pain even as he pushed himself to his feet and shot another web. It attached to the door, ripping it to the ground with a metal screech. Peter threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Great! Guess I'm gonna have to take a shortcut."

Peter leaped over a car into a yard and then a few more yards. At least there was a cute dog, but he wished he'd had more time to play with it.

The superhero stumbled along after scaring a couple of girls--his bad, but they'd get over it eventually. Hopefully--diving over a fence and skimming over a pool in a crowd of people that stared at him in gawked surprise. He called, "Great movie!" before swinging up with a tree and landing just a little too hard on a nearby roof. He panted heavily even as he kept going. He caught sight of the white van.

"Almost got you," he said to himself. "Thought you got away from me, didn’t you? I got you right where I want you. Surprise!"

Finally close enough, Peter leaped from the roof. His spine shivered, his hairs raised, and his heart leaped in fear as metal claws clamped down around him. Peter screamed hoarsely, twisting in midair as he was propelled away from the ground at a frightening speed. "AgH! What the hell!!??"

Peter barely took in the large wings, instead focusing on digging his hands around the metal claws clenched around his ankle. Whoever the bird guy was, he certainly didn't appreciate it. Haunting green eyes met Peter's wide white. His heart beat rapidly. How high up was he? The ground below looked so tiny. At least there was water under him.

And then he wasn't so thankful as the metal digging into his feet released all of the sudden. Peter screamed as he fell, twisting in midair as he searched desperately for an escape. The water underneath him grew closer and closer and there was nothing for Peter to grab onto. Nothing to web. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no--

Peter slapped against the surface. All the air was forced from his lungs as he was carried under by the lapping waves.

 ---

  "Sir--" Friday started. Tony didn't look up from where he was writing out code that he'd been pouring over for hours, going through every idea and web combination imaginable.

"Please don't turn down my music, honey," Tony said, swiveling in his rolly chair and wheeling over to the table where the webs he was in the process of replicating were beginning to formulate. He was on his fourth attempt now, and he was getting close. "I'm working."

"I am operating under the Itsy Bitsy Spider protocol."

Tony readjusted his glasses, turning away from where he was stirring the sticky formula to glance at the hologram of the suit. He'd been wondering when the kid would show up again. He hadn't been out all afternoon. "Yeah? What's up?"

In response, Friday popped up a video. It was clearly shot through a phone, shakily recording the kid skimming off of a pool before launching himself in the air. It dragged an amused smile from Tony, but it dropped as the next video played.

This one was clearly a security camera from the suburbs. The video was only a couple seconds long as a shuddering white van sped past the house, smoke flying from behind it. There was a bright purple shot and then Tony finally managed to catch sight of the bright red and blue suit being dragged along. Tony turned to his shadow, staring at where the hood was pulled up.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into now, kid?" he asked it. "How old is this video?"

"Barely a minute."

Tony glanced at the unfinished suit and then back at the video playing on a loop. He guessed the suit would have to wait.

"Get me Mark Forty-Eight and take me to where this video was taken. Quickly, dear."

The suit activated across the room, stepping out of its case and allowing for Tony to be covered by it. The screen lit up immediately, his path highlighted to where the nearest window had opened. Tony shot out into the New York night, his heart beating rapidly. The kid had to be okay, right? He probably dealt with weird shit all the time.

The thought didn't stop the mechanic from being nervous. The kid was fifteen after all. He wasn't exactly equipped for this kind of thing.

It took barely a couple of minutes for Tony to arrive at the street where the video had been taken. There was a burn mark on the road, but no Spidey, and no sign of that van. He hovered, scanning for where the kid could be.

"Heat signatures, Fri. Give me something to work with."

His screen lit up, orange and red figures milling about in houses. There were a few people walking streets over, a car roving by slowly, a clash of body heat that made him think of a party, and a red dot hurtling out of the air ever closer to the river. Wait--

Tony fixated on where the red dot was slowly approaching the water, his heart pounding. "What is that? Friday, zoom in."

The video clipped towards the red dot, and Tony gasped as he recognized a body twisting through the air. And not just any body.

Spidey.

His thrusters whined before forcing the suit forward towards the dot that had disappeared from view. He turned in air, hovering over the body of water, before glancing down with a fearful swallow. A heat signature was illuminated.

"Kid," he gasped.

Tony dove down immediately and broke through the water's surface. It was dark underneath, but he could make out where the kid was. He wrapped his metal arms under the kid's armpits before shooting back into the blissfully cold air.

"I've got you, kid. I've got you."

Spidey didn't respond.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[orbitariums]

𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐦 | 𝐜𝐲𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐱 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 (𝟏)

welcome to the first part of girls on film!

i made this thinking of steve having his first experience with a cam girl. i hope u enjoy!!! this is a series, next part will be coming soon!!!

description: steve rogers is in a rut. for the first time in forever, captain america wants to have sex. the only problem is that he doesn't have a girlfriend, and he's certainly not the kind to have a one night stand. a cam site, girlsonfilm.com is his last resort -- and thank god for it, because through there, he found you.

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taglist is closed!

warnings: sex work, porn, dirty talk, smut, age gap

     Steve Rogers was filled to the brim with lust. It was a feeling he didn't get often. But for the past couple of weeks, it had been creeping up on him like a bad cold. He was distracted, not like himself, zoned out. He seemed detached and uninterested, all to hide that on the inside he felt like a cat in heat. He didn't know what to do with this sudden burning. He knew if he had sex, or sexual interactions, the conflict would at least begin to resolve itself.

     He'd be sated in the way he desired and knew he wanted -- needed. But there was a problem with that as well - he wasn't in a relationship at the moment, so he couldn't have sex with a partner. He didn't even have time to initiate a relationship and get to that level. And Steve Rogers was good old fashioned Captain America, who didn't want to have a one night stand just to fulfill his desires. He would feel uncomfortable just diving in with a girl he hardly knew because he felt like he needed a stronger connection and because he didn't want to use someone in that way.

      And masturbation hardly helped. He needed the real thing, and more than a few rounds of it. He didn't quite understand why he felt this way, it was so rare. Of course he was a man with a sex drive, but it was typically limited to finding a woman on the street attractive or wanting to start a relationship with a woman who wasn't tied to his job, or figuring out the new things that he was attracted to. 

     He raised his eyebrows at his own self sometimes - who knew he liked high heels so much? But this was different. In this case, he absolutely needed relief, and soon, lest he fall further down the rabbit hole of indifference and inner frustration.

     But it took a few weeks for anyone to really say anything about Steve's changed attitude -- his apparent unconcern, irritation, bits of anxiety and hiding his feelings. Specifically Tony. Steve was sitting in the meeting room with seemingly no purpose, just staring at the TV ahead of him, with his legs spread out. He was gently bouncing his right leg, thinking embarrassingly NSFW thoughts in his head.

     That was when Tony walked in, yet to be noticed by Steve, who had pretty much spaced out. Tony raised a suspicious brow, then whistled loudly, making Steve look his way, tuning back in to Earth.

     "Steve-o, good to see you," Tony grinned, the corner of his lip turning up. Steve narrowed his eyes slightly at the sound of the annoying nickname.

He sighed, his voice lower and huskier than usual, as it had been during these past few deprived weeks,

     "Tony. How can I help you?"

     "I think today what we're asking is- how can I help you? Been meaning to talk to you," Tony quipped, and Steve sighed even heavier internally - there would be no good coming from this, he thought. "Step into my office!"

The words were like knives on a chalkboard. Tony was on some type of mental health bend ever since he had finally started therapy - he felt the need to check in with his fellow Avengers, typically inviting them to an "office session" with those very words. There was no resisting. Steve knew better than to try, and slowly rose to his feet to get up and talk with Tony.

     "Attaboy," Tony patted Steve's back, leading him to his office where he sat down behind his desk and had Steve sit on a chair in front of him. He adjusted his tie and cleared his throat, and clasped his hands together. "So. What's been going on?"

Steve winced slightly, confused and a little embarrassed. He knew he had been acting different, but he didn't think it was that bad. And he didn't want to have to admit what was going on with him to Tony.

     "You can tell me," Tony prodded, and Steve frowned slightly.

     "Why'd you call me in here?"

     "Rogers, everyone's been seeing that you're acting... iffy lately. Less control freak, less robotic super-soldier, less-"

     "Alright," Steve cut Tony off, furrowing his brows together.

     "I've seen it too, but it was Nat who asked me to say something to you. She thinks I'm actually good at talking to people, can you imagine? Anyway, you gotta own up to it. You've been off these past few weeks. Any reason why?"

Steve took a breath, opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. He blinked and folded his arms in front of his chest. If he wanted to hide that something was going on, there was no use anymore. Tony leaned back in his chair, waiting for a response.

     "I..." he started, and Tony became intrigued, leaning forward. "I just..."

Tony raised a brow,

     "Cat got your tongue? Y'know what Steve, I'm thinking maybe you need someone you can really talk to. If it isn't me, which... wouldn't make much sense, maybe it's someone else. A girlfriend?"

     "That's it!" Steve exclaimed, a bit too excitedly. He recomposed himself, nodding calmly. "That's exactly it. I need a girlfriend. But more specifically, I need... what a girlfriend can give me. Does that... make sense?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, very intrigued now, and a little smirk appeared on his lips. He nodded slowly,

     "Oh it makes a lot of sense. I would've thought you'd have no problem with that, my friend."

Steve sighed, folding his arms,

     "More trouble than you'd think. I want this, but... I don't have time to go out and meet someone and then... you know-"

     "Bump uglies."

Steve's face morphed into a concerned grimace at Tony's choice of words, and he continued speaking with a raised brow and pursed lip,

     "Right. And, I don't wanna just..."

     "Have a one night stand."

     “Right," Steve nodded, slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable with the topic of sex although it was all that was on his mind. "So I'm just... a little bit conflicted, that's all."

Tony seemed to understand, but he was also slightly amused, smirking slightly,

     "So, let me get this straight. Captain America's been acting disconnected and aloof because he's horny?"

Steve made a face like he'd eaten a sour candy, and could hardly even nod in replacement of a verbal answer. Tony laughed a bit, clapped his hands together, and began to commend him,

     "Amazing! You know, I always wondered - the guy doesn't bring any women home, he doesn't have a missus, what the hell does he do? Does he even think about it? I was concerned for your health, honestly, but I didn't want to overstep."

Steve chuckled,

     "Not like you."

     "Sure," Tony brushed off the comment, then returned back to the subject, narrowing his eyes slightly in curiosity. "You do jerk off though?"

Steve shrugged.

     "I try. I typically... need more, though," Steve became sheepish, his cheeks turning a slight red at the delicate, private manner of the topic.

Tony seemed very surprised by this admission, but very satisfied with the honesty,

      "Thank you for sharing, Cap. So your dilemma is - you're tied up because you want to slime the shield, but-"

     "Have sex," Steve interrupted, his eyes pinching shut. "Just say have sex."

     "Alright- there he is. So, you're conflicted because you want to have sex, but you don't have time for a relationship, and you're too wholesome to have a one night stand."

     "You could say that," Steve nodded slowly, agreeing - this talk with Tony was beginning to seem more feasible. Still embarrassing, but a conversation he could have. And if anything good could come from it, he was willing to continue.

     "Honestly, pal, you want a solution?"

     "Please," Steve leaned forward in his chair, the word coming out more desperate than he had even meant it to. His mouth was becoming dry - he was tired of the futile devices he'd been left to at his own hands.

     "Alright. Listen, I'm a changed man, really. But before Pepper, I was what you might call a sugar daddy. You know, I'd buy hot girls things in exchange for sex, or just because I wanted to. I suppose a part of it was due to satisfying my own needs. Now, I know that's not exactly what you're looking for, but hear me out. I'd usually find these girls on cam sites."

     "Cam sites?"

     "Oh, Steve-o. You are in for a wild ride. These women... they're phenomenal. You wouldn't even believe.

     In that hour, Tony had gone over the basics of cam sites. He had emphasized the fact that while cam sites weren't as wholesome as Steve might be hoping, there were many ways to develop a personal relationship with cam girls (that was what they were called, the women Steve would encounter), and receive sexual gratification. It wasn't physical sex, but it might tide Steve over for now, until he could develop those relations in real life.

     So, Steve agreed. And it had been on his mind for the remainder of the day. The talk helped though - Steve was slowly coming back down to earth. Just having an option that appeared slightly viable was helpful, and he was looking forward to that night. It was a bit unorthodox, especially for someone like him, but if he could find that real connection Tony was talking about... he'd give it a shot.

     So that night, after a hot shower, lots of contemplation and heavy thoughts, he got into bed, freshly clean and warm, shirtless and in a pair of boxers. He placed his laptop in front of him, his room dark and quiet, and typed "girlsonfilm.com" into the search browser. His face shifted almost as soon as he got onto the page - there was a collection of photos of girls, many of them naked or almost naked, smiling up at the camera or sporting their best sexy pouts. Already it was a bit overwhelming, and it was only the welcome page. Tony had told Steve it was best to sign up, so that was exactly what he did.

     He used his middle name, "Grant", rather than Steve - because you could never be too safe, and he signed up for an account. Before he was able to view the collection of cam sites, he was given a plethora of interests to pick from. Some were fetish based - BDSM, foot play, scene play, squirting, etc. Others were based on the ratings of the performers, some based on race - Steve raised a brow at that category. 

     As if race would be a factor to him. He honestly didn't know what to choose from. He hardly knew his interests sexually, and just barely knew what personal qualities he wanted in a girl. So, he pressed the "just get started" button at the top, and it randomized the video selection. He wouldn't be missing out on a thing.

     Steve's cheeks grew redder and redder as he scrolled through the site. All the selections were showing previews of the live videos, and seeing so many naked women on screen at once made Steve's face get hot. He clicked through various videos - some girls were simply chatting, others were moaning too much to get a real word out, and others were undressing slowly or praising their customers. They were all interesting and talented, yet none really stood out to him. Up until he found you.

     You called yourself "moonrose haze", and you were genuinely smiling, something that made Steve feel less desolate. You seemed to be enjoying yourself, and it seemed as though this were all completely natural to you. You were happy and calm and wistful all at once. The people in your comments were tipping you and asking you to do certain things — Steve was almost confused by some of the requests; why would someone want to see you suck your own toes? But this didn't take away from you. He was enthralled — you were young, gorgeous, and already he liked you as a person though he knew nothing about you. And when he heard your voice, this liking towards you only grew stronger.

    He just watched for a while, listening to you speak.

    "I just got out of the shower," you grinned dazedly — that would explain why you were wrapped in a white robe, your hair still slightly damp and clinging to your skin.

His eyes flickered down to the comments:

Bob - bobnewman14 How was your shower, ms. Haze?

Nick - virgodick Shower? without me?

    "Very funny, Nick," you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. You grinned — you seemed to have a sense of humor, and a few regular fans with whom you had a relationship with. Steve felt encouraged by this, maybe then it would be easy for him to make a connection too. You shifted purposefully so that more of your skin was showing, and instantly got a few more tips. "And my shower was great, Bob. How are you?"

    Steve just watched for a while more as you interacted. You weren't doing anything overtly sexual, but your presence was enough. And sure, you were teasing, elongating your performance enough to keep your tips going. You took in a deep sigh, and Steve was entranced by the sound of it, by the softness and color of your lips, the way your hair brushed against your (insert color) skin.

    "So... I wanna do a private chat tonight. And I'll be choosing one lucky winner. So comment your name below if you want a 40 minute session with me," you explained. You were articulate and right to the point — Steve liked that about you.

The chat started filling up with names and requests for the private chat. Tony had told Steve about this. He was reluctant at first when you said it, but as he saw how many people were requesting, he realized that now was his chance. He wanted to get to know you as soon as possible, and in a private session he could also get that sexual gratification he was seeking, and have it all to himself. But how to stand out to you?

   Tips. Steve saw that you were almost to your tip goal for the night, so he decided he would help you out a little more. He pressed the tip button and entered the value without even batting an eye — he had the money for it and more: $360. He watched as your eyes brightened up and your brows raised, a little gasp escaping your lips.

    "Wow, we have a new and very generous customer. Thank you!"

    He smiled to himself, and this feeling of satisfaction was rare. He then requested a private session, and it was only a few beats before you accepted and Steve was then rerouted. What first popped up was a webcam that asked "join audio and video?" Steve contemplated it — he wanted you to be comfortable, but for obvious reasons he didn't want to reveal himself just yet. So he clicked "join audio without video", and was then transferred into a private session unique to him. You could hear him, you just couldn't see him.

    The two of you were alone, no other customers in sight. And the 40 minutes would be great for getting to know you, so Steve was glad. You were smiling, that genuine smile that met your sparkling eyes.

   "Hi!" you cooed. "What's your name?"

    "My name's Grant," said Steve, using his fake name. He was speaking into the microphone so you could hear him, but you couldn't see him.

    You smiled even wider,

    "Hello, Grant. Nice to meet you. It says you joined this website — 33 minutes ago? You're brand new aren't you?

    Steve grinned a little, he liked your slightly teasing personality, and you could hear his bemusement in his voice,         "Very new. It's nice to meet you."

    "It's nice to meet you too, Grant," you liked him— he seemed formal and polite so far, and he had helped you succeed in reaching your tips goal for the night, you hardly had to do a thing after he joined your live session. "And thank you so much for the tip. You have no idea what it means to me. I'm currently trying to pay for school and be an artist at the same time, and also pay rent. It's kind of crazy. I work another job outside of this."

Steve was surprised. He knew cam girls usually did their shows for an extra source of money, but you seemed to be juggling a lot more than he'd expected,

    "It's my pleasure. And I'm sure you'll succeed in everything. I want to help you if I can."

Your heart felt warm. But this was a little too good to be true — you had lots of customers, but it wasn't often that a man came on offering the kind of help you figured Grant was insinuating right away. You went on anyways, but didn't give in just yet,

    "You're sweet. So what can I do for you?"

Steve panicked at the question. He didn't know what he wanted to see. He wanted to talk first, then maybe try something sexual towards the end of your time together. For now, he wanted to talk. He wanted the illusion of a connection and relationship before he got the sexual satisfaction he needed.

He shrugged a little, forgetting that you couldn't see him, and tried to sound natural and not nervous,

    "I was thinking I could just get to know you for now, if that's alright with you."

You laughed, because you were amused by his charming nature.

    "It's more than alright," you flirted gently, and Steve smiled slightly. "You're the customer, Grant."

He was thrown off by the use of the fake name, but he'd have to get used to it.

    "So, you go by Moonrose?" Steve asked, curious about your stage name.

    "That's me," you quipped, and Steve got a rise out of the confident look that spurred on your face as you confirmed. It seemed you really enjoyed this job and your interactions with others, and he liked that.

    "What made you choose that name? It's very nice."

    "Thank you, Grant," you flashed a quirky smile. "Well, I love the stars and the moon, I love flowers. I love earth and space. What better way to combine them both than to do it through this?"

    "Couldn't agree more," Steve grinned. "It sounds like you like nature a lot?"

    "Love. I'm studying environmental policy and astronomy at school. On the side I try to make money as a designer, and I also work at an office for a state rep. And this, of course. I like this a lot. What about you, what do you do?"

Steve admired you for your willingness to change the world, and for how much you balanced at once. If there was anyone who understood stress- it was him. And you probably dealt with a lot yourself.

      "Oh, I-I'm uhh... I'm a... scientist," he blurred out the first thing that made sense, and it made a lot of sense - he was surrounded by scientists and scientific experiments - hell, he was one. He could carry a short conversation about the same things as Tony. This would work. "An engineer, actually," he continued.

    "Oh wow," you raised your brows, impressed. "Lots of math, I imagine. Hey, you could tutor me if you really wanna help me. I love astronomy but it's kind of kicking my ass."

   Steve smirked at your honesty and attitude, and the way you leaned into the camera to express interest in his "life."

    "I could, if you want me to," Steve replied, knowing he wasn't that great with math.

    You laughed — the sound of your laugh like music to Steve's ears,

    "I'm kidding, I won't put you through that. But you're so sweet to offer. I like you."

    "I like you," Steve returned, the words flowing so effortlessly out of his mouth. It was easy to talk to you, but you were a force of a woman, and he liked that about you.

    You laughed again, and Steve chuckled quietly.

    "Hmm," you hummed to yourself, and placed your finger on your lip. "You have this really nice, deep voice. Not creepy or anything. I could listen to you talk for ages. We have over thirty minutes left but I'd love to do another private session with you. Hope I'm not asking too soon."

Unbeknownst to Steve, now you were nervous. It had happened fast, but you felt the chemistry between the two of you. You felt like he was different, and although you couldn't see him, you had an attraction to him, and not just because of the money. So you wanted to talk with him in private again, and you were nervous to ask so soon in the session because you didn't want Steve to feel pressured or on lock, but he seemed to be enjoying himself.

    Steve was overjoyed though. He wanted to see you again, and had been planning on trying for another private session as well as watching your public, live cams. He felt like he knew you already, and getting to know you was a breeze. More would definitely satisfy him.

    "I'd love to see you again," he leaned back into his pillows, feeling more comfortable.

    You smiled, trying and failing to hide your excitement as you giggled gently,

    "Great. I do live shows every Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday, just so you know. Private sessions vary."

    "I'll clear my calendar," Steve joked playfully, and you smirked.

     "I like you," you said again. "So, what made you want to come on here, if you don't mind me asking. You're just very new, as we discussed."

     "Well," Steve cleared his throat. He figured he might as well be honest and talk about his problems— you would be the one helping solve them. "I've been having this issue. I've been wanting to be intimate for a while now, but I don't have the resources for that. I want the physical intimacy, but I don't have a girlfriend and I don't have time to get one, and I don't want to do one night stands either, I prefer a deeper connection. So this seemed like a good option. A sort of compromise."

    "Wow," you nodded slowly. You got lots of responses to that question, and they all varied — some were similar to this one, but this seemed more unique. You took in everything he said, but couldn't help but prod playfully. "How old are you, Grant? You seem to be very traditional!"

     Steve chuckled. Little did you know, this was a loaded question. But he could answer it anyway,

     "I'm thirty seven. You?"

     "I just turned twenty one! My birthday was two days ago," you replied, and the age difference came as a shock to Steve. He didn't mind it much, but he didn't want to feel like a perv. Then again, you were both adults, but you still felt so young to him. Then again, this was unlike him to begin with and this was a temporary means for satisfaction.

    "Wow, you're young. Happy belated birthday," Steve replied, his brows still raised.

    "Thank you," you smiled. You began to lay down on your side, playing with the strings of your robe. "I am young. I bet you like that, don't you?"

    Steve felt nervous again, a pang in his chest. You were flirtatious by nature, even in regular chats, because you were used to sexual interactions with customers. He felt himself blush slightly at the vulgarity of the simple question— you were practically asking if he had a thing for the age gap. He didn't really know the answer to that question, but he spoke before his throat ran too dry,

    "Yeah, I- I do. You're young and bright and..."

You were gazing into the camera, listening to him and batting your lashes, making him stumble on his words. He swallowed hard, saliva coating his dry throat. He shifted slightly, pushing his bedsheets back— it was getting warm.

     You just shook your head playfully,

     "You're too kind, Steve. Now, are you sure there's not anything I can do for you? Now that you've told me about your problem, I'd love to help you solve it."

Oh. Steve hardly knew what to say in response. But it wasn't long before that feeling crept back on him. He was undoubtedly turned on by you and these unfulfilled opportunities. So he cleared his throat,

    "Well. I know we can't touch each other, but I find that... doing it myself... doesn't always suffice."

    "I can help you with that," you bit down on your lip. When you realized Steve wasn't sure what you meant, you continued to explain, your voice getting naturally lower and sexier. "I mean I could help you get off. I'll do whatever you want me to do, make it feel like someone is really there with you. A bit like... phone sex. Except you'll be able to see me."

     Steve was overwhelmed by the option, but he felt it might help him out. Tony had spoken about it briefly and it was also one of the main things that had attracted him to the site. So he'd try it out.

    "That- that sounds great."

     You grinned, genuinely excited. Steve — or "Grant", to you — seemed new to this entire experience. You were overjoyed to be his "first."

    "So... tell me what you want." A pause. You chuckled a little, biting down on your finger. "Do you know what you want?"

    "Honestly? Not really," Steve laughed, and you smiled.

     "Well, let's figure that out." You sat up on your knees in your bed and glared down at the camera, a look in your eyes that both intimidated and excited Steve. You were so ready for him already, so interested in his desires and helping him reach them. "Can I take this off for you?"

      "You— the robe? Uhm— ye-yes," Steve stammered, taken aback by the look in your eyes, the sound of your voice, and what you were proposing.

You laughed huskily, shaking your head,

     "Don't be nervous, Grant. Just do what you want, and tell me what you want."

     Steve watched as the robe slowly came off, paying more attention to the way it slid down your shoulders, revealing your arms. The way it pooled at your knees. Then he paid attention to the supple skin of your breasts, the way they perfectly fit your body type.

    He was breathing a bit heavier and he found that his boxers were becoming tighter, watching you sit there in front of him, your entire body exposed. It had been quick, yes, but so had the connection. He felt a little more comfortable doing it because of how much he felt like you connected.

    "Is that good for you?" you cooed, pouting slightly as you let your hands run along your sides, and then cup your plush breasts, the flesh oozing between your fingers. Steve's throat ran incredibly dry at the sight. You were beautiful and effortlessly sexy, and seeing you naked for the first time in front of him felt so oddly intimate. He swallowed hard and nodded.

     "You're fuckin' beautiful," he replied under his breath, gaining a cheeky smile from you - of course he was satisfied, of course you had taken his breath away.

      "Thank you, baby," you donned the pet name for him quickly and easily, shifting your shoulders back and forth as you moved rhythmically, teasing him just a bit more before you gave him any more content.

       "My god," Steve groaned. He couldn't stop his eyes from looking up and down your body, even if it was only on a screen. He felt like you were close to him, enough that he felt like you were there with him. You were talking to him, actually engaging with him, trying and succeeding to fulfill his sexual needs. He felt himself growing hard underneath his boxers, and his jaw clenched as his hand reached down to palm himself on instinct.

    You sighed out, and bit down on your lip, pushing your hair behind your ear as you lay back on the mattress slightly, slowly opening your legs. As your sensuous thighs parted, Steve let out a suppressed moan as you exposed the soft flesh between your legs. You were turned on by the situation as much as he was, your folds glistening with hints of arousal. Your fingers danced around your thighs and your stomach, skillfully avoiding that bundle of nerves and everything close to it.

    "You like that, Grant?" you asked, and Steve fell through, shaking his head and gripping his erection in his strong, large hand.

      "Call me Steve, that's my real name. Ca-call me Steve," he stammered, not thinking of any type of consequences - he was still using a fake username, and you had no idea what he looked like. His identity wouldn't be guessable, and he was being careful otherwise. He just knew that he only wanted to hear you moan his real name.

    You didn't mind the switch. You knew lots of customers used aliases to protect their identities for various reasons.

      "Okay, Steve, do you like seeing my pussy spread open for you?" you asked, your voice reeling him in.

      A grunt escaped Steve's lips as he continued to palm himself over his boxers, waiting for instruction from you. He felt himself throbbing underneath his touch.

    "I wanna hear you say it, honey," you smirked, deciding you'd have a some fun teasing him - he didn't seem the dominant type, at least not yet. You could help him figure out his fantasies by instructing him. "Can you tell me how much you love it?"

     Steve practically whined, his voice coming out in desperate strings.

    "I love it so much. I just want to see you touch yourself for me, doll," Steve replied, surprising himself with the request and the use of the pet name.

     You moaned, leaning your head back at the sound of his voice, which made you even more wet for him and made you feel all warm inside. You liked hearing him express what he needed, liked knowing you were the one who was fulfilling his needs.

      "Mm, god yes, I just wish you were here so I didn't have to touch myself," you bit down on your lip, your hands caressing your chest, spreading your legs a little further. "Can you touch yourself too? I wanna fuck myself while you get off to me. How's that sound, Steve?"

