#auction spotlight

[marveltrumpshate]

The "Everyone is Poly Because Avengers" tag has around 817 works on AO3, and we know that's just the tip of the iceberg.

We have 74 auctions offering a variety of poly ships this year, both the ones that usually get attention like Bucky/Steve/Tony but rarer ships like Jean/Logan/Scott, Clint/Laura/Natasha, and Darcy/Monica/Jimmy as well. If you're into poly ships, make sure to browse these auctions and put them on your watchlist.

Never really looked into poly ships before but willing to dip your toes into the pool? If this is the first time you've heard of some ships, consider bidding on a creator and letting them show you what they love about their preferred poly ship(s).

If your favorite poly ship isn't specifically on offer this year, don't worry. You can always search "Character Name/Any" on our auction site to find creators who are open to offering any ship that includes a certain character. Another option is to search for people offering "any ship" or "any gen and ship" for fandoms or seek out creators receptive to your ship through matchmaking. Remember to double check whether creators are willing to create for a poly ship before you bid on them.

So get ready to share the love and bid on some auctions that do the same!

[hokeoutsider]

“Elvis in the Spotlight”    T-Marie Nolan...Ebay Outsider-Art Auction  Acrylic Painting on Wood...11″x 8 1/8″x 3/8″...Starting Bid $14...

https://www.ebay.com/sch/i.html?item=266181676000&rt=nc&_trksid=p2047675.m3561.l2562&_ssn=metrolux6

[asnavely]

2023 SAQA Spotlight Auction

My 2023 SAQA Spotlight Auction piece, Stitch Study #1, is shipped and ready for the Toronto Conference. Now, I eagerly await joining it in Toronto in April.

The final piece is 6” x 8”. The Spotlight Auction will be an online event taking place during the 2023 SAQA Conference Pathways to Possibilities. The auction will be available on Handbid to a worldwide audience. All proceeds will help support SAQA programs.

Due to the small size of the artwork, here are a few more images highlighting the scale and detail of my hand stitching process.

[pucksandpower]

Going Once, Going Twice

Charles Leclerc x Red Bull engineer!Reader

Summary: getting roped into participating in a charity date auction changes your life forever

The lights in the grand ballroom dim as a spotlight illuminates the stage. The Master of Ceremonies, wearing an impeccably tailored tuxedo, steps up to the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!” His voice booms through the speakers. “Welcome to the 12th Annual Amber Lounge F1 Charity Date Auction!”

The crowd erupts into raucous applause. You clap politely from your seat near the back of the room, shrouded in shadows.

“As always, we have an exciting lineup of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes from the Formula 1 paddock, ready to be auctioned off for a romantic date in support of disadvantaged children everywhere.”

More applause.

“But before we bring out our first participant, allow me to go over some ground rules.” The MC adopts a mock-stern tone. “Winners of each date are required to adhere to Amber Lounge’s code of conduct. That means hands to yourself at all times-” A few hoots and hollers from the audience. The MC wags his finger. “Ah ah ah, none of that now! This is for charity, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s keep it classy.”

You stifle a yawn. You’ve attended this auction for the past five years as a guest of Red Bull Racing, where you work as a race engineer. And every year it’s the same — watch your drunk colleagues get leered at by moneyed Formula 1 fans willing to pay exorbitant sums for bragging rights.

No thank you. You always politely decline the organizers’ requests for you to participate.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” The MC gestures to the wings of the stage. “Our first eligible bachelor of the evening is ...”

As he announces the first victim, an Amber Lounge organizer you recognize comes rushing over to you.

“Y/N! Thank god I found you. We have an emergency.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Lucy?”

“One of our bachelorettes had to cancel last minute. Food poisoning.” She makes a face. “We need you to fill in.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No. Absolutely not.” You shake your head vehemently.

“Please Y/N,” Lucy begs. “We need you. The show must go on, for the children!”

“Get someone else,” you hiss. “I refuse to be leered at by old men with more money than sense.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” She gives you a stern look. “It’s unbecoming for someone your age.”

You bristle at the condescension. “I don’t care. Find another victim.”

You move to leave but Lucy grabs your arm, her eyes pleading. “Y/N, the money raised tonight will help provide life-saving surgeries for children in need. Don’t you want to help them?”

Damn. She’s good. You hesitate, cursing your bleeding heart.

Lucy presses on. “It’s just one silly little date. And you might meet someone nice!”

You highly doubt that. With a heavy sigh, you slump back into your chair.

“Fine. But you owe me. Big time.”

Lucy claps excitedly. “Thank you! I promise, you won’t regret this.”

Somehow you doubt that too.

You try unsuccessfully to calm the butterflies raging in your stomach as you wait for your turn on stage. What have you gotten yourself into?

Finally, the MC calls your name. “Our next eligible bachelorette works as a race engineer for Red Bull. But tonight, the only engine she’ll be working on is yours! Let’s give a warm welcome to Y/N Y/L/N!”

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you walk stiffly onto the stage. The lights blind you as the MC sings your praises, highlighting your “beauty, brains, and sass.” You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

As he finally wraps up, you scan the darkened audience nervously. A sea of unfamiliar faces look back at you, shadows obscuring their expressions. You shudder.

“Alright gentlemen, do I hear 5,000 euros to start?”

Immediately, a paunchy, ruddy-faced man in the third row thrusts up his paddle. Your stomach sinks.

"5,000 from the gentleman in row three! Do I hear 5,500?”

Another paddle shoots up from a bald man smirking lecherously at you. Your throat tightens.

"5,500! Can I get 6,000?”

The bids climb higher and you feel faint. These vultures want to buy you. Own you for a night. Your breaths come faster.

10,000 euros. 15,000. 20,000. Sweat drips down your neck as your heart hammers against your ribs.

Just as you’re about to flee the stage in tears, a smooth voice calls out, “One hundred thousand euros.”

A collective gasp sweeps the room. Your mouth falls open in shock. That’s an absurd amount, even for charity.

The MC gulps. “Erm … 100,000 euros from the gentleman in the back!” He peers into the darkness. “Sir, are you certain?”

“Oui.”

That accent … could it be?

You crane your neck, squinting against the glare of the spotlight. A familiar mop of brown hair emerges from the shadows.

Charles. Freaking. Leclerc.

Your cheeks burn crimson. What game is he playing at?

The MC finds his voice again. “R-right then. Going once, going twice ...” He slams the gavel down. “Sold for 100,000 euros! Congratulations, Monsieur Leclerc.”

Charles saunters casually up to the stage, signature smirk in place. He takes your hand and presses a feather-light kiss to your knuckles.

“Bonsoir, ma cherie. I look forward to our date.” He winks roguishly.

You stare open-mouthed, brain short-circuiting. Charles Leclerc just bought you at a date auction.

Il Predestinato.

The golden boy of Scuderia Ferrari himself.

What. Just. Happened?

***

Backstage is chaos. Flashes pop as winners pose with their purchases, champagne flowing freely. You’re quickly shuttled into a cramped makeshift office and handed a stack of paperwork.

“These are your date waivers, dear,” the organizer says briskly. “Standard liability forms.”

You scan the dense legalese numbly. This can’t be real.

A figure plops into the seat beside you, sulking. It’s your friend Ava, Mercedes’ social media manager. She was auctioned right before you.

“Well, congratu-bloody-lations,” she gripes. “Aren’t you Little Miss Popular.”

You glance up distractedly from the waiver you’re signing. “Hmm?”

“Don’t play coy. Bagging the Prince of Monaco himself for your date!” She narrows her eyes. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck going for tea and crumpets with Lord Fartington the Third over here.”

She jerks her thumb at a white-haired man being attended to by a nurse, oxygen tank wheezing.

You wince sympathetically. “Oh Ava, I’m sorry...”

She waves a hand. “Don’t be. At least the old codger’s loaded. Clearly I don’t have your charm.”

You snort. “It’s not like I planned this.”

Ava arches a brow. “You expect me to believe you aren’t thrilled about a date with Leclerc?”

Your cheeks flame as you recall Charles’ roguish wink. “It’s for charity,” you mumble.

“Uh huh. Well, you’re welcome for the extra Instagram followers.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You hadn’t even considered the social media storm this would stir up.

Before you can spiral further, you’re pulled aside for a “date planning session.”

Charles is already there, looking completely unflappable. He greets you with a heart-stopping grin.

“Bonsoir, Y/N.”

You timidly return his smile. “Hi.”

A coordinator claps briskly. “Right! Let’s get your date scheduled.”

She turns expectantly to Charles. Your stomach flutters.

“I will pick Y/N up tomorrow at 7 pm sharp for dinner at my favorite restaurant in Monaco.” His eyes glint. “Wear something nice, chérie.”

He takes your hand, brushing a feather-light kiss to your knuckles. You shudder, face aflame.

“Until then, ma belle.” With a roguish wink, he turns and saunters off.

You stare after him, fingers pressed to the spot his lips touched. A date. With Charles Leclerc. Your brain short-circuits.

“Right, that’s settled then!” The coordinator chirps, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “We’ll have a car fetch you tomorrow evening. The press will want photos, of course.”

You distantly agree, mind still whirling. You survive the rest of the paperwork marathon in a daze.

By the time you escape the clutches of the organizers, you’re exhausted. Collapsing into an Uber, you text your roommate Cassie a SOS. Wine and girl talk, stat.

She’s waiting with open arms and your emergency rosé when you drag yourself in the door.

“Rough night, babe?” She asks sympathetically, handing you a generously filled glass.

You groan. “You don’t know the half of it.”

Her eyes widen as you recount the auction. By the end, she’s fanning herself dramatically.

“Shut up. Charles Leclerc really bid 100 thousand euros for you?”

You nod, chugging your wine.

“Holy shit.” She falls back against the couch. “You have a date with an F1 driver. Charles Leclerc. The Charles Leclerc.”

You chuck a throw pillow at her. “Don’t remind me.”

She sits up, affronted. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now?”

You shrug half-heartedly. Honestly, you’re still processing.

Cassie narrows her eyes. “Wait. You do actually like Charles, right?”

“As a person, sure. He’s lovely.” You avoid her gaze. “But a date?”

She tilts her head. “So you’ve never thought about him … you know … in that way?”

You squirm under her scrutiny. “Maybe. Once or twice.” Or multiple times a day.

“I knew it!” She crows triumphantly.

You throw another pillow at her, cheeks flaming. “Okay, fine! He’s totally my type and yes, I’ve fantasized.” You bury your face in your hands. “But fantasizing and actually dating are totally different!”

Cassie rubs your shoulder consolingly. “So you’re freaking out because you actually like him.”

You nod miserably. “What if I make a fool of myself? What if there’s no connection in real life?” You look at her despairingly. “I don’t know if I can handle him rejecting me.”

She squeezes your hand. “Sweetie, from what you’ve told me about Charles, I doubt you have anything to worry about.”

You nibble your lip uncertainly. Cassie may have a point. But still.

“Even if he is interested, what happens after?” you whisper. “I’ll just be another conquest.”

Cassie tilts your chin up gently. “If Charles is foolish enough to let you go, then it’s his loss. But you’ll never know if you don’t try.”

You take a deep breath. She’s right. You can do this. It’s just one date.

You spend the rest of the night gossiping and polishing off the wine. Curled under the covers later, you toss and turn fretfully. What will tomorrow bring?

You replay the auction in your mind. Charles’ smooth voice calling out that astronomical bid. His signature smirk as he claimed you as his prize. The feather-light kiss pressed to your knuckles that still tingles hours later.

A date. With Charles Leclerc. Your pulse quickens once more.

What game is he playing at? There’s no shortage of women who would gladly go out with him. So why you?

You toss and turn, mind racing. Does he actually like you? Or was this all an impulsive stunt — a boast to tell his fellow drivers about later?

You groan into your pillow. This is why you never get involved with drivers. Underneath the glitz and glamour lies a tangled web of ego and politics.

Still … when Charles looked at you with those piercing eyes on stage, just for a moment, you let yourself believe he was seeing the real you. Not just another notch on his bedpost.

You huff, punching your pillow in frustration. You’re being ridiculous. This is Charles Leclerc. Motorsport’s resident heartthrob. You would be foolish to expect more from him than a fancy dinner and bragging rights.