Steve felt like he was on fire, his jaw clenched to the extreme, his eyelids heavy and his eyes darkened. It was as if you had unlocked a different, unseen side to him -- the side of him he'd been so desperately trying to satisfy for all that time.

     "I can do that, doll," he breathed out heavily, his voice constricted and dark.

You moaned quietly as you let your fingers travel between your legs, teasing your own clit as you circled it with your fingers. Despite how quickly things had escalated, Steve felt close to you already - and felt like he was with you even more now. Watching you touch yourself was the breaking point for him, a needy grunt escaping his pink lips as he reached down his boxers, guiding his hard cock out. It sprung up against his stomach and he groaned at the contact against his skin.

    "God, your moans are so hot. I want you to stroke your cock for me, okay baby? I want you to be as loud as possible, I want it to feel like I'm there with you," you instructed slowly, your eyes scrunching tight as you continued the circles against your clit, making your fingers move quicker and rougher.

Steve's eyes were trained on your fingers against your heat, how wet you were getting for him, almost not believing how much it turned him on.

     "Mhm," he hummed in agreement, starting to close his hand around his erection, slowly but surely stroking it up and down, almost painstakingly slowly. He wanted to last for you.

    "You're so good for me baby, fuck," you dipped a finger inside of yourself, easily sliding into your slit because of how wet you were for him. "Fuck, I can feel you inside of me. How many fingers, Stevie?"

Steve groaned under his breath at the sight of you fingering yourself, your middle finger pushing slowly in and out of your hot slit, stroking himself harder now. You asked him a question, but he didn't quite understand,

     "I-I'm sorry?"

     "How many fingers to make it feel like you're inside of me?" you huffed out, working your finger faster inside of yourself.

When he realized what you meant, Steve felt himself twitch inside his hands, and little spurts of cum shot out from his tip, unexpectedly. There it was, that simple release, even if slight and not complete, it was still extremely satisfying. Normally he'd last much longer, but just you saying that had triggered him, and he was taken by surprise when he came. He felt like he was finally purged, huffing out loudly as he kept going,

      "Fuck, I just came, baby."

You made a face, surprised,

     "Really?"

     "Keep going, I can keep going," he panted, continuing to stroke himself, slowing down a bit.

     "Yeah?" you bit down on your lip, excited by him and his stamina. "How many fingers, baby?"

     "God, fuck..." Steve didn't even care about how much he was swearing - why should he? "Three fingers, doll."

     "Mm, I love it when you call me that, Stevie," you smirked, and you slid one more finger inside, gently scissoring yourself open. "Are you that big, baby? Three fingers?"

Your coquettish whimpers sent Steve into another dimension. He wanted you even more, but this felt like he was really there with you, your erotic narration giving him the illusion that you were there, being intimate with him. He nodded, a knot tied in his throat,

     "Just for me."

    You cried out when you pushed the third finger inside, feeling almost all the fingers on your right hand fill you up, your stomach twitching with that orgasmic feeling,

     "Oh my god, yes. You're so big, Steve, your cock is stretching me out. You like how I feel around you?"

       Steve could hardly reply, but he choked out a response,

    "You feel so good around me, baby. Like an angel. So good around my cock."

    The dirty talk, which he usually would find awkward or even out of character, came out so naturally, not forced. You brought it out of him with ease, bringing him to climax over and over. He was focused on all of you, every part of you. Even with your head rolled back, eyes in the back of your head, lips parted, and legs spread for him, he found you beautiful, admired the way your skin glowed and the way your hair hung down.

      "I just wanna be good for you," you thrust your fingers inside of yourself, maneuvering them so well that you couldn't get enough. "I wanna come for you, Steve."

      "Mhm, just wait for me, darling."

      You pouted, curling your fingers and pushing them in and out as fast as you could, still trying not to come,

      "Baby, you feel so good. You're so big, fuck."

      "I know you wanna come baby. You're so wet for me, god damn," Steve groaned salaciously, observing how you quite literally dripped all down your thighs.

It only took a few more minutes of dirty talk and stroking himself for Steve to reach his second orgasm of the night, watching as you changed positions to your knees to finger yourself from behind, your head turned so you could watch him. He could see every reaction on your face, how your eyebrows twisted and your lips twitched.

      "I'm coming again, doll," Steve swallowed hard, watching as the thick white ropes spilled out from him, onto his bedsheets and rock hard abs, panting and moaning loudly into his built in microphone.

      "Oh, I wish I could see you come for me, Steve, feel it inside of me."

      "Come on, come for me, baby."

You let out a shriek of satisfaction as you began to release around your fingers, rocking back and forth on your hand as you rode out your high.

    "Oh fuck!" you cried out, your eyes scrunching shut. "Steve, I-"

    "That's okay, Moonrose," he called you by your stage name for the first time since you had started. "Shit, yeah, that's it."

     You kept riding out your high until you were finished, your entire body shaking even by the time you were done, laying face first in your sweaty bedsheets, your hands at your sides. When you got yourself back together, Steve could go again, but he was sated for now, since he knew you were probably done.

      "How was that?" you panted, finally turning to face the camera, your entire body hot and flushed.

     Steve was smiling, elated. You had done what he had needed, and he felt as if a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Not only did you have that connection, but Steve felt pleasured sexually, as if it weren't just through a screen. He could only imagine what you'd be like in real life, but he didn't want to get too ahead of himself.

    "You were beautiful, Moonrose. Thank you, so much, honestly. I-I don't know how to repay you."

    "Well. You could pay me," you joked playfully, but Steve was right on it, adding another couple hundred to your account. "Oh shit, really? Oh my god, you're the best."

    "You are. Honestly, I've been in such a rut these past few weeks. It's safe to say you helped."

    "I'm glad to hear that Steve," you grinned. You felt filled with joy as well - for some reason you felt so comfortable with Steve, so intimate. You wanted to talk to him more. You wanted to get to know him more, and he wanted to do the same. You glanced up at the clock on the top of the private chat, and pouted slightly. "We've only got a minute left."

    "I guess this is goodbye?" Steve replied, his brow quirking up in amusement.

    "I guess so," you sighed out in pleasure. You paused, then spoke, your voice a bit more serious. "I hope I can talk to you again, Steve. This was... amazing. I feel like..."

    "Like I know you," Steve finished her sentence for her, though he hardly meant to. He didn't want this to become anything more than what it was, and though he wanted to build that connection, he also knew he had to be careful and think before he spoke or acted.

    "Yeah," you nodded, with a relieved smile. "It's like you sort of understand me, and it's weird. But I love it. It's different. And you were... so fucking hot. Are you really not having sex in real life? Because if you are, I'm not mad. Whoever's getting it is lucky."

    "I'm really not," Steve chuckled, bashful at the vulgar compliment. "But thank you."

    "Well, ten seconds. Keep in touch?"

    "I will. Nice meeting you, doll."

This time you blushed. You really did like that nickname,

      "You too, Steve."

And the camera switched off. That night, feeling lighter than ever, more satisfied than ever, Steve could only think about you. But he didn't know all the wonderful things this would lead to.

ok so that's it omg! i hope u all enjoyed this, let me know if i should make a series out of it!!! thank u for reading, have a safe quarantine!

[arhvste]

Okay bear with me but may I request scenarios where kuroo, bokuto, and atsumu are doing the “He got all the drugs and I got all the guns” tik tok trend with their s/o (separately) and like they are wearing the whole shebang heels, dresses, crop tops, makeup, wigs ,etc that’s only if you want to of course n e ways have an awesome day🤩

OMG ARE U A MIND READER I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS AND SPECIFICALLY THESE BOYS DOING THIS TREND FOR WEEKS 🤯

just in case you didn’t know i’m referencing this trend 😼

KUROO, BOKUTO AND ATSUMU DOING THE FAMOUS (I’M THE ONE) TIKTOK TREND WITH THEIR S/O

-

KUROO

when you first show him the trend on tiktok he just laughs 

then you suggest the two of you doing it and he goes quiet

he’s really thinking about it 

he secretly is more than happy to do it with you 

but he’ll find out how far he can tease you first

“and what do i get out of doing this?”

“spending quality time with the love of your life duh”

“it’s gonna take a bigger reward than that for the expense of me making a fool of myself online princess”

“PS5?”

then he’s like 👀

he wasn't expecting an actual good reward but if that’s what you’re willing to do for it 

he won’t actually make you buy one for him don't worry

he’s just amused that you’re that adamant about doing it 

he will absolutely let you pick out what clothes of his you want to wear

you’ll pick out what he wears from your wardrobe though because he is not about to stretch your cute clothes with his big body

you end up giving him an elasticated crop top and some loose baggy sweatpants

he will 100% let you do his make up and hold accessories

he is stunning with a natural make up look

a pretty highlight to his cheekbones, bridge and tip of his nose, inner corners of the eye and brow bone

light pink blush on his cheeks and nose

slim eyeliner and a light pink natural lip colour

he actually suggested wearing super obnoxious fake eyelashes 

“i am NOT having you look like a tacky abg kuroo”

“but then we can say you’re a kevin nguyen, it fits”

‘nO!!” 

to finish the look he’s holding a white clutch bag of yours 

he almost looks seductive 👁👅👁

he actually looks so good in your outfit

“i think i pull this off better than you”

you’re wearing some training shorts, one of his favourite t shirts and a black nike cap 

so you set your phone up and the music starts to play

immediately you two are in fits of giggles though 

it takes you two approximately 8 attempts to finally get it right 

and when you watch it back you’re in for a shock

kuroo can throw it BACK

he doesn’t even have a particularly noticeable ass 

like he has one but it’s nothing like bokuto’s

but when he throws it back his ass is thicccccc

even he’s surprised at how well he pulls it off

he pulls the whole routine off

from the way his hips seductively sway, the pure sass in his walk as he struts into the camera frame and the way he rolls his body

honestly you think he makes a better girl than you

��good aren’t i? god i could almost date myself”

“yeah if you’re into 6″2 hairy girls with a hyena laugh” 

he’s looking down at his very manly and unshaven legs

“let me shave it and i’d date myself”

you guys upload it and you’re a hit 

“let’s move to LA right now tell the hype house they’ve got two new members joining”

“kuroo, i am NOT joining the hype house and neither are you. 😐”

overall i really think you guys would have fun with this trend and kuroo makes sure to send the video to both of your families who enjoy watching it as much as you guys enjoyed making it 

“the roles have reversed i’m your pretty girl now y/n~”

-

BOKUTO

he’s the one who brings it up to you

“babe look at this we HAVE to try it please please please!”

you laugh at him and agree to it 

he is so excited he already knows what choreography he is doing

you guys go to get changed and he lets you pick whatever you want out of his wardrobe 

this boy is pure muscle he is huge 

anything of his you wear will be like a dress on you

regardless you still take your time deciding what you want to wear

PLEASE pick his volleyball jersey and shorts he will literally cry from happiness

it would make his whole year 

so you do just that 

he is literally melting at the sight of you in his volleyball uniform

“BABY YOU HAVE TO WEAR THAT TO ALL MY MATCHES”

“-but you’ll be wearing it... at your matches... when you play 👁👄👁”

so bokuto will not be fitting into your tight fitting clothes that's for sure

but he will happen to fit into one of your cute flirty sundresses where the top half is made to be able to adjust the size

he is twirling around and flicking the skirt about once you manage to wrangle him in it 

he’s like a giddy school girl

again, he will definitely be up for you to apply make up on him

nothing too heavy but just enough so you can tell he’s wearing some

pretty light yellow eyeshadow, highlighted features and faded eyeliner

you pull his hair into two tight little buns

he’s really feeling the part now

so you guys go to film the tiktok and he is jumping around like an excited kid

you manage to film your parts pretty well first try but he isnt too happy with his performance

“i don't know i just feel like i could’ve thrown it back a bit more”

so you refilm until he is content with his part

which by the way is after 14 tries so thank the lords you are patient when it comes to him

it is so worth it though

the practices paid tf off because bokuto is throwing his cake about like nobodies business

he be serving a piece for everyone fr 

immediately after you film it he wants to show akaashi 

to which akaashi isn't surprised when he watches it 

he does snicker at his phone when he does watch it though

neither you or bokuto really care about views etc 

this was all just for fun after all but you upload it anyway not giving it much thought

and just like that the two of you are an overnight sensation

comments are flooding the notifications 

“his ass routine? drop it noW!!”

“what's his work out routine i need cake like his 😩😩”

“my boyfriend said he has a fatter ass than me so im currently crying 😔🤚🏽”

the nekoma, fukurodani and karasuno boys are BUGGIN tf out 

they're all calling you and sending you the video for confirmation that it is actually you two 

it’s not like bokuto is hard to tell apart but they still want your confirmation 

“REMEMBER ME WHEN YOU’RE FAMOUS BOKUTO-SAN!!”

“OF COURSE HINATA WHEN WE’RE RICH WE’LL ADOPT YOU CAN LET YOU MOVE INTO OUR TIKTOK MANSION!”

he is SUCH a child but he’s the man child you fell in love with

needless to say this video will be played at the wedding and anniversaries to come 

-

ATSUMU

atsumu is constantly irritating you to be one of those tiktok couples with him

he’s convinced the two of you were made for the tiktok lifestyle 

everytime you roll your eyes and decline 

but you decide to give him the opportunity when a certain trend catches your eye 

“baby, when i said i wanted to be tiktok famous i meant like the dances n cute videos where people compliment us n call us hot. this aint it chief”

“fine then, guess i’ll ask samu”

he doesn't even give u the chance to get up after you say that

“no nO I”LL DO IT 😠”

he is reluctant at first 

ideally he wanted to make the tiktoks where you’re the one throwing it back on him not vice versa

anything to make you happy though i guess

he will pick out both of your outfits

if he’s going to do this tiktok, the least he’s going to make sure of is that you both fit his aesthetic 

so you’re wearing typical clothes he’d wear to the gym

his gym clothes are actually stylish though

you will NOT catch atsumu wearing anything ugly that includes gym clothes

unlike a certain other setter who thought wearing plaid shorts was acceptable cough cough oikawa

he chooses to wear a tight dress 

it’s stretchy though so don’t worry he isn't stretching out and ruining your clothes 

“why are you wearing that? you can see a little too much there ratsumu”

“uh so people can see you have a boyfriend that's obviously packin heat 🙄”

“i hate you 😀”

he is hesitant about wearing make up

but you explain to him since you’re doing it you might aswell go all out so he finally gives in

you won’t put a lot on him though just to compromise with him slightly 

light highlight, blended out eyeliner, natural lip colour 

he’s surprisingly impressed and pulls out his phone to take a few selfies before getting ready to film the ‘stupid’ video with you

he insists he doesn't need to practice

“im good at everythin’ i do and everyone is gonna see that when we film this shit”

surprisingly it does only take you guys one attempt to get it right

atsumu is good at body rolls periodt  

he can throw it back 

but his body rolls chileee

he looks flexible asf 

he is serving absolute attitude 

you also did take notice of him using one hand to slyly cover his private area out of modesty though

because he found you were in fact right about how that dress really did show everything 

he incorporates it well into his choreography though nobody would be able to tell he was trying to cover himself 

“baby we look so fuckin hot. im talkin more bout me but you’re still sexy too”

he adds so many hashtags to the caption

#couple #hot #imhotter #fyp #foryoupage #tiktokcouple #couplegoals #hotboy #sexyboy #hotathlete #attractivemale #eboy #trending #makeusfamous

you just roll your eyes and let him get on with it 

im so sorry but you guys don’t get many views

atsumu is pissed

“we put so much effort in why’s it not gettin attention?!”

“calm down babe we only posted it 2 minutes ago”

give it a few days and you guys do blow up though 

im talking 867K likes

and to atsumu’s delight the comments are mostly complimenting you both 

“told ya this was a good idea”

“it was my idea?? 😐”

-

requests are open!!

[homoose]

Winning is a Habit

Hi y’all! Okay sooooooooo this is my first time writing fic??????? Like omg please be nice lmao. I don’t have a beta reader, so if you catch any mistakes pls lmk! I saw this challenge and the world is total garbage, so why not write our own realities????? Ok here goes!!!!!!!!!! Written for @veraiconcos fic challenge

Summary: The BAU gets called to investigate two high-profile murders in a college town, only to find that they are part of a much bigger, more complicated picture. No real pairings, although you could make it happen if you want lol ;) This is an idea I’ve seen floating around the fandom for a little while now, and I really wanted to see it fleshed out. Set around season 4 or 5.

Category: some angst, sort of fluff? I wouldn’t say it necessarily qualifies as an AU, but it’s outside of canon.

Warnings/Includes: some brief descriptions of violence/CM type stuff; mentions of rape (no details)

Word count: 6.1k

———

“Stillwater, Oklahoma,” JJ said, navigating the map off screen and pulling up the crime scene photos. “Two college seniors— Tyler Allen and Leon Williams, star football players for Oklahoma State University— both found dead the day before the playoff qualifier.”

“Do we know the cause of death?” Spencer asked, thumbing through the case file.

“The ME report concluded that both boys died of acute alcohol poisoning,” JJ informed them.

Emily looked up from the file. “And the locals don’t think this could just be a case of college kids having a little too much fun?”

“Before a major playoff game? I doubt it.” Derek leaned back in his chair. “Especially considering OSU’s having a record-breaking season. I’d guess the coach had players on a pretty strict lockdown.” He raised his hands and joined them in a steeple over his chest. “Showing up to a game hung-over— particularly one as important as this— would be a major conduct issue.”

“That, and there was a pretty specific message left on both victims,” JJ added, arms crossed and eyebrows lifting into her hairline.

“On them?” Rossi questioned.

JJ motioned with her hand back to the screen. Six sets of eyes moved over the photo; the words “U LOSE” scrawled in ink across the foreheads of the two men.

“Resorting to murder to win a football game?” Emily asked, eyes narrowed.

“And why use the forensic countermeasure of staged alcohol poisoning, only to backtrack and assert it as a murder?” Spencer pondered, pursing his lips.

“Whatever the reason, we’ve got two dead college students and a definite signature. Wheels up in 30,” Hotch told them, closing his case file.

⧭⧭⧭

“No sign of forced entry.” Derek walked through the entry hallway and into the living space. “Doesn’t look like there was any struggle, either.”

Rossi thumbed through the mail on the kitchen counter and peered around the small space. “Everything you’d expect in a boys’ college dorm room: dishes in the sink, generic decor, general mess. Nothing that stands out.”

“Agents, thank you so much for coming.” A tall man in a dark suit stepped across the threshold of the apartment. He stuck out his hand for Rossi to shake. “Steven Barrett, Dean of Students.”

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi. This is SSA Derek Morgan.” Derek nodded from his place in the living room.

“I apologize for not meeting you when you arrived. We’re dealing with a grieving campus,” Barrett said, running a hand over his face. “I’m actually on my way to speak to the Board, but I wanted to check in with you before. I’m not sure I can be of much help, but I can try to answer any questions you might have.”

“These boys were seniors, but they still lived on campus. Is that typical?” Rossi asked, gesturing around the apartment.

“Uh, yes, it is for student athletes,” Barrett confirmed with a nod. “OSU teams have demanding, sometimes grueling practice schedules. Being on campus simplifies things, allows students to get to classes and practices, as well as utilize the dining halls.”

“Does this building have security cameras?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. All of our buildings do. I’ll let Campus PD know you’ll need access to the footage.” Barrett’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He reached for it and punched the button to answer the call. “Yes. Yes, I—I’m finishing up with the FBI now. I understand. I’m on my way.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone. “I’m sorry to leave you, gentlemen. Our top priority right now is supporting our students and community through this tragedy. Part of that healing process is finding out who did this to Tyler and Leon. So anything else you need, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hall.

Derek shook his head. “I’m glad I don’t have to do that job right about now.”

Rossi gave another glance around the nondescript apartment and sighed. “Call Garcia and ask her if she’s found any other cases that could be related. And let’s hope there’s something useful on that security footage.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Based on lividity and rigor mortis, I was able to put the time of death between 8:00 and 10:00pm on Wednesday evening. The blood alcohol content for both boys was over five times the legal limit. I’ve never seen anything like it,” the medical examiner mused.

Emily looked over the bodies, her arms crossed. “Dr. Saraj, about how much would they have to drink for the level to be that high?”

“When drinking, the level of alcohol in our blood reaches a peak before it drops off after the last drink ingested,” Spencer supplied. “In a typical night of drinking, spread over the course of several hours, the average man can have 8-12 drinks without ever reaching lethal levels. But considering each victim weighed around 230 pounds, they’d have had to ingest approximately 180 ounces of beer or 18.75 ounces of liquor to reach a lethal blood alcohol content.”

Dr. Saraj glanced at Spencer before adding, “Look, this is a college town. Kids drink. But... to have had this much alcohol still detectable in their system post-mortem indicates that these boys drank at least the equivalent of a 30 rack, by themselves, in less than an hour.” She flipped up the first page of the report in her hands, eyes scanning the second. “And the toxicology screen also found trace amounts of ketamine.”

Spencer bent over the examining table and adjusted the wrist of one of the boys with a gloved hand. “Doctor, are these ligature marks?”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Saraj agreed, nodding. “They’re relatively faint, so I almost missed them. But I found similar marks on both boys on the wrists and ankles.”

“So,” Emily said, gesturing with her hands, “the unsub doses them with ketamine to gain control, ties them up, forces them to drink lethal amounts of alcohol, and then— what?” She looked to Spencer. “Waits for them to pass out before removing the restraints and leaving the message?”

Spencer examined the marker scrawls. “Were you able to determine what the message was written with and if it was left pre- or post-mortem?”

“My guess would be it was written with some type of permanent marker, but I can’t say for sure,” Dr. Saraj said. “We’re analyzing the residue now, and I can send the report your way as soon as I have it. As for when it was written, I couldn't tell you.” She shook her head. “The one simple mercy is that these boys would have been out cold for a while before they died.”

⧭⧭⧭

“I’m so sorry. I know how difficult this is. Anything that you can tell us will be helpful in finding the person who did this,” JJ encouraged softly. “Anyone that Tyler might have had an argument with recently or who he mentioned having problems with?”

“No, no. He was—he was just your typical boy,” Mrs. Allen sniffled. “Playing football and hanging out with his friends,” she said, voice hitching. “Oh my god.” She dropped her head into her hands.

“He didn’t have time to have problems,” Mr. Allen asserted. “He spent all his free time on the field. Coach had them out there for two-a-days until classes started. He’s the quarterback. He was leading that team to the first national title since 1945.” He stood to his feet, hands clenched at his sides. “Some lunatic murdered my boy and you’re sitting around talking to us while they’re out there, walking free.”

“Sir, I promise you that we have some of the best agents in the country working on your son’s case,” JJ assured. “But in order to help them do their job, we need to know as much as we can about who Tyler was.”

Across the bullpen, Hotch sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Williams. “Leon was a good boy. Football was his life. He loved being a part of this team. It was the season of a lifetime,” Mr. Williams said.

“We taught him better than to be drinking and carrying on,” Mrs. Williams added.

“Can you think of anything or anyone he might have mentioned recently that was out of the ordinary? Anything that was bothering him or causing him distress?” Hotch questioned.

“He was feeling pressure about the season, but he’s been handling that kind of thing since he was twelve years old.” Mr. Williams shared an almost indiscernible look with his wife. “He got into—into the same kinds of trouble any college kid gets in. Nothing that could have gotten him murdered.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Yeah, baby girl, what d’ya got for me?” Derek held the phone out so that Rossi could listen in as they waited in the OSU security office.

“Well, my handsome knight, I wish I could tell you more but so far, I’m coming up empty with similar cases,” Penelope sighed. “Nothing that matches our alcohol poisoning M.O. or the signature. I just expanded the search to surrounding states, and I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Anything on our two victims?” Rossi asked.

“Now that’s where it gets interesting,” Penelope mused, tapping the fluffy end of her pen into the palm of her hand. “There’s nothing. Zilch, nada.”

Rossi narrowed his eyes. “And that’s interesting because...?”

“Come on, sir,” Penelope scoffed. “Two young, athletic, good-looking college football stars and there’s nothing at all? Nothing scandalous on social media. No run-ins with campus PD. Not even a write up from an RA.”

Derek tilted his head in thought. “Hotch and JJ said their conversations with the parents told a similar story.”

“Okay, but no one is this squeaky clean, particularly not at a Big 12 college. Everyone has some dirt,” Penelope insisted. “I haven’t found it yet, but there’s gotta be something out there. When I have it, you’ll know it!”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Derek drawled.

“Over and out!” Penelope jabbed the button to end the call.

The OSU officer waved them over with his hand. “I’ve got it queued up to 6:24pm. You can see the boys here,” he pointed on the screen at the two victims, “entering the north entrance of the dining hall.”

Derek leaned toward the monitor. “So they leave practice, come through the dining hall for dinner. When do they leave?”

The footage sped up on the screen, then stopped. “Here. 7:01.”

“Rossi, you seeing this?” Derek slid his eyes over.

Rossi nodded. “Is there any way to enhance these frames?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “Not on this system. Honestly, the camera quality isn’t great. I’ve been trying to get them to invest in an upgraded OS, but you know—budget woes. Your analyst might be able to do more.”

“It’s not going to matter.” Derek sighed and straightened up. “She’s careful of her angles.”

“I couldn’t find them on any grounds cameras, but they pop back up entering the dorm. Here, at 7:12.”

“All three of them,” Rossi noted. He looked at Derek. “And like you said, she’s discreet.”

“They all go upstairs to the apartment,” the officer continued, “but only the girl leaves. At 8:43.”

⧭⧭⧭

“We have a witness from the cafeteria that confirms that the boys ate with a dark-haired young woman in a red coat,” Hotch said, arms crossed. “But other than those two details, the witness couldn’t recall anything else and said they’d never seen her before.”

“So we’ve got the two victims entering their apartment with an unknown woman. They’re upstairs for an hour and a half before she leaves,” Emily recounted.

Derek stood with his hands on his hips. “And in that time, she manages to dose and gain control of two boys that are more than double her size and funnel a lethal amount of alcohol into them. Now the question is why?”  

As the team converged around the conference room table, a uniformed officer entered into the doorway. “Agent Jareau? There’s a possible witness—says she might have some new information.”

JJ nodded to the team and moved to the doorway. A petite young woman stood in the center of the bullpen, wringing her hands. When her eyes landed on JJ, she let her arms fall to her side. As JJ approached, she motioned with her hand for the girl to sit at the closest desk. “Hi, I’m Jennifer. I heard you wanted to speak to someone about this case. Can I have your name?”

The girl nodded. “Um, I’m Cassie. I saw the announcement you made. About the woman in the red coat. I heard you say that she had brown hair. Is that true?”

JJ cocked her head slightly. “Yeah, the witness and security footage we have shows a woman with dark hair walking with Tyler and Leon. Why do you ask?”

Cassie’s eyes darted around the bullpen, and she drew her arms tightly over her chest. “I just— um—well, I—”

“Would it help if we moved somewhere a little quieter?” JJ suggested. When Cassie nodded and stood, JJ placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and directed her toward an empty interview room. Cassie sat in the chair farthest from the door, and JJ sat opposite her. “Is there something you wanted to tell me about the woman? Or is it something else that’s on your mind?”

Cassie let out a long breath. “When I heard that they were dead, I— I was relieved. That sounds awful, but it’s true.”

JJ tread lightly over her next question. “You felt relieved. Why was that?”

Cassie looked directly at JJ. “I’ve been looking over my shoulder everywhere I go for the last seven months. I won’t have to do that anymore.”

“Can you tell me more about what you mean?”

Cassie took a breath and closed her eyes for a long second, before opening them and continuing. “There was a huge party in the spring. I mean, there were, like, hundreds of people there.” Cassie’s eyes went wide. “I never go to parties like that. But it was the end of the year, and my friend—well, I went with my friend. She got invited.”

“Were Tyler and Leon at this party?” JJ asked.