Wouldn’t you?

Anxiety gnaws at your gut as the clock continues to tick. What if this is all some elaborate prank or publicity stunt? What if the date goes horribly wrong?

The silver lining is that at least you helped raise money for charity. Maybe the date itself won’t be so bad. Charles seemed pleasant enough backstage ...

Ugh. You force your eyes closed, begging for sleep to take you. What will tomorrow bring? With the morning light comes your date with Charles Leclerc … for better or worse.

***

The next evening, you’re a bundle of nerves as you frantically rush around getting ready. Cassie helped you pick out a stunning new dress and spent ages on your hair and makeup.

“You look hot, babe,” she proclaims. “Knock him dead!”

You pace anxiously, stomach fluttering. This morning you half expected Charles to cancel or send an assistant with excuses. But instead you got a text from him confirming your dinner reservation along with a winking emoji that made your cheeks flame.

It’s really happening. Your fantasy date with Charles Leclerc.

At precisely 7 pm, the doorbell rings. You nearly trip over yourself rushing to answer it. Swinging open the door, you find Charles waiting on the step, looking unfairly gorgeous in a tailored suit.

In his hands is a massive bouquet of peonies. Your favorite flower, though you’ve certainly never told him that. Your eyes widen.

Charles seems momentarily stunned as he takes in your dress and styled hair. He blinks several times before a slow, heart-stopping smile spreads across his face.

“Bonsoir, mon amour. You look absolutely ravishing.”

He presents the flowers with a flourish. “For you.”

You accept them, blushing fiercely. He even brought your favorite flowers? This has to be a dream.

“They’re beautiful, thank you. Let me just put them in water.” You rush to the kitchen, pulse racing. He called you his love. In French!

You take a steadying breath before rejoining Charles outside. He leads you toward a shiny black Ferrari parked at the curb.

“Sorry, I told the Amber Lounge to cancel the car they ordered for you. I wanted to drive myself so we could talk.” He holds open the passenger door for you.

You slide in, hyper-aware of his proximity in the intimate space. The car smells like his spicy cologne. You’re suddenly very thankful for Cassie’s strategic use of double-stick tape.

Charles pulls smoothly into traffic. His hand rests temptingly close to yours on the gearshift.

“You look very beautiful tonight,” he says, glancing your way. “I apologize for staring earlier. I was just … overwhelmed.”

You blush, tucking your hair behind your ear. “It’s okay. You look very handsome yourself.”

He smiles, visibly relaxing. Soon you’re chatting comfortably about work and hobbies. He asks thoughtful questions about your life and cracks jokes that have you laughing until your stomach hurts.

You’re so immersed in conversation, you don’t notice Charles parking until he opens your door, ever the gentleman. He guides you toward an elegant restaurant overlooking the glittering Monaco harbor.

The maître d’ greets Charles enthusiastically. “Monsieur Leclerc! Wonderful to see you again. Right this way to your usual table.”

You raise your eyebrows, impressed, as he leads you to a secluded candlelit table on the balcony. Charles pulls out your chair for you. Such a gentleman.

“You come here often?” You ask teasingly as he takes his own seat.

“Oui, it is my favorite restaurant in the country,” he admits. “The cuisine is magnifique, and the staff keeps things … discreet.”

Interesting. You wonder just how many dates Charles has brought here. For some reason, the thought makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You’re distracted as the waiter brings champagne. Charles turns to you.

“I took the liberty of ordering for us ahead of time, I hope you do not mind. I wanted to surprise you.” His eyes twinkle. “I think you will be pleased.”

You would normally bristle at men ordering for you. But the shy hopefulness in Charles’ eyes melts your reservations.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you say sincerely.

He beams. Soon, a parade of your favorite dishes arrives at the table — seared scallops, truffle gnocchi, crème brûlée. You gasp in delight and surprise.

“Charles, these are all my favorites! How did you know?” You narrow your eyes playfully. “Have you been stalking me?”

Charles laughs, rubbing his neck self-consciously. “No, no, nothing like that. I just … pay attention.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Uh huh. Are you sure you haven’t bugged the Red Bull kitchens?”

Charles winces. “You deserve the truth.” He takes a deep breath. “The fact is, I have, er, admired you for some time now.”

Your eyes widen. What is he saying?

Charles hurries on. “At first it was just a passing attraction. But the more I observed you, the more fascinated I became.” He looks up at you earnestly. “You are kind, funny, brilliant … unlike anyone I have ever met.”

Your pulse thunders in your ears. Charles Leclerc has noticed you — for longer than just last night. You’re reeling.

He fiddles with his napkin. “Over the years I have gradually learned your habits, your likes and dislikes. Little things, like your favorite flower, or food.” He ducks his head. “It allowed me to feel closer to you. Pathetic, I know.”

“It’s not pathetic at all,” you murmur. Your heart swells realizing just how long he’s cared. “It’s incredibly thoughtful.”

His answering smile is radiant. The rest of dinner passes enjoyably as you continue getting to know each other. Underneath Charles’ debonair charm, you find a sweet soul.

You linger over dessert, but eventually Charles pays the check. Back outside, the wind off the sea has picked up. You shiver lightly in your dress.

Charles immediately shrugs off his suit jacket and drapes it around your bare shoulders. The residual warmth from his body envelops you, along with his intoxicating scent.

“Can’t have you catching a cold, chérie.” His hands linger, squeezing your shoulders gently.

You clutch the jacket, suddenly shy. “Thank you, Charles. For everything. I had a wonderful time tonight.”

“The pleasure was all mine.” His eyes are dark, tender. “I have waited so long for this moment. You have made me the happiest man alive tonight.”

Your breath catches at his sincerity. Moving slowly, giving you time to pull away, he reaches up to tuck a windblown lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers trail lightly down your neck, raising goosebumps.

When his hand cups your jaw, you lean into the caress unthinkingly. Your lips part. Charles’ gaze drops to your mouth.

Heart in your throat, you sway closer. Is he finally going to kiss you? You’ve been thinking about it all night. His eyes flutter closed ...

A car horn blares loudly, shattering the moment. You spring apart, chest heaving. Charles clears his throat.

“I, er, suppose I should get you home.” He opens the passenger door for you, hand lingering briefly on the small of your back before he rounds the car.

The drive back passes in charged silence. Walking you to the door, Charles softly strokes your knuckles with his thumb.

“I cannot remember when I have had a more wonderful evening,” he says quietly. “I hope we can do this again soon?”

“I’d really like that.” Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Charles presses a feather-light kiss to your hand. “Bonne nuit, ma belle.”

As he drives away, you press your hands to your burning cheeks. You just had the most perfect first date with Charles Leclerc. A pinch me, I must be dreaming date.

Hugging his suit jacket tighter, you lean against the closed door and sigh happily. Maybe, just maybe, your fantasy is on its way to coming true.

***

The week after your dream date drags by endlessly. You float through your days in a happy daze, replaying every moment in your mind. The suit jacket he gave you lives on the back of your chair, filling your room with his lingering scent.

Before you know it, you’re reunited at the next Grand Prix. You wait awkwardly outside the Ferrari garage, clutching Charles’ jacket. Your excuse is returning it, but really you’re just desperate to see him again.

Does he feel the same? Your stomach twists anxiously.

“Who are you waiting for, bella ragazza?”

You startle as Charles’ performance coach Andrea appears beside you, grinning knowingly.

“Oh, um, just returning this.” You hold up the jacket weakly.

Andrea winks. “Of course. I will let our boy know you are here.”

He heads into the garage and you fidget nervously with your hair. This morning it only took Cassie threatening bodily harm for you to change your outfit five times. You settled on a flattering sundress you know Charles will appreciate before you have to change into a team uniform come time for free practice.

Suddenly Charles comes barreling out of the garage like an overeager golden retriever. His face lights up when he spots you.

“Y/N! I was just coming to find you.”

Before you can react, he sweeps you into a tight hug. You melt against him, breathing in his warmth and familiar cologne. He’s really here, in your arms.

He pulls back just far enough to beam down at you, keeping his hands on your waist. “I missed you, chérie. The days apart were torture.”

You duck your head, smiling shyly. “I missed you too.”

You offer him the folded jacket. “I, um, thought you might want this back.”

Charles tsks, pushing it gently back toward you. “No no, you must keep it. Can’t have you catching cold until our next date, non?”

His eyes sparkle playfully. You hug the jacket to your chest, absurdly giddy at having an excuse to keep it longer.

“Charles! Fred is asking for you.” His race engineer calls out apologetically.

Charles sighs regretfully. “Duty calls. But I will see you later, yes?”

He lifts your hand to his mouth, lips grazing your knuckles feather-light. Your breath catches. Then, so quickly you almost miss it, he swoops in and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, sending lightning zipping across your skin. With a last lingering look, he jogs off.

You press your fingers to your tingling skin, smiling like a loon. Andrea winks knowingly as you float away on cloud nine.

Over the next few hours, you’re bombarded by smug comments and curious questions from fellow Red Bull crew. Apparently your “secret romance” with Charles is the paddock’s gossip of choice today.

You weather the teasing good-naturedly. After all, you’re daydreaming while remembering the sensation of Charles’ lips on your skin.

After FP2 ends, you’re startled from reviewing data by a knock on your office door. You open it to find a delivery man with a truly gigantic flower arrangement.

“Delivery for Y/N Y/L/N?” He consults his clipboard. “Says these are for you personally.”

You gape at the massive vase overflowing with huge, fragrant red peonies. There must be at least four dozen stems.

“Oh, um, that’s me, thanks.” You take the towering arrangement, stunned.

The delivery man chuckles knowingly. “Popular lady. Have a nice day now.”

Shutting the door, you bury your nose in the velvety petals, inhaling deeply. There’s only one person who could have sent these.

The card confirms it.

Thinking of you each and every second, C.

Red peonies are nearly impossible to find, yet Charles managed it.

It’s undeniably a public statement. Sending your favorite flowers in the color of his team for everyone to see. Staking his claim.

Normally such male posturing would irritate you. But from Charles, it feels different. Sweet. Affectionate, even.

You press your face into the blooms again, heart overflowing. Is this what it feels like to be falling for someone? You haven’t felt this giddy in years.

Somehow, you’ve captured the attention of the amazing, thoughtful, romantic Charles Leclerc. And you have a feeling this is only the beginning.

***

“Keep pushing Checo, just a few more laps to go,” you say into the radio as your driver, Sergio Perez, circles the track in final practice.

He’s been struggling with tire degradation all weekend. You’ve made setup tweaks and simulation runs, but there’s only so much data can tell you. The stopwatch never lies.

At least his pace looks improved this session. You watch closely as he enters the home straight again, sparring with the Ferrari of Charles Leclerc for position.

You try not to stare too obviously as the scarlet car glides by. The visor obscures Charles’ handsome features, but your heart still skips a beat.

Get it together, you scold yourself. You’re at work. Ogling drivers mid-session is unprofessional.

Even if said driver happens to be the charming, romantic F1 sensation you’ve somehow found yourself falling for ...

The session ends without incident. You breathe a sigh of relief reviewing Checo’s improved lap times. All things considered, not a bad recovery from yesterday’s struggles.

You pack up your station and make your way back to Red Bull hospitality to grab a late lunch before qualifying. Scrolling your phone, you can’t resist pulling up a photo from your dream date with Charles last week.

God he looks good in a suit. And that adoring smile ...

“No wonder your head’s been in the clouds lately.”

You jump, nearly dropping your phone. Checo appears beside you, leaning over your shoulder with a knowing grin.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mutter, shoving your phone away.

“Oh come on, chica. I’ve seen the way you two stare at each other.” He nudges you playfully. “Like lovesick teenagers.”

You shove him back, rolling your eyes. “As if. Charles and I have barely even spoken.”

A bald-faced lie, but no need to feed the gossip mill further. Checo just studies you for a moment, smile turning knowing. “Ah, so it’s Charles now, is it? No more Leclerc?”

You feel your face heat. Have you been that obvious? “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh come on.” Checo bumps your shoulder playfully. “I saw the way you two were making eyes at each other all morning. Like a pair of lovestruck teenagers.”