“Everybody was. I mean, everybody who’s somebody at OSU was there. We saw them right away. The whole team was there, but people treated those two like kings.” Cassie looked down at her hands. “We were drinking... a lot. At some point, Laney and I got separated. I tried calling her phone a bunch of times, but the party was really loud. I—I didn’t want to leave without her, but I was getting really messed up. I had a guy friend from one of my classes walk me home.” She swiped at her eye with the back of her hand. “Laney didn’t get back until the morning. Her clothes were all torn up, her hair had... blood in it, and she—she had a bruise under her eye.” She looked up at JJ, eyes shining with tears. “They raped her. I left her behind, and they raped her,” she whispered.

JJ reached across the table for Cassie’s hand. “Cassie, I’m so sorry. What happened to Laney was not your fault, or hers. Do you understand me?” JJ paused before continuing. Cassie looked down. “Do you know if she reported it?”

Cassie nodded. “I’m the one who went with her to the infirmary. They did a kit and confirmed it. When we went to Campus PD, they did nothing. Said Laney was wasted, and there was no one that could back up her story.”

JJ squeezed her hand. “So there was no official report filed?”

Cassie laughed coldly. “Oh, they wrote a report. I think if we ask them to, they have to. But they wouldn’t name Tyler or Leon in it. Said they didn’t want to ‘give legs to any gossip.’”

JJ’s mouth stretched into a thin line. “Where’s Laney now?”

“I don’t know.” Cassie shook her head. “She didn’t come back to OSU this fall. I haven’t really talked to her since—” She looked at JJ. “I can’t get the image of her out of my head. How she looked when she came through the door that morning. What they did to her… I’m not sorry that they’re dead.” Her eyes were shining with rage. “People knew what happened… and no one did anything. And those two were still the kings of campus.”

⧭⧭⧭

The team absorbed the new information quietly. “So Garcia was right. They did have something to hide.” Derek’s phone buzzed. “Speaking of. Hey mama, you’re on speaker.”

“I hope you’re all sitting down,” Penelope warned. “I expanded the parameters of my original VICAP search to include the surrounding states. No hits on suspicious deaths by alcohol poisoning. However, the U LOSE signature? Seven hits across Texas, Arkansas, Missouri, and Kansas.”

“So our unsub’s been traveling across the South—” Emily started.

“Oh, I’m not done,” Penelope continued. “Just to double check, I expanded the search area to the continental US. Our unsub has been busy. Over 30 murders with this signature, all across the country, dating back to March 2007. All different M.O.s: gunshot, stabbing, strangulation, you name it. But all with U LOSE scrawled across their forehead in—get this—liquid eyeliner.”

“Anything tying the victims together, Garcia?” Hotch asked.

“All men, mostly white, but all across different ages, occupations, and marital statuses. At first glance, there’s no real connection,” Penelope answered.

“What about on second glance?” Hotch prompted.

“Way ahead of you, sir. I did a little digging.” Penelope shrugged. “Okay, a lot of digging—most of it legal. Every single one of these victims had at least one sexual assault allegation. Some are official police reports, some are HR complaints, some are sealed court records. But in every case, the victim’s cause of death is directly related to the details of the assault records. Women that were held at knifepoint, their attacker was stabbed to death. If they were choked, he was strangled. If they were held at gunpoint, he died of a gunshot wound. Et cetera, et cetera.” Penelope twirled her pen. “The differing M.O.s combined with the fact that the unsub kept crossing state lines kept local PDs and field offices from making the connection.”

“Garcia, can you search OSU PD records for an incident report?” JJ asked.

Garcia tapped rapidly across her keyboard. “Absolutely, sugar, when would it have been filed?”

“It would’ve been this year, sometime at the end of April or beginning of May,” JJ answered. “The victim would be named as Laney Collins.”

After a few moments, Garcia peered through her green cat-eye glasses at the report. “Mmm, I’ve got one incident report, filed on May 7th. And woof, this report is not much to go on. The responding officer wrote a whopping three sentences. According to him, Laney was incapacitated and thus was not a credible witness.” Garcia twirled her pen. “The alleged attackers, who are not named, denied Laney’s account of what happened. Because there were no other witnesses, Officer Thorough deemed that no further action was necessary.” She jabbed her pen in the direction of the screen. “And this, my friends, is why women don’t bother reporting.”

“Good work, Garcia,” said Hotch.

“There’s one more interesting detail from the report,” Garcia continued. “The dean of students signed off on it.”

“So Barrett knew about this the whole time,” Derek fumed.

“And again, people wonder why women don’t report,” Garcia repeated, ending the call.

“So our unsub is seeking justice for women she believes have been failed by the system. We’re looking for a vigilante, carrying out revenge killings,” Rossi concluded.

Derek nodded. “And she’s organized and efficient; she finished with Tyler and Leon in less than two hours.”

“She’s smart and she blends in, doesn’t draw too much attention to herself,” JJ added.

“She’s meticulous and has at least some knowledge of forensic countermeasures, considering there’s no physical evidence tying her to any of the scenes,” Spencer remarked.

“And she knew enough to keep her face off the security footage,” Emily finished.

“Rossi, Emily, and I will stay here and deliver the profile,” Hotch directed. “JJ, I’d like you to speak to the families again, see if they knew about the rape. Reid, Morgan, talk to Barrett and see what else he might be trying to keep quiet.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Makes you wonder just how many people knew what happened,” Derek considered, closing the car door.

“It’s estimated that twenty percent of student victims of sexual assault report it to their university, but less than one percent of assailants receive any type of disciplinary action,” Spencer cited, making his way toward the sidewalk.

Derek shook his head. “And so the victims don’t see the point in reporting it. Your attacker gets to walk around like nothing even happened. Cassie told JJ that she felt like she had a target on her back once they reported Laney’s assault.”

As they walked up the blacktop driveway to the entrance of Barrett’s home, Spencer slowed his steps as he noticed the front door. “Morgan.” He nodded at the door, slightly ajar.

Derek drew his gun and moved ahead of Spencer. He pushed the door slowly open and called out, “Mr. Barrett?” In the foyer were the remnants of a broken vase and a small trail of blood. “Call Hotch, let him know we’ve got trouble here.”

Derek and Spencer worked to quietly clear the rooms, one by one. Derek stopped at the bottom of the stairs and motioned to Spencer. As they started up the stairs, a woman’s voice called out, “Shut up! You had nothing to say before. So now, you’re just going to listen.”

Derek reached the top of the stairs and started down the hallway. He reached the open door where a woman stood, her back to the door. Behind her, Derek could see Barrett, sitting on the floor, blood dripping from a gash on his head. His hands were raised in front of his chest, palms facing out. Derek stopped, his gun trained on the woman, and murmured, “Laney?”

The woman pivoted her body, her short blonde hair whipping around. Derek saw tears in her eyes and a revolver in her hand. “Don’t,” she warned.

“Laney, my name is Derek. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk. I need you to put the gun down.”

“No!” Laney screamed. “You don’t know what he’s done.” She shook the gun in Barrett’s direction, and Barrett closed his eyes.

Derek spoke softly. “I do, Laney. I do know. I know what happened to you. I know that he kept Tyler and Leon’s names off the report. I know that he didn’t help you when you needed it most. I know that he let them get away with--”

“Rape. He let them get away with rape. Because he cares more about reputation and football than what happens to women on his campus. They ruined my life.” Laney turned away from Derek and put both hands on the gun. “They ruined my life, and you did nothing. And then they walked around campus like they were invincible, because you taught them they were.”

Derek moved further into the room, into Laney’s eyesight. Spencer moved into the doorway, covering Derek. “Laney, look at me. I’m putting my gun away.” Derek held his hands up and then moved to holster his gun. “Doing this won’t make the pain go away.”

“How many others? How many other women did he do this to?” Laney let out a painful sob. “If I don’t stop him, it never ends.”

“Listen to me.” Derek took a step closer to her. “Killing him won’t change what happened, Laney. It won’t. Believe me. I know how you feel.”

“People love to say that when they’re trying to shut you up. How could you possibly know how I feel?” Laney spit out.

“Someone hurt me, just like they hurt you. And nobody was there to help me. No one was there to listen.” Laney froze, eyes shifting to meet Derek’s. “I wanted to hurt him, Laney. Wanted to make him feel the same pain I felt. I wanted him to suffer.” He moved another step closer. “I know that those men hurt you, and I know that he let them get away with it. And I am so, so sorry. But you’re stronger than anyone knows, Laney. You are the only person who has the power to help others who didn’t get justice. I have a friend who’s spent her whole life helping survivors, and I know she’d love to talk with you.” He took another step. “You are the only person who can stop it from happening to someone else. You can make sure he’s held accountable for what he’s done. But if you pull that trigger, you can never go back,” Derek warned.

Laney looked at Derek, his hand outstretched, wordlessly asking her to give him the gun. She looked at Barrett, crying and silently begging her to show him the mercy she never got. “I wish I’d been the one to kill them,” she whispered.

The gun dropped out of her hand as Derek stepped forward to catch her. He kicked the gun into the doorway, and Spencer recovered it. “I’ve got you,” Derek said, helping Laney out of the room. “Shh, it’s ok, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Spencer moved to lift Barrett off the ground and helped him into a chair by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Spencer caught a flash of red below the window. He stumbled over Barrett, nose almost pressed to the glass as he stared out. The woman froze, eyes locked on Spencer’s. His mouth opened slightly as he stared at her, bewildered. By the time his brain caught up, she had already disappeared from view.

Spencer turned and raced down the stairs, clinging to the railing as he nearly missed a step. He burst out the front door into the driveway, sprinting around the side of the house. He heard Derek call his name, saw the other SUVs pulling up, but he kept running. He skidded to a stop at the edge of the backyard, and then spun in a full circle, eyes frantically scanning the perimeter.

Hotch approached from the side of the house, gun drawn. “Reid! Are you all right?”

Spencer took a last look, scanned from east to west. “Yeah, yeah. I just—I thought I saw—I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Barrett’s inside. He’s got a head laceration, but he’ll be fine.”

Hotch lowered his gun and nodded. “And Laney’s not our unsub. So we’re back to the beginning.”

⧭⧭⧭

“Strauss is asking us to head back to Quantico.” Hotch pocketed his phone and looked at the team. “We’ll move the cases to our watch list and flag the signature for hits in VICAP. From what we know about the unsub’s behavior, we know she’s no longer in the area.” He gestured to the evidence board. “Our best course of action is to keep the profile in our periphery for now. We can do that from the BAU. It’s late. Go to the hotel, get some rest. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“I’m absolutely starving.” Emily slipped into her jacket and headed for the door. “Anybody want to hit up that 24 hour diner?”

Derek and JJ quickly agreed, following Emily from the conference room. JJ turned back, eyeing Spencer. “You coming, Spence?”

“I’m just really tired.” His voice lilted up, almost a question. “Next time, though.”

JJ gave him a look but didn’t press him. “Have a good night, Spence.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He gathered up the case files, not quite ready to put them away.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer’s eyelids felt heavy as he walked through the lobby of the hotel. He really was tired. He blamed the exhaustion for what he thought he saw through the window at Barrett’s. His fatigued mind was seeing things that weren’t there. He practically floated into the elevator and up to his room. Sliding the room key through the slot, the door beeped open and Spencer stepped inside. He flicked on the light and dropped his bag on the floor, loosening his tie as he walked toward one of the sling back chairs sat by the window. He paused just before he reached the chair, his gaze lingering over something on the desk. A note hastily scrawled on hotel stationary.

623.

Spencer lifted the note with two careful fingers. “623?” He turned it over, looking for the rest of the message, but the paper was blank other than the number. He lowered the note, and his eyes landed on a small plastic card where the paper had rested on the table. Not just a card. A room key.

⧭⧭⧭

Spencer stared at the door of the room. Room 623. He turned his head and slowly looked up and then down the hallway. He took a breath and raised his hand to the door. He knocked in the familiar rhythm: five knocks, pause, two knocks. He pressed his ear close to the door, listening for any movement inside. When he heard nothing, he knocked again; the same pattern, but a little louder. He listened again. Nothing. Spencer felt a bead of sweat creep down the nape of his neck. He thought about turning around, about walking back down the two flights of stairs to his room and getting into bed.

Instead, he pulled the keycard from his pocket. As he lifted the card with one hand, he used his other to raise the strap on his holster. He held his breath as he swiped the card through the slot and heard the beep of the lock. Drawing his gun from the holster, Spencer slowly turned the handle of the door.

The room was mostly dark. Only the yellow glow of one of the bedside lamps illuminated the space. Spencer stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him. Again, his mind said to turn around. Yet his feet carried him further into the room. He could see now that the sling backs were facing toward the window. There were two glasses from the mini bar on the table between them.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come,” a familiar voice mused.

Spencer startled and then swallowed audibly, a cartoon character realizing he’s in serious trouble. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You can put the gun away,” she continued. “Really. Come sit down, Reid.”

Hearing her say his name sucked all the air out of his lungs. He closed the remaining distance between them, staring dumbly at her perched in the armchair. She gave him a small smile, warm despite the nervous energy in the air. “Hey, Reid.”

“Elle.” Spencer sunk into the chair across from her. “I—I thought I was seeing things. Earlier. At Barrett’s.”

She studied him quietly. “This hair is a good look for you.”

“Thanks,” Spencer blushed, smoothing down the hair at the nape of his neck. He quickly dropped his hand. “It was you then.”

“What was me?” Elle asked innocuously.

“You were at Steven Barrett’s house today. In the yard.” Spencer folded his hands to keep from wringing them. “You were wearing a red coat.”

Elle lifted one of the glasses to her lips, taking a sip of the clear liquor, ice cubes rattling. She swallowed and gestured to the other glass. “Have a drink.”

“I, um, I don’t drink anymore.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “A lot has happened since… the last time I saw you.” Spencer smoothed his hands down the tops of his thighs. “You were there today. Elle, did you—are you…” He wasn’t even sure what question to ask.

Elle ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. She was quiet for a long time. Spencer fidgeted in his seat, but stayed quiet, waiting. Elle set the glass down.

“Do you remember that night in Dayton? In the hotel room?” Spencer looked at her pointedly. Elle let out a laugh. “Sorry, I forgot who I’m talking to; of course you remember.” Their eyes met. Spencer felt she was looking right through him. “You told me that I’d won. That because Garner was dead, and I was alive, I won.”

“Elle—” Spencer started.

“You asked, Reid. This is my answer.” She screwed the cap off the bottle of gin. Pouring the remainder of the bottle into her glass, she continued, “It took time, but I started to feel safe in my own home again. I could close my eyes without seeing his face. I could take a shower without bringing my gun.” She downed the rest of her glass. “When I killed Lee, I gave that same freedom back to the women he’d raped. They could exist in the world knowing that he would never hurt them, ever again.” She smiled ruefully. “And it felt… good. It felt right. And after years of having watched people be destroyed by monsters… I don’t know. It was just something I had to do. To bring that freedom and that safety back to other women who had been hurt and broken and alone. To destroy their monsters.” Elle looked at him then, eyes shining with unshed tears. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve. But the answer to your question is yes.”

Spencer took a breath and asked, “Why’d you put the key in my room? You could have just… disappeared.”

Elle shook her head. “I chose this. I knew what I was doing and what it would mean. Most of the time, I’m fine, great even. Because being able to give these women justice is the greatest gift. But with this work, you can’t really keep anybody close. No holidays or birthdays. No dates or girls nights.” She shrugged. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen. What the boy genius would do.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Spencer admitted.

“Well, that’s a first.” Elle smiled, but Spencer could see apprehension in the rigidness of her shoulders, in the slight bouncing of her leg.

“I should probably arrest you,” he considered.

Her leg stopped. “You probably should.”

Spencer looked down at his hands. He ran his fingers up to the crook of his elbow, ghosting over the scars there. His mind raced from memory to memory: Elle on the train car; Tobias Hankle standing over him; Elle in the hospital bed; the needle in his arm; Elle in the hotel in Dayton; the click of an empty chamber.

“Elle, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for telling you that you’d won.” She was motionless, staring at him. He continued, “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it was like. To be consumed and overcome by a memory.” Now it was Spencer’s eyes that shone with tears. “I didn’t know that the trauma could… fester in your brain like an infection that you can’t get rid of. I don’t know if winning is even possible after something like that.” He rubbed his hand under his eye and cleared his throat. “It was an awful thing to say. And I’m sorry.”

Elle tipped her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “All’s forgiven.”

Spencer reached out and gently grabbed Elle’s hand. “I’ve been so tired recently. I thought I saw something through the window at Steven Barrett’s house. But when I did a perimeter check, I didn’t find anything.” Elle dropped her head back down and turned to look at him. “We’re headed back to Quantico in the morning. We’ll, um, be keeping tabs on VICAP hits on the signature.” Spencer gave her hand one soft squeeze before standing. He let a small, bittersweet smile move over his face.

He made it to the door before he heard her voice again.

“If I asked you to stay, would you say yes?”

Spencer swiveled back to look at her, the door just barely open. Elle’s arms were crossed over her chest. Her eyes were dark and wide and full of storms. “Just for a little while longer?”

Spencer turned and moved his eyes up the length of the doorway, considering. He heard Elle let out a breath. His own breath stuttered. He closed the door softly. He put his hands in his pockets and turned back to her. “I’ve got a little while.”

[lucifers-horror-harem]

SO! For Alan! E. G. J. N. P. S. Go offfff I am so curious!

OH BEX THANK U FOR LETTING ME INDULGE MY ALAN HEADCANONS ASDFGFDDFGF hope u likeyyyyyyyy

E - Extra info (any other fetishes? feet? leather? role playing? blood? fantasies that they might want to experience not on this list?)

Do not even get him STARTED about his breeding kink. Most of the time he cums inside of you, the possessiveness he feels over you when he sees you stuffed full and leaking his cum makes his blood hot. He is pretty down for any kinks you want to try, not much is off the table. He has a bit of a knife/blood kink that he wants to indulge sometimes, but only if you agree. Alan owns a few specialty knives, mostly just collecting unique pieces, but the thought of using them on you makes him hard.

G - Group sex (would they have a threeway? four? an orgy? do they put on a show for spectators? or do they like to keep it just between them and their partner?)

Alan absolutely refuses to share you with anyone. Hell, he won’t even let anyone look at you in a vulnerable position. It makes public sex and voyeurism a bit difficult with him, though if you’re somewhere that you can ensure privacy Alan would gladly fuck your brains out. The only situation that Alan would allow you to be fucked in front of someone else was if they were bound to a chair in front of the two of you and he killed them right afterwards.

J - Jelly (what kind of lube are they using? is it flavored? have they tasted it? do they prefer to use something other than real lube during sex?)

Alan is very into lube, it just makes the sex much more pleasurable for both parties. Plus, he is a bit on the thicker side so he knows there needs to be a little something extra to help with that. Most of the time he uses a regular  water based lube but if you ask him sweetly he will find a flavored lube for special occasion. He’s always down to try new things and if you want to try different lubes he is all for it.

N - Not yet (orgasm delay? orgasm denial? do they tell their partner not to touch themselves for a certain amount of time or under certain circumstances? do they delay or deny other things like bathroom usage or food? do they need to beg first? do they like being denied / delayed?)

Oh Alan is VERY into denying his partner. He will happily edge his partner on for hours until they’re a begging whimpering mess beneath him. If you’ve been bad he will also leave you bound and needy as he leaves you for a few hours after teasing you mercilessly. Sometimes he will tell his partner they’re not allowed to play with themselves, but it isn’t a hard rule as he typically can watch them from any camera set up in the house to watch you. He loves it when you beg sweetly, and if he thinks you’ve had enough of your punishment he will happily indulge you and let you come. Doesn’t like being delayed himself unless he’s purposefully edging himself.

P - Photography (are cameras allowed in the bedroom? do they send nudes? do they ask for nudes? would they ever record themselves having sex / being caught up in a sexual act?)

Oh absolutely. Alan has cameras set up so he can see you from anywhere in his home. That being said if he is in the mood he loves playing film director, fucking you POV style so he can watch the videos while on business trips. He sometimes goes a little overboard with the set up and angles but ultimately it ends up really hot and he sometimes makes you watch them to get you in the mood. He happily asks for nudes constantly, especially when he is away from you. Sends nudes of himself as well, though he knows better than to just send dick pics. He gives you a great view of the rest of his body, maybe a strip tease if he has the time.

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

Yes to ALL of these! Alan can’t help himself, and there have been many times when he wakes you up with sex or his tongue. If you wake him up the same way you’ll be putty in his hands. He will be so utterly in love with you that you could ask him to do almost anything and he will do it for you. Many nights with Alan end up with him fucking you to exhaustion, with you falling asleep shortly afterwards whether in his arms or on his chest. He also loves lazy morning sex, with you gently opening your thighs to give him easier access as he plays with your sex and prepares you as he presses tender kisses against your neck.

[meltwonu]

s n a k e     |     e y e s     [chapter 2]

pairing; snakehybrid!woozi x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; seokmin is a quokka hybrid in this and i know and if you dont know, quokkas actually spit out their food and eat it again but for the sake of seokmin not being gross in this, he doesn’t do that ok kjdhfks and also for those who dont know snakes smell by using their tongue so…. Very mild touching in this one( masturbation at the end hehe oops)!! I’ve also kinda changed some stuff around, not a big deal, but made it so it’d make more sense in this au!! hehe thank u for taking interest in snakehybrid!woozi 🥺💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - x - x - x

It’s a warm Sunday morning when Jihoon lugs his keyboard out into the sunroom. Mingyu’s already waiting there with the new hybrid at the adoption home, Seokmin. The smiley quokka-hybrid sleeps in the bedroom next to the snake hybrid and has a saccharine voice much like Jihoon himself. And despite Jihoon’s timid nature, he quite likes the company of the two younger hybrids.

“Hey Jihoon-hyung over here!”

There’s a clang when the keyboard accidentally taps the door frame to the sunroom and Jihoon has to pause to check for any scratches on the gift Seungcheol gave him.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hold on. I need to plug it in.”

Jihoon shrugs off his jacket, tossing it into a corner while he goes to set up the keyboard by the other two lounging in the sun.

“I was wondering if we could try working on that song from last time, hyung?” Seokmin’s head tilts cutely to the side as he makes space for Jihoon on the floor. “Um, sure. I can try to remember how to play it.”  Seokmin and Jihoon work together to craft a song while Mingyu watches in awe, scrambling to find the camera Seungcheol gave him so that he can snap some pictures of the two.

The three hybrids lounge in the sunroom for a few hours, basking in the warmth as they sing together, urging Mingyu to take part in it as well.

“You have a great singing voice, Mingyu! You should show it off sometimes too!!” The husky hybrid blushes, tail wagging furiously behind him. “Oh my god, shut up you’re embarrassing me!” Jihoon snickers as Seokmin and Mingyu really get into it, his fingers dancing delicately over the keys.

“Alright, time for lunch!”

The sudden voice breaks them out of their little tussle; eyes traveling to the figure standing in the doorway with a cart filled with food. “Seungcheol-hyung brought food!!” By nature, it’s Mingyu who gets up first, barreling into Seungcheol. He sheepishly apologizes, helping Seungcheol distribute the food between the three hybrids.

“Okay, I want you guys to enjoy your lunch because we have a special visitor afterwards! She’s actually a friend of mine and she’s kind of been wanting to adopt a hybrid so I asked her to come by. I know it’s really last minute but I figured she’d just come meet you guys. How’s that sound?”

“Yay, new people!” Seokmin replies cheerily with a mouth full of salad. Mingyu nods, he liked meeting new people, especially if they were friends of Seungcheol. Jihoon on the other hand feels his appetite leave him almost immediately. He hated it when people came to tour the adoption home. He knew the three of them weren’t the only occupants of Seungcheol’s adoption home but he still disliked the inevitable stares and questions he got.

“Um, yeah, that’d be...great.”

Jihoon tries to finish his food for the sake of not being hungry later but he can barely get it all down before  Jeonghan pops his head into the room. “Hey ‘Cheol, your friend is here.” The two leave together, leaving the three hybrids alone once again.

“Hey, do you think hyung’s friend is gonna adopt anyone?” Seokmin stretches out onto the floor by the piano, Mingyu in tow. “Dunno, but hyung said that she was looking to adopt so maybe?” The two delve into mindless chatter as Jihoon sits alone with his thoughts. He was thankful most of the time that they didn’t have many visitors because all it brought him was unneeded stress.

There’s a knock on the door, Mingyu yelling “come in!” from his place on the floor before a female laugh can be heard, Seungcheol’s voice accompanying it.

“And these are the three muskateers. Come say hi, everyone!” They all get up from their positions, each of them introducing themselves to you as Jihoon lags behind. “This shy one is Jihoon, he’s a snake hybrid.” Jihoon’s lips press into a firm line as he stares off to the side; mildly uninterested and a little bit anxious.

“Oh, interesting, a snake hybrid!”

Jihoon mentally grimaces. Usually when people came hoping to adopt, there were two typical reactions they had towards him. The first one was confusion; mainly because Jihoon didn’t have any physical features that a snake hybrid normally had. The second one was usually fascination with him being a snake hybrid. Jihoon almost preferred the former because it usually meant he’d stay at the adoption home and wouldn’t have to  do or change anything. The latter typically meant he’d potentially get adopted and whoever his owner was would find out he was too much maintenance for a hybrid that didn’t even look like one.

“If you don’t mind, do you think we can have a little chat together?” Your voice breaks him out of his thoughts as he finally looks you in the eye for the first time since you’d walked in. He’s hesitant, shooting Seungcheol a quick glance. “Um, Jihoon’s a little shy…”

“Oh, that’s okay then! I completely unders---”

“It’s fine. We can… talk.”

Jihoon’s palms feel clammy and his throat feels dry when Seungcheol escorts the other two hybrids out of the sunroom so that you can talk to him properly. The air feels awkward and somewhat tense when he turns his back towards you; settling down in front of the keyboard still placed on the floor.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to come off as harsh but what do you want? I’m sure Seungcheol told you about me or my history so...” You twiddle your thumbs, walking over to the windowsill to lean up against it as you watch him run his fingers along the keys.

“What do you mean?”

“You probably have a ton of questions right? Why don’t I have any hybrid features? Why do I look like a normal human? Do I have any weird appendages? How many times people have returned me here?” The room is quiet; only the sounds of the birds outside chirping filling in the awkward air.

“Not really. I didn’t come here looking to adopt a hybrid for the sake of their appearance or their rarity, I guess. I just… I don’t know, I guess I wanted a companion. I work at home a lot since I’m a writer and it gets lonely. Thought someone could keep me company. Or maybe someone wanted company.” Jihoon lets your words sink in, his fingers trembling as he presses down on a random key.

“Oh.”

A few days passed since meeting Jihoon and he had carefully agreed to you adopting him. The two of you had talked a little bit longer; Jihoon feeling more at ease with you than most of the people he’d met in the past. Seokmin had been sad that his new friend was leaving and Mingyu had been wary about the entire thing. But Jihoon had soothed them both; telling them that they’d probably see him soon anyway.

Seungcheol drives him to your apartment, Jihoon’s things in boxes in the trunk as he sits nervously in the front seat.

“Jihoon, I know you’re… this is a lot. It’s okay to feel anxious and nervous and.. I mean with everything in the past, I--”

“I know. You don’t have to feel sorry for me. It feels bad. Just… don’t be surprised when you see me back at the adoption place in like a week, okay?” He chuckles sadly, eyes focused on the scenery outside the window. Seungcheol sighs, hands gripping the wheel.

There’s three knocks on the door before you’re rushing to open it, vacuum still buzzing in the background as you all but rip the door open.

“Hey!” You shoot both the males a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry I was in the middle of cleaning but come in!” You give them space to enter, Jihoon toeing off his shoes and setting them by yours at the entrance as he balances his prized keyboard in his arms. Seungcheol sets one of the boxes of Jihoon’s things down on the dinner table, wiping the sweat off his brow.

“Sadly the elevator was broken so we had to take the stairs. Who would’ve thought carrying one box of things up the stairs would be the death of me. Can I have some water?” Jihoon snorts, taking in the features of his new home as he sets the keyboard down by the sofa.

“‘Cheol, you’ve got the stamina of a 90 year old man.”

“Hey, it’s not easy being old okay!” You pass him a glass of water, trapezing around the vacuum cord to turn it off. “I wanted to be done cleaning up before you got here, Jihoon. Sorry, I’m a little slow, I’m used to it just being me here and just living in my filth I guess.” He shrugs, “S’okay, Mingyu usually leaves a mess around the place anyway. Guess you can say I’m used to living in filth.” Seungcheol sputters, wiping the water off of his chin. You can’t help but laugh, patting Seungcheol on the shoulder as you gesture Jihoon further into your place.

“Let me show you around!”

Seungcheol decides to get more of Jihoon’s stuff out of his car as Jihoon walks behind you cautiously down the hallway, only stopping when you get to the door at the end of the hall. “Um, This place has three bedrooms and mine is on the opposite side but I wasn’t sure if you’d want the room that was next to mine or if you wanted space? I’m using the other room as a workspace right now, so you can put your stuff in here for now while you get used to the place… And then if you change your mind, we can switch some stuff around!” Giving him a small smile, you tug the door open, letting him enter first and for once, Jihoon is shocked. The room is much larger than any room he’s ever had and he takes notice of all the fancy heaters and humidifiers already placed around the room.

“Wow…”

“Sorry, is it, like, too much? ‘Cheol said you had some heaters and stuff in your old room but I thought I’d get you some new ones… Kind of like a housewarming gift?”

“This is… nice. It’s, um, very kind of you.” He can feel a soft blush wash over his skin as he tugs his sleeves down over his hands. “I… like it a lot. Thank you.”

When Seungcheol finally leaves after bringing up all of Jihoon’s things, it’s finally time for the two of you to settle in. 

Jihoon’s safety net is gone and the reality of being in a new space has his anxiety spiking back up tenfold. “Hey, Jihoon?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you or anything but I thought we’d order out for dinner if that’s okay? I’d usually cook but I think we’ve both had a long day. What do you think?”

“O-okay…” You can basically feel the nervousness radiating off of him as he awkwardly stands in the middle of the living room. “Jihoon, do you want to, um, I mean, you don’t have to stay out here if you don’t want to? You’re free to roam around if you’d like.” He shuffles closer to the sofa, biting his lip as he stares out the window.

“It’s… okay, I should m-maybe, um, spend some time with you? If that’s okay?” By now, his past owners would send him off to his shoebox of a room, only calling him out when it was necessary. Usually, he’d immediately plug in his keyboard by now, tuning out everything until he was just focused on composing something until he was needed.

Instead, he inches closer to the sofa, sitting down on the plush material as you put the last bit of cleaning supplies away and plop down onto the other side. “Hey, Jihoon? Can I be honest with you for a second?” He turns to you, nodding curiously. “I’m gonna be real, I did some research on snake hybrids but I couldn’t find much… I’m kind of inexperienced with the whole hybrid thing and even more uneducated when it comes to snake hybrids so… is there anything I should know? Like, snakes smell with their tongue, right? So, is it the same for you? Sorry if that’s offensive or something!” You watch the blonde haired male lick his lips, his leg bouncing slightly.

“Um, technically that’s correct. But snake hybrids still can use their human noses, it’s just… more intense when we use our tongues. Uh…” A blush settles on his cheeks, his mind no doubt going in a different direction than he intended. “Just, yeah, m-more intense, that’s all. Some foods might be more off-putting for us because of that. And, to be fair, I don’t… have many features that most snake hybrids have anyway. It’s just my surroundings and I guess some of my mannerisms? I basically exist normally other than that.”

You nod appreciatively; glad that Jihoon was willing to open up to you, even if it was only a little at a time. It would take a lot of getting used to on your part and his, but he seemed okay for now, albeit still timid. “I just want you to know that even though I adopted you as a hybrid, I don’t want you to think that I think less of you. I think of us as equals!” You turn to him smiling; ecstatic when he turns to face you as well.

“You have the freedom to do whatever you want here as long as it’s not destroying stuff, I guess. And if you need anything, you’re more than welcome to ask me! I’m home a lot since I’m a writer but I do have to pop into my editor’s office every now and then. But if you want to go out and eat or… um, I dunno, maybe go for a walk in the park? I’m always down to go!” Now it’s your turn to blush as he watches you, his fingers interlocked in his lap as he sits there quietly processing what you’ve said.

“I… thank you, you’re a lot kinder than any of my previous owners.”

Jihoon is on cloud nine when you tell him that he can pick what dinner he wants to have, eyes scanning over all the options on the food delivery app on your phone.

“I mean, as long as you don’t run up a $100 bill on food, you can pick whatever you want!” He chuckles quietly, clicking on various items and adding it to the cart. “Thank you for letting me pick dinner.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem! It’s your first night here, I want you to feel comfortable. This also reminds me that I need to get you a phone, just in case and also so you don’t get bored.”

The pretty flush doesn’t leave Jihoon’s face the rest of the night, even as the two of you sit at the dinner table eating the fried chicken and soda combination Jihoon picked out. The cute snake hybrid apparently had an obsession with the sweet drink, downing cups of it as you took mental notes to buy some for him later. And for the first time, you see him genuinely smile as he eats, cute lips curving up as he polishes off the rest of the food.

A crumb sits at the corner of his lips, and by instinct you lean over, thumb already next to his mouth before you can even stop yourself. There’s a pause, Jihoon’s eyes wide as you swipe at the crumb, ready to settle back into your seat when Jihoon’s hand comes up, wrapping around your wrist and holding you there.

“I, oops, I should’ve just told you there was a crumb! Sorry!”

You laugh awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t accidentally snap your wrist because you just invaded his personal space. Instead, you watch as he brings your hand closer to his mouth, pink tongue peeking out as he swipes at your thumb. You try to not question it, convincing yourself it might just be a snake thing, so you let him do whatever it is he’s doing as he begins to nose at your palm. It feels ticklish; your hand wanting to close at the feeling, but you can’t deny the way your body heats up on instinct, the innocent gesture riling up your thoughts about the snake hybrid for some reason. There was no denying how handsome he was; blonde hair falling into his sharp eyes and a lean but slightly muscular form.

Trying to shake off your thoughts, your eyes flit to the hand currently wrapped around your wrist and you can’t help but admire how delicate and pretty his hands were. Again, your mind conjures up situations that you probably shouldn’t be thinking about right now and you really hope Jihoon can’t tell.

When he decides he’s done, he lets go of your wrist, quietly taking a sip of his drink before setting it down on the tabletop again. “Um, sorry. I don’t… I just wanted to, um, s-smell you? I guess, um, snake thing, probably. Just wanted to get to know my, uh, owner.” You nod at his explanation, settling back into your seat as you try to push out all the inappropriate thoughts you just had.

“You’re very warm.”

That night when you split off for bed, you wish him a good night's rest; making sure the snake hybrid has everything he needs before you make a beeline for your bedroom, hastily locking the door behind you as you get ready for bed.  There really was no denying how attractive Jihoon was, but damn, he had literally just moved in today and your mind and heart were already racing. You try to think of everything but Jihoon when you slip under your covers for bed and hope that you can get a good night’s rest yourself.

But you feel bad. Really really bad. You’re almost certain satan has a special seat in hell for people like you. 

But you can’t help the way your hands roam all over your body as you lay under the bed sheets, fingers deep inside your pussy as you imagine them to be Jihoon’s instead. It was questionably an innocent gesture earlier, but your mind can’t help but conjure images of his tongue all over your skin and his delicate fingers fucking you nice and hard. The contrast of his colder skin on your warm skin has your toes curling imagining him playing with your nipples and wrapped around your throat. Damn, you think, I really need to get laid soon or this’ll get bad.

You’re almost certain your lip is bleeding from how hard you’re trying to keep your moans in when you cum around your fingers; the image of a particular snake hybrid dancing behind your eyelids even when the bliss starts to ebb away.

Muttering curses underneath your breath, you get up, wiping your wet fingers onto your shirt as you tug it off and throw it into the hamper, sliding off your wet panties and chucking them in as well. Sighing, you really hope Jihoon’s sense of smell isn’t as strong as other hybrids as you step into your closet to get a change of clothes.

Realization hits you like a brick when the back of your head slams against the pillow once you lay back down.

This was going to be harder than you expected.

[unholyplumpprincess]

The Bet

Anonymous commission !!!!!!

Summary: It should have just been a quick win bet to let you finally get your fix of Revenant again. 'Become champion' shouldn't have been too hard, considering you'd nailed him and his squad before he could get you in the past. And yet, of course, Revenant wants to always win. And he will win, especially if it means you're up on the table for him to have. Or. In which you and Revenant have a FWB situation and he's been teasing you for weeks with no relief. So you come up with a bet to mutually solve your issues, totally set on winning. How hard could it be?

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics u like!

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked on sight!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Revenant/Reader

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Revenant has a dick attachment, Reader is gender neutral and has a vulva, mentions of canon typical violence, relationship is shown more as FWB than romantic.

Words: 2.9k

_____________________

As far as anyone knew? Revenant was not a person who played well with others.

That was something he liked to keep up, a good face at that. He was good at growling out hate filled things of how pathetic a person was, mowing down people with a good hearty laugh about it, and making the cameras love him more and more. The Syndicate wanted to keep their little...falter under wraps. The fans all around thought him to be a ruthless killer with nothing but sadism and glee for it in his metal little heart- or rather, lack thereof. It drove them wild with excitement.

However, you knew better. You knew him in ways people couldn’t even fathom.

~Rest under the cut~

You knew of Revenant at his most vulnerable moments. To the way he didn’t immediately resort to violence if you so much as touched his shoulder, to the way he liked being under someone, to the way he squirmed under the lightest of brushes against a sensitive wire. You knew him to be sadistic as everyone else saw him, that may have been true, but what they didn’t get to see was him at his weakest points. Where weaponry was not needed besides a sharp tongue and painful wit.

No, you knew him on his knees, optics swirling with dangerous emotions as you cupped his cheek and told him what a good boy he was. You liked it that way too, that you were the only one who could see him like that. Of course, it wasn’t a strictly one on one relationship, nor was it a relationship at that. Friends with benefits wasn’t the right word either, not with the way he snarled his possession of you- even if he knew better than to stake a claim.

You were an addiction to him. An obsession. Revenant couldn’t get enough of you, and there was power behind that statement, wasn’t there?

The problem to that statement, however, was his want to tease. He wanted you as addicted to him as he was to you. One of his activities and games he liked to pull being making you forced to think about him. And what else better to make you do it than to limit your pleasures of his form? He’d thought it to be a brilliant idea.

You’d thought it to be infuriating.  

But, in the end, it worked, so maybe he was in the right.

It starts as a little game, something you could have laughed at and brushed off. Your sponsors had wanted you paired up with someone different, your chemistry with Wattson and Octane was always something to be excited about. Revenant had been paired up with Caustic and Wraith for the next two weeks of the season. This wasn’t an issue, though you two worked well together, you often butted heads. The issue with this?

Revenant had no issues going solo. And he certainly had no issues antagonizing you throughout firefights.

Out of the corner of your eye you always seemed to see a black and orange lit figure nearby, lit much like the fresh spread of lava. The amber glowing eyes in the darkness out of the corner of your eye always made shivers run down your spine. You knew his totem only allowed him to go so far, but much like a ghost he’d appear and then disappear when you’d finally whip around to aim a gun his direction.

Wattson had taken note of your behavior and the callouts of ‘enemy’ being nearby and had paused your squad’s trek to ask if you were alright, if you needed to take a second. You felt like you looked paranoid, not to mention it was a distraction technique- the bastard.

But, hard to think you’re imagining things when not a minute later you’re lagging behind and feel a smooth metal hand trace up your side from behind, a presence lingering behind you. A snarl in your ear and the growl of a voice box, “I could have my way with you right here-”

But when you whip around and press your wingman into his chest and pull the trigger, only a dark laugh follows as he zips back to his totem.

Fucker.

The sudden gunshot gets your teammates attention in question, Octane throwing up his hands in a ‘what the fuck’ gesture to you to which you reply with a half shrug as you speak into the comm, “Shot a cargo bot, missed.”

Even with goggles and a mask he doesn’t look convinced.

--

It happens again and again and again. Revenant likes his games, especially likes it when you’re waiting for him at any turn with your gun ready and your haunches pulled up like a flighty cat. He waits, and waits, and waits until you’re alone or lagging behind before he seems to find you. It’s little things, just a touch, a whisper, almost like a ghost is haunting you and driving you up a wall.

A hand brushes your side promisingly, another squeezes your hip or ass, a gruff voice growling in your ear- nothing above a whisper to never let the comms hear, “What a delicious example you would make if I fucked you open in front of all these cameras.” Wattson caught him that time, having only seen him sneak up behind you before she fired her sentinel perfectly into him and over your shoulder.

Another day, another haunting touch up to your chest, a skim of metal digits up the front of your throat, “A pathetic little toy you’d make for my squad, don’t you agree?” Before you’d managed to whip around and shoot a bullet right between his eyes. Your aim was getting better, but it’s only met with a delighted snarl as his ghost zipped back to his totem.

Every day, for the next week, he avoids you. Well, almost avoids. Revenant catches you in the hall sometimes, but before you can grab him and demand something, he skims right past you with a brush and a grunt of amusement. He’s playing you- playing you like a damned mouse to his cat. His plan is working, you’re fired up, near desperate to have him do the things he promises. But, there was just one, teensy little thing.

In your relationship? Whatever it was? You didn’t give up control. You were comfortable in it, liking to make him your bitch essentially. You liked him on his knees, liked him sounding desperate, hell you’d like him saying ‘please’ if he wasn’t so stubborn.

And he was very, very stubborn about politeness like: ‘Thank you’s and ‘please’s.

So, for him to come at you saying things like that? That was...new. You figured he was taunting you, maybe trying to spur you on, so you try to call him out on his bluff the next time you see him.

And the next time you see him? You don’t let him walk past you.

You push him to a nearby wall, pent up on no sexual relief but even more pent up in irritation. Revenant’s face doesn’t move, no muscles to really pull anything, but he does look at you with a look that must be curiosity- or hunger.

“You think you’re so funny,” You start with a growl to your own tone. It would never be as impressive as his own, but it gets his attention well enough. The way he tilts his head only serves to make your eyes narrow, mocking the same movement with your own head. Your eyes flicker across his face, licking your lips and gnawing your bottom lip briefly. “Fine. You want to be a tease? Play ghost? I’ll play games too.”

You hear him grunt in amusement, his optics hypnotically seeming to spin with deeper shades of oranges. You wait for him to gain interest before you continue, your hand stays twisted in his scarf, keeping him to the wall. It’d been weeks since you’d last fucked, you almost demand it, but instead you huff in amusement back at him. “A bet.”

The word makes him perk like a cat, his metal skeletal fingers wrapping around your wrist idly as you wait for him. Your eyes flicker between his optics as Revenant makes a soft noise in his chest, something that would sound like a rumbling purr on a big cat in contentment. “And what...sort of bet did you have in mind?” He almost sounds like a cartoon super villain the way he purrs it out, his thumb idly stroking along your pulse point. A quiet threat.

“The next person to be the champion is the winner. If you win, you can top next time, do whatever you want to me,” You start slowly, you’d had time to think of giving up control, but even you weren’t so confident as it comes out of your mouth. Almost tight in your throat. But the way he snarls in his chest tells you that that interested him enough.  

“And if I win- and I will win,” You begin again, tugging on his scarf to get his attention again. “You let me do whatever I want to you. Please and thank you’s included. You’ll be a good boy and do whatever I say. Do we have a deal?”

With too good of a bet on the table, of course he agrees. But, you know he’ll eat those words. He’ll be under your heel soon enough and give you that ‘please’ you’ve always dreamed of hearing. You’ve kicked his ass every round thus far with a bullet to the chest and the head.  

This would be a piece of cake.

--

It was not a piece of cake.

It seemed the bet WAS really too good because his kill count racks up higher than you’ve ever seen it get. You don’t even place top three with your own squad, maybe fifth in line and watching with a growing, gnawing feeling in your stomach as he climbed the ranks. Each shot perfect, his want for blood seeming to mellow out with his need to win.

Revenant becomes the champion that round, and you hear very quickly from mutters of other legends that he’s refused to do interviews and let his squad handle that part.

It’s not a surprise to you when a hand snatches you and yanks you into the hall as you quickly speed walk to your bedroom. You yelp, regardless, as you’re dragged to someone else’s bedroom.

Revenant’s chest almost hums with his voice box rattling his inner systems with his dark laughter. He doesn’t even make it to the bed with you, slamming you to the door, a hand around your throat and his leg thrust between yours. You make a choked sound, face flushed, and your heart absolutely pounding in your chest.

There’s only a brief moment where he leans into you, growling in your ear, “You did mean what you said, yes? I’d hate to have your screams be of pain.” It’s...almost sweet the way he’s asking for consent- even if it’s quiet. It could sound like a threat, but you understand his quick hesitation. You weren’t-- you’d never been beneath him.

Your quick nodding doesn’t shake him into believing you, he hisses under his breath for you to say it so he can hear you and you quickly chirp like an eager bird, “Yes! Yes- yes, a bet is a bet- have me. Any way you want. S-same safe word I use for you if it’s too much.”

The process from there isn’t slow. You knew Revenant wouldn’t be one to take his time if he had you in his clutches, and only proven to you when in no time you’re being stripped. It’s a bit of a blur, the first few moments. Your brain tries to wrap around it and make sense of it. Metal fingers cruelly squeezing your chest and toying with your nipples, a hand yanking your hair and forcing your head back so you couldn’t watch, the sharpness of metal teeth at your throat- the desperation of yanking your clothing off.

You’re naked before you realize it, back against a soft bed rather than a wall. He’s fit between your legs, hovering over you much like a starved spider, tracing his fingers up your inner thighs and making you quiver from the sensation.

His laugh is fitting for the situation, low and dark and sending shivers up your spine, “Always giving punishment to me,” He begins, his voice deep and resonating throughout his chest with the reverberations of his voice box. “That’s what you call it, isn’t it? And yet, who knew you were punishing yourself...” His voice trails off, his palm resting atop your mound so his thumb can trace from your hole, up through your lower lips to your clit.

The sensation is beyond anything you’ve felt. Though Revenant’s digits are metal and ribbed to allow joint control, they don’t feel sharp nor like they’ll catch. A unique texture experience. You can’t help it when your hips lift up, a sharp exhale leaving your nose as he circles your clit.

Fuck, did he find lube somewhere or were you just this wet?

“Rev-” You start shakily, feeling two of his fingers tracing down through your slick and to your hole. One presses in, almost like a ribbed toy is the way you’d describe it. Your thigh muscle twitches as you resist clamping your legs down on his arm, instead resting a hand in your own hair to ground yourself as you whine.

“If only you let me do this sooner,” He murmurs as his finger presses deep inside of you- fuck it was long- curling just right and testing the waters before fitting a second inside of you. “Could have found what a little, needy bitch you were a lot sooner.”

You would kick him if he wasn’t right. Revenant’s pumping his wrist now, fucking you thoroughly with his two fingers, rendering you ineffective. You knew he wasn’t much for foreplay, but even you’re thankful he’s prepping you. You bite back a sound when a third finger is introduced, his thumb stroking your clit in time and making your inner walls contract in time with the way you sob out a swear.

In no time, his fingers move from you, wiped on your inner thigh unceremoniously. Bastard. But, he introduces your favorite part.

His cock attachment today was something you had picked out. It matched his plating appropriately, a black coloring with deep amber nodes framing the sides and glowing much like his eyes. It was thick, maybe about as thick as your wrist and seven inches long. The ribbed sensation on it made it uniquely shaped with a rounded head leaking the light red coloring of his lubricant reserves.

You throw an arm over your eyes and turn your head as one of his hands grabs your hip tightly, the other guiding his cock inside of you. You bite your bottom lip when Revenant growls, pushing inside of you in near one go with the help of stretching you and how his lubrication helped with the slide.

Your toes curl, pressing your heels into the backs of his leg’s plating, already feeling on edge. “Rev-” You start once more, your voice shaking as you lose focus.

A yank of your arm makes you whine, trying to tug it back, but his hand snatches your jaw and forces your head towards him. “Look into my eyes when I fuck you raw. Remember who you belong to.” He snarls, your eyes fluttering open near on command and meeting deep amber optics. They swirl hypnotically, a hint he’s recording this for his own database. Bastard.

But, you can’t find it in you to care. Letting him hold your jaw to keep you there, his thumb tracing your lower lip as his hips slam into you again and again. He’s always sensitive, he won’t last very long, and you were already on edge.

His pleasure is expressed through huffs and growls, his voice box mimicking a moan only to branch off into something static-filled as if losing connection on the phone. Choppy, echoing, and yet his optics never leave your half lidded eyes. Your lips are parted to express your own pleasures, eyes fluttering and near rolling back into your head as his hips slam into yours again and again. It’d bruise you, that much you knew, but you can’t find it in you to tell him to be gentler.

“Reven- Rev—cu-cumming, don’t stopdon’tstop-” Your voice shakes, edging off into a wail as you start to cum with jerks of your hips. His groan is music to your ears, a low sound reverberating in his chest as his back hunches inwards, looking ever so much like a spider as his hand slips from your jaw to wrap around your throat. He’s cumming with you, his cock jerking and emptying at least half his reserve in you.

You’re panting, dizzy and euphoric. A soft laugh leaves you, gently nudging at his chest, “Should- should have let you top earlier, huh?” You laugh playfully, breathy and unfocused.

“Who said I was done with you, little thing?” He snarls back at you, shoving you right back down onto the bed and crossing an arm over your upper chest to keep you down.

Revenant intended to milk out his winning. All night if he needed.

He intended to make you scream loud enough for the whole compound to know appropriately what this ‘thing’ was between you two.

That you were his.

[luxekook]

love bites | ksj

*written for the FWL luv library project*

⇥ pairing: kim seokjin x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au, co-workers to lovers, smut, fluff

⇥ summary: you’re stuck working the evening shift on valentine’s day at bangtan bistro. as the city’s most expensive and exclusive restaurant, the bistro draws in couples both old and new with partners looking to propose or to impress. your tolerance for PDA and cringey lovebirds has never been lower. throw a flirty chef into the mix and you’re in for a bumpy ride that might just conclude with a happy ending.

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, bad puns from jin, numerous health-code violations (from fraternizing all up in that kitchen), oral (m + f receiving), protected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it, folks), workplace romance, threats of violence from yoongi

⇥ beta'd by the amazing @shadowsremedy​ (thank you, heath! could not have done this without you, your feedback, and your general support!)

“Will you marry me?”

I screech to a halt, completely astounded at the goddamned audacity of the man kneeling before me. Did he really just ask that? At a time like this?

I shift my weight from one foot to the other as I try not to outwardly show my disgust over the scene unfolding before my very eyes.

“Oh my god, Chad!” The date of this Chad finally launches herself from her seat and into his arms, “Yes!”

The restaurant breaks into applause. My forehead breaks into a sweat.

My left arm feels like it might snap at any moment under the weight of the tray of food that I’m meant to be serving this goddamn theatrical couple. The thought of quitting crosses my mind for the umpteenth time that evening.

A camera flash temporarily stuns me, and I feel a tiny twinge of satisfaction. My looming presence in that commemorative photo will hopefully be a reminder to let servers do their damn job before launching into a whole ordeal.

God, I must have been off my fucking rocker when I agreed to work the Valentine’s Day dinner shift. At least the tip money would be worth it.

Gritting my teeth, I flash my best fake smile and offer words of congratulations to the sniffling couple who finally reclaimed their seats.

“Enjoy your meal,” my mouth says with a smile.

“I wish I could sear you like that filet mignon you ordered, Chad,” my glare says with promise.

Thirty seconds later, I’m in full whisper-rant mode at the corner server station. My friend and fellow server Tabby half-listens as she punches in an order at the kiosk.

“And then this Chad in his fucking khaki suit flails to the ground to pop the question like he didn’t see me walking towards them with all seven entrees they ordered. So then I’m stuck hovering over their table with a giant-ass tray of food while they cry and hug and kiss until, finally, finally, they park it back in their seats so I can serve them.”

I groan, hitting my head against the wall, “What did I do in a past life to deserve this?”

“Kill someone, probably,” a voice pipes up from behind the station’s kitchen window, “Oh wait, you would do that in this life, too.”

Kim Seokjin, head chef of Bangtan Bistro and my partial employer, is leaning over the window’s counter, eyes full of mischief as he watches me.

“Oh, what’s this? Are you volunteering to be my very first victim?” I mirror his position leaning over the window’s counter and give him my best side-eye, “I’ll send you my application for victims on Google Docs.”

“Sounds kinky,” Seokjin grins, “Count me in. My Gmail username is Hugh Chefner. No capitals or spaces.”

“I despise you,” I say biting back a smile.

“You lo-o-ove me!” He sings, heading back into the depths of the hectic kitchen.

And, unfortunately, he’s right. Damn Kim Seokjin and his insane level of gorgeousness, charisma, and dramatics.

Against my better judgment, Seokjin has shimmied his chaotic self right into my well-guarded heart. Despite all of the prickliness my typical demeanor displays, I can’t help but melt under the warm gaze of such a handsome man.

Seokjin is the first person that has ever been able to pique my interest lately and keep it. Yes, it might have something to do with his extreme attractiveness; but, it more-so has everything to do with his genuine kindness and weird sense of humor.

Shit, I’ve gone soft. If we’re arguing Nature vs. Nurture here, this is totally Nurture’s fault.

Bangtan Bistro is co-owned by seven men - each as fine as the next. Being surrounded by good-looking and kind-hearted men day in and day out will definitely fuck with your brain, your body, and eventually even your fucking heart.

Kim Namjoon, a tall, dimpled sweetheart of a man, acts as general manager. Namjoon typically resides in the back office of the restaurant running numbers and going over other business ventures. He used to frequent the front of the restaurant to check on customers, but Jimin has since banned him from that activity after the infamous Spaghetti Incident of 2019.

Park Jimin, as the overseer of staff and servers, commands the restaurant floor with a crinkly-eyed smile and a ferocious temper. Fortunately for his direct subordinates (READ: me), his temper is most likely to be focused on rude customers and his messy business partners. Jimin honestly is the ideal boss because he has our backs and will never hesitate to help anyone out.

Late one Saturday evening, a man refused to leave the restaurant after being cut off from his bar tab. Jimin full-on squared up with him in defense of the poor server who had to break the news to the drunk patron. Luckily, the Bistro’s head of security, Jeon Jungkook, took over before Jimin actually popped off.

Jungkook, as the youngest partner, is shockingly tall and muscular. He definitely provides the intimidation needed for those types of escalating incidents. Despite his tough exterior, Jungkook is a complete softie.

I once caught Jungkook in the kitchen after close attempting to make cookies for a girl he had a crush on. I walked in to see Jungkook standing over a tray of the unidentifiable charred monstrosities and pouting in the most ridiculous way. Needless to say, I helped him bake a new batch with the oven not turned up to 500 degrees so that “they would cook faster”.

Min Yoongi had found the pair of us bickering and had just rolled his eyes and scooped a mouthful of raw cookie dough. As the head bartender, Yoongi is the absolute best at mixing drinks and the absolute worst at customer service. I swear the man gets far too much pleasure from getting people thrown out. He’s also notorious for watering down the drinks of customers he doesn’t like. He’s petty like that. I live for it.

Once, Jung Hoseok tried to take a picture of Yoongi for the restaurant’s website, and Yoongi threatened to shove a sharpened cocktail umbrella through Hoseok’s eye. I had never seen the Bistro’s head of marketing and resident sunshine flee so fast. Hoseok later ended up using an old picture of Yoongi in retaliation; rumor has it Yoongi is still plotting his revenge to this day.