You bury your face in your notes, mortified. Has your thing with Charles really been so noticeable?

Checo laughs. “Ah, do not be embarrassed, chica. I think it’s adorable. The race engineer and the driver, a paddock romance!”

You toss a balled up napkin at him in protest, which he dodges easily. “Stop it! There’s nothing going on.”

“Nothing, eh?” Checo’s eyes gleam impishly. “So all those flowers you got yesterday were just for fun? And I imagined you swooning over Leclerc in the garage?”

You flush even harder. Apparently you have not been as subtle as you thought.

Checo slings an arm around your shoulder. “Relax, hermanita. I am just teasing because I care.”

You lean into him, some of the tension easing.

“You know I just want you to be happy, right chica?” His expression grows serious. “Leclerc seems like a good guy. Just be careful with your heart.”

You nod, touched by his concern. “Of course. We’ve only been on two dates.” You hesitate. “But … I really like him. He’s so different than I expected.”

Checo smiles gently. “I am happy for you, truly. You deserve an amazing man.”

You grin. “Thanks, Checo.”

His smile turns impish again. “Just promise me one thing.”

You raise an eyebrow warily. “What?”

“No spilling Red Bull secrets to your new Ferrari boyfriend, eh?” He waggles his eyebrows. “I know he is muy guapo, but business is business!”

“Oh my god, stop! I would never.”

“Please. The heart eyes between you are obvious. Not that I blame you ...” He leans in conspiratorially. “Leclerc is quite the smooth talker, no?”

You lightly smack his shoulder, cheeks reddening. “Stop it. We’re just friends.”

“Mmhmm. Keep telling yourself that.”

He slings an arm around your shoulder. “Just remember your duties if you get distracted mooning over pretty Ferrari boys, yes?”

You make a face at him. “Gross. As if I’d shirk my responsibilities over some silly crush.”

Even if said crush is on Charles freaking Leclerc. You do have some professionalism.

Checo just grins knowingly as you reach the counter. He grabs a plate of food and you follow suit. Settling at a table together, he fixes you with a brotherly stare.

“In all seriousness though chica, be careful with your heart. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You soften. Underneath his joking exterior, Checo is very protective of you. He’s like the big brother you never had.

“I will, I promise. Charles has been very respectful so far. We’re taking things slow.”

“Good.” Checo pats your hand. “No one is allowed to break your heart and get away with it. Even the Prince of Monaco himself,” he adds with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but smile, leaning against his sturdy frame. “I’ll sic you on him if he steps out of line, don’t worry.”

Checo laughs. “Please do. I have always wanted an excuse to wipe that smug grin off Leclerc’s face.” His smile softens. “But truly, I hope he continues to make you happy, hermanita.”

“Thanks Checo.” You squeeze him tight, overcome with emotion. “Love you.”

“Love you too.” He ruffles your hair fondly, ignoring your cries of protest. “And if Leclerc breaks your heart, I’ll break his legs, eh?”

You laugh. “I’ll remind him of that.” You check the time. “We should head back soon.”

You both bus your plates. As you exit, Checo slings an arm around your shoulders again.

“You’ve got this chica. Just remember, the heart wants what it wants. Even if it seems loco to the rest of us.”

You lean into him gratefully. “Thanks Checo. Seriously.”

He grins down at you. “Anytime. Now let’s go smash qualifying!”

You shake your head, smiling to yourself as you return to your data analysis. As annoying as Checo’s teasing is, it’s also kind of sweet how much he cares.

You know if anyone steps out of line and hurts you, Checo will come after them in a heartbeat. But something tells you that you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Charles.

Still … you appreciate Checo looking out for you. With everyone in your corner, you feel like for once, things in your love life might actually go right.

***

Qualifying flies by in a blur of adrenaline and data analysis. In the end, Max takes pole for Red Bull, with Charles slotting into P2 for Ferrari and Checo P3. A good starting position for both your drivers.

You’re on a high as you leave the garage after the debrief that evening. The sky is dusky purple, the paddock slowly emptying out. You hum to yourself, thinking of celebrating with Cassie over FaceTime later.

Rounding a corner toward the Red Bull hotel, you’re suddenly grabbed from behind and yanked into a shadowy alleyway. Heart leaping into your throat, you open your mouth to scream-

“Shhh, it’s me!” A familiar voice hisses as a hand clamps over your mouth.

You whirl around to find Charles pressed against you, eyes glinting in the shadows. Adrenaline pounds through you.

“Jesus, you scared me half to death!” You smack his chest, pulse racing. “I thought I was being kidnapped.”

“I’m sorry, chérie.” Charles grins, utterly unrepentant. “I could not resist surprising you when I saw you walking by.”

“So you grabbed me and dragged me into a dark alley? Real romantic.” You try to look stern, but can’t quite manage it. He’s just too charming.

Charles’ smile turns sheepish. “My apologies. I did not think it through properly.” His thumb strokes over your bottom lip softly. “I suppose I was … overzealous. I could not stop thinking about you all day.”

Your breath catches at the tender look in his eyes. He sways closer, backing you up against the alley wall.

“Truthfully, I just needed to do this ...”

His lips descend on yours, firm and seeking. For one stunned moment you freeze up — before kissing him back ardently, lost in bliss. His hands thread through your hair, angling you closer as he deepens the kiss.

It’s perfect.

After endless moments, you reluctantly part, gasping for air. Charles rests his forehead against yours, eyes dark.

“I have wanted to do that since our first date,” he confesses, trailing feather-light kisses across your jaw.

You clutch his shoulders, dizzy with euphoria. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about kissing you.”

He smiles against your skin, nipping your neck playfully. “Oh, I think I do, ma belle. Why do you think I bid on you at that auction?”

You still can’t believe your dream man wanted you just as much as you wanted him. It seems too good to be true.

Charles nuzzles your cheek tenderly. “I must be the luckiest man alive to have caught your attention.”

Heart overflowing, you draw him down into another dizzying kiss. Charles groans, crushing you closer. It feels like coming home, being in his arms. Like this is where you were always meant to be.

The distant sound of teams making their way out of the paddock finally breaks you apart. Charles caresses your face wistfully.

“I should let you get back. You need your rest before the race tomorrow and so do I.” He hesitates, looking shy. “Perhaps we could … get dinner afterwards? To celebrate?”

Your lips curve in a teasing smile. “Are you asking me on a second date, Mr. Leclerc?”

Pink stains his sharp cheekbones. “I suppose I am, Miss Y/L/N. If you would do me the honor?”

You tap your chin playfully. “Hmm. I suppose I could clear my schedule for you.”

His answering smile is radiant. On impulse, you grab his collar and pull him down into one last hungry kiss.

“Good luck tomorrow,” you whisper against his lips. “Not that you’ll need it. Don’t tell Max or Checo I said this, but you’re the most talented driver out there.”

Charles looks endearingly dazed as you gently extricate yourself from his arms. With a flirty wave, you sashay out of the alley on shaky legs, mind spinning.

Pausing at the end, you glance back to see Charles leaning against the wall, gazing after you with pure adoration. He presses two fingers to his grinning lips that still tingle from your kiss.

You blow him one last discreet kiss before continuing on your way. Wait until Cassie hears about this!

***

Race day dawns sunny and clear — perfect conditions. In the Red Bull garage, you help Checo run through final preparations, tweaking setup and chatting strategy.

“Alright, the car is dialed in and ready to fly,” you tell him confidently.

Checo grins. “Perfecto. We will beat your boyfriend today, no?” He winks.

You roll your eyes, fighting a blush. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sure, chica.” Checo ruffles your hair before heading to the grid.

It’s a chaotic blur of adrenaline and split-second decisions as you guide Checo through the field. In the end, Max takes the win for Red Bull, with Charles clinching P2 for Ferrari and Checo rounding out the podium in P3.

You rush to congratulate the drivers after, giving Checo a warm hug. “Great drive out there! The tire management really made a difference.”

He smiles. “But not enough to beat our rivals today, eh?” His gaze slides behind you.

You turn to see Charles approaching, fresh from the podium. His race suit is unzipped to the waist, hair adorably mussed. Your mouth goes dry.

Checo smirks knowingly. “I will leave you two alone. See you at the debrief.” He saunters off with a wink.

Charles beams, pulling you into a quick hug. “Congratulations. Your strategy was brilliant today.”

You grin. “Thanks, you did amazing too.” Your face heats realizing people nearby are staring and whispering.

Charles doesn’t seem to care, keeping your hand tucked in his. “I will wait for you outside the motorhome? Then perhaps we could celebrate ...” His smile turns hopeful.

You squeeze his hand, heart skipping. “Can’t wait.”

The debrief drags by endlessly. Finally you escape the garage into the late afternoon sunlight. True to his word, Charles is waiting, freshly showered and devastatingly handsome in a button-down and slacks.

“Y/N!” In two long strides he’s sweeping you into his arms and kissing you ardently, uncaring of the crowd of mechanics around you.

Catcalls and whistles break out. You blush fiercely as Charles sets you down, lacing your fingers together.

“Get it Leclerc!” One of his mechanics yells, making lewd gestures. Charles just flips him off casually, keeping his eyes on you.

“Shall we?”

You nod, face still burning. As Charles leads you away, your Red Bull colleagues join the teasing.

“Don’t wait up tonight boys!” One calls, making kissy noises.

“She’s ditching us for the red guys now!”

“Just don’t go spilling all our secrets, Y/N!”

You hide your face against Charles’ shoulder. He chuckles, wrapping a protective arm around you.

“Pay them no mind, ma belle,” he murmurs against your hair. “They are just jealous I get to spend the evening with the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You sigh happily, cuddling closer as you leave the paddock. The teasing means well — it’s their way of saying they approve. And nothing can dampen your euphoria at being with Charles again.

At the parking lot, a shiny red Ferrari awaits. Charles opens the door for you with a gallant bow before rounding the car and sliding in.

“So, where are we going?” You ask excitedly as Charles peels out onto the road. “Or do I not get to know the secret location?”

He glances at you sidelong, eyes glinting mischievously. “You will see. Let’s just say I … pulled some strings to arrange the perfect second date for us.”

You pout playfully. “Not even a little hint?”

Charles pretends to zip his lips. “Non, it is a surprise, ma petite.” His hand finds yours, thumb grazing over your knuckles. “But I think you will appreciate the … atmosphere I have created.”

The promise in his voice sends delicious shivers down your spine. You pass the drive chatting comfortably, exchanging soft, smiling glances.

After half an hour, Charles pulls up to a beautiful chateau perched on a vineyard-spotted hillside. You gasp as he escorts you inside the charming stone lodge.

“Charles, this is amazing! How did you arrange this on such short notice?”

He smiles, pleased by your reaction. “I may have called in a favor from the owners, who are family friends. We have the whole place to ourselves tonight.” His eyes smolder.

You wander the chateau in a happy daze as Charles gives you a private tour. He’s thought of everything — flowers, candles, and even champagne chilling by the roaring fireplace.

Dinner is sumptuous, featuring all your favorite dishes paired expertly with rich wines from the vineyard. Charles is attentive as always, hanging on your every word.

Afterwards you cuddle together on the sofa, pleasantly tipsy, exchanging lazy kisses as you take in the spectacular starry view through the expansive windows.

Charles nuzzles into your neck, lips grazing your hammering pulse point. “Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?”

You shiver pleasurably. “I could stand to hear it again.”

He smiles against your skin. “You, mon amour, are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” His voice drops an octave. “And it is taking every ounce of my self control not to tear that dress off you this instant.”

Heat coils in your core at the unspoken promise in his words. Your fingers curl into his hair, guiding his lips back to yours. The kiss quickly grows heated, urgent.

With obvious effort, Charles forces himself to pull back, eyes blazing. “As much as I want you, we should take this slow. I want our first time to be special.” He strokes your cheek tenderly. “You deserve to be properly worshiped.”

Your heart swells at his care for you. You really hit the jackpot with this incredible man.

Cuddling against his chest, you look up at him adoringly. “You are … amazing"

Charles’ smile is soft, sincere. “I am only that way because you inspire me to be the best version of myself.” He kisses you sweetly. “I am the luckiest man in the world to have found you.”