Kim Taehyung often grumbles about how he’s going to be put out of a job since the restaurant naturally provides daily entertainment. As the head of entertainment and events, Taehyung helps to secure live music and special guests. He’s also the most handsome man I have ever seen - with the exception of one Kim Seokjin.

Seokjin, as head chef, is responsible for planning the seasonal menus, overseeing the kitchen staff, and preparing the more challenging dishes. He’s even taken it upon himself to be the resident comedian, which the other six partners vehemently and openly detest. Still, that backlash has not stopped him from naming each evening special with puns. His last Seokjin Special was called “Chicken Pot Bye Felicia”. It had resulted in Yoongi banning Seokjin from the restaurant for a full week. He still hasn’t dared to make another pun, but I can tell it will only be a matter of time.

Basically, Seokjin is an entirely goofy and beautiful mess of a human. Yet, I can’t stop myself from falling deeper and deeper into the trap that is loving someone outside of your league.

When I first arrived at the Bistro for my inaugural shift, I was greeted enthusiastically by Jimin, who I’d met previously in my interview. Jimin had introduced me to each of his partners - each as handsome as the last. Honestly, my eyes and nerves had been exhausted after meeting almost all of them. Then Jimin had ushered me into the kitchen.

“Hey, Jin-hyung!” Jimin had yelled over the cacophony of sizzling pans and murmured conversation. I had watched in awe as the hottest man I’ve ever seen entered my line of vision and stopped before me. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a face that could inspire priceless works of art with full pink lips, high cheekbones, and devilish dark eyes.

“You summoned me, Jiminie?” The man had laughed in a slightly squeaky manner before he noticed my presence, “Ah, who might this be?”

I had cleared my throat in hopes that my voice wouldn’t crack under the sheer weight of this man’s attractiveness, “Hi, I’m (y/n). I’m starting today as a server.” and thrust my hand out with a shy smile.

He had blinked. Slowly, a smirk eased onto his face as he grabbed my hand. Instead of shaking it, he had brought it to his lips. “A pleasure. I’m Seokjin,” he had murmured, lips brushing against my knuckles. My cheeks had felt like they were on fire as Jimin screeched at Seokjin for harassing me.

“It’s her first day, Jin! Lay off the theatrics,” Jimin had turned to me, “Sorry about him, (y/n). He’s a desperate flirt.”

“Desperate? Me?” Seokjin gasped, “Worldwide Handsome does not do desperate.”

“Did you just refer to yourself as ‘Worldwide Handsome’?” I had gaped at his open arrogance.

Seokjin proudly had puffed up his chest, “Yes. What else could I possibly be called?”

“Well, definitely not Worldwide Humble,” My mouth had said before my brain caught up.

The room had seemed to pause before Jimin erupted in peals of laughter as Seokjin spluttered, “Yah, Jiminie, you can’t let her talk to me like that!”

Still laughing, Jimin had choked out, “(y/n), you officially have a job here until you die.”

Ever since that first encounter, Seokjin and I have established a working relationship based on banter or what Tabby refers to as ‘flirting’. I refuse to believe that ridiculous notion.

Tabby finally finishes entering her order into the kiosk and turns to me, “So, any hot plans for tonight?” Her eyebrows wiggle up and down suggestively.

“Does solo Netflix and chill count as hot plans?” I deadpan as I peer around the server station divider to covertly check on my tables. I lock eyes on Chad and his fiancé, who already seem to be arguing, and I make an executive decision to not go check how their meal is going.

“No!” Tabby’s whisper-yell commands my attention, “That definitely does not count, (y/n). Why didn’t you find someone on Tinder? I even made you that bomb-ass profile.”

I pointedly look everywhere but at her.

“You deleted the app, didn’t you,” she glares at me, arms folded, “I slaved over that profile! There were only so many tasteful cleavage shots of my best friend that I could stomach in one sitting!”

“What the fuck, Tabby! Since when do I have any—”

“Tasteful cleavage shots?” Seokjin’s elated voice practically shouts from the kitchen, “Let me at ‘em.”

His hands launch towards us through the kitchen window and make grabbing motions.

“Seokjin,” I tsk mockingly, “Are you trying to grab my tits again?”

“Again?” Tabby cries, whirling on Seokjin, who looks at us in horror.

“I wasn’t! I swear! I just wanted to see the pictures! I didn’t want to grab your boobs…” He trails off, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like ‘not any more than usual, anyway’.

“Seokjin-hyung! (y/n)!” Jimin blazes into the service station, “I’ve had it up to here with your bickering. You’re both on closing duties tonight - alone.”

“What?” I exclaim as Tabby slinks away. Traitor. “We’re just joking with each other! Right, Seokjin?”

Jimin’s gaze swings from me to Seokjin, who is suddenly suspiciously calm. My eyes narrow. A silent conversation is definitely happening without my participation.

Finally, Seokjin just shrugs with a grin, “Sounds fair to me, Jiminie! (y/n) and I will work hard all night if we have to.”

“Fair?” I choke, “All night?”

Jimin, following Tabby’s lead, scurries away as my attention is diverted by Seokjin’s idiocy. “Scared to be alone with me, (y/n)?” Seokjin’s lips break into a sly smile, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite… much.”

With that parting remark, Seokjin winks at me and disappears back into the kitchen.

“Fuck me,” I breathe out. How would I survive this?

Five hours later, the last patron has been ushered out of the restaurant with the staff right on their heels. I curse as Yoongi waltzes out the door, fanning himself with a crisp fifty-dollar bill and winking obnoxiously. “Have fun!” He cackles, locking the restaurant doors behind him.

“No, please don’t offer to stay and help,” I grumble, sweeping stray pieces of lettuce out from under a table, “I am more than happy to stay here until the ass-crack of dawn with the biggest idiot on the face of the earth.”

“The biggest, huh?” The voice chuckles right in my ear, “How did you know?”

“Goddamnit, Seokjin!” I slap a hand to my heart, “Don’t sneak up on me like that, you oaf!”

Whirling to face him, I stutter to a halt. He’s taken off his heavy chef’s coat and is now left in a tight black t-shirt that clings to his body in a manner that has to be illegal.

I swallow hard, and for a split second, I swear Seokjin’s gaze latches onto my throat.

“Is it hot in here?” I mutter distractedly, tugging at the collar of my stiff white button-down.

“Yes,” Seokjin practically purrs, “It’s scorching.”

Choosing not to acknowledge him, I spin on my heels, grabbing the full dustpan of debris I collected and head towards the back of the restaurant.

Emptying the dustpan in the trash, I walk over to the supply closet to return the broom. The restaurant floor is finished. Now, I just had to see how much of the kitchen Seokjin actually cleaned.

Pushing through the swinging doors of the kitchen, I screech to a halt as I’m faced with a complete and utter miracle.

“What in tarnation?” I gasp, taking in the pristine kitchen full of glistening stainless steel and sparkling countertops. “Kim Seokjin!” I yell, “You damn wizard! How the fuck did you clean everything this fast?”

“You could say I was motivated,” his reply sounds entirely too close. I spin to face him and gape as I notice the bouquet of red roses that he’s holding out to me.

Taking in my speechless appearance, Seokjin smiles smugly and opens his mouth to continue.

I cut him off, “Tell me those aren’t the roses from the fucking table centerpieces... I threw those in the trash, Seokjin!”

His ears turn an alarming shade of magenta, “Yah, just accept the gesture, (y/n)! This is peak romance, you know!”

“They are covered in filth, dude!” I squint, peering closer, “Is that a piece of spaghetti in there?”

Seokjin yeets the makeshift bouquet back into the garbage, “Why can’t you just appreciate my efforts?” He pouts excessively, “Don’t you like me?”

Red alert. Red alert, my mind whirs.

“Sure,” I let out a nervous laugh, “We’re friends. Of course, I like you.”

He steps towards me, “Sure, we’re friends, (y/n), but friends don’t usually want to fuck each other.”

That bitch said what now?

“Did you inhale too much Clorox?” I panic, “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” Thrusting three fingers in front of Seokjin’s amused face, I widen my eyes as he suddenly grabs my hand.

“Baby,” he says lowly, sending a delicious shiver down my spine, “If you keep being so adorable, I may just have to keep you.”

Well, shit, okay. “Say less,” I breathe and then immediately slam my mouth shut.

I receive a classic Seokjin grin in return for my idiocy, and my knees shake. Honestly, who the fuck allowed him to be that devastating?

Slowly, his grin slips away, and his eyes ignite with raw desire, “Tell me what you want from me, (y/n).”

My mind short circuits, automatically reverting to my default mode of sass, “Uh, peace and quiet?”

“Really?” Seokjin murmurs, stepping even closer still, “So you don’t want me to kiss you? You don’t want me to turn you over and fuck you until you scream?”

My breathing is ragged. His eyes burn with a hunger I had never seen before, and I’m crumbling.

“Answer me,” Jin demands, desperation seeped in each word, “Please.”

“Seokjin—” I gasp, dumbfounded, “Where the hell is this coming from? We’re coworkers! You’re my boss!”

His eyes flashed darkly as he moved his head closer to mine, “That’s all irrelevant, baby.”

“Irrelevant—!” I stab a finger into his firm chest, “Oh, you little shit, you can’t just say that you want to fuck me and then say that our working relationship is irrelevant! I could get fired. You could get fired!”

“That’s highly unlikely given the fact that everyone else knows my plans to ask you out right now.”

“Hold on a second,” I narrow my eyes, “Are you saying that you purposefully planned for us to stay late tonight to clean the entire goddamn restaurant just so you could ask me out? Are you fucking insane?”

“I prefer the term ‘quirky’,” he quips, “But, yeah, I may have paid everyone $50 to leave us alone for the night.”

“Well, that explains Yoongi… that shady motherfucker,” I internally make note to plot my vengeance. “Why couldn’t you have just slid in my DMs like a normal person, Seokjin?” I groan, “I would have responded to a ‘you up’ with a ‘yes, come over’.”

Seokjin whips out his cell phone. “Does this apply to right now?” he asks, typing furiously.

My phone dings with several Instagram notifications.

hughchefner: u up

hughchefner: wyd

hughchefner: date me?

(y/n): bet

Seokjin’s eyes shoot up to mine after he reads my response, “Really? You agreed to date me by saying ‘bet’ in an Instagram DM?”

“Yup,” I shrug, “No take-backs. Also, to answer your previous questions: Yes, I do want you to kiss me with your insufferable mouth, and, yes, I do want to sit on your dick. Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Say less,” Seokjin echoes my earlier statement and captures my mouth with his. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back with equal fervor.

“(Y/n),” he groans right as my tongue swipes teasingly against his lower lip.

His hands slid down my body, pausing only to squeeze my waist gently before settling firmly on my ass. His fingers dig in hard and I let out an embarrassingly loud moan.

“You like that, baby? You like when I’m rough?” Seokjin pulls his lips off mine and murmurs sinfully, “God, I want to devour you.”

I lift my chin up and challenge, “Do it, you won’t.”

His eyes flare, “Oh, babygirl, you were made for me.” Seokjin’s lips return to mine, moving at a slow but ravenous pace.

Still kissing me, he picks me up and places me on one of the kitchen’s stainless steel counters. His hands grab my thighs, tugging them apart to make room for him to stand between them. A harsh groan rises from the depths of his chest as our bodies align.

I hook one leg around his waist and tug him closer still. Pulling my lips away, I lean my head back as I slowly trace his muscles through his shirt. He watches me with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. His eyes are wild and I’m loving every second of it.

The room suddenly feels too hot. My hands dart up to shakily begin undoing the buttons of my shirt. Seokjin’s eyes follow my movements with fascination. “Let me,” he purrs and proceeds to rip my shirt from my body. Buttons scatter on the floor with sorrowful little bounces.

“You bitch,” I yank his hair, “That was my good work shirt.”

“I’ll buy you ten more,” Seokjin’s voice is rough and full of desire as he takes in my lacy white bra. Suddenly, his mouth descends to suck at my nipple through the thin lace.

“Damn, you are so fucking sexy,” he pulls his mouth away, “Can I take this off?”

I nod like a bobblehead in 60mph winds, reaching around my back with one hand to undo the clasp and then throwing my bra clear across the kitchen. It lands on top of one of the fridges and I shrug. I’d retrieve it later.

Seokjin tugs off his own shirt, revealing planes of tanned skin. I don’t hesitate to run my hands up and down the definition of his abs and watch in fascination as his muscles constrict under my touch. I run my hands lower, tracing his defined v-line.

No wonder they call it the Adonis belt, I muse, pondering if he’d let me lick it.

Huffing in impatience at my slow exploration, Seokjin returns his mouth to my nipple and sucks hard. My eyes nearly roll into the back of my head. He bites down gently and then blows on my nipple slowly. I moan at the sensation. I watch him through unfocused eyes as his hand slides down the front of my body. He reaches the button of my pants and pauses.

Seokjin pulls his mouth away from my nipple, his lips swollen and pink. “You have to say yes, baby.” His breath hits my ear, making me shiver.

I hold out my hand for a high-five and declare, “We stan a man who asks for clear consent.” Chuckling, Seokjin slaps my offered hand and then links his fingers with mine.

“Also,” I continue, looking into his eyes, “It’s a fuck yes.” I pull our linked fingers close to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Cute,” he grins, “Now, can I take off your pants?”

“Take off yours first,” I order.

“So eager,” he laughs, making quick work of his black jeans. My mouth instantly waters at the sight of his hard cock straining to be released from the confines of his bright red Versace boxer briefs.

“Why am I not surprised that even your underwear is extra?” I mumble, flicking the button of my pants open.

Laughing, Seokjin takes over, tugging my pants down my legs. He then pushes my matching white lace panties aside and cups my pussy, applying pressure. I roll my hips into his hand.

His fingers trace lightly up and down my pussy, before one dips inside me. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans.

“Always,” I breathe out. Suddenly, he pulls his hand away from me. I pout. Seokjin laughs at my expression and then licks his finger.

“Jesus fuck, (y/n), you taste so sweet. Let me eat you out,” he pleads.

I smirk, saying, “I thought you’d never ask,” and then gasp as he kneels before me, grabbing my hips. Seokjin moves to tear my underwear off, and I’m quick to place my foot on his forehead to stop his approach. “I swear to god, Seokjin, if you rip these, I will get Namjoon to permanently ban Seokjin Specials.”

“You’re evil,” he grins, “I love it.” He makes a show of slowly taking my panties off before throwing them carelessly behind him. He then yanks the same leg I had used to thwart his panty-tearing plans and throws it over his shoulder before returning his fingers to my pussy. Seokjin’s thumb circles my clit while two of his fingers thrust into me at a maddening rate.

My fingers grip his hair when I finally feel his tongue licking up the juices that have started to run down my thighs.

After sucking what will probably become a massive hickey onto my left inner thigh, his tongue licks a path straight up my folds until it circles around my clit maddeningly. “Goddamnit, Seokjin, stop teasing,” my voice cracks in desperation, but my plea works. His tongue flicks at my clit lightly before his lips close over it and suck.

“Fuck,” I moan, “I think I like you eating me out more than I like eating your cooking.”

He pulls back to briefly land a light swat on my pussy and I choke on air as painful pleasure shoots through me. “Take that back,” he growls, “My cooking is second only to my handsome face.”

“God, I fucking hate you,” I drawl. The emphasis in my words portrays the exact opposite.

Seokjin sends me a shit-eating grin before his tongue returns to lick at my swollen clit, up and down, and then in a slow circle. His fingers brush open my folds just enough for him to sink his tongue into me. “O-oh,” I throw my head back, one hand moving up to pinch one of my nipples while the other latches back into Seokjin’s hair.

“I’m s-so close, baby,” my words slur as I shamelessly beg, “Don’t stop.”

He immediately pulls away.

“Oh, fuck you,” I seethe. I yank his head back by his hair until his neck is stretched in a long line. His hair is a mess, and I’ve never seen anything hotter.

“I just want to feel you come when I’m inside you, baby,” he smiles, my wetness glistening on his lips.

“Fine,” I shimmy off of the counter onto shaky legs, “Two can play at that game.”

“What?” Seokjin’s brows furrow in confusion.

It’s my turn to drop to my knees. “Oh, shit,” he curses as I tug his boxers down to reveal his hard cock. It’s silky and gorgeous, and I can’t stop staring at it. Seokjin, of course, notices. “You like my cock, babygirl? Take it. It’s yours.”

It already was, I think, as my gaze darts up to meet his.

Without breaking eye contact, I lick his reddened tip, almost moaning at his taste. “Fuck, babygirl,” Seokjin throws his head back. I smile wickedly. I could definitely get addicted to ruining this beautiful boy. “Look at me,” I command, feeling so powerful when he immediately listens.

Slowly, I suck down on his length, hollowing out my cheeks. My eyes stay on his as he groans, and I can tell he’s straining to keep from thrusting into my mouth.

“Please, baby, fuck—!” He moans as I swallow around him and then release him from my mouth with a pop. My hand darts up to grip him tightly, pumping him. Moving slowly, I suck one of his balls into my mouth, rolling my tongue around it gently. Seokjin chokes, “Fuck me.”

“We’ll get there, baby,” I tug my mouth away and grin up at him.

I suck him as far down as I can. His control snaps and he begins to thrust wildly into my mouth, panting.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” his eyes scrunch up as he chants, “I’m gonna come.”

I release him ruthlessly.

“Goddamnit,” he cries, “I knew that was coming, but it still hurts.”

“Well,” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, “If only you had a pretty little pussy ready for you to fuck… Oh, wait.”

Seokjin chuckles, “I see I wasn’t able to fuck some of the sass out of that mouth. We might have to try that again later.”

“Gladly,” I grin back at him, “You have a condom?”

Seokjin picks up his discarded jeans from the floor and digs around in the back pockets. “Aha!” He yells, hoisting up the glimmering gold foil in triumph.

I roll my eyes before snatching the condom from the idiot. Tearing the foil packaging open with my teeth, I grab Seokjin’s length and pump him a few times in preparation.

“Stop being a tease,” he mumbles, thrusting shallowly into my hand.

“Stop being so hot,” I challenge, leaning down to lick his pre-cum dripping from the reddened tip of his cock.

“Impossible,” Seokjin smirks before tugging me back up to face him.

He drops his lips to mine and sucks on my bottom lip. Pulling away slightly, he tugs at it in a stinging bite. Withdrawing his mouth from mine, he spins me around and bends me over the counter.

I feel the head of his cock running teasingly over the folds of my pussy and I gasp, “Please, baby, I need you inside me.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

He thrusts into me in one sharp movement. We both gasp as he fills me, gliding in and out.

“Harder,” I moan.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “I’m trying to last over here.”

“Why? We have all night,” I pout before an idea pops into my head, and I taunt, “Wait, are you telling me you’re a one and done type of old man?”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Seokjin mutters darkly.

His hard cock fills and stretches me, pleasure emanating within me from every sharp thrust of his hips.

“Your pussy is mine,” he growls, “I’ll fuck you from against the wall after this. I’ll fuck you until you can’t sass me anymore. And I’ll fuck you all night, baby, and every night after that.”

I clench around him as his dirty words wash over me. “Those are all great ideas in theory,” I gasp out, “But I really want to ride you first.”

“Oh, babygirl wants to fuck herself on my cock?” Seokjin slaps my ass before pulling out, “Well, come on.”

I stand upright and turn to see him walking towards the large island in the middle of the room. He hops onto it and lays down, placing one arm behind his head, and the other one slowly strokes his cock.

“You better get that hand off your cock before I decide to never let you into my pussy again,” I say darkly as I move towards him.

His hand flies off his dick at the speed of light, his eyes wide as they focus on me.

When I get close enough, I climb up onto the island and kneel with one leg on each side of his tapered waist. I slowly sink down so that just his tip is inside me and squeeze.

A garbled moan escapes Seokjin, his hands shooting out to grab my waist in an attempt to push me down further.

“Someone’s eager,” I whisper, bending down to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I’ve been fucking eager since you were hired.” He smacks my ass and then groans as I reflexively sink down another inch.

“Yeah?” I question, sinking down another inch as his eyes squeeze shut, “You should have said something sooner, baby. I could have been riding you hard for months.”

Seokjin pouts, “Well, there’s no time like the present?”

“God, you’re such a dweeb,” I grin before taking him to the hilt. We both let out strangled breaths as I shift slightly, before placing a hand on his neck.

Keeping my hand there, I lift up and begin riding him hard. My body slides up and down onto his cock at a fast pace. Sweat drips down my back. Seokjin grabs my ass, his fingers gripping my skin, and pounds up into my pussy with brutal and possessive force.

“O-oh, fuck.” There’s something about riding Seokjin that just feels so good. My hips swivel and roll against his. The pleasure steadily builds, and I try to distract myself by biting down on Seokjin’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he moans, “Are you close?”

I pull away from his neck and sit up, arching my back to give him a deeper angle. He thrusts up into my g-spot and I gasp, “Shit, yes, I’m close. Come with me, baby.”

I clench my walls around him. Seokjin’s eyes are scrunched shut as he continues to pound into me with harsh strokes.

He shifts one hand from my ass to gently circle my aching clit, and I light up. My walls clench and pulse, locking down on Seokjin so tight that he comes, his hot seed filling the condom as he shudders.

I collapse against him and shove my face into his sweaty neck.

I can feel his laugh bubbling up from his chest before I hear it. “What’s so funny?” I ask, lips brushing his skin.

“Namjoon’s going to kill us for the number of health code violations we just committed,” his laughter causes his cock to shift within me, and I bite back a moan.

“Well,” I lift my face up from his neck to look at him, “We have nothing to lose at this point then, huh?”

I slowly lick my lips, and his eyes drop to them. The only noise left in the restaurant is our heavy breathing. “Round two in Namjoon’s office?” he suggests.

“Bet.”

a/n: this was so fun to write :) hope you all enjoyed it! happy valentine’s day!

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[misterbitches]

I ship muren and li cheng bc i only saw it through gifs then i watched this episode cos i was like im only starting this show if they kiss im waiting and they did and it was nice and i got so anxious that i was about to fucking vomit. I really like them together. The top/bottom shit is dumb and i hope if they must mention it they all build a bridge and get over it so they can switch cos who gives a shit. I didnt realize how large they all are like most “tall” men on tv are lying. But bc that kid is so thin and tall and the other one (idk the stepbrother) is huge too. Li cheng is shorter than them both but more ~manly~ but still short so why doesnt he take a DICK UP HIS BUTT XD since that’s all that fucking matters and there’s only 2 genders and 2 eays to have sex lmao so nothing else otherwise ur screwed

Hd a terrible past couple of weeks personally and because i keep seeing my peopl eget murdered and things ripped from us ^_____^ anyway here’s Some libertatrian communist dumb bitch discoars so i’ll tag it:

keep in mind these are my opinions’”” when i engage in discourse. I am not the end all be all and I don’t need you to agree. There’s some shit I am non-negotiable on but thsi is just exchanging of information. Any authoratative tone I take on comes from my beliefs, my life, my experiences, and what I choose to cultivate as a person and an artist. I dont have control over your feelings, you do. If it hurts you then either tell me the issue and be PRECISE about it, understand that context matters which is why i type so much in engagement, and do not fucking lie or misconstrue my words. Do not call me western ever in your life either. I am a black-american. I have adhd and bc i am a black woman if ur automatically thinking im brolic i am accepting money in my paypal for ur wellbeing to get me to shut the fuck up.Thanks.

The stepbrothers storyline is stupid and lazy writing. I really want to counter people that say it’s written well and that it’s interesting because it isn’t. Even if it was illicit and fucked we can write a story out about this. Let’s rethink what they could have done shall we:

- become stepbrothers at about 16 and their parents mismanage the relationship and they fail in trying to get an integrated family together (this is what happened in the #iconic transit girls and that was fuckin’ weird but hey dude guess what we watched it and it was weird but not unethical and we know one is like 19 and the other is 21 and a girl so it’s like wow you avoided so much and handled their stepsister story very…….um lightly given the end lmao but it was there and people had AGENCY)

-OR you realize that freak is obsessed with him and then he realizes it and is like “bitch i swear to god” and in typical shtity trope BL fashion they can find a way from obsession, to loss and independence when you lose your obsession, to “love” if they choose

- have the fucked up shit but make it clear what the issues are and you literally cannot write your way out of it so do not try

But why can’t fucked up things be shown? Also this is realistic.

0. Well according to you but no one said that they can’t. So that’s on your interpretation of critique (that is, again, not bullying or harassment.) They can, i just gave plenty of scenarios in which it is affective and not just annoying to witness, trope-y, and frankly ridiculous and offensive. Sorry! They don’t do it well. You can come up with alternatives too. See #2 btw.

1. No it isn’t doing a good job of reflecting life because life has consequences. The exaggeration in drama doesn’t mean the arc shouldn’t be there. Almost always things that aren’t heavy with the message or meant to be sobering in a deep way are COMPELLING. The realism is the basis for art because we are human. This is not the way real humans act.

Someone said Tharn Type was mature and I had to laugh because no, no one acts that way and is “in love” if they act that way that means they fucking hate each other and they’re immature and frankly it’s just not that interesting for many of us to watch because the dramatization of the “realism” is fucking bonkers. That was such poor writing it is unbelievable and someone has the audacityt o say it’s how real adults act. Fucking murder me if I’m with someone for 7 years and we break up over a miscommunication and for some reason I am not as horny as my always horny boyfriend. The fuck? What kind of lives do you lead? Either you are not an adult or you are an adult who needs therapy.

I also hear the “realistic” argument but then people try and temper it with “but also it’s fiction.” What do you think fiction is? Why do you think filmmaking exists? Number one, it’s propaganda in the sense that you want others to buy into your presentation and see what you see. That means that the creators are telling people and influencing them WITH ART BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT IT IS about their feelings around a situation. That’s why it is imperative to be responsible as a filmmaker and artist and underline the deepness of creepiness if that’s what they want. If they want to relay that rape sometimes ok and psychos are crazy so they get boy (??!?!?!? BITCH?) then they achieved it with no innovative information. We know people get raped bc we are human beings and many of us live with that fear. You know, being the target demo and all. And bc BL loves that trope it’s rape fantasy peddled to young people and women. Just like shitty wattpad fics or NYT best sellers. Hooray, what now? Or are you trying to purport that this isn’t glorified fanfiction? Which it literally is

2. This is the issue with these shows. No one is saying that fucked up shit cannot be shown. There’s a film about a woman who is raped and she falls in love with her rapist (because he was masked but i think we find out later that she knows. Binoche is in it.) I have no desire for that film—i think it’s by a man and i extra dont care—but I hear it’s sort of powerful for many. I heard it was a good film. But the act itself is always eschewed and the conflict comes from how fucking ridiculous it is especially finding out that she knows. The power imbalance adn the possibility. They may not have handled it in a way I would have cared for but it was there.

There’s simply no imagination because these people do not care that much and aren’t great writers and filmmakers because they simply do not have to be. Sorry.

The industry doesn’t rely on the best they rely on efficiency (this is everywhere.) You can tell by the camera angles, the editing, the camera itself (idk if it is multicam but the flatness is typical soap flatness without the glowboxes to soften their faces.) Simple constant lighting. Now the surroundings are mostly beautiful. But even to some of the costumes. And those edits are abysmal, some of that camera work.

So with all that said even with the couple I extremely enjoy I see its (H4) faults. Add into that a lazily thrown together “shocking” love and if they are trying to get us to feel a type of way about its sexiness they fail. This is why movies like 50sog, 365 days, etc aren’t enjoyable to people because it’s fucking strange situations that they dont want to entangle or make enjoyable to viewers across the board. They know what people will take. It’s just that bitch what are we here for if even the sexiness isn’t there for ur stupid story.

At least with that teenager and 30 yr old man in MODC (which i do not love but i like them in theory if it wasnt totally repulsive to me and also if it was developed in a way that was good TO ME) they had their, er, “sex appeal” i talk about this as well the main couple in MODC to me, visually, was a miss. Not bc whatshisface was small and stuff but bc he was so sickly and they needed that to propel the story but it was just not appealing given how the story progressed. A missed opportunity in tying the two together besides making him look waif-y and sickly only to have the “did ur mom die in a car crash? No, cancer” type of move in not another teen movie. But the opposite. And not funny. Wayne tho????? GORL. Eggs. Cracked.

fandoms have a very warped sense of harrassment and discourse.

Most fandoms have harassers who are “protecting” the cast and crew who don’t need their protection (or maybe the crew does since they probably dont get paid well but why the fuck would anyone care about that lol) but very few have the people who have concerns or massive critique about the show are not going to be “bullying.”

If people are saying “if you like xyz, u suck” then sure it may suck for you to see but who fucking cares. Either talk to the person or don’t be friends with them. That is not bullying or harrassment. Things that are shitty get criticized. Fuck, things that aren’t shitty don’t. Get away from this idea of cancel culture and people misunderstanding the story. We have the ability to.

Think beyond your noses of personal preference. You don’t have to convince people of what you believe. Discussing it is good but critique is not bullying, harrassment, or hate. Neither is fucking roasting shit because even this shit I like (manner of death lets say) deserves it. Art is meant to be critiqued and if you dont fucking like the bullshit people make then say it. They know stupid stories like this are scandalous and they don’t give a shit in how to present them.

And guess what? You won’t like everybody. Many people can’t stand me i’m sure. Oh well. I mean frankly I don’t like that and I feel very unsettled when I don’t feel understood. That’s ok! I have to temper it. Sometimes calm myself down. I won’t get anything and everything I want. And you won’t like every opinion and sometimes it’s like “man am i a dummy?” But the part of growing up is fucking maanging that and beng honest about “bashing and harrassment” and “bullying” and growing up. Yuo can like what you want the “let people like what they want thing” is so fucking juvenile and THAT is not the real world. Which is probably why so many people feel that way, they dont want to live in the real world. Unfortunately, you do.

Think beyond our noses of personal preference and what we feel emotionally in conjunction with others. You don’t have to convince people of what you believe. And you can say things that you believe to be true but it doesn’t make them so or maybe it isn’t received that way to people. And many times we learn new things in the discussions “oh shit i didn’t see it that way” right? Discussing it is good but critique is not bullying, harrassment, or hate. Neither is fucking roasting shit because even this shit I like (manner of death lets say) deserves it. Art is meant to be critiqued and if you dont fucking like the bullshit people make then say it. They know stupid stories like this are scandalous and they don’t give a shit in how to present them. Usually the “opposition” in these situations aren’t the popular beliefs that permeate through society. Trust me lmao

Antiblackness

Antiblackness is a thing. It permeates everywhere. It permeates in this genre and it permeates in fandom. Get it the fuck together. Also do not conflate cultural relativism with being repsectful. They are not barbarians, they are smart human beings either making work or deciding to. We all have diff cultures but we have fucking sense in what is respectful and not. And if we don’t we fucking learn. You cannot excuse things and say “oh culture” when you have 0 idea of that culture or actual people who are radical etc and are fighting against it. Additionally the word westerner is an ignorant term when referring to people in the US or UK who are black. Because we are not. We extend sympathy to other groups and empathy since we know so there is no inherent power imbalance between a black viewer and their subject. Don’t suggest that because it’s wrong and ahistorical and contextless.

FIRST the fallacy of representation as freedom makes people fucking complacent, individualistic, and doesn’t let them think critically. Consumption and discourse around consumption is not helping material conditions of the marginalized communities in your home, the black ones who are ignored, those intersectionalized in these communities. Groups talk about art and what it means for them outside of just what we see and because we also don’t have access to a bunch of Thai reviews or what movements or going on we are less likely to know if we don’t FUCKING SEARCH for it. Because art is constant...which leads me to....

Representation is difficult. It matters and it doesn’t.

Tthese shows are not meant to overturn the LGBTQ+ community.

There are queer filmmakers and artists in these countries. Deep illustrious film careers or even TV that is moving and deliberate. We can even see it with the dude from “your name engraved” in their short series he was in beforehand. BL is no wa pejorative because it is simply not “qu**r” storytelling whatever that means. But know it has always existed everywhere and there are also out artists or radical artists in all these countries who do no respect mediums that are cash-grabs and poorly made.

ex: As much as “Like in the Movies” sort of isnt for me and is a bit hamfisted you can tell how much love goes into that. Love of the characters, acting, and message. Yes it’s cringey to see some of the lines (like very tbh subtlety wasnt exactly their strong suit) and yea naming them after lenin and marx is just 0ihgoaudgijposkagjihou BUT GUESS WHAT? THEY FUCKING DID IT. THEY TRIED. And class was a large component as well bc u cant fuckin ignore it. The show is aware of the machinations in its world as a show but also in the philippines and for a fuckin reason. And duatarte? Loooooooool so like yea not so sure bl makes him love his ppl but the show isnt trying to do that

It’s not a transgressive genre and it has no reason to be. No ethical anything under the way we live it’s just trying your fucking best to be. That’s it. They serve societal ills and capital’s purposes. Which is fine but it is not revolutionary.

These countries in SEA or even SA do not have as big budget for even mainstream dramas—though things are changing and that’s bc REVENUE like revenue from kpop is fucking huge for SK and again so much about that is bc of what happened in their history from japanese imperialism to WWII to the US—so for “queer” stuff it is sort of now important to make that an export and it sure is one. Not only globally or to the west but a lot of these places make their money within asia (duh!) outside of their countries. OBVIOUSLY. so BL is a way to output and gain money. The thing is, it doesnt seem to be put back into the industry at all. For people in all these countries to make works that aren’t for mainstream or wont reach as many people there’s a difference between trying and just shoving shit in your face and going here it’s gay you like it right? But dont antagonize the inherent patriarchal nature of BL.

Another thing: did you guys know thailand was never colonized? You should look it up. There’s little hints of things in ITSAY to represent french influence still. Isnt that fascinating? Find out why. It’s certainly interesting that the representation, though damaging and dubious many times and also incorrect like any media, is huge in asia and this isnt a commodity here (the US) exactly. A lot of that has to do with colonial ideas of gender of which I am sure. But listen………lmao

Sometimes people dont give a shit. And it very much shows. Here is the thing once again. GOOD TRANSGRESSIVE WORK exists.

Een within the capitalist Bs paradigm or you can see people trying (I can sort of applaud parts of lovely writer) also queer media has always existed everywhere the reason you don’t know about it is because it gets takena nd commodified into a mainstream product. We hvae little incentive, particularly if we are not fans of cinema or art in gen, to search fror others when the output is right here. Being dictated by others and the state and who will give you money. No longer an effort of a cast and crew who want to convey things. But google [any country] independent cinema, radical cinema, queer radical cinema, or even retrospectives on the cinema and rethinking what is queer and radical in film. What if we took that, diluted it, got rid of the creators who put themselves through all the work, ignroe al the nuances and do……………….two actors who are conventionally attractive with no chemistry making out.

It’s the same here lets say daniel kaluuya winning the oscar for the film about the BPP. I heard it was okay and not too offensive but it still isnt’ enough. It still isn’t like hwood isn’t trash, nnati black, misogynistic towards BW and women, and all that other shit. It was pushy but it can’t be enough where we are. Black KKKlansmen i think won an oscar, by circumstance i fuckin hate these award shows they mean nothing, and i like the film a lot but he has his misogynoir still resting in his films even if it is poignant. And it was a film that honestly wasn’t really made for black people. And should all art be a response to direct trauma or trying to make ourselves palatable when we’re just human?

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ and it’s importance (capitalism) but also sorta individual responsibility

Considering a lot of these actors are rich and then just dip that’s another problem. Mainstream isn’t what sustains marginalized art ever. It doesn’t change in the vast ways we think it does. What changes is the people of these groups pushing, fighting, forcing and then capitalism trying to make it work under capitalism. It will not. It cannot.

This is why artists and labels often don’t mix or you see people like Sonic Youth doing whatever they want and pissing off their label but making them give them money. Same with Nirvana. Vince Staples. The thing is they can fight and make good shit but what capitalism helps people….not care? They don’t respect the audience? We’re getting those returns on poor executed product placement, lighting, editing, framing, fucking acting. And you surewon’t see mixed black asians in these shows. WHY R U is the oNLY one i have seen it in and he just disappears (but that was pretty cool.) so who the fuck is this representing? And before you start: asian countries are not homogenous the way we believe them to be. There are marginalized communities outside of even mixed people that are harmed. So you can skrrt cause on that one: you’re wrong buddy. But it gives us the IDEA of a paradise which is what they NEED.With representation and visibility comes consequence and responsibility as artists. What it allows them to do is coast and not think complexly because why should they; it’s mostly the fantasies of some older woman who probably has money and much less interaction with the world. It’s bonkers. And what that allows even further is for them to say YOU ARE THE THING THAT YOU CONSUME and the THING THAT YOU CONSUME IS YOURS. It is not, it is not your identity, form a close bond but figure it the fuck out. Especially for adults who are hellbent on twisting their minds into pretzels and can’t acknowledge what’s just laziness in art and not giving a fucking shit. Truly.

There’s damage that has been done from Parasite as he was supported by CJE&M and the bullshit obsession america had and eveyrone’s poor interpretation of it if they are rich. BJH is a socialist and he is a filmmaker. He has made films that are outstanding and cost a lot of money. But now a fear for indie filmmakers is just not being able to raise that much or have that much attention. Getting funding that helps them instead of expecting the Next Big Thing that is a fad because capitalism is trash. Yes this funneling of money is absolutely harmful to us artists. Even buying in is strategic. Additionally, that film is probs one of the most radical films to have that wide release and accolade (unlike “Sorry to Bother You” which i have a lot of thoughts about. One being that asian exports are acceptable but black ones are not. This is an overall art critique and global media critique. Blackness is removed, not respected.) However, filmmaking isn’t green, it can’t be socialist, and it’s a lot of work. They used tons and tons and TONS of water to do a huge beautiful feat but we still know there is a cost. We have to figure that out because it shouldn’t be. It doesn’t go back into the crew’s pockets the way it should and the work becomes that of the director’s and actors solely. It’s fucking hard. We have to do our part but it doesn’t mean we are doing it perfectly. We just have to try to do better. So does BJH cos he needs to not be a misogynist but anyways i digress.

additionally and this is something some users fail to understand: people in the media sphere generally have fucking money. I went to film school that was international with super fucking rich kids. Taiwanese kids, kids from south asia, china, thailand. They had money. No not upper middle class money, not “rich” money, not some paltry 1m that’s chump change. Fucking money. Fucking RICH-RICH. MILLIONAIRES. BILLIONAIRES. WHICH IS DISGUSTING MIGHT I ADD. The domestic people didn’t have the money for school (in the UK) and i am in a massive amount of debt like every other black student that went there. You do not understand how much money is needed to survive so people who turn to these crew positions even casting etc need this fucking money usually. OKAY. A lot of the people that do well in these dumb shows or even on a larger scale HAVE MONEY. The reason these industries are small and struggling is because of lack of people and lack of resources to independent shit because oh gee it takes money to make things.

Why should I try? Well you don’t have to really if you have money or a name. Yet...

We can tell when like those Tik Tok shows or DCOMs dont give a shit (anymore.) You know how frustrated we get when content for young people is garbage? Well, see, BL is literally that under that system. Occasionally we will get something good now but there is virtually no need in any sector in the world at this point to truly figure out how to make it better and what to do to enhance artistic literacy, outreach, teaching people new things, getting people from these communities there and having true realistic says. Art and culture is IMPERATIVE TO WORLD LIBERATION but not when it is so stiffly trying to bend to capital’s idea of progressiveness. No. Neoliberalism. No.

That’s why in a way ITSAY is a huge feat; it takes from films etc and they clearly had money (the actors rae rich too which….lmaooooo j’aime pas) but it was a respected fucking script, acting was important, blocking, framing. There’s very little to critique as a visual medium for that because I understand what they are trying to do, their market is going to be mostly young girls, but they RESPECT THE FUCKING AUDIENCE. And guess what guys? You can make money from it!!!! WOAH! Since that may be the only goal which is disgusting and repulsive.

HOWEVER AND THIS IS WHAT IS SAD: itsay is an ex of a great show however knowing the actors backgrounds and the pseudo trouble it stirred when they weren’t supporting people protesting against the coup in the summer it really put a damper on my enjoyment. And this is how we can see that:

a) it’s honestly just a show and a good one but b) now what?

These kids (actors, who are like idk 19? 20?) are rich and not saying anything while countless actors, who were filming, did. Even tul who has $$$$ and the thing is the protesting against the coup legitimately attacks the rich. As it should. The protests going on were cries for help, against a dictatorship and fucking coup, asking people to get fucking help for covid, having kids be able to live. There’s a mini on VICE about this and it probably doesnt go too in depth but there’s a kid in there who talks about his friends getting into drugs and how he just wants to make music, have fun, skateboard. And it’s harrowing to see. This is a direct example of what these things do and don’t do. Yea we know a good show is here, we know growing up and slice of life, we know this is a bit of escapism and idealism but the idealism is reflected in the way these actors also choose to live their lives. So what progress? To who? For who? How is this helping me? What purpose does it serve? I say ITSAY serves its purpose as a piece and a glimpse into possibility of growing up but i do not say it antagonizes a broader issue that needs to be relevant in some sense but simply is not. It’s very singleminded and, well, it’s sort of like “besides my sexuality, what do i have to worry about?” But for real humans like....a lot. I do not respect their decision at all.

Why can’t we do our jobs and make something decent and respect our audience? No time, gotta make that sweet sweet sweet cash baybee. Look how progressive we are! Don’t look at history and material conditions. Thanks in advance, management.

History 4 does not have that respect. Many of these shows do not. Sometimes we hit good, sometimes we don’t. But in the end we cannot settle. And I won’t. If I am critiquing something I will not be shy and if I am meant to enjoy something as escapism then these shows NEED to highlight that and it’s rare sometimes (the best twins is a good reminder like that show is bad but man do i Brain Empty when i turn it on and i like that and there’s not much in it that makes me want to kill myself from annoyance but there are transphobic jokes i dont love however the whole show is a comedy about this dude’s crazy homophobic sister and she is constantly positioned as wrong and they talk about the aforementioned trans women as the actor was in drag. Interesting that they can manage that, huh?)

Oh btw.....taiwan has a very complicated history but ignore all the bad stuff it’s good now you can kinda sorta get married and stuff. KMT? You know how i learned that? I care about human beings and read about it lmao. I am not Taiwanese and look at that. So now I have historical and DIALECTICAL~**~*~****~*~*~ context so i can judge it as an artist, a black woman from america, and from the knowledge i have to pick up on their history to see if this fits into a broader picture besides the micro-one of sexuality on an individualized level. And this is kinda where it comes full circle: these shows are not you, you are not them, they do not exist in a vacuum because nothing does. The failure to critique now means continuing on as it has and it will still do so. History and time are not linear in the sense we think it is. Someitmes things are better, sometimes things feel more austere. We are not living under liberation though and these shows are not going to do so. So they are not US nor are they for a nebulous “us” of which the groups are all fractured and have diff opinions anyway (my opinion as a black american is going to vary from an asian woman’s say and that could really clash and i do not feel solidarity with all those in every community i am for several reasons.)

Final thots that have taken up my time and the only thing i actually wanted to write but got distracted:

Anyway my dissertation is that I ilke Muren and LiCheng a lot a lot and i like how cute they are and how truly dumb li cheng is. This is an example of mostly good writing, decent actors, nice chemistry, and sort of a calmness to them. And I super enjoy how Muren is pretty forward with LC in the sense that being together is like very important to truly be together. When he was like “no i didnt forget!” Or when LC asked him something in the office I forget it was 6 am and again i almost threw up and muren nodded and then LC leaned on him. Very cute. I want more of them tho i may have to skip that othre couple (the cameo the ones from MODC) but omfg the younger one HIS HAIR GREW SO MUCH HE LOOKS SO MATURE AND CUTE OMFGIJ0HUG9SAOGIJPKOAGJSIOHUAGIJP hahhaha the one good thing i will say about THEM.idk how old the actor is i figure he was young idk it makes me happy to see him he’s very cute. I hope he’s in something i can watch and not gag at. Is he hot? Who knows but he is a cutie!!

Anyway muren and lc have a good thing going it’s nice to watch ho\pe they dont fuck it up but im truly a sucker for some true finds 2 luvas i think some user on her\e was like i’m not a fan of friends ot lovers bc it doesn’t seem like they’re actually friends and maybe they were referring to this show idk. But it made me think and it was a very good observation. So i think they are friends and also luvrs <3

[mulletcal]

memento mori - an ashton irwin one shot

a/n: hi friends!! i’m reposting this bc the first time i completely didn’t give the proper credit and i wanted to correct that!  this whole thing was inspired by @sexgodashton​‘s answer to this ask. and while i could have just edited the original post to include the credit, it wouldn’t have sat right with me personally to do that and just pretend like it was there the whole time. lau’s brain blows my mind every day w her creativity and she inspires me so much, thank you lau. thank you also to @myloverboyash​ for reading this over for me i appreciate u sm! word count: 2.5k

warnings: talks about needles, ashton being tattooed, smut, there’s riding, voyeurism (sort of? i don’t know rly but i wanna put the warning there just in case), ashton having a pain kink, light dom ash, spanking, i reused two things in these that i’ve used in the past but you know what??????? i kind of love it

****

Ashton’s felt the pain of a tattoo before; he kind of enjoyed the sting, the drag of the needle. Ashton also enjoyed pain, but he never noticed how erotic the pain of a tattoo could be, the intimacy of being so close to someone’s skin, until he began to date a tattoo artist.

You met Ashton when he came into your shop one day, on the hunt for his typical tattoo artist. He was nothing short of a gentleman, something you weren’t used to when men came into the shop that you owned; Men didn’t take kindly to women being the boss of men they saw as the epitome of masculine, let alone the owner, the ultimate boss if you will. You would never forget the way his eyebrows shot up when you said you were the owner, a small grin on his lips as he asked if he could get his tattoo from you instead.

That was for his snake tattoo, and he was so excited at how it turned out that you did his rose tattoo as well. Ashton kept coming back to you, insisting on the rest of the guys coming to get tattoos from you; it wasn’t until you finished touching up Michael’s finger tattoos did he ask you out.

“I appreciate the boost in clientele, but if you wanted to take me out you could’ve asked sooner,” You had replied, slipping him your card with the business phone number crossed out and your personal written above it.

After that, the two of you had talked nearly every day while he wasn’t on tour, and he often slept over, leaving you being taunted from your employees the next day due to marks on your skin.

It wasn’t until the lockdown did you truly see how wild Ashton could be; he had chosen to quarantine with you, the most responsible option you felt because you would have tried to find a loophole to see him anyways. Ashton encouraged you to try new things with him you never thought were possible, and you were surprised at how much you loved it.

You were shocked to realize that he enjoyed not just the pain of being tattooed, but he had a little bit of a pain kink in general. He tried to shy away from it at first, but when the two of you seemingly had run out of exciting news hobbies to learn, Ashton brought up the idea of watching porn together, to get a feel of what the other person liked. You wish you had felt safe enough to record his reaction when you put on a favourite video of yours, watching him take an invisible pencil from behind his ear and pretending to jot it down.

A few moments after that, with Ashton and you definitely quite in the middle of something, your phone went off, alerting you that you would be allowed to reopen with a set list of guidelines. You’d tried to get as many of your clients in before the shutdown as possible, so you didn’t have too many to reschedule when you got back.

You and the rest of your team had decided to operate on a weekly basis, your employees being allowed to have the shop for the week, with the rules of you setting up additional cameras so you could check in to ensure they were following sanitary guidelines, and all transactions were cashless unless absolutely necessary.

The reopen was going well so far, from what you could tell. Your week had finally rolled around, and you made sure that you left yourself a free day so that you could deep clean the shop; however, that didn’t exactly go according to plan as Ashton asked if you could tattoo him, stating how it had been so long since he’d gotten one and he missed it. Of course, you immediately agreed, pulling up the list of ideas you both had brainstormed throughout the course of the lockdown.

When he got there, you enthusiastically unlocked the door, greeting him with a kiss. You were excited to use him as your canvas, even though it would likely only be something small.

“You ready love?” You asked him, scrolling through the list before looking back up at him.

“Mhm, I’ve been thinking about the list and I’ve really wanted that coin of mortality piece you drew, would you do that one on me?” Ashton had placed his hands on your thighs, tracing his thumbs in small circles against them.

“Well that makes it a bit easier for me, since it’s already drawn, let me just pull it up. Where do you want it?”

You cocked your head, your eyes slowly scanning down his body, checking him out in a way, but also curious where he would say to put it.

“M’thinking on my ribs, yeah?” He pulled back, eagerly lifting his shirt to show his left side.

You nodded, reaching out to gently trace your finger over where you thought the tattoo should go, “Like here, maybe?”

Ashton shivered at your touch, simply nodding before letting his shirt fall back down. With that, you went to print the stencil, definitely not unaware to Ashton’s eyes burning a hole into your skin.

When you turned to him with the freshly printed stencil, you grinned, “You know the drill, Irwin, hop on the chair.”

Rolling his eyes, he made a big show of stripping off his shirt and sitting in the chair. You decided it was probably the best option to have him lay on his right side with his arm just out of the way.  You prepped his skin, cleaning it and shaving it to make sure that no stray hairs would be in the way before you laid the stencil.  Ashton shivered once again, this time at the cool touch of the cleaning solution.

“Okay baby?” You asked gently, tattoo gun poised in your hand and ready to begin.

He hummed in acknowledgement, licking his lips though you couldn’t see.  You started with one small line, not missing the way Ashton sucked in a breath at the drag of the needle. Pausing to wipe at the ink, you briefly glanced up at him to see if he was alright.  Since you didn’t hear him oppose, you continued on with the outline.

Once the outline was completed, you wiped the area once more, sitting back to admire it so far, “Wanna see the outline or do you wanna wait till it’s done?”

Ashton’s breathing was slightly irregular, goosebumps raising on his skin as you cleaned off the area some more, looking for any spots in the outline that you may have missed, “I think I’ll wait til the end, thanks love.”

“Are you doing okay? We can pause you know, I know the ribs are a bit harder.”

“No, no.  It’s not that,” He was quick to say, glancing over his shoulder at you.  You could see something in his eyes, but it wasn’t pain or discomfort, instead his pupils were blown wide and he seemed aroused, maybe? “I’m just kinda enjoying the pain and I’m bracing myself for the shading.”

As you continued on, Ashton would occasionally, which would cause you to pause instantly to check on him.  He would wave you off, saying instead to keep going, that it felt good.  Had the two of you not been dating, Ashton may have felt a little embarrassed the way his cock was straining against his pants, but he knew that should you have free time afterwards, you could make complete use of the empty shop - or at least, he hoped you would.

With the shading completed, you wanted to finish off with some small white detailing.  Glancing up at Ashton, you sucked in a breath, “It’s time to do the white.  You gonna be alright or are you gonna cum in your pants if I do it?”

Ashton let out a laugh, swatting at your hand holding the paper towel, “Would rather cum in you, so hurry that ass up.”

You laughed, but the way he spoke made you press your thighs together as you changed the gun for the white detailing.  It took you a moment to get everything switched over, your mind continuously wandering to the very man whose back was facing you, lingering on the night before.  His bite marks on your breast and collarbone were still sore, but it made the anticipation of what was to come after you finished the tattoo even better.

Ashton let out quiet curses as you started the white detailing, the goosebumps returning to his skin.  He couldn’t believe how on edge he was, just from the sensation of the tattoo alone.  It was almost as if he understood now what Calum had meant when they discussed his chest tattoo, the vibrations sending chills up his spine.

He had to remember to keep breathing, that was the only way he was going to even be able to hold out long enough to make it through the tattoo, using your breaks in tattooing to take a deep breath, rolling his lower lip between his teeth.  Once you were done, you smiled brightly at the piece you had just finished, enjoying the fine detailing you were able to fit within the tattoo.

“Alright baby it’s done, go look in the mirror,” You spoke, touching his shoulder lightly so he could come down out of the daydream like state he seemed to put himself in.

Ashton stood, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the very obvious bulging in his jeans, your eyes unable to look up from that as he headed to the mirror to check it out.  “Shit, baby, it looks amazing.  You did a really good job.”

“Don’t I always?”

Ashton chuckled, nodding his head and headed back over so that you could clean it one final time and put the protective bandage over it.  As soon as that had been completed, you looked up at him.

“Alright, Irwin, sit in the chair laying flat,” you demanded, standing to your full height and looking him in the eyes.

“Oh she wants to be in control, does she?” Ashton asked with a quirk of his brow, but sitting in the chair and doing as he was told to anyways.

“I mean, sure, but it just makes the most sense to ride you while we’re here.  Also it’s easier to clean this up than the floor.”

“How do you know all of this?” “You wanna ask dumb questions, or do you want to fuck me?” You asked, hands on your hips.

Ashton smirked, running his fingers through his black locks before he reached down to undo the button on his jeans, tugging them down.  By the looks of it, he had gone commando, almost as if he was anticipating this.

You shimmied your leggings and panties down, checking behind you to make sure that you had the curtain fully closed.  Though the door was locked, you didn’t want passersby on the street to see into the shop.  Taking Ashton’s hand, you straddled his waist, placing your hands behind his head on either side of the chair once you got your balance.

“Finally can check something off our list, hm? Fucking in my shop.” You spoke next to his ear, removing one hand from behind his head so you could line his cock up with your entrance, sinking down slowly.  Both of you moaned at the feeling, now all too familiar for you.

Ashton grabbed your hips, keeping you steady as you got adjusted.  He had only been in you 12 hours before, but the size of him made you take a moment to adjust almost every time.  It was something you weren’t sure you could handle the first time you and Ashton had slept together, but that was also one of the first times that you didn’t need to be afraid of sex if it was with the right person.

Rolling your hips as a test, you groaned at the pull of his length against your walls, clenching around him.

“Keep that up kitten I really am not gonna last long,” He purred, squeezing your hips as you began a slow and steady rhythm.

You pressed kisses to his lips, his neck, just below his ear, anywhere you could reach really; you also took to tangling your fingers in his hair, tugging gently at each delicious thrust.  The pace of slow and steady didn’t last too long though, Ashton usually the type for hard and fast, which anyone could have guessed just by looking at the drummer.

While you were on top, Ashton decided he needed to take control, so his hands slipped to your ass, gripping tighter as he started to meet your hips at a brutal pace.  Tossing your head back, you gasped, digging your nails into his scalp; this only seemed to drive Ashton more, an almost animalistic growl tearing from his throat.  

His right hand left you for a split second, only to come crashing down against your cheek in a harsh slap that brought you forward so you could bury your face in his neck.  

“So good for me kitten, you like being spanked, don’t you? You love the pain almost as much as I do.” Ashton’s words were low in your ear, causing you to shut your eyes and nod in response.

“Yes, fuck.  Please more,” You begged, fingers clutching at any expanse of skin you could, dragging your nails across.  You began to nip at his neck as he delivered more slaps to your ass, the sting bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “Ash, so close…”

“Yeah, baby? You gonna cum for me?” He moved lower in the chair, giving him a different angle so that his cock was dragging against your g-spot each time, “You wanna fuckin’ scream for me? Come on, who’s gonna hear you?”

His words drove you over the edge with you calling out his name, loudly at first, but then softly whispered like a prayer as he fucked you through it.  Ashton wasn’t far behind, his thrusts only growing more and more sloppy until he finally came with a low curse, your body shivering as he filled you.

When the two of you came down from your highs, you lifted off of him, whining at the loss of him, and also the warmth beginning to trail down your leg.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Ashton chuckled, still panting from the exertion.