You’ve never felt so cared for — so intensely adored. Here in Charles’ arms is exactly where you’re meant to be.

***

One Year Later

Strolling hand in hand with Charles along the Monaco harbor, you’ve never been happier. The sun glints off the water as he brushing featherlight kisses to your knuckles, making you giggle.

Charles lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to your palm as you walk. “What are you thinking about, ma belle?”

You smile up at him. “Just reminiscing about everything that’s happened since you swept me off my feet.”

His eyes soften. “The best year of my life. I fall more in love with you every day.”

Heart full, you tug him down into a sweet kiss. Charles hums happily against your lips.

“Well isn’t this cozy!” An approaching voice interrupts. You pull apart to see Lucy, the Amber Lounge organizer who convinced you to participate in the auction last year, beaming at you both.

“Lucy! Hi.” You accept her enthusiastic hug.

“Don’t you two make the cutest couple?” She winks conspiratorially. “I always knew there was a spark between you.”

You laugh, lacing your fingers through Charles’ once more. His answering smile is radiant.

“I’m so thrilled it worked out.” Lucy glances between you eagerly. “So, given it’s almost that time of year again … any chance you lovebirds would let us auction you off once more? Think of the publicity!”

You tense, old anxieties rising. But before you can respond, Charles’ grip on your hand tightens.

“Actually, I have a better idea.” His voice is lethally pleasant. “How about I simply drop off a cheque for an 100,000 euro donation, and you leave my girlfriend alone?”

A frisson of heat shoots through you at his possessive tone. Charles rubs his thumb over your knuckles soothingly, holding your gazes, before fixing Lucy with a warning look.

“We will of course still attend the gala to show support. But the auction is off limits. Understood?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Lucy gulps. “Y-Yes, of course. My apologies if I overstepped.” She nods at you both. “Have a lovely evening!”

With that she scurries back inside the Amber Lounge.

“Good day to you.” With that, he guides you away down the street, tension radiating from him.

You glance at him in concern once you’re out of earshot. “Are you okay?”

Charles drags a hand through his hair. “Yes, I just … the thought of them putting you on display again ...” He shudders.

Your heart melts realizing why he got so defensive. You halt, turning Charles gently to face you.

“That was very macho and possessive of you back there,” you murmur, walking your fingers up his chest.

Charles winces. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to be so overbearing-”

You silence him with a finger to his lips. “Let me finish. I said it was macho and possessive.” You lean up to purr in his ear. “And so. Freaking. Hot.”

Charles’ eyes widen. Grinning, you shove him back against the brick wall and kiss him fiercely. He grunts in surprise before responding in kind, nipping your bottom lip.

“If I had known getting possessive would get this reaction, I would have done it ages ago,” he gasps out between kisses.

You silenced his laughter with your mouth, desire burning through you. The raw protectiveness Charles showed took your breath away. You’ve never felt so safe, so cared for.

Finally you break apart and Charles pulls you firmly against his chest. “I love you,” he breathes against your hair. “More than I can ever express.”

“I love you too.” You can feel the beating of his heart beneath your ear. “Now take me home and show me just how much you missed me this morning.”

Charles’ eyes darken. With a roguish grin he sweeps you into his arms, making you shriek. Laughing joyfully, he carries you down the street toward your shared apartment.

If the rest of your life together is even half as magical as this past year with Charles, you’ll die a happy woman.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

3. protectively watchful (restaurant owner!harry x chef!reader)

(part 1 here) | (part 2 here)

summary: you take up on the mantorship offer, but it creates more tensions and turmoil within you than were before. an incident in the kitchen makes harry go into protective mode, and you can't help but get turned on by this man more and more.

words: 4.8k

warnings: sexual tension (like A LOT), inappropriate behaviour, protective!harry.

***

"You wanted to see me, Chef?"

You gave a light knock on the open door of Harry's office, trying to sound polite and professional. It had been a few weeks since you had that talk with Harry about keeping things strictly business between you two. During that time, he had been a perfect mentor - giving you advice and guidance without any flirting or suggestive comments.

His coaching had really helped improve your cooking skills as you soaked up all his knowledge and experience. You were grateful to have a normal working relationship again, focused solely on culinary training. And yet...you couldn't ignore the faint lingering tension between you, that subtle underlying charge.

Harry looked up from the notebooks on his desk, his eyes crinkling in a warm smile when he saw you. "Ah, there you are. Come on in, have a seat."

You sat down in one of the chairs across from him as Harry neatened up the loose papers into a stack. Up close, you couldn't help noticing how well-fitted his black button-down shirt was, or how his tousled hair looked very touchable.  

Firmly reminding yourself this was just a professional meeting, you averted your eyes politely until Harry cleared his throat.

"So as you know, the big Martin gala fundraiser is coming up in a few weeks," he began, shuffling through some folders. "It's one of the biggest events of the year for underprivileged culinary education programs. I'll be preparing the featured dish for their live auction, and I'd love for you to assist me on it."

Your eyes went wide with surprise at this prestigious opportunity. The Martin gala was a hugely famous event in Chicago's culinary scene, attracting all the wealthiest and most notable diners. For an up-and-coming chef to collaborate on the centerpiece dish was an amazing honor and chance to get exposure.

"Wow, yes of course!" you replied enthusiastically. "I would be absolutely honored, Chef. Thank you for this incredible opportunity."  

Harry's dimples deepened as he smiled approvingly. "Don't thank me yet. We'll be under a huge spotlight to deliver an amazing showstopper dish. I expect you to rise to the challenge."

You quickly nodded. "You can count on me to give it my absolute best effort. I'm ready to do whatever work is needed."

"Excellent," Harry said in a slightly lower, huskier tone. "That's exactly what I like to hear."  

For a moment, his voice had a heated quality that hinted at other situations where your eagerness might be welcome. You ignored the shiver it sent through you, reminding yourself this was strictly business now between you two.

Harry seemed to realize he was skirting the line, as he abruptly straightened up and all hints of flirtation disappeared as he switched fully into mentor mode. "Right, well let me walk you through my basic vision so far..."

You leaned forward attentively as he outlined preliminary ideas for a highly ambitious and avant-garde dish blending molecular gastronomy techniques with classic French cuisine fundamentals. It was wildly cutting-edge, even for a showpiece event like the Martin gala. But the more details Harry provided, the more that same thrill of adrenaline rushed through you whenever presented with a new culinary challenge to conquer.

For the next hour, the two of you bounced ideas back and forth in that unique creative flow state that chefs share. Harry's presence was magnetic, but you refused to get distracted by more physical aspects - like the stretch of his biceps against his crisp sleeves, the hint of toned abs beneath his open collar, or the raspy timbre of his voice dipping into that lower register as he passionately discussed certain techniques.  

And oh, his damn tattoos.

No, you sternly told yourself as the conversation began wrapping up. Those days of getting flustered around him were over. Harry had made it clear where you stood, and you fully accepted those boundaries. Anything else was just self-torture.

"...but of course, those are just preliminary thoughts," Harry was saying as he collected the scattered folders into a neat pile. "We'll have plenty of time to refine the details over the next couple weeks."  

You nodded, filing away the mental notes you'd taken during the discussion. "Absolutely, Chef. Just let me know whatever you need for prep or testing different ideas to get a head start."

"Will do." With an air of finality, Harry gathered up the pile and rose from his seat. You quickly stood up as well, not wanting him to loom over you in the enclosed space. For a beat, you both hovered awkwardly, the air seeming to thicken between you.  

"Well then," Harry said, making no move to step past you towards the door. "I'd say this calls for a drink to celebrate our new collaboration, wouldn't you agree?"

Before you could reply, he turned and went to a small antique cabinet tucked in an alcove you hadn't noticed before. With a practiced hand, Harry selected a heavy glass decanter and two tumblers, placing them on the cabinet and expertly twisting off the stopper.

"Let's go with Lagavulin," he mused aloud, carefully pouring two generous glasses of the amber scotch whisky. "A good Scottish whisky seems appropriate for the occasion."  

"I really shouldn't, Chef," you said reflexively, already picturing your lightweight self getting sloppy and unprofessional after even a single drink.

But Harry just chuckled softly. "Loosen up a little. It's a celebration, after all."

He emphasized this by bringing one of the heavy tumblers over and pressing the cool glass into your hand. You frowned down at the coppery liquid, worrying your lower lip uncertainly. But before you could protest further, Harry gently clinked his glass against yours in a silent toast before taking a sizable sip.

The whisky's smoky, peaty aroma seemed to wrap around you intimately. Despite your hesitation, you couldn't help giving an appreciative inhale before taking a small, tentative sip yourself. Bold, layered flavors of vanilla, caramel, and charred oak underscored by an earthy smokiness burst over your tongue. You let out a soft sigh of indulgent pleasure at the decadent taste.

"Good, isn't it?" Harry's gravelly voice made you start slightly. He was watching you with amusement, whisky glass dangling casually from those large, handsome fingers. "It really hits you in the back of the throat, makes you slow down and savor it fully."

You suddenly realized the suggestive implication behind his phrasing and felt a flush of heat bloom across your face and chest. Harry watched the play of emotions flickering over your features with relish before taking another indulgent sip. This time, you noticed the way his full lips pursed delicately to drink, the tiny furrow of concentration between his brows as he savored the flavor before swallowing.

Unconsciously, your eyes tracked the mesmerizing flex of his throat as he swallowed, the hint of stubble grazing along his chiseled jawline. A twinge low in your abdomen accompanied the thought of feeling that scratchy burn of beard between your thighs, that talented mouth working magic elsewhere on your body.

Mortified, you shut down that wayward trail of thought through sheer willpower. Your cheeks grew even hotter as you realized Harry had caught you staring, his own gaze darkly amused.  

"Easy there," he murmured huskily, stepping a bit deeper into your personal space. "This dish is a marathon, not a sprint. Best to learn to savor every indulgent morsel along the way."

With a pointed look and arched brow, Harry raised his whisky to those plump lips once more, holding your gaze as he placed the rim against that full lower lip and let out an obscenely gratifying groan of pure delight.

Moments after, the tension had subsided, but the flush and blush that had creeped up your cheeks wasn’t going away anytime soon–you were sure of that.

***

You tried to push aside the lingering thoughts about the “Celebration” that were now implaed into your mind, and the way tiny droplets of the drink remained on his lips till he licked them off with his tongue–

You wanted that tongue to be yours.

Shaking your head, you focused on prepping the ingredients for the evening service. The dinner rush would be starting soon and you needed to have everything ready. As you worked, you were vaguely aware of the dining room filling up with patrons being seated. The sounds and aromas of the bustling kitchen surrounded you in a familiar, comforting way.

You were so engrossed in your tasks that you didn't notice the man approach until he cleared his throat loudly. Looking up, you saw a smartly-dressed diner smiling at you in a way that made you instinctively uncomfortable.

"Well, hello there," he said in a syrupy tone. "I was just admiring the delicious-looking fare over here." He raked an obvious look up and down your body. "The menu selections have my mouth watering already."

You stiffened, recognizing the overly familiar leer. This wasn't the first time you'd dealt with an obnoxious patron hitting on you. Keeping your expression neutral, you replied in a polite but firm tone. "I'm afraid you'll need to return to the dining room, sir. The kitchen is off-limits to guests."

Rather than taking the hint, the man leaned nonchalantly against your prep station. "Don't be like that, sweetheart. I was just hoping you could suggest something...special for me to sample tonight." He punctuated this with an exaggerated wink.

Suppressing a grimace, you turned away to continue your work, hoping he would give up and leave. No such luck. The lech sidled closer until he was nearly pressed against you. "What do you say? I'd love for a tasty little thing like you to--" 

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the kitchen area immediately." Harry's firm baritone cut across the man's words like a whip crack.  

You looked up in relief to see your boss standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched as he glared at the offending patron. Even from several feet away, you could sense the potent force of his displeasure rolling off him in waves.

The diner seemed to shrink slightly under Harry's censorious scowl. "Oh, uh, my apologies. I was just trying to get some personal recommendations--"

"The kitchen is off-limits and you're making my staff uncomfortable," Harry interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. "I won't ask again. Return to your table or you'll be asked to leave the premises."

Looking sufficiently cowed, the lech swiftly retreated with some mumbled apologies. You exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the anxiety brought on by the unpleasant encounter. Harry stepped closer, his expression softening as he looked you over with concern.

"You okay? That asshole didn't go too far, did he?"

You managed a faint smile, oddly touched by the protective edge in his voice. "I'm fine, Chef. Just another boorish customer thinking the uniform is a dinner invitation."  

His jaw tightened again as he scowled in the direction the man had gone. "That type of behavior is completely unacceptable. You let me know right away if anyone hassles you like that again, understand?"

Nodding, you found yourself blinking rapidly against the unexpected prickle of grateful tears at having Harry firmly in your corner, despite the complicated dynamics between you lately.  

For a long moment, he watched you carefully as if gauging your equilibrium. Then Harry surprised you by reaching out and briefly squeezing your shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The warmth of his large hand seeped through your uniform, leaving a tingly imprint even after he pulled away.

"I've got your back, [Y/N]. You focus on doing your job and let me deal with any assholes who get out of line."

The gruff tenderness in his words made your heart do a traitorous little flip in your chest. You nodded again, not trusting your voice enough to respond properly.

With one final pointed look, Harry turned and headed back out to his front-of-house duties.  As you watched his broad-shouldered form disappear through the swinging doors of the kitchen, you felt a complicated tangle of gratitude, protectiveness, affection...and yes, a lingering undercurrent of attraction that you couldn't seem to fully extinguish despite your best efforts.

You spent the rest of the dinner service determinedly pushing aside any lingering thoughts about Harry or the earlier incident. Focusing fully on your work was the only way to get through these confusing emotions that had you all over the place..

The rhythm of prepping, plating, and coordinating with the other line cooks settled into a familiar, reassuring routine. The constant flurry of chopping, sautéing, and barked orders provided a sort of meditative escape from your muddled headspace.

By the time the last diner had been served and the kitchen was winding down for the night, you felt pleasantly drained in that satisfying way that comes from a job well done. As you began breaking down your station for cleaning, Harry emerged from his office looking satisfied.

"Excellent work tonight, everyone," he called out in that effortlessly commanding tone. "Front-of-house said the new salmon dish was a huge hit. We'll definitely want to keep that one on the seasonal menu." 

A chorus of tired but pleased murmurs went around the kitchen at the praise. Harry's eyes found yours amidst the small crowd, holding your gaze a beat longer than strictly necessary before moving on to the other cooks. You tried not to read too much into it.

With the nightly pep talk concluded, Harry rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white chef's coat, joining everyone in the evening breakdown and cleaning duties. You watched surreptitiously as he expertly broke down one of the grill stations, muscles in his broad forearms flexing enticingly with each efficient movement.  

Get a grip, you scolded yourself, quickly refocusing on scrubbing down your own prep area. This was exactly the kind of distracted, unprofessional behavior you were trying to avoid lately around Harry.

Despite your best efforts, however, you couldn't fully ignore him moving about the kitchen, checking in with each station to oversee their sanitation. At one point, he paused to examine some utensils that hadn't been properly cleaned, tsking in displeasure before batting them aside to be re-scrubbed.  

"That's never going to meet inspection," he chided the sheepish-looking young line cook in his trademark gruff tone. "Do it again, and do it properly this time. We're not running a greasy spoon here."  

As much as his uncompromising attitude could be intimidating, you also found it oddly...thrilling to witness Harry taking charge so authoritatively. Not to mention the visual of those powerful hands deftly at work was sending your thoughts in an unprofessional direction yet again.

Sternly redirecting your focus, you turned your back to give the area behind the grill station a thorough scrubbing. You were so engrossed that you nearly jumped out of your skin when Harry's low voice sounded directly in your ear.

"Everything looking good over here?" 

You whirled around to find him looming directly behind you, near enough that you could smell the spicy notes of his subtle cologne mingling with the lingering kitchen aromas clinging to him. Up this close, you couldn't help noticing how the top buttons of his coat had come undone at some point, offering a teasing glimpse of the toned chest beneath.

Trying not to stare, you quickly averted your eyes as you nodded. "Y-yes, Chef. All clean on this side."

"Hmm." His assessing gaze slowly raked over your work before returning to your flushed face. The tiniest of smirks played about his lips as if he could read the direction of your thoughts.  

"Well, then. Carry on," was all he said before turning and strolling unhurriedly back towards his office, burgundy cargo pants slung enticingly low on those lean hips.

You let out a shaky breath, mentally cursing how easily flustered you still became around this man, no matter how much you tried to enforce boundaries. Resolutely, you refocused on finishing your cleaning tasks, determined to get out of there before any more distracted lapses in professionalism.

By the time the kitchen had been scoured from top to bottom, you were one of the last few staffers remaining. Wearily peeling off your apron, you were just reaching for your bag when Harry reappeared, looking unhurried and relaxed now that the nightly duties were done.

"Heading out?" he asked as you approached, one thick eyebrow raised questioningly.

You stifled a yawn with the back of your hand. "Yeah, I'm beat. Gonna try and get some extra sleep before the morning prep shift tomorrow."

He made a noncommittal sound, falling into step beside you as you headed for the employee exit out back. For a few moments, you walked in silence, oddly aware of the warmth radiating off his body this close to yours.

When he finally spoke, it wasn't at all what you expected. "You did good with that asshole customer earlier."

Your steps faltered slightly at the praise before quickly recovering. "Oh...uh, thanks, Chef. You really didn't need to step in like that."

"The hell I didn't," he countered gruffly. There was an edge to his tone that made the tiny hairs at your nape prickle. "No one treats my staff like piece of meat, especially not in my own goddamn kitchen."

Harry shook his head in disgust at the very idea, causing a lock of mahogany hair to fall rakishly across his furrowed brow in a way that really shouldn't have been as distracting as it was.

Swallowing hard, you refocused on the matter at hand. "I've dealt with guys like that before. Just comes with the territory sometimes, y'know?"

"That doesn't make it acceptable," he insisted, mouth setting into a grim line. You found yourself unable to look away from the sharp angles of his frowning profile, chiseled jaw ticking faintly with irritation, that he tried to mask.

He fixed you with those intense pale eyes, all traces of humor gone. "No one - and I mean no one - gets to treat any of you with disrespect while I'm in charge around here. I won't stand for that shit under my roof."

The ferocity in his tone sent an involuntary shiver rippling through you, though from wariness or...something else entirely, you couldn't say. All you knew was the low, authoritative resonance of Harry's voice carried an unmistakable air of command that raised goosebumps along your arms.

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact you were walking in such close proximity out of public view. Or hell, maybe it was just the sheer presence of this man who could flip between stern taskmaster and something rawer, more carnal in the blink of an eye.

Whatever it was, you felt that subtle spark between you ignite and suddenly, you desperately needed to be alone to process the yearning that flickered to life low in your belly. Before you could consider the impulse further, you were blurting out the first excuse that came to mind.

"Well, thanks again for that. And for the whole mentorship thing too. I, uh...I actually have some errands to run, so I'll just catch you tomorrow morning, 'kay?" 

You didn't even give Harry a chance to respond before ducking through the exit, muscles taut with confused tension. As the cool night enveloped you, you drew a deep, shuddering breath in an effort to steady yourself.

Whatever weird atmospheric flux had momentarily enveloped you back there was too dangerous, too distracting from the tenuous balance you and Harry had only just reestablished. No, it was better to put some space between you before things got muddied again.

With a fierceness born of sheer force of will, you wrestled your turbulent, wandering thoughts back under control. You were a professional, with goals to work towards. Getting pulled into Harry's electrifying orbit again would only derail you.

Still, as you hurried to your car, his shape-shifting countenance kept flashing unbidden across your memory - the dazzling smile, the brooding intensity, the simmering promise of authority barely restrained. All of it provided an infuriatingly potent combination that had your body humming with repressed longing despite yourself.

This was going to take more effort than you'd anticipated.

***

The next couple of weeks passed in a blur of grueling practice runs and preparation for the Martin gala. You and Harry spent nearly every waking hour in the kitchen, iterating endlessly on his showpiece dish concept.

With the prestigious event date rapidly approaching, any lingering awkwardness or tension between you had been shifted firmly into the background. The shared urgency of perfecting this culinary masterpiece became an all-consuming focus that left little room for anything else.

Still, that didn't stop you from noticing...things.

Like how the sleeves of Harry's whites had an endearing tendency to get shoved up his forearms in a way that displayed those tanned, sinewy muscles to distracting effect as he worked. You definitely didn't linger over the sight of his strong hands deftly wielding a knife, making precise, practiced cuts. And you absolutely did not imagine those dexterous fingers trailing across your skin instead of the cutting board.  

At least, that's what you sternly told yourself in an ongoing effort to maintain focus.

For his part, Harry was all business during these preparation sessions - issuing clipped instructions, evaluating ingredients with a critical eye, pushing both of you relentlessly to get every component just right. Only rarely did you catch hints of something more underneath that professional veneer.

Like the time you were bent over a burner, carefully spooning out the orbs of flavored olive oil onto the waiting plate. Harry stepped up behind you to examine your work, the warmth of his body radiating against your back. As he leaned in closer to inspect the delicate orbs, his low murmur caressed the fine hairs at your nape in a way that made you shiver.

"That's it...go nice and slow with a deft touch," he rumbled in that raspy timbre that never failed to send tingles shooting straight to your core.

Heart pounding, you risked a sidelong glance to find his pale eyes already locked on yours, glittering with an intensity that contrasted sharply with his deceptively neutral expression. A charged moment stretched between you as that underlying spark you'd been determinedly ignoring flared, sudden and molten. 

Just when you thought you might spontaneously combust, Harry blinked and cleared his throat brusquely. "Carry on, then," he instructed in his normal crisp tone before turning away to focus on another component. 

You stood motionless for several heartbeats, fingers clenched around the spoon, skin flushed and tingling in equal measures of arousal and disbelief. Did that really just happen or had the endless hours in the kitchen started affecting your mind?

Too skittish to ponder it further, you dove back into your tasks with even more single-minded focus, the uneasy moment shelved and locked away tight. No matter what fleeting tension arose in isolated pockets, you couldn't afford to unpack it right now - not with the enormity of what was at stake.

The days ticked down in a relentless march until finally, you and Harry stood in the solitude of his spartan office the night before the big event, taking a breather from your marathon final prep session.

An ungodly number of mise en place containers filled every available surface, each holding fussed-over components of the highly elaborate and conceptual dish that would make its debut tomorrow. Harry had pushed you both to your physical and creative limits, drilling the execution repeatedly until he was satisfied you could plate it flawlessly under the anticipated scrutiny.

Now, having quality-checked and prepped every last possible element, there was nothing further to do except rest up and bring your sharpest mental game tomorrow. Harry seemed to deflate slightly as the backdrop of mounting pressure decreased for the first time in weeks.

Propping his hip against the desk with studied nonchalance, he quirked one eyebrow in a sidelong glance. "You ready for this?"

Despite your weariness, you felt that familiar thrill of adrenaline stir at those simple words - as well as a contradictory quiver of nerves. This event was a make-or-break opportunity of the highest magnitude, especially for someone like you just starting out. Either you nailed your responsibilities tomorrow, or it all came crashing down in front of Chicago's most elite gourmands.

Shoving aside the sudden flutters of doubt, you met Harry's inscrutable gaze head-on, straightening your spine. "You know I am. We've put in the work, and this dish is gonna blow them all away."

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his sculpted mouth as he studied you appraisingly. "That's what I like to hear. Just remember - all the technique practice in the world won't mean a thing if you panic out there."

The subtle warning made you bristle defensively, never one to back down from a challenge. "I'm not going to panic," you scoffed. "I eat massive amounts of public pressure like this for breakfast."

Harry's eyes danced with amusement, and not for the first time, it struck you how effortlessly he could switch between imposing and playful. "Is that so?" he drawled easily. "In that case, would you care to make things a bit more interesting?"