“Please,” You laughed, bending down to pick up your pants when you had a thought.  “Hey Ash?”

“Yeah love?”

“Ever wanted to make a sex tape?” You asked, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Never really thought about it, why?” Ashton looked at you, confused before brought over a dry paper towel and a wet paper towel to clean up the mess.

“Because we’re on not so candid camera,” Motioning to the newer camera you installed, the two of you burst out in a fit of laughter at the idea that you almost didn’t need to watch porn together, as you could watch yourselves if you really wanted to.

tag list:  @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @calmlftv @canyon-moan @wildflowerirwin @irwindoll @notinthesameguey @heavenisapeach @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod @idontneedanyone​ @boomerash @clemmings @cthofficial​ @ashtonsos​ @yikesguys​ @blackbutterfliescal​ @mashlums​ @ohhoneyofmine​ @monimickell​ @petunias-pet​ @treatallwithkindness​ @castaway-cashton​ @tea4sykes​ @begluketostay​ @wheniminouterspace​ @another-lonely-heart​ @ghostofmashton​ @myfavfanficsever​ @xsongxbirdx​ @stardust-galaxies​ @karajaynetoday

[hwangzi]

Photoshoot (Natural)

[suggestive just felix teasing the hell out of u]

I / II / III

.

"You don't have to be so nervous, babe."

"I'm not."

"Y/n. You're literally biting your nails right now."

Startled, you looked down at your hands, not having registered what you were doing. You felt a reassuring squeeze to your shoulders as you kept staring at the ongoing photoshoot in front of you.

Some renowned magazine had this brilliant idea for Stray Kids to model a new denim line -

With their significant other.

You couldn't help but stare at Bangchan and his girlfriend, who were currently on set.

They looked great together - She was naturally charming and confident, a stunning woman for a stunning man like the leader himself. You observed them with awe, trying to figure out how on earth they managed to goof around like that and at the same time striking Vogue-level poses as if it was their day job.

“Just a casual shoot. Some Valentine’s Day Special,” you recalled Felix telling you a few months ago,

“No pressure."

Yeah. Right.

A couple of meters away from the scene, you were tugging on the slightly revealing neckline of your denim jacket, having second-thoughts about agreeing to this impending fiasco.

Your body wasn’t the source of your uneasiness, but rather that you've never found yourself in a similar situation before and the thought of having a camera and multiple pairs of eyes on you wasn’t exactly the most pleasing scenario. Especially next to your top-model-like boyfriend.

You looked up at said person, currently wrapping his arms around you from the back. Felix was dressed in a light-washed denim button-up and skinny jeans, his hair perfectly tousled with a couple of loose strands hanging into his beautiful face - a breathtaking sight, as always.

His eyes met yours and as if he could read your thoughts, his lips turned into a knowing smile.

"I know you can do this, baby. Just go with the flow." He said, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You shrugged, leaning back into his embrace when you heard the director call out your names - Chan and his girlfriend left the set, the staff scurried in to prep everything for Felix and your’s shoot.

The couple high-fived when they reached you two and Chan immediately reassured that you’ll be great, his girlfriend nodding with an encouraging thumbs up. You thanked them shyly before Felix grabbed your hand and lead you to the set.

The only prop available was a black leather couch, on which the photographer instructed Felix to take a seat while you'd hug him from behind.

Your boyfriend switched to professional mode immediately. Changing up his poses and making great facial expressions along with it, his usual routine - whereas you felt like an awkward mess.

After ten minutes, lots of sweating and completely running out of ideas, you sighed in relief when the cameraman asked for a change of positions.

"I have no clue what I'm doing-" You were sitting next to each other now, a tone of despair evident when you whispered to Felix while awkwardly trying to put your head on his shoulder.

"You're doing fine, babe. Just relax," Felix responded calmly and put his arm around you, matching your gestures.

You make it seem so easy, you huffed to yourself.

It wasn't the first time you'd seen Felix at work, regardless, you could never get tired of this sight. Taking the opportunity to appreciate his handsome features, your eyes travelled down his face - from his mesmerising brown orbs over his smooth, radiant skin to his wonderfully curved lips.

He looked regal, like a prince straight out of a fairytale, reminding you of how blessed you were to be with him. In your eyes, he was a prince indeed - inside and out.

But something was different.

His gaze seemed more ambiguous, his eyes never left yours. You instantly identified what he was silently conveying, sensing a sudden, but familiar shift in the atmosphere. Heat began to creep into your cheeks and you averted your gaze before it got any worse - Felix, however, had other plans and turned your head back with his long fingers under your chin.

"YES! That's it- hold that," the photographer cried out in glee and Felix shot you a vicious grin, causing your cheeks to redden even more.

To your further embarrassment, your boyfriend started decreasing the space in between your bodies until you felt his warm breath fan over your skin, his lips only a couple inches away from yours. The camera flashed furiously and you had to hold your breath in attempt to hold out your current position.

Felix noted with great amusement the strong effect he had on you, suppressing a light chuckle. He deliberately let his lips brush yours ever so slightly when he spoke,

"You’re too cute, y/n... Fuck, if these people weren't here, I'd just-"

"Okay great! Now y/n, would you please lay down right there," The photographer cut him off and you nervously checked your surroundings to ensure no one had caught any of the words that just came out of this boy’s mouth, which luckily didn't seem to be the case.

Next, you found yourself underneath him, his dangerously dark eyes making your heart race and tongue darting out to wet his soft lips while he lowered himself onto you.

"Not here, Lix-," you muttered under your breath, placing your hand on his bicep in order to push him back while he, on the other hand, stubbornly resisted.

This man was going to be the death of you and this was not the right moment to put it on display.

"Don’t know what you’re talking about," he teased, fingertips skimming over the fabric of your jacket, making you gulp in nervousness. You were just about to retort something when the director called Felix out.

And to your dismay, instructed him to unbutton his shirt.

"Help me?"

Your wide eyes and pink cheeks forced a chuckle out of him. Despite you quickly dismissing his request, his fingers made quick work opening his shirt, letting it slide over his shoulders, exposing his toned upper body.

You couldn't deny it, seeing his gloriously naked torso did things to you that were rather inappropriate for this occasion. Worst of all, the owner of that gorgeous body was perfectly aware of it.

“Like what you see?” he chuckled, one hand next to your head to support himself and the other in your hair, gingerly taking one of your locks to play with. You could feel the weight of his lower abdomen on your thighs.

“M-maybe...” you avoided his eyes, tempted by your desires but at the same time painfully aware of your current surroundings.

"Aww, look at you... all flustered and turned on for me.” He snickered, taking advantage of your growing weakness.

"Shut up, Felix-"

"Can't wait until we get out of here so I can put these fingers into good use, hmm?" He utilised his typical deep, sexy voice, a devilish smirk tugging on the corner of his lips as he traced yours with his thumb in agonising slowness.

You sent an internal command to your hand as not to slap his mouth shut in order to stop those filthy words from tumbling out of it.

Grabbing one of your hands and placing it on his torso, Felix left you no choice but to surrender, allowing him to come closer. Neither one broke the intense eye contact and you slowly became unaware of the continuous flashing and clicking sounds in the background.

“That’s what you’re thinking right now, isn’t it?” he murmured, delighted by the way you pressed your thighs together in response. His body was now basically pressed to yours, making you wonder if he was able to hear the loud thumping of your heart, too.

“Bet you’re all wet already...” he mouthed into your ear and you gasped, goosebumps spreading all over your body. Without warning, Felix flipped you around so that you were straddling him in between your legs.

Making no signs to stop his provocations, he lazily caressed the side of your body with the back of his hand, staring at you through lust-filled, half-lidded eyes.

“Tell me... What would you like me to do to you, princess?”

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, the way he tugged his lip in between his teeth. A discreet but effective move.

“Everything is fine if it’s with you..” You confessed, voice barely audible.

Felix’ eyes widened in surprise but he quickly regained his composure, his expression becoming even darker and more sinful.

“Hmm...I like hearing that.” With a mixture of cockiness and arousal, he scanned you from head to toe, shamelessly eye-fucking you, making you curious as to where his fantasies have taken him.

"Lix, please..."

"You’re adorable when you beg, my love,” he purred, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear before chuckling,

“Look at you, so nervous before but looking so damn needy and hot right now. And you don’t even care that you’re being watched."

A soft whimper left your mouth, embarrassed but turned on at the same time, almost to the point of being unbearable.

You realised that it was you who wanted nothing more than to grab him and rip his clothes off here and now...

"Please, Felix, I can’t-"

"AAAAAND - CUT! Thanks guys, that was amazing!”

You snapped out if it, the director’s voice effectively popping the bubble you two had just created. It was even more puzzling to find that Felix had already sat back up, his expression calm and collected as if nothing's happened.

The director approached you, giving the young man a pat on the back.

“Great job distracting y/n there, she improved so much towards the end, the team was shocked,” he gave you a broad smile. You blushed at the compliment, praying that he wouldn’t comment on your currently sweaty and flustered complexion.

Fortunately, the director turned and waved at the next couple, Jisung and his girl, that were currently on stand-by and receiving makeup retouches by the staff.

Feeling partially humiliated, partially thankful for not getting busted and utterly sexually frustrated, you blinked confusedly when the blonde stood up and strode away unbothered, making you question whether your previous conversation was anything more than a wet daydream.

You trailed behind him like a sulky puppy as he thanked the staff and greeted Jisung and his girlfriend before finally turning his attention towards you. Bowing down so his face was close to yours, Felix made sure his next words were meant for only you to hear.

"Don’t worry, baby... I’ll save your reward for later." he then proceeded to walk past you and get changed, leaving you dumbfounded and heated with irritation.

You were just about to raise your voice at him when he beat you to it.

"Oh, and y/n-” He stopped in his tracks and turned around one last time. You glared back at him. This is your last chance for some sort of a rectification, you little shit.

“Who would’ve guessed you were a natural and all you needed was a little provoking?" With the last word suspended in the air between you, Felix disappeared into the dressing room.

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. Suddenly, an idea popped up in your mind and your previous frown morphed into a mischievous smirk.

Two can play this game, you chuckled, making your way to your own changing room.

Lee Felix just got himself into trouble.

Continue

[karihighman]

An Upstead timeline

Because I was thinking about how far Jay Halstead & Hailey Upton have come, and I just wanted to be nostalgic for a moment. Enjoy my ramblings! (:

The beginnings: season 4

Ah, yes. Hailey’s debut. I loved 4x21 “Fagin” for that reason. Also, Jay’s first impression of her seemed to be like “dang this girl is sassy...but I’m not complaining” haha.

Also we can’t forget the sass Hailey displayed in the survelliance van. 😂 Legendary. And Jay kept up w/it too. We love a sarcastic duo - even before they were partnered up!

Anyway, the next episode was when Hailey officially joined Intelligence. A moment of awkward silence for the two of them trying to shuffle around each other when Voight gave Hailey Jay’s desk because she was now partners w/Erin. Oops. Too funny.

Then of course, the season 4 finale saw Hailey be invited out to Molly’s with Jay, Adam, Kevin, & Will. She had the memorable “I’m Greek, we see tragedy in everything” line, along with that first of many looks she’d give to Jay after a conversation - longing & wistful. 😔

The new divide: season 5

Season 5 saw Hailey and Jay become partners & already they were there for each other when Jay had a tough case. While we didn’t see it air in the actual episode, there was a deleted scene from 5x01 that showed Hailey telling Jay that she’s “got his back.”

As the season progressed, we saw them continue to be there for each other as a source of support. Remember in “Fallen” when Jay kept checking up on Hailey’s “relationship” with fellow officer Sean McGrady?

“Is this really about the case?”

“See ya tomorrow.”

“Ooookay.” — yeah okay Jay we see u.

The next few episodes were Jay’s big arc in s5 where he dealt with being undercover while dealing with PTSD. Hailey was “neutral” at first, because she didn’t know Jay well enough to know how this would affect him, though she’d see it soon enough when he pointed a gun in her face at the end of 5x07. Even after that incident, she still called him to check on him. Now that’s a quality partner.

Another telling moment for their partnership was when Hailey went to bat for Jay with Camila. She knew if she talked he’d be in big trouble, so she had to do something to help him. She still made sure to remind Camila that she would “bury her” if she didn’t keep her mouth shut about Jay. Damn, remind me not to get on Hailey’s bad side. 😯

She even convinced Jay to go to therapy — how amazing is that? She helped him get help.

There were a few lighter, fluffier moments for their partnership as the season progressed, which you can see below —

And then came my favorite episode for them - Ghosts.

Hailey got tangled up with Booth who got her old partner killed. Jay, being her new partner, was concerned about how close Hailey was getting...not only to the case, but to Booth, as Booth was bordering on obsessed w/her.

He bailed her out, but then then two argued at Hailey’s UC apartment (hello, married couple moment haha) - But despite that, he still helped her go on w/the undercover plan.

Cue Jay going under as Ryan, a dealer that Hailey (as Kelly) knew. Things got even more awkward for the trio when Booth asked “Ryan” how many times he screwed “Kelly.” Yikesarama.

Towards the end of the episode, Booth got handsy with Hailey, which put Jay in an awkward position. He tried to keep his cool, but then the deal was blown. Hailey being the badass that she is fought off Booth, but it was Jay who brought her back down to reality to keep her from doing something stupid (even though let’s be honest, Booth deserved a few more kicks in the head).

The kicker of the episode came when Jay went to check on Hailey, and the two would start what would turn out to be “their thing” aka - drinks and long conversations about their cases & the feelings surrounding them. Hailey opened up about Booth and Garrett, and Jay listened. He was there for her, and that’s when they really started to form something special. Something that was more than just a typical partnership.

The rest of the season would only build on that momentum, bringing out little pieces of Jay and Hailey’s pasts, as well as how they dealt with things amongst the team. Jay lent Hailey a supportive hand (literally) when Al died in the season 5 finale, & in a deleted scene, the two offered comfort to each other at the vigil Intelligence held.

Care & being there: season 6

Jay and Hailey’s partnership grew even more so during s6. Their first major moments came in the crossover episode, when Jay was shot. Hailey was distraught, but it was more than that. She thought he was dead, & she thought she’d lost him forever. Her emotions were running high and she pushed down all those feelings that had come bubbling up to the surface. But they were there.

(Unfortunately she compensated by sleeping with Ruzek, thus beginning Upzek. Ugh. Anyway).

Even though she started a fling-turned-semi-relationship with Adam, Hailey & Jay still leaned on each other.

When Hailey dealt with a tough case, Jay was there for her. He made sure she was okay. Heck, even Adam noticed & told her, they should talk you know, “partner to partner.”

The following episode saw Hailey help Jay when his judgement was colored by his war past. She then reminded him of the famous “thing that works between them” and offered to buy him a beer to chat. He accepted.

When Jay found out about said romance, he was taken aback and you could tell by the look on his face that he was hurt...but honestly, maybe a little jealous. I think this solidified his feelings for Hailey, even if she didn’t wanna admit her own to herself yet.

“We’re good. And we’re always gonna be good.” -Jay to Hailey

6x12 has them do another heart to heart conversation, only for it to be interrupted by Ruzek, who called Hailey. Jay told her she should go, and even though she said okay, you could tell she didn’t really mean it. Just like Jay didn’t really want her to go. But these two have gotten good at hiding their feelings by now.

*forgot to add 6x14 when Hailey was kidnapped (along w/Kim). You could see the look of complete distress on Jay’s face when he & Kevin raced out to the truck, just missing it. Then when Adam told him they “should’ve been all over them” Jay went on the defensive, telling Adam “he didn’t know what went down” because he wasn’t there. Ruzek, Ruzek, Ruzek...as if Halstead wasn’t beating himself up enough! Even though later in the ep, Adam and Antonio were the ones to find Hailey & Kim, you saw Jay later ask if she was okay; and you saw the camera pan to both of their expressions when Voight gave the “work things at work” talk. Jay felt bad knowing he didn’t do his job at protecting his partner; Hailey was starting to debate her relationship with Ruzek on the job.*

6x15 offered us the iconic scene of “if I was gonna follow someone blind, I’d follow you” which we now know is essentially Hailey-speak for “I love you.” Because she told Jay that she’s trusted him from the day she met him. How freaking adorable is that?

Fast forward to the s6 finale & you’ve got a whole lot more feels between these two. From Jay’s line of “I’m going where you go” meaning he to would follow Hailey; to his protecting her FIRST without regard for his own life (actually literally using himself as a human shield!); and then of course, their heartbreaking conversation in the break room.

“We’ve only been partners a couple years...you’ll forget about me just fine.”

“Hailey... [no].”

aka - Hailey was scared of losing him again & not knowing if they’d be partners again, so she bit down on her feelings and brushed it off. Jay did the same, although he looked as if he was going to spill any second of that scene. You know what I mean.

You could see the looks in their eyes — they were saying everything without actually saying a word.

This episode was when the both of them seemed to accept their feelings of each other to themselves — as in, they admitted it to themselves, even if they weren’t ready to share them with each other. 💙

Deeper feelings: season 7

And now we’re onto s7, where even in the premiere, you could see how in sync Jay and Hailey were. The two worked together to help their boss, and they relied on each other more than ever to get the job done. Hailey supported Jay, even if she didn’t always agree with him.

Later on in the season, we saw him do the same thing. Although, when Voight split them up in 7x03, they weren’t happy about it. Jay showed his emotions with a look, while Hailey vocalized hers to Voight. Hailey = 😠 there.

In the crossover, we saw a concerned Jay over Hailey being quarantined, but also a concerned Hailey when Jay was taken hostage by Seldon. She even went all Sniper to save him! Go Hailey go!

They continued to work alongside each other, mainly in surveillance (apparently those two have a thing for vans 😉) to help the unit solve cases.

Jay had another tough case in 7x06, and Hailey noticed how much it affected him, even if she didn’t say it right away. Jay would do the same for her in the next episode when her CI was shot, with looks and a concerned voice like she had done with him.

And now we’re at 7x09, aka the fall finale from hell because Jay’s life is in the balance.

And Hailey Upton is livid over it. She was so desperate to get Jay back safely that she pushed the limits to find him. And just when she FINALLY did, he was ripped away from her yet again. Heartbreakingly tragic for these two...almost like a Romeo & Juliet vibe. 💔

Here’s hoping Jay will be okay in 7x10 when Chicago PD comes back in January, because Hailey really can’t lose the man she loves. I think this made her realize just how much she cares. And he cares so much for her.

Upstead ship captain Jesse Lee Soffer said it best: if you were to ask Jay or Hailey, “do you love him/her?” They’d say yes. As for what kind of love that is, they aren’t 100% sure yet...

because they haven’t even admitted their feelings to each other yet. But anyone can see that they are there. Pure and genuine feelings. Love. Respect. Admiration. 🖤

[prorevenge]

Seriously up-charged a guy that up-charged my parents

My parents were renovating their house about a year ago and they needed an electrician to move some lighting fixtures. Generally, I have a friend that’s my go-to electrician for stuff like this, but my parents had hired a guy to paint the living room and needed this done quickly. My electrician friend happened to be on vacation so he wouldn’t be able to get out to me until after the painter was already scheduled to come. After referring with a couple of other friends, they recommended an electrician. We are all from the same country and happened to emigrate to the same small town so people within our culture generally recommend other people from that same country.

The electrician comes by for a quote (I never met this individual) and he tells my parents that it’s all based on the amount of time it would take and that he can’t give them an exact quote because he doesn’t know how much time it’s going to take until the job is already started. My parents think this sounds reasonable and end up hiring him. Just as an aside, I installed nest cameras for my parents in their living room facing their front door, so we had a good view of the area where the job was being performed. This job takes him about an hour and he literally sat on my couch on his phone for about 5 hours, watching tv, kicking his feet up, waiting for my mom to get home so that he could show her the work is complete and charge her like 6 hours for a job that took him about an hour, which I confirmed how unprofessional his behavior was on my nest cam. My parents didn’t want to cause any friction so they paid him for the amount of time he charged them. I believe it was like $500 for something that should’ve really cost like $150 or so. Anyway, the lighting fixtures were installed, he received his check and went in his merry way. My electrician friend later confirmed that this guy had seriously up-charged my parents.

A few months later, I decided to take a side-gig selling solar as a 1099 employee. I was making decent money at my existing job but I had a wide enough network where I could help people around me with generally good solar deals and make some good money for myself on the side. The company I connected with would give me “my price” on panels including installation, as well as on the roof if a roofing job was required. My price was extremely good and the way I made my money was by tacking on my fee at the end, built into the roof price and the per-watt price of the panels + installation. Much like my parents found the electrician, this same electrician, (who I had never met) found me, inquiring about a roofing job. I told him that I don’t do stand-alone roofs but that I could package something for him including solar which would get rid of most of his electricity bill. He said he didn’t have the money up-front for the roof or the panels, which is fine cause we can finance and it started to sound like he was a little bit desperate as his roof was leaking and he didn’t have the capital to fix it. Generally when I go to a client, I try to keep the price down and make it more desirable for the client (I’d rather make less money than no money,) so I generally make around $3000-5000 per install, which is a win-win.

When I got the call, I thought the guy’s name was familiar and sure enough it was the electrician who had “helped” my parents and left a bad taste in my mouth. At this point, I knew he was desperate for a resolution to his roof issue and I knew he barely spoke any English, so my word was going to be gold. I set up an appointment to go meet up with him in about a week. I knew that I was going to up-charge the shit out of him due to the language barrier he would have with other installers, his desperation and the fact that he up-charged my parents. I got the price quote from the installer that said the roof would cost about $10,000 for a strip and re-roof. This was a really good house as the house was a multi-family unit and I was expecting the quote to come around 15k. They also gave me the price on the solar panels which would be around $15,000. So the price I was looking at for the project was $25,000. Generally on a good situation like this, I might’ve called in $29,000 total, got him a spectacular deal, make a couple grand and called it a day, but I was thinking fuck this guy. So I adjusted the cost of the roof to $19,000 and the price of the panels to $21,000, half expecting that I would eventually need to come down on the pricing at some point. I went over there to meet up with him, proposed his set-up, told him how good the quality of the roofing job would be (which is accurate) and that the solar system would virtually wipe out his electricity bill and that I would get him set up with a 25 year loan to keep his monthly payment down. He agreed to this, was excited to get his roof done and really didn’t care much about the panels, but they were part of the bundle and on we went. Once everything was installed, I was paid out on my deal and went to cash my $15,000 check. I went to my parents house and gave them $1500 each and explained to them what had happened and how I stumbled upon a $15,000 commission check.

Just so it’s clear, there is nothing shady about what I did. It was way more expensive than it needed to be and everything was disclosed to him properly. He just paid more than he would’ve had to, even if he simply shopped around, but at the end of the day, it’s well within my rights to charge whatever I want, like it’s within the rights of the customer to tell me to fuck off. A big chunk of what he “paid” is covered by incentives, but he still paid way more than typical.

Moral of the story especially for contractors/plumbers/electricians/mechanics: don’t fuck people because you’re more aware of how things work than they are in a particular field, cause you might end up getting fucked later 10-fold.

TL;DR: Electrician up-charged my parents by a couple hundred bucks; I up-charged him by about $10,000.

Edit: split the massive wall of text

(source) story by (/u/ChipOnMaShoulder)

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 17 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Chapter 16 was the first chapter to get over 100 notes and I’m over here like 😭😭😭😭😭 because of you guys!   Thank you thank you thank you!

Bee passed all her exams.  She was graduating with a 3.8 GPA.  Straight As in every course she took.  Her graduation ceremony was in June.  She’d officially have earned a Master’s in Financial Economics.

She did it.  

When she got the email from the registrar’s office, it was early on a Saturday morning.  She was at her apartment, stuffing cereal into her face.  Morgan was at morning practice for the game they had against Vancouver that night.  She knew because of practice she wouldn’t be able to get a hold of him, so she called Angie and screamed about it on the phone, and Angie, in turn, screamed back.  Mason screamed at Angie’s screaming, and when he learned why she was screaming, started screaming about it too.  Just one big scream-fest.  She messaged the girls about it in their group chat, and they all congratulated her, already making plans to go out and celebrate.

When Morgan arrived at her place, Bee was still giddy with excitement.  Having seen her flurry of texts to him after she couldn’t get a hold of him on the phone, he picked her up and spun her around, flooding her face with kisses.  His congratulations were many, as he kept repeating over and over how proud he was of her.  The celebration was lengthy, but, in typical Bee fashion, she put a halt to it when she announced that she now needed to work on her resume and send in job applications so she could get a job as soon as possible.  Morgan couldn’t help but laugh.

After about two weeks of applications, with a day of shopping in between with Aryne so she could buy a dress for the Night With Blue and White gala, she had no bites.  It was a little demoralizing, but she knew these things took time.  She also knew the Night with Blue and White would be another opportunity for her, regardless of the time and place, to try and land something.  Maybe she was being opportunistic, maybe she was being a little bit devious or scheming, but she needed to do what she needed to do to survive.  It was all she ever knew – survival.  She couldn’t live on the benevolence of others for forever.  She couldn’t keep mooching off her friends.  She needed to be a functioning and contributing member of society.  She needed to pay some taxes.  She needed to contribute to a benefits package.  She needed a salary.  She couldn’t just loaf around, waiting for a job to come to her.  

Despite her drive to get a job, and despite relentlessly putting in applications to every position she was qualified for (even for those she was under- or over-qualified for), she had agreed to go to Vancouver with Morgan.  He’d managed to convince her that it would be a nice break for her, that after the break-in and the moving and everything else, she could use a little vacation.  It would be her first time on a plane.  It would be her first time out of southern Ontario.  She was nervous, but the thought of meeting his family – the parents that raised him, the brother that supported him – was an opportunity she couldn’t fathom missing.  So she said yes.  They’d be leaving on the morning of January 24th and would be coming back the night of January 30th.  Six whole days in Vancouver.

But first, it was the Night With Blue and White.  

Aryne goaded her into getting a beautiful floral dress and some scalloped heels for the occasion.  Nothing they bought her before was fancy enough, she argued, so they had to go shopping.  Bee had never been to such a fancy event, so she was taking Aryne’s lead as to how much to dress up.  They’d even gone to get their hair done together before Aryne dropped her off back at her apartment.  She’d been in the bathroom for half an hour, making sure to get her makeup just right.  She knew Morgan was just waiting around; probably eating whatever was in her kitchen and getting food on his dress shirt.  

“Hey Bumblebee,” she heard his voice call out.  She was shocked to hear it coming from right inside the bedroom.  “Taxi is gonna be here in about ten minutes.  Are you gonna be ready?”

She looked at her phone for the time.  All she really needed to do was apply her lipstick and setting spray (who knew there was a spray to set your makeup?  Not Bee) and she was good to go.  “Yeah.  I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I can call to delay it.”

“No no, it’s okay,” she said, grabbing the Charlotte Tilbury lipstick and applying a fresh coat to her lips.  

When she opened the door, she saw Morgan sitting at the foot of the bed, leaning over to tie the laces on his dress shoes.  When he looked her way and saw her in the doorframe, he immediately straightened out from his position, looking at her with a fire in his eyes.  “Oh, Bumblebee…” he whispered to himself.

She saw the look on his face and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.  His reaction – one of complete awe and reverence – was pretty new.  She smiled and flattened out the bottom.  “Does it look nice?”

She watched as he bit his lip, a smile appearing on his face.  “You look divine.”

Divine.  Divine.  Nobody had ever described her as divine before.  She couldn’t help but smile at the word, and she was acutely aware that Morgan hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she emerged from the bathroom.  “You look quite dapper yourself,” she said, referring to his crisp blue suit and burgundy tie.  

“I look like a bum next to you.”

Bee snorted.  She made her way over to her side of the bed, where her shoes were, and sat to put them on.  “Nah, you underestimate yourself.  All those rich ladies are gonna be falling all over you.”

He got up from his seat at the foot of the bed and walked over to her.  “I mean it Briony,” he said softly, squatting down and grabbing her foot to help her with her shoes.  “You look incredible.  Do you feel incredible?”