Before you could respond, Harry kicked off from the desk in one sinuous motion to prowl closer. Despite your weariness, you felt your heart rate kick up several notches as he invaded your personal space, long body coiled with a loose, predatory grace.

"Let's say we raise the stakes a little," he proposed in a tone of studied nonchalance that was completely belied by the heated glint in his eyes boring into yours. "If you can prove you've got the chops to keep a cool head under fire tomorrow, I'll take you out afterwards to celebrate. Just you and me, anywhere you want to go."

Your mouth went instantly dry at the implications behind his offer. Were those...the unmistakable undertones of flirtation coloring his invitation? After the weeks of him keeping things strictly professional between you, the sudden shift was dizzying - and left you dangerously intrigued.

"And what if I choke?" you heard yourself countering recklessly before you could reconsider. "What do you get out of it then?"

His answering smile was pure blistering sin. "Oh, sweetheart. If that happens...I get to take you out too - but somewhere a bit more private."

Harry paused to let the suggestive proposition linger, backing it up with a slow, heated raking of his pale eyes over your body that left zero doubt as to his implication. Heat bloomed furiously across your cheeks as forbidden images flooded your mind unbidden - flashes of tangled limbs, straining muscle, sweaty exertion of a far different sort...

Then, just like that, the provoking spell was broken. Rocking back on his heels, Harry shrugged one broad shoulder in an easy, dismissive gesture. "But that's not going to happen, is it? You've got all the skills, you've put in the time - no reason to buckle tomorrow."

He threw one final weighted glance in your direction before pivoting on his heel towards the door. "Get some rest. I'll see you at the venue early to do our final walkthrough before we get this show on the road."

And with that parting comment, Harry strode casually out, leaving you rooted there in dumbfounded silence. What the hell had just happened? One moment, you'd merely been steeling yourselves for tomorrow's high stakes challenge - and then suddenly he was issuing some bizarrely flirtatious...proposition.

Or was that really what it was? As you stood there chasing replays of his words, his tone, his body language - the whole previous interaction kept taking on a slinkier, more salacious cast. Like maybe your presence of mind was slipping already, causing you to read into things that weren't really there.

No...no, you decided as you hefted your bag, determined to put it all out of your head for now. Harry was just his usual aggravating self, trying to rile you by dangling some imagined reward or punishment to keep you on your toes before the big event. This whole...suggestive semiflirtation thing was just the product of your own exhausted mind playing tricks.  

Firmly shoving aside all unsettling thoughts, you focused on the immediate challenge awaiting tomorrow. You would plate Harry's showpiece dish to absolute perfection, prove yourself under the brightest lights, and decisively seize this career-making opportunity. 

Everything else could be dealt with later.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[grandline-fics]

I can’t get the idea of Killer having a crush on a Straw Hat out of my head. What do you think would actually make him act on it? Or I guess how would he? (Pretending he actually would) 💖🖤 thank you in advance

DESCRIPTION: You’re a member of the Strawhats and he has a crush on you

WARNINGS: some minor story spoilers but other than that, none

CHARACTERS: Killer

WORDS: 695

A/N: Thank you for the request. This was my first time writing for Killer and I don't know where I was going with this but hopefully you like what I came up with for this

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

When the Kid pirates first started making a name for themselves, they became interested in the other rookie rivals that they would be sharing the spotlight with. Naturally the likes of Law, Luffy and Zoro stood out the most to Killer as the ones to keep an eye on. Then the stories of Strawhat Luffy and his ever growing crew of unique and interesting members kept circulating and then when you joined the crew, Killer took note of your introduction bounty. While you weren’t quite considered among the Supernova’s it was still enough to pique his interest. 

It made him want to know more. It wasn’t exactly hard for his wish to come true; given who your crew was there was a story about you all and your adventures in the papers practically every week. Kid found his vice-captain’s interest in you amusing and even would go so far as to tease Killer about his crush, which was always furiously denied. It was just being thorough about the strength of possible rivals that they could run into in the future. Then the opportunity to see you and your crew in the flesh presented itself when they landed on Sabaody and all hell broke loose in the auction-house. 

You hadn’t really known much about Kid, Killer or the crew until that incident. In the middle of an attack, you flipped in the air and sailed down towards the masked pirate. To avoid hurting him, you hooked your leg around his waist and turned, knocking him to the floor with you landing on top on him. The impact was enough to lift his mask slightly and reveal his face to you and you grinned down at him. “Sorry about that, handsome.” You apologised while pulling his mask down into place. 

While you didn’t get why he’d hide his features, you guessed he had a reason for it. Suddenly you heard a Marine rushing towards you for a followup attack and threw your weapon up to block it. Quickly you dealt with them and got to your feet to let Killer finally stand. From behind you, Nami called your name which meant it was time to go. As you ran you looked over your shoulder to throw a lazy wave to Killer. “Let’s do this again sometime!” 

As appealing as that offer sounded to Killer, who was finally beginning to admit to himself after that meeting that he just maybe did have a crush on you the chance didn’t get to come up again until two years later when your paths crossed in Wano. Under the glow of the lanterns and in the middle of the lively atmosphere of a land finally celebrating their freedom you stood and watched in amusement as the captain of the Kid Pirates was in the middle of a shouting match with your captain and Law of the Heart Pirates. When you saw Killer about to approach the group in the hopes of calming his captain you subtly took his attention by stepping beside him. “You’re better leaving them to it. Those three are like little kids, they’ll tire themselves out eventually. Enjoy the night off for once.” When Killer turned to face him you smiled and handed him a drink. “Here, to make up for our less than conventional introduction in Sabaody.”

“You remember that?” Killer asked, slightly stunned. It had been two years and it had been so brief, he doubted the encounter had left such an impression for you. He could only watch behind his mask as your grin widened, your eyes sparkling at the memory, effectively proving him wrong. 

“Course I remember, definitely wouldn’t forget a face like yours in a hurry.” Killer tensed slightly when you winked and took a sip of your own drink. Killer considered your earlier statement and glanced to see the three Captains had finally calmed their squabbling at least for the time being. He supposed enjoying himself with your company wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, it had been two years in the waiting and who knew how long it would be before your paths crossed again after tonight.

[sinful-mind-joyful-thoughts]

𝕿𝖜𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘 | 2

read chapter 1 - here [MASTERLIST]

screencaps and gifs: Pinterest

Pairing: dark!Joel Miller x Fem!reader

Warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, BLOOD, Auctioning people, talks of BDSM, talks of virginity, talks of... Sex..aftercare..limits..NDA..discomfort...virginity..masturbation..anxity, Dom and Sub dynamics, underage drinking (20), food, kissing, making out, Joel starts to get a little obsessive or toxic THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME

Summary: A mysterious message and a weekend away with the man who just bought you for a VERY large amount of money. What could go wrong?

WC: 5.9K

A/n: Thank you for all the love in the first part. My question for you all is, what do you want to see happen next? Any theories? Or expectations?

For notifications follow - @sinful-mind-joyful-fics

You stood up, smoothed out your dress, and took a deep breath. As you stepped towards the stage, the curtain drew back slightly, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of the auction room. The ambient lighting cast a soft glow, illuminating the expectant faces of the bidders, their anticipation palpable in the air.

Stepping into the spotlight, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. The auctioneer's voice echoed in the room, commanding attention as he announced, "And now, presenting number 3, starting bid at $500."

The initial bid was quickly followed by a murmur of excitement. "$600," someone called out confidently. You scanned the crowd, noticing the bidder: a sharply dressed woman with an air of authority. 

"$700," another voice chimed in, this time from a man in a sleek, black suit, his demeanor cool and composed. The numbers climbed higher, each bid like a jolt to your already racing heart. 

"One thousand," a younger man with a mischievous glint in his eye offered, leaning forward in his seat.

The bids continued to rise, the energy in the room intensifying with each new number. "Five thousand," declared a distinguished older gentleman, his silver hair gleaming under the lights. 

As the auctioneer teased the crowd, "Ten thousand, do I hear ten thousand?" you felt a wave of nausea. Your heart was pounding, and your stomach was in knots. The bids climbed higher and higher, the room a blur of faces and voices.

"Twenty thousand," someone else from the crowd stood up. "Thirty thousand, do I hear thirty thousand?"

You felt sick as the numbers continued to go up. Your heart was in your throat, and you felt dizzy and lightheaded. "Fifty thousand," the auctioneer's voice teased the crowd, sending another ripple of excitement through the room.

"Seventy thousand," a man in an extravagant velvet suit called out, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

As you tried to stay coherent, the numbers continued to climb. "One hundred thousand," someone else bid, and your anxiety spiked. 

"One hundred and twenty thousand," the auctioneer prodded. 

A tall man from the back corner suddenly stood up, his voice cutting through the chatter, "Nine hundred thousand." Your stomach flipped upside down. The man exuded an air of confidence and power, his presence dominating the room. His gaze was intense, filled with hunger and determination, and he seemed to linger on you.

Just as the bidding war was getting more intense, another man jumped up, his voice commanding attention. "One million dollars." He looked directly at the first man, his eyes full of challenge.

The crowd began to stir, eager to see what would happen next. "One-point-seven million," the first man replied, his voice steady and confident, his gaze still locked on you.

"Two million," the second man countered, raising an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm.

Suddenly, the room fell silent, everyone holding their breath. The auctioneer looked around, gauging the tension. Then, the first man spoke again, his voice clear and decisive, "Three million."

The second man's eyes widened in surprise, realizing he had been outbid. He shook his head in defeat, stepping back into the shadows. The crowd erupted in applause.

As the auctioneer declared, "Three million is the winning bid, going once... going twice... sold!" a sense of relief washed over you. But then, you heard the voice again, familiar and unsettling. It was Joel. 

Faith hurried to your side, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "You should be careful around Joel," she whispered. "He's intense and not someone to take lightly."

Joel walked up to the stage, his presence as commanding as ever. He extended a hand towards you, his eyes softening slightly as they met yours. You took his hand, and he helped you down from the stage with a surprising gentleness. His grip was firm, yet reassuring, and you found yourself leaning into his strength as he guided you through the crowd.

He guided you towards a table nestled in the quieter corner of the room, where a man awaited, already rising to his feet with a welcoming smile. "Hi there, I'm Tommy," he greeted, extending his hand in a gesture of hospitality. His demeanor exuded a relaxed charm, a stark contrast to Joel's intensity, and his eyes radiated a genuine warmth.

"Hi," you replied, your voice a bit shaky as you took his hand. Joel pulled out a chair for you, and you sat down, feeling a mix of nerves and curiosity. Joel then settled into the chair beside you, his arm draping casually over the back of your seat. You could feel the heat of his presence, both comforting and intimidating at the same time.

The room buzzed with conversation and laughter, but at your table, an awkward silence stretched out. You fiddled with the edge of your dress, Faith's warnings echoing in your mind. Joel's intense gaze didn't waver, and you struggled to find your voice.

"So, uh, do you come to these things often?" you finally asked, trying to break the ice.

Joel's lips twitched into a slight smile. "Not really," he replied. "But when I do, I make sure it's worth it."

You swallowed hard, his words hanging heavily in the air. Tommy, sensing the tension, leaned in slightly. "Don't mind Joel," he said with a chuckle. "He's always been the strong, silent type. I'm here to make sure he doesn't scare you off."

You managed a nervous laugh. "Well, he's definitely... intimidating."

Joel's expression softened a bit more. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I just... I knew I had to have you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Despite the fear and uncertainty swirling inside you, there was something undeniably captivating about him. "Thank you," you said softly, unsure of what else to say.

Tommy cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what do you like to do for fun?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You glanced at him, grateful for the distraction. "I like reading, mostly. And I used to paint a lot before school got so hectic."

Joel's interest seemed piqued. "What do you paint?"

"Landscapes, mostly," you said, finding it easier to talk about your passion. "I love capturing the way light changes everything."

Joel nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I'd like to see your work sometime."

Before you could respond, the auctioneer's voice boomed through the room once more. "And now, presenting number 14, starting bid at $500."

You tensed, recognizing Faith's number. Joel's hand tightened slightly on the back of your chair as both you and Tommy turned your attention towards the stage. Faith walked out with confidence, her eyes scanning the crowd with a boldness that made you proud and anxious at the same time.

Tommy leaned closer to you, his voice low. "That's your friend, right? Faith?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of pride and worry. "Yeah, that's her."

Tommy's gaze lingered on Faith for a moment, then he glanced at Joel. "Didn't you buy her once?"

Joel’s expression darkened slightly. "Only once," he confirmed, his tone cold. "She knows how to put on a show. Knows how to please the crowd."

Tommy smirked, his eyes fixed on Faith with a calculating glint. "Think she’s worth another go?"

Joel’s eyes followed Faith's every move, his jaw set in a hard line. "Maybe. She’s got her uses."

You felt a wave of discomfort wash over you at their callous remarks about Faith. She was your best friend, not just a commodity to be traded. The casual way they spoke about her, reducing her to mere utility, made your skin crawl. You tried to mask your unease, but it lingered in your expression.

The bidding for Faith started off slow but quickly gained momentum. You could see the determination in her eyes, matching the rising excitement in the room.

"One thousand," someone called out, followed by another bid of "Two thousand."

Tommy seemed to be considering his options. He glanced at you, then back at the stage. "She's a hot ticket. Could be a good investment."

Joel watched the scene unfold, his gaze never leaving Faith. "She can handle it. She’s been through worse."

The bids continued to climb, and you could see Faith holding her ground, her composure never wavering. Suddenly, Joel’s voice broke through the din. "Thirty thousand," he called out, his tone calm but firm.

You stared at him in surprise, and Tommy chuckled. "Looks like Joel’s interested."

Joel met your gaze, his expression unreadable. "Just making sure she has a fair shot," he said, but there was a protective edge in his voice.

"Thirty-five thousand!" someone else shouted, and you could see the tension in Joel's face.

"Forty thousand," Joel countered, his tone unwavering.

Tommy's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Fifty thousand," he said, raising the stakes.

Joel's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "Sixty thousand."

Tommy raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the competition. "Seventy thousand."

The auctioneer's voice cut through the room. "Seventy thousand, going once, going twice—"

"Eighty thousand," Joel declared, his gaze locking onto Faith.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "Ninety thousand."

Joel's expression darkened, and you could feel the tension between the two brothers. "One hundred thousand," Joel said, his voice low and dangerous.

The auctioneer's hammer hovered in the air. "One hundred thousand, going once, going twice—"

"One hundred and fifty thousand," Tommy interrupted, his tone smug.

The room fell silent, and Joel's eyes burned with a mix of frustration and resignation. The auctioneer's hammer came down. "Sold! Number 14 for one hundred and fifty thousand!"

Tommy looked satisfied as he watched Faith being led off the stage. "She's going to be quite the addition," he said, a hint of anticipation in his voice.

Joel's hand tightened on your shoulder, his expression hard. "Just make sure you know what you're doing."

Tommy laughed softly. "Oh, I do. Trust me."

As the room settled back into its buzz of conversation and anticipation, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He took the folder, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he said with a small smile, opening the folder and beginning to review its contents. You tried to focus on the conversation with Tommy, but you couldn’t help but feel the weight of Joel's attention on you, mingled with the echoes of Faith’s words in your mind.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, watching Faith being led away. "She’ll make someone very happy tonight."

Joel snorted. "She’s got a reputation for it. Knows how to work the room."

Tommy glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Think your friend will be okay?"

You nodded, trying to muster confidence. "Faith is strong. She knows what she’s doing."

Joel's hand slid from the back of your chair to your shoulder, squeezing gently. "Don’t worry. She’ll adapt. They always do." His words were meant to be reassuring, but they sent a chill down your spine.

Tommy smirked. "Well, let's see how long she lasts this time."

As the conversation continued between Joel, Tommy, and yourself, a club worker approached your table, carrying a folder. "Mr. Miller, here are the details for number 3," she said, handing it to Joel.

He accepted the folder, his fingers briefly brushing yours. "Looks like we have some reading to do," he remarked, opening the folder to review its contents. You couldn’t help but wonder what secrets lay within, and why Joel seemed so focused on them.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself from the table, his eyes still fixed on Faith as he made his way over to her. You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in your stomach at the thought of Faith being in his hands.

Turning back to Joel, you couldn't help but ask, "Why did you bid on her?"

Joel glanced up from the folder, his expression guarded. "She's an interesting choice," he replied cryptically, his tone giving nothing away.

"But why her?" you pressed, needing more than just a vague answer.

Joel hesitated, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to meet yours. "Let's just say she's caught my attention before," he replied evasively.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. Whatever Joel had planned, it was clear that Faith was at the center of it. But as you watched Tommy approach her, you couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into a dangerous game, with no way out.

Joel seemed to sense your unease, and he leaned back in his chair, studying you thoughtfully. "You seem nervous," he observed, his voice low.

You forced a smile, trying to appear unaffected. "Just a little overwhelmed," you admitted, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

Joel nodded in understanding, though there was something unreadable in his gaze. "It's a lot to take in," he agreed, reaching for his glass and taking a long sip.

As he set the glass back down, he glanced at the folder in his hand. "Well, it was nice meeting you," he said casually, though there was an undercurrent of dismissal in his tone.

You watched in silence as he stood up, the folder tucked under his arm. "Take care," he added, before turning to leave.

A wave of relief washed over you as he walked away, though it was tinged with a sense of apprehension. 

As Joel got up to leave, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity mingled with a tinge of anxiety. "Wait," you called out before you could stop yourself, your voice betraying your uncertainty.

He paused, turning back to look at you with a raised eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Yes?" he prompted, his tone tinged with a hint of impatience.

You hesitated, unsure of what you wanted to say. "How... how am I supposed to get home?" you finally blurted out, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead.

Joel's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "That's not my concern," he replied cryptically, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd.

You watched him go, a sense of unease settling in the pit of your stomach. With Joel gone, you suddenly felt very alone.

You sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and apprehension as you glanced down at your phone. The lobby furniture wasn't very comfortable, but you preferred it to the makeout sessions and almost porn-worthy sounds emanating from the ballroom where the auction had ended. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the low murmur of intimate conversations, creating a strange juxtaposition of luxury and lewdness.

A message flashed on the screen from a number you didn't recognize, adding to the unsettling atmosphere of the night. "Did you get home safe?" it read, the concern evident in the sender's words.

"I'm nowhere close to home," you replied, your response tinged with hesitation. Who could be reaching out to you at this hour, and why?

Almost immediately, another message popped up. "Need a ride?" it asked, accompanied by a link to a ride-sharing app. Your instincts urged caution, but the uncomfortable ambiance of the dimly lit lobby made you consider the offer more seriously.

"Who is this?" you typed, fingers hovering over the send button. You needed to know more before trusting a stranger.

"If you take the ride, I'll pay for it. And I'll call you to tell you who I am," came the prompt reply, offering a small glimmer of reassurance amidst the uncertainty.

You put your phone down to think about how reckless accepting the offer might be, then considered the cost. The Uber from campus to the venue had already been $50, split between you and Faith. Did you really want to spend more money? No.

"Fine," you sent the message quickly, trying to commit before you could second-guess yourself.

Twenty minutes later, one of the workers caught your attention. "There's a cab for you, miss." You smiled at him and made your way outside, where a sleek black SUV was waiting. This was definitely more than the $50 you and Faith had split for the ride here, you thought as you opened the car door.

You got comfortable in your seat and messaged Faith that you were leaving for the night before your phone rang just as the car got onto campus.

"Hello?" you answered, your voice tinged with curiosity.

"Hey, sweets," came the familiar southern drawl. It was Joel.

"Joel?!" You stopped in your tracks, a mix of surprise and apprehension in your voice. "How the hell did you get my number?"

He chuckled softly. "It was all in your file, remember?"

You wanted to bang your head against a wall. He was right. "Did you get home safe?" he asked, his tone genuinely concerned.

You sighed. “I'm walking there now.”

His tone changed as he continued, “Walking? I got you a cab?”

You smiled at his concern. “Relax, I'm walking to my dorm.”

“Are you close?” he asked.

You clicked the button to the elevator. “Yeah, just about to head up. So, why did you bid on me?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you as you stepped into the elevator.

Joel's voice was thoughtful. “You caught my eye. There was something about you that stood out.”

“Stood out how?” you pressed, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Hard to explain,” he replied. “But I felt like I needed to know more about you.”

You smiled, feeling a strange mix of flattery and suspicion. “Well, now you know I like to paint landscapes.”

Joel laughed softly. “Yeah, and I'd still like to see your work sometime.”

The elevator doors opened, and you stepped out into the hallway. “Maybe someday,” you said, walking towards your dorm room.

“So, tell me more about yourself,” Joel said, his voice steady and inviting.

You hesitated for a moment. “I’m a student, obviously. Trying to make ends meet with a couple of part-time jobs. I like reading, painting, and trying to keep my head above water with school.”

Joel listened intently. “Sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“Yeah, but it keeps me busy,” you replied, unlocking your dorm room door and stepping inside.

“What about you?” you asked, closing the door behind you.

Joel sighed. "Not much to tell. My brother and I run a high-earning contracting business. It keeps us pretty busy, moving around a lot."

You sat on your bed, kicking off your shoes. "Sounds exciting. What kind of contracting?"

"Construction, mostly. Big projects, high stakes," he replied. "We take on jobs that require precision and a lot of planning. It's demanding but rewarding."

You leaned back against your pillows, trying to relax after the chaotic night. "It must be nice to see something you've built come together."

"Yeah, it is," Joel agreed, his tone softening slightly. "There's a satisfaction in creating something lasting."

There was a pause, a moment of comfortable silence, before Joel cleared his throat. "I need to talk to you about something."

You tensed, sensing the seriousness in his voice. "What is it?"

"Some things came up in your file," Joel began, choosing his words carefully. "Things I think we should discuss."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Like what?"

Joel hesitated before speaking again. "It mentions you're a virgin."

Your breath caught in your throat, the bluntness of his words hitting hard. "Why does that matter?"

"It’s part of the agreement we entered into," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I want to talk about what that means for both of us."

You sat up, heart pounding. "I don't understand."

"I'd like you to come over to my place for the weekend," Joel continued. "We can go over the contract, and I can answer any questions you have. It's important that we’re both on the same page."

The suggestion hung heavily in the air, the implications clear. You felt a mix of fear, curiosity, and something else you couldn’t quite identify. "This is all very sudden," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I know," Joel replied gently. "But it’s important. I want to make sure you’re comfortable with everything. That you understand what's expected."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And if I come over... what happens then?"

"We talk," Joel said simply. "We figure out what this means for us. And we take it from there."

The weight of the decision pressed down on you. The night had already been overwhelming, and now this. But there was a part of you that was intrigued, that wanted to know more about this enigmatic man and what he wanted from you.

"Okay," you said finally. "I’ll come over this weekend."

"Good," Joel replied, a note of relief in his voice. "I'll pick you up on Friday evening."

Thursday night, your phone buzzed with a message from Joel. You opened it, heart pounding, eager to see what he had to say.

"Hey, I wanted to give you some more details for this weekend. I'll pick you up at 6 PM tomorrow evening."

You read the message, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. Another message followed.

"Pack enough clothes for a couple of days. Casual is fine, but bring something nicer for dinner. And anything else you might need to feel comfortable."

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly. "Got it. Anything else I should bring?"

A few moments later, Joel's reply came through. "Just yourself. And an open mind."

You set your phone down, the weight of the upcoming weekend settling in. You began to mentally prepare yourself, thinking through what to pack and what to expect.

The next day passed in a blur of nervous energy. You spent most of the afternoon packing a small suitcase, carefully selecting clothes that fit Joel's description. Casual wear, a nicer dress for dinner, and a few personal items that you hoped would make you feel at ease.

As the clock approached 6 PM, you found yourself pacing your dorm room, second-guessing your decisions. Your phone buzzed again, breaking the cycle of your anxious thoughts.

"I'm here," read Joel's message.

You took a deep breath, grabbed your suitcase, and headed outside. The evening air was cool against your skin as you spotted Joel's black Ford F-150 parked near the entrance. He stepped out as you approached, his presence as commanding as ever.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours with a steady gaze.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, trying to muster a smile.