She knew he was trying to gauge her comfort level.  She knew this because she was in a fancy new dress, and fancy new heels, and she was going to a fancy event with fancy people and it was all new to her, and when she’d asked him on New Years Eve ‘Do you like me more with all the nice clothes?’ some sort of internal switch flipped in him and now he was hyperaware of how she was feeling when they did stuff like this, or when they went out.  She nodded at him as he worked on her other shoe.  “I feel a bit nervous, but I’m very excited,” she admitted.  “I know how much the cause means to you, and I know it’s going to be very busy, with people everywhere, but I’m looking forward to it.”

“Will you let me know if you feel uncomfortable?” he asked, hands gliding up her leg towards her thigh.

She slapped his hand away, scrunching up her face at him.  “Yes,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him quickly before standing up and walking to the armoire to grab her purse.  “We should start going downstairs.  The taxi should be here soon.”

***

Briony McTavish was mingling.  If her MFE taught her anything, it was that you should speak to everybody in the room, because you never know who they are, what they do, and if you can work with them.  For an introvert like Bee, this was no small task, but as she became more comfortable with her surroundings and with the people in the room, she felt more at ease and willing to strike up conversations.  

Morgan was busy doing interviews in the media line.  They hadn’t arrived together – Bee went in first, the taxi took a lap around the block, then Morgan came in after – because there were cameras at the entrance taking video for the Leafs Nation Network and he didn’t want them walking in together to be on video.  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was already out there, that there were rumours and rumblings about them, and she didn’t want to shatter what little control he thought he had about information on them and their relationship getting out.  

She made herself busy by looking through all the auction items and gulping at the starting prices of the bids.  $10,000 starting bid to go golfing with two Leafs players.  $5000 starting bid to have a dinner in the Platinum Lounge with Brendan Shanahan.  $2,000 to attend a personal training session with William Nylander.  Was there a 25-cent lemonade stand somewhere?  A $1 kissing booth that she could maybe contribute to?  And those were just starting bids.  She knew some of them would go higher.  And that was on top of the $10,000 to buy a table!  How rich were these people?

“Do you play golf?” the man beside her asked as he read the board with the auction prize beside her.  “Angus Glen is a terrific club.”

Did she look like she could afford to play that round of golf?  She was about to say something before she remembered what she was wearing and where she was.  It was her automatic reaction to say such a thing but now, times were different.  Tonight, she did look like she could afford to play that round of golf.  “Oh no, not me,” she smiled politely.  “I’m just looking at everything that’s available.”

“What were you thinking of bidding on?”

“I’m not bidding,” she admitted.  “Um, my partner is Morgan Rielly, so we’re leaving it up to others to do the bidding.”

“Ah, of course,” the man smiled.  “Morgan’s prize is pretty neat – the box seats with all the signed swag.  My wife wanted to bid for our son.  He’s a defenseman too – absolutely loves Rielly.”

“That’s fantastic,” Briony smiled.  She gulped.  She was going to do it.  “I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced myself.  I’m Briony McTavish,” she stuck out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you Briony,” the man stuck out his hand to shake hers.  “I’m Mark Travers.  My table and I – we’re all around somewhere --” he was motioning wildly around the room, “we’re here from Scotiabank.”

She perked up a little bit at the mention of Scotiabank, the anxiety now practically sprinting through her veins.  “Oh, that’s amazing!  I did an internship at Scotiabank last summer.”

“You did?  What department?”

“Sales and Trading,” she said.  “It was a requirement for my Master’s of Financial Economics at U of T.  I just completed the program a few weeks ago, actually, and I’ve been looking to get back into th--”

“Are you looking for a position?” Mark interrupted her, albeit politely.  “I mean, if you’ve completed your program.”

Oh God oh God oh God.  “Yes!  I’ve been applying to the Big Five,” she said.  She was going to do it.  She was going to do it.  DO IT!  DO IT BRIONY!!!!!  “I…I mean, I have my resume on Google Docs if --”

“Mmmmmm!” Mark hummed excitedly in response as he took a sip of his drink.  “You can share it with me right now.  We are looking to add more to our team,” he said, pulling out his phone.  “Wow.  I like someone who is prepared like this.  I wasn’t expecting to network tonight but this is a pleasant surprise.  Here, I’ll give you my email.”

Bee was going to throw up all over this man’s suit and shoes.  Her hand trembled slightly as she added his email to the share screen, and he immediately pulled up her resume, scrolling through it slowly, making sure to read everything.  His eyebrows raised, seemingly impressed at what he was reading.  She was actually going to throw up on this man’s shoes.  

“It says here you were the recipient of the Richard Xi Scholarship,” he said as he continued to scroll.  

“Yes sir.  I’ve been only one of five women to gain the scholarship since it’s implementation twenty years ago.”

Mark looked at her.  He turned a little to his left, tapping the shoulder of the person behind him to get his attention.  “Richard!  One of your grant students is here.”

Bee’s heart dropped into the pit of her stomach.  Oh my God.  Oh my fucking GOD.  She was going to projectile vomit all over these men and never have a job in the banking industry.  The man responsible for funding most of her tuition was standing right in fucking front of her.  She was going to pass out.  She was going to pass out and hit her head and go into a coma and wake up and realize this was all just a dream and --

“One of my students?” Richard asked, looking down at the phone.  He smiled when he realized what Mark meant.  “Ah!  Ms. Briony McTavish!  Hello!”

“Hi,” she let out in as strong of a voice as she could muster.  She didn’t want to seem nervous around these men at all.  She kept trying to remind herself that, fundamentally, there was nothing different about them; they were humans too.  This was happening all because Mark asked her a question about golf.  For the love of God, what was her life becoming?  “It’s an honour to meet you Mr. Xi,” she shook his hand.  “Thank you for --”

“There’s no need to thank me,” he said, waving her off, his attention still focused on Mark’s phone.  “Oooh!  Rotman Academic Scholarship too!  That’s quite impressive Ms. McTavish.”

“Thank you Mr. Xi.”

“What’s your graduating GPA?”

“3.8.”

“And your professors?”

“Oh, this final semester it was Kopstein, Balot, Hausman, Linklater, and McQueen,” she named them off.

Richard chuckled slightly, giving Mark a slight nudge with his elbow.  “You survived Linklater’s behavioural economics class, did you?”

Bee chuckled too, trying to go with the flow.  “Yes sir.”

“And I see you’ve already done an internship at Scotiabank,” he finally looked up from the phone.  

“Yes sir.  I interned in Sales and Trading, which was fantastic, but I’m looking to get into financial analyst positions --”

“Oh, good.  So you’d want to work for Mark’s department,” he nodded to his apparent friend.  Mark gave her am excited smile.  The butterflies in Bee’s stomach were going crazy.

“Uh, y-yes --”

“Well, we’re in Montreal and New York for meetings all next week,” he informed her.  “And we know it’s the bye-week for these guys too.  Are you free to come in…I don’t know, let’s say February 4th?” Mark asked.

She was going to die before she could even go for an interview.  “Of course I am,” she nodded her head quickly.  “I can come in anytime you’d like.”

“Who was your supervisor during your internship?” Mark asked.

“Dennis Laing.  He --”

“Oh, Dennis!” Mark interrupted her.  “I’ll call him for a reference.  And I’ll make a call to the others you’ve listed as well.”

“Okay, great,” she smiled nervously.  “Um, would you like me to bring anything?  My portfolio, perhaps?  Or --”

“You have a portfolio?” Mark and Richard asked at the same time.

“Well I have work from the internship I completed,” she informed them.  “And I have sample work from U of T.  I know it’s my courses, but I think it’s still a good representation of what I’d be able to accomplish with Scotiabank should I be hired,” she tried to be as confident as possible.  “My work with investments is my strongest, which is why I want to pursue analyst positions.”

Mark and Richard smiled at each other before Mark turned his attention back to her.  “Bring your portfolio,” he said, swiping his screen out of her resume to his calendar so he could add her name.  “I’ll let my colleagues know you’re coming in…let’s say for 11am?”

“Sure.”

“11am,” he smiled.  “I was very lucky to meet you tonight, Briony.”

“Oh, I think I’m the lucky one,” she giggled.

“I’ll come speak to you again later tonight.  I’ll find you at your table,” he said, shaking her hand once more.  “Think you can fix the Rielly prize for me?” he winked playfully.  

“For you, Mr. Travers?  I’ll see what I can do.”

***

“And then,” Bee huffed, in-between frantic kisses, “and then he tapped” kiss “the shoulder” kiss “of the guy behind him” kiss “and it was Richard Xi” kiss “the guy who funded my big scholarship.���

“Oh yeah?” Morgan kissed her, pulling down the zipper of he dress.

“Can you believe it?” she asked.  Kiss.  “So, long story short” kiss “I have a job interview February 4th.”

Morgan pulled away from her with an excited look on his face.  “Really?”

“Really really,” she smiled.

“Well, this is cause for a major celebration,” he pulled down her dress, revealing the navy blue bra and panties set she’d bought for the dress.  “Mmmmmm, navy,” he licked his lips.

“You like?”

“If you wore burlap I’d still get hard,” he said, making her giggle as he leaned in to kiss her again.  Her dress fell to the floor and they climbed into bed, Bee crawling on top of him.  Thankfully, he had already shed his suit into a pile on the floor because he just couldn’t wait.  

She bent down to kiss him, her breasts flush with his chest.  He squeezed the ample flesh at her hips before moving back to her ass.  She grinded against him slightly, and when she stopped kissing him, he moved to her clavicle and chest, kissing and licking his way down to her breasts.

DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  DING DING!  

“What the fuck?” she wondered, unable to concentrate on what Morgan was doing because of the sound of her phone vibrating and alerting her of over ten messages.  

“Ignore it,” he mumbled against her skin

“What if it’s Angie?” she asked.  “What if it’s an emergency?”

“She’d be calling you,” he said quickly, but to no avail.  She leaned over him, inadvertently shoving her breasts in his face, to reach onto the side table to grab her phone.  

When she looked at her phone, there was a flurry of Instagram notifications flooding her screen.  She swiped to unlock and go directly to all the DMs.

Buying more stuff with Mo’s money?  You’re gonna bleed him dry.  He’s gonna be poor by the time he’s done with you and then you’re gonna leave him for the next hockey player with money.

ive been nice can u pls post a pic of u and mo

You think you’re hot shit because you got to go to the Night With Blue and White?  You’re so ugly.

Cassidy is sooooo much prettier than you.

“What is it?” he asked, breathing heavily.

You look so fat in that dress.  Arm flab everywhere.

Guess none of the other wags wanted to sit with you.  

So if you’re at this event it must mean you’re dating Morgan???  Why won’t you answer me?????

“N-Nothing,” she hesitated.  “It’s nothing.”

“What’s wrong?”

Ur literally so desperate and it’s so sad.

“Briony, what’s wrong?”

“It’s – it’s nothing.  It just some random messages.”

“Messages?  From who?”

“Um, from fans.”

“What did you just say?”

You’re trash

Can u pls post a pic of u and mo at the event pls pls pls we want to see so bad

R u the same girl in cassidy’s new years eve video?  And the halloween vids?

Morgan sat up from his position, taking Bee’s phone and looking at the screen with all the Instagram messages lined up perfectly for him to scroll through.  His brows became more furrowed after he read more and more.  “What do they mean videos?”

“I don’t know.  There were like a thousand people there tonight, Morgan.  One of them was probably taking an Instagram live video and we were in the background,” she said.

“No no,” he shook his head, scrolling and reading through more.  “What do they mean Cassidy’s video?  What the fuck are they talking about?”

“Kasperi’s girlfriend from New Year’s,” Bee tried to explain calmly.  “There was…I don’t know, there was like an Instagram story that she did with her and Kappy.  But I guess we were kissing in the background.”

“And it leaked?”

“Nothing leaked, Morgan.  She’s an Instagram model with a public profile.”

Morgan threw her phone on the bed and buried his head in his hands, sighing heavily and letting out a load, exasperated groan.  “Fuck.  Fucking fuck!” he exclaimed.  “I should have been more careful.  I should have been more…fuuuuuck!”

“Morgan, stop.”

“Briony, how long have you been getting these messages?  Be honest with me.”

“I…I mean I think it was Christmas?  I thought they were just bots at first, but then I noticed your name in one of the messages,” she admitted.  “Why does that matter?”

“I’ve told you about what happened before.  I’ve told you,” he said, fear evident in his voice.

“Yeah, so?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘yeah, so?’?” he demanded.  “You don’t get it Briony.”

“They’re just messages, Morgan.  They’re not --”

“Briony, if they scared you or got bad I wouldn’t be able to live with myself,” he interrupted her, trying to remain as calm as possible even though the fear within him was threatening to burst out of him at any moment.  “If they…if they hurt you or they scared you or --”

“Morgan, they’re harml--”

“They’re not harmless, Briony!” he yelled, pushing her off his body so he could get up and pace to let off some steam.  He was going to start hyperventilating if he didn’t release some of his energy somewhere.  He felt like punching a wall or throwing something across the room but he knew that was completely out of the question.  Use your words, Morgan.  Use your words.  “Briony, please, this is the one thing.  The one thing.  I want to keep you safe from the craziness of the hockey media and all the social media that comes along with it.  You have to understand where I’m coming from.  I don’t want you to go through that.  Please.  You deserve better than this, Briony.”

“Morgan, I know you do, I know,” she stressed.  “But it was bound to get out eventually.  We couldn’t keep it a secret forever.”

“But not like this,” he shook his head as he kept pacing.  “Not through fucking…fans and puckbunnies and through gossip on the internet or Instagram or wherever,” he flung his arm dramatically.  “I’m glad I’m taking you to Vancouver and we’re leaving this right now.  This is exactly what I didn’t want happening.”  

Briony was somewhat concerned, somewhat indignant.  She knew he wanted to protect her, and that was why he didn’t tell her who he was at first, or why they always kept a low profile when they were out, or why they did stuff like arrive separately yet in the same taxi to events so they wouldn’t be caught on camera together.  But he was so upset about this, so visibly shaken, that she felt like there was something else he wasn’t telling her.  She didn’t know if she was right, but he was acting like this was the end of the world.  She’d been through worse than having random people message her telling her she was ugly or demanding pictures and proof she was dating him; she’d heard those ugly comments from her mother all her life.  That meant more than some random wannabe bikini model or Toronto party girl saying it on Instagram.  “What, people seeing you with me?” she demanded of him.

He gave her a look.  “I’d fucking show you off to the entire city if I could, and you know that,” he told her.  “But I don’t, Briony, because then that means that crazy people will know who you are.”

“Crazy people?!  Why do you continue to think I’m some delicate, fragile being in need of protection?” she demanded.  It was her turn to get angry.  He knew she’d dealt with worse in her life and he was still acting like this.  She didn’t know if he liked to just conveniently forget she grew up with an alcoholic mother, or that he didn’t want to think about it, and therefore didn’t have a real understanding of what she had to deal with growing up.  Both were equally as bad.  “Don’t you dare think you are my lord protector now.  I’ve dealt with far worse than this.”

“You don’t underst--”

“I grew up surrounded by alcoholics, Morgan,” she said firmly, letting it all out now.  That made him stop in his tracks and shut his mouth.  “What – you think it was just my mom?  Every single one of her friends was an addict too, and a lot of them were addicted to worse shit than just vodka and whisky and I had to be around it.  I was the only one ever sober enough to see how fucked up they were and I was a child.  A child, Morgan.  All these things you’re scared about, all these things that you think these girls are saying to me – you really think I haven’t already heard that from my mom?” she kept demanding of him.  “Do you really think she would have passed up the opportunity to tell me how unwanted I was?  How much she resented me?  How much of a burden I was because it meant she had to spend whatever money she had on me and not alcohol?  How she’d constantly tell me I’d be alone just like her my whole life because I was the smart girl and the chubby girl and nobody likes the smart, chubby girls?  This is nothing.  These girls want pictures of us, a glam shot of a Chanel bag, or us being cute together.  My mother wanted to drag me down into the darkness with her!  And the more I rejected going into that darkness the harder she tried to pull.  And I was able to pull myself out of that.  I was strong enough to get myself out of that cycle.  Alone.  Completely fucking alone, with help from no-one.  So don’t you dare try to insinuate I’m fragile and you’re the only one who can protect be because I’ve dealt with far worse emotional abuse than what those girls are throwing at me.  I can survive, you know.  I have survived.”

Morgan was silent.  Completely, utterly silent.  He was at a loss for words, though there wasn’t anything to say.  There wasn’t anything that could be said.  Bee had said it all.  And Morgan knew, he knew that everything she had just said came straight from her heart; that she’d been bottling it up for a long time, hiding it, and that it exploded because he was being a bit irrational and wasn’t giving her agency or a choice in the matter.  He had just been speaking to himself; they were never having a conversation.  

Her words hung heavy in the room as they looked at each other.  Morgan knew she was right.  Bee knew she was right.  But for all her pride and insistence, she knew Morgan had a point to.  It was natural to be protective over your partner.  It was natural to get mad at things that happened that were completely out of your control, and that exposed an intimate part of you; a part you didn’t want to share with the world.  They were both right in their own way.  She guessed they just needed to scream about it in order to see it that way.

Morgan’s cheeks were flushed red, and soon, even in the dusk light from the bedside lamp, she saw glimmering streaks fall down his face.  She’d never seen him cry before.  She’d seen him get angry on the ice, or sad because of a loss, or annoyed because of whatever else, but never to the point of tears.  She knew it wasn’t about the screaming or the fight; she knew he was crying because of what she revealed to him.  She knew it was about how much she’d been through, the emotional abuse, and how something he was making such a big deal about was a miniscule problem to her in relation to what she had to endure before.  

When she saw the tears roll down his cheeks, she couldn’t help but start to cry softly, too.  “C’mere, Morgan,” she extended her arms out.

He rushed to her, engulfing her in his arms as they cried into each other’s shoulders.  She played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he squeezed her tight.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” his voice was shaky as he apologized.

“It’s okay, Mo.  I get where you’re coming from,” she said, her voice equally as shaky.  

He pulled away from her to give her a kiss, their tear-stained cheeks pressing together as he held her head in his hands.  “I just don’t want to lose you,” he asserted.  “God Briony, you don’t get it.  If anything happened to you I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.  If you got hurt or scared I --”

“Shhhhhhh,” she said, placing her index finger on his lips as he repeated his earlier sentiments.  “Nothing is gonna happen.  It’s okay.”

“I care about you too much for that to happen Briony.”

“I know, I know,” she said soothingly.  “I’m sorry too, okay?  I’m sorry I got mad.”

“You don’t…you don’t…” he shook his head.  “I know you’re so strong Briony.  I know you are.  You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.  But if I can’t protect you then what can I do?  What am I good for?”

“Shhhhhhh shhhhh shhhhh,” she silenced him again, bringing him to lie down with her in bed.  “Don’t say that Morgan.  Don’t.”

“I just want you to feel safe when you’re with me,” his voice was still shaky.

“I do, Morgan.”

“D’you promise?”

“Yes Morgan.  Yes,” she stressed, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.  “You make me feel so safe.  Like nothing can touch me.  That’s why I feel so fearless about this.  Because I know you’re gonna be there, and that’ll you’ll make everything okay.”

“I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or think you couldn’t handle it,” he said.  “I’ve just seen it destroy so many people before.  I’ve seen it destroy relationships.  I just want to make you feel safe.  I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t baby.  You won’t lose me.  You won’t lose me,” she cooed.

As they lay in bed together, Bee kept rubbing circles into Morgan’s back until his breathing steadied and he fell asleep, his body still on hers and his face buried in the crook of her neck.  As tough or as funny or as goofy or as calm or as angry or as happy or as sad or as annoyed as he was and had been throughout their relationship, Bee realized that Morgan was more complicated than that.  Everybody was, she knew, but now she saw a side of Morgan that she hadn’t seen before: fearful.  Fearful for the ones he cared about.  Fearful for their safety.  She saw firsthand what fear could do to him.  She realized there was this instinct in him, a protective instinct, where he believed he was most useful, because that meant it would stop that fearfulness from ever coming to light if he was just protective.   She wished that he didn’t need to feel that way.  She wished that he didn’t need to feel fearful or protective.

She wished he could see how good he was.  

[beccasfm]

𝐣𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐦. 𝐜𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞. 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫.  ／  𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐛𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧  — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 ! 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫, 𝐢’𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐟, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐢𝐟 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐢’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫-𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬. 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 !

                          𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕟. 𝟚𝟜. 𝕖𝕤𝕥. 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪/𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞.

what’s up friends! first off: i’m moon, i’m a Certified Mess™ and this is my baby becca. it’s my first time playing her in a group, and i’ve tried to pin down some career claims that best represent her but there will be a couple tweaks so pls bare with me ?? that being said, on an out of character note… i’m very nice but salty trash. 99% gay. crazy energy. there’s prolly a tiktok of me passed out in a deep freezer somewhere bc i can’t control myself. i LOVE to talk 2 talk so come into my dms if u ever wanna hc and scream into oblivion. now, onto the actual important stuff:

𝕤 𝕥 𝕒 𝕥 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥 𝕚 𝕔 𝕤 , 

𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟 𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘: becca park. 𝗡𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘(𝗦): b, bec, becks, basically anything! 𝗔𝗚𝗘: twenty-one. 𝗕𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗔𝗬: february 23rd. 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗥: cis female. 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦: she/her 𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗖 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: panromantic. ( closeted ) 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: pansexual. ( closeted ) 𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧: 5′5 𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗔𝗟 𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧: neutral good. 𝗠𝗕𝗧𝗜: infp. 𝗛𝗢𝗚𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗦 𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘: hufflepuff. 𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗜𝗧𝗦: kind, gentle, hardworking, spineless, fearful, devoted, loyal, intelligent, adaptable, cautious.

𝕓 𝕒 𝕔 𝕜 𝕘 𝕣 𝕠 𝕦 𝕟 𝕕 ,

growing up on the set of a beloved family sitcom wasn’t a typical childhood, but it’s one becca is quite fond of considering the track record of child starlets and how they feel about their pasts. if you asked becca now, in private, she might say she wishes she had a time machine to go back to when she’d be eating sandwiches with her co-stars on set and doing the homework her private tutor had laid out for her between takes.

*( pls note i claimed both full house / boy meets world and that’s because becca’s show/history stretches from age 5 to her teen years, the timeline didn’t really add up but use ur imagination pls i did the best i could.. )

she grows up in front of a camera and absolutely loves it. acting is where she’s meant to be, even if it’s sitcom material. it’s good for her age, lighthearted, and she has surprisingly supportive people around her. she works maybe more than a kid should, but she finds that’s her default preference, and sitting alone for too long makes her restless. the show itself has quite the cult following and the diehard fans accumulate over the years. by the time becca is in her teens and social media is booming, her and her co-star are thrust into the spotlight. it’s all sweet, fun and games, becca now having a platform to get familiar with the fans she loves so much. the show’s success not only makes up her childhood, but the childhood of so many others, and something about that becomes irreplaceable to her.

however, all good things must come to an end. when she’s going on seventeen, the show is finally cancelled, the last episode finally giving viewers what they wanted: a happy ending for becca’s character and her co-star’s, the ship that had been over a decade in the making. cameras cut, lights off, and suddenly the team that was once so supportive of her is nowhere to be seen.

becca is desperate not to fall out. 

they tell her there’s not much room for her in the acting world, that having such a household name under her belt means people won’t associate her with anything else, and her team convinces her to give up on acting entirely. becca is crushed, but understands ( sort of ), and even if acting is where her heart is, she listens to ‘ what’s best for her ’.

thus, her pop career starts. it’s the formula for every washed up childstar, but becca is determined to make things work. she might not have the best pipes in the business or the most refined writing skills, but she has heart, and she will do anything she sets her mind to, anything it takes to be seen as good. so she puts triple the hours in the dance studio, recording studio, practices writing songs every day, does her scales until it finally clicks. her fans take to her well enough and becca doesn’t disappear long enough to be forgotten about. instead, she re-emerges as BECCA, all caps for her stage name, and re-invents herself to keep her claws in hollywood.

still, the rising fame in the cutthroat industry, especially as a teenage girl, is quite terrible. suddenly she goes from the beloved sweetheart of everyone’s favorite sitcom to a real popstar, someone that dates, someone that goes out, someone that’s seen in the spotlight. and as much as she’s praised, she’s scrutinized. for someone that takes criticism hard, it’s her biggest challenge yet.

rather than succumbing to the trainwreck trope, becca does the opposite. she keeps doing her yoga, rarely if ever drinks in public, always has a smile on, dates in private, dodges all potential scandals to keep the focus on her music and off her personal life. and so far, it’s working, but for someone that’s singing pop music written by everyone else instead of acting in front of a camera, how long can she keep it up?

𝕡 𝕖 𝕣 𝕤 𝕠 𝕟 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪 ,

at her core, becca is a kind, loyal and just person. she cares deeply for other people and finds it hard to cope with the immense pressure and materialism of the industry she works in at times. she hopes one day to return to acting, but growing up surrounded by opinions older and bigger than hers, she’s quite used to doing what she’s told.

she has a hard time trusting herself with choosing what’s good for her. instead, she listens to the opinions of others. she puts a lot of weight on it, and can come across as spineless. an industry puppet. she’s on stage dancing and singing, but her heart is somewhere else. still, it doesn’t stop her from putting everything else she has into it.

even when it’s something she doesn’t particularly want, becca is nothing but grateful. she works until she sweats and until she has blisters. she is nothing if not persistent. everything is done graciously, because becca doesn’t do much, if anything, out of spite.

at times it can all come crashing in on her, though. for someone that cares a lot about what people think, having ten million people look your way constantly can be overwhelming. she’s naturally introverted and leans on this during these times. lots of time at home with her cats, watching films, baking, hiding away from the world.

becca doesn’t date or party in public because she’s so intensely afraid of scandal or judgement. that doesn’t stop her from going out, but she’s more likely to hold the purses and help get someone home than she is to dance on a table. still, she avoids judging anyone herself. she worries for everyone else, and only wants to see the people around her succeed.

𝕨 𝕒 𝕟 𝕥 𝕖 𝕕  𝕔 𝕠 𝕟 𝕟 𝕖 𝕔 𝕥 𝕚 𝕠 𝕟 𝕤 ,

good influence. perhaps another pop singer that helps her out, works as a confidante, someone she asks tips of and helps her get into something she’s not fully adjusted to yet. ‘don’t play that venue, it sucks’ typa friend.

ride or die. someone that’s known her since her good ol’ tv days and has stuck by her. someone she tells all her secrets to, someone that she confides in with her secret of not really wanting to do music at all. basically, they’d tell each other everything and keep it under lock and key.

enemies. maybe a rival? it could be new, perhaps an award show slip up, or an old enemy from her tv days. it could be a two-way street, purely online beef, or some mutual dislike through the grapevine.

her personal mess. someone that’s messy as hell that becca takes care of. she gets them home after a wild night, or comes in to do damage control before any paps get a view of what’s happening. she helps protect them and their image.

friends turned sour. despite her kind nature, becca can easily be accused of living a lie or being inauthentic. someone that was once her friend but can’t stand her inability to tell people no, or do what she really wants. 

jump off the trainwreck. since she’s so obsessed with her image, perhaps she could have an enemy that was someone she abandoned after a scandal? the ‘i can’t associate with you’ type thing because it brings headlines, and they aren’t fond that she lets the media get in the way of their relationship. could be a platonic one or a romantic one.

behind closed doors. someone she’s seeing but refuses to tell anyone about because she’s afraid what people will think, or doesn’t want to be scrutinized for it. the other muse could either agree, or be frustrated with their situation.

shout out to my ex. maybe they dated and either they write a song about becca that goes viral or vice versa. names may not be named, but there’s tons of speculation by fans and there’s definitely some tension / drama about who and what it’s fully about, but maybe only they know!

and of course, any exes, hookups, casual friends, etc. are up for grabs !