He took your suitcase and placed it in the bed of the truck, then opened the passenger door for you. You slipped inside

As Joel started the truck and drove away from campus, you stole glances at him, trying to read his expression. The silence between you was thick with unspoken questions and possibilities.

"Do you have any questions before we get there?" Joel asked, breaking the silence.

You thought for a moment, then decided to voice your concerns. "What exactly are we going to discuss?"

Joel's eyes flicked over to you briefly before returning to the road. "We'll go over the details of our arrangement, make sure you understand everything. And I want to make sure you're comfortable with the terms."

You nodded, feeling slightly more at ease with his straightforwardness. "And... what happens if I'm not?"

"Then we figure it out together," Joel said firmly. "This is about making sure we're both on the same page."

The city lights gradually gave way to the serene, picturesque landscape of the countryside. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the rolling hills and tranquil lakes, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

Eventually, Joel turned onto a narrow, winding road that led to a secluded lakeside property. The house that came into view was stunning, a perfect blend of rustic charm and modern elegance. Nestled among tall trees and overlooking a pristine lake, it felt like a world away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Joel parked the truck and helped you with your suitcase, guiding you to the front door. As you stepped inside, the warmth and comfort of the house enveloped you. Hardwood floors, large windows, and tasteful decor created an inviting atmosphere.

"Welcome to my home," Joel said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "Let me give you a tour."

He led you through the spacious living room, with its cozy fireplace and plush furniture. The kitchen was a chef's dream, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and a large island. Joel showed you the dining area, which offered a breathtaking view of the lake through floor-to-ceiling windows.

"We'll have dinner here later," he said, pausing to let you take in the view. "It's one of my favorite spots in the house."

You continued the tour, passing a home office, a library filled with books, and a den with a large flat-screen TV. Finally, Joel led you upstairs to the guest room where you would be staying. The room was beautifully decorated, with a comfortable bed, a sitting area, and an en-suite bathroom.

"Make yourself at home," Joel said, setting your suitcase down. "Dinner is at 8 PM. Please put on something nice; I want to discuss our contract in a more professional way."

You nodded, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. "Thank you, Joel."

He gave you a reassuring smile. "Take your time to settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

After he left, you took a moment to unpack and freshen up. You chose a dress that you hoped struck the right balance between elegance and professionalism. As you prepared for dinner, your mind raced with questions about what Joel would say and what the future might hold.

At precisely 8 PM, you made your way downstairs. The dining table was set with care, and Joel stood by the window, gazing out at the lake. He turned as you approached, his eyes taking in your appearance with a brief but appreciative glance.

"You look lovely," he said, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you replied, taking your seat.

The table was set perfectly, with red roses in the center adding a touch of elegance. Joel's seat was at the head, and yours was next to him.

“So, what do you think?” Joel asked, watching as you took a sip of wine.

“Of the house?” You giggled for a moment, setting your glass down. “Yes, it’s beautiful.”

Joel smiled. “And the food?”

You glanced down at your plate and took a bite. “Oh, shit.” You hadn’t expected it to taste so good.Joel had prepared: a perfectly seared filet mignon, accompanied by creamy mashed potatoes and asparagus sautéed with garlic and lemon zest. The flavors were so rich.

Joel's smile widened. “Eat up. We’ll go over the details once we’re done. Oh, and that’s going to be your only glass of wine tonight.”

You looked at Joel, puzzled. He quickly explained, “You’re still only 20, and you need a clear head. The wine’s just to take the edge off.”

Joel took a sip of his own wine, and you let your mind wander. The meal was mostly silent, the clattering of plates being the loudest sound in the house. Faith had talked to you last night and helped you pick out your dress. She and Tommy were doing well, and she used her contract to help explain what yours might be like.

The first document was what you expected: an NDA agreement. It was short and to the point.

The second form you picked up was different from what Faith had described. Instead of being a "down and dirty" list, the title read, "Contractual Agreement of Limits Between Dominant and Submissive."

“So, don’t be scared or intimidated by the second form,” Faith had said. “It may sound daunting, but it’s just to make sure you’re comfortable with what will happen. I can help you through it. The rest, well… you and your Dom will be having lots and lots, and I mean lots, of experimental sex.”

You gasped and playfully hit her. “Not for my first time, right?” you asked, anxious.

Faith laughed and gave you a teasing look. “Not right away. But if your Dom wants to do that, it’s up to them. It’s all about consent. And don’t worry, you’ll… you’ll have fun. I promise. And if you need more time to be ready, there are plenty of ways to experiment and get comfortable. Just remember, you always have the right to say ‘no’ and stop the session. Your Dom is there to make you feel pleasure, not discomfort.”

Back in the present, Joel watched you with a calm intensity as you finished your meal. he stood and retrieved the vanilla folder. He opened it and laid the documents on the table. 

“First, the NDA,” Joel said. “It ensures that everything we discuss and do remains confidential.” He slid the paper and a pen toward you. After reading it carefully, you signed and handed it back.

“Now, the contract,” Joel continued, placing the more detailed document in front of you. “This outlines our arrangement, including boundaries, limits, and expectations. It's important to be thorough so we’re both on the same page.”

You scanned the pages, your eyes catching on certain terms and conditions that made you blush. Joel patiently walked you through each section.

“Section one covers our roles. I’ll be the Dominant, and you’ll be the submissive,” he explained. “This section also outlines the responsibilities we each have.”

“What if I’m not comfortable with something?” you asked, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Joel’s expression softened. “That’s what section two is for. It lists hard limits—things you absolutely don’t want to do—and soft limits—things you might be open to exploring over time.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but reassured by Joel's explanations about safewords and aftercare. Suddenly, something washed over you, and you stood from your seat. Taking his and your plates, along with the silverware and glasses, you moved toward Joel's kitchen. He followed you, confused.

“Hey? What's the matter?” he asked.

You smiled at him and grabbed the other dishes left on the table. “The table's dirty. That's no way to do business,” you joked as you began to wash the dishes. “Do you have a garbage disposal?”

Joel grabbed your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Talk to me,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. He reached over to grab a towel, gently drying your hands and ridding them of soap.

You sighed. “I'm a virgin.” Joel looked into your eyes intently as you continued, giving up on formality. “Fuck, Joel, I'm nervous. I'm not even sure if I want to have sex. The closest I've gotten to having sex is my vibrator.”

Joel let go of your hands. “Sit,” he said, pointing to the counter.

“What?” you asked, surprised.

“Sit.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the counter. “Do you trust me?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“No.” And with that, he kissed you.

His lips were firm yet gentle against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. The kiss deepened as his hands found their way to your waist, holding you close. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer. You could taste the lingering wine on his lips, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses.

Joel's hand slid up to cup your cheek, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. His tongue teased the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you parted them, allowing him in. The kiss grew more intense, more demanding, as his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter.

You moaned softly into his mouth, your body reacting to his touch in ways you hadn't anticipated. The sensation of his tongue exploring your mouth, combined with the heat of his body pressed against yours, ignited a fire within you. You felt yourself melting into him, your previous nervousness beginning to dissipate.

After what felt like an eternity, Joel pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you charged with electricity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice husky.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah. That was...”

“Intense?” he finished for you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agreed, your heart pounding in your chest.

Joel brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch tender. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for. Tonight, I just want to make sure you're comfortable.”

His rough, calloused hands slid up your dress, sending shivers down your spine. "Unless you want to try something..." he murmured, his voice low and tantalizing. You blushed, biting your lip as you looked up at Joel.

He pulled you in for another deep, passionate kiss before moving to your neck, trailing soft kisses down to the parts of your skin that weren't covered by your dress. He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs gently. "What are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

"Shh... trust me," he whispered, his hands wandering under your dress to pull down your panties. He slid them into his pocket with a mischievous grin before returning his attention to you. His lips brushed over your calves, teasing you lightly as you bit your lip in anticipation.

Joel suddenly lifted your legs over his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on your clit. The sensation made your legs tremble, the warmth of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. Without holding back, he began to explore you with his mouth, his tongue lapping up every drop of your arousal as if it were the most delicious thing he had ever tasted.

You moaned, your head falling back against the cabinet with a soft thud, but you didn't care. When Joel paused to check if you were okay, you grabbed his salt-and-pepper hair, pushing him further into your pussy. He gripped your legs harder, his tongue moving faster as your moans grew louder.

"Oh fuck..." you gasped, panting as your orgasm built. Your legs began to shake uncontrollably, and you finally came on his face. Joel let your legs slide off his shoulders, wiping his mouth with a satisfied smile.

"Dessert was good," he joked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Instead of responding, you swiftly pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The night had only just begun, and you were ready for whatever came next.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," he said softly. Scooping you up in his strong arms, he carried you princess-style up to the guest room where you were staying. He set you gently on your feet, his touch lingering. "Use the bathroom," he instructed, his voice firm but caring.

You nodded and went to the bathroom, the cool tile floor grounding you after the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. When you emerged, you found Joel had set out your pajamas neatly on the bed. Next to them was a note in his bold handwriting: "Forget the contract. I have something better in mind."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the note, a blend of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you.

[ophanum]

hi! i was wondering if i could make a request for jerome valeska x innocent!reader where they just have a bit if a poor self image and are struggling to believe jerome is actually into them? thank you!

' TWO ! - Jerome Valeska

ft. Jerome Valeska x Innocent! gn! reader

You've always felt a bit like a wallflower, easily overlooked. You work at a small bookstore, surrounded by stories but struggling to find your own happy ending. Jerome's manic energy and flamboyant personality intimidate you, making you feel even more plain.

He first noticed you because you genuinely laughed at his jokes, the only one not horrified. He finds your innocence refreshing, a stark contrast to Gotham's jaded cynicism. His methods of showing affection are...unconventional. Presents of exploding whoopie cushions and glitter bombs leave you bewildered but strangely charmed.

You can't quite believe someone like Jerome could be interested in you. Surely, it's a prank, right? You try to deflect his compliments, brushing them off with a nervous laugh, "Oh, you're just being silly, Jerome." He gets frustrated by your self-deprecation. "Sweetheart, a person wouldn't waste his confetti on a boring audience."

One rainy afternoon, Jerome finds you hiding behind a stack of books, tears threatening to spill. You confess your insecurities, your voice barely a whisper. He kneels before you, a rare moment of sincerity in his emerald eyes. "You, my dear, are a beautiful anomaly in this dreary world. Don't you dare dim your light." It takes time, but Jerome's unwavering attention slowly chips away at your self-doubt. He introduces you to his own brand of "fun," which involves harmless pranks and late-night explorations of abandoned buildings.

You don't become a villainous mastermind by his side, but your influence does soften his edges a touch. You become his confidante, the one person he can (occasionally) be serious with. In his own twisted way, Jerome cherishes you, a source of genuine connection in his chaotic life.You, in turn, learn to appreciate your own quirks and find a strange sense of belonging in Jerome's brand of madness.

Jerome "borrows" a spotlight from the theater and sets it outside your window one night, bathing your apartment in a dramatic glow. He serenades you with a hilariously off-key song about the most "gorgeous bookstore nobody in Gotham appreciates and the only handsome joker in gotham does." It's cheesy, but it makes you smile.

Jerome thrives on attention, and you, by association, become entangled in his dramatic antics. He might hold an "auction" for a date with you at his "club," bids starting with a whoopie cushion and escalating to increasingly ridiculous items. (Don't worry, he secretly outbids everyone at the last minute). You get dragged onstage during one of his "performances," his grand declaration of love involving juggling flaming bowling pins (and somehow managing not to set himself on fire).

You discover your own strength lies in defying his expectations. When he tries to scare you with a creepy mask, you burst out laughing, the sound echoing eerily in the abandoned building. Jerome, momentarily flustered, breaks character with a surprised grin. You use humor to disarm him, deflecting his pranks with witty comebacks that leave him speechless (for a moment, at least).

Jerome, surprisingly, opens up to you about his past, the traumas that fuel his madness. He lets down his guard in a way he never has with anyone else. In return, you share your own vulnerabilities, the dreams you tucked away because you never felt good enough. These moments of intimacy create a fragile bond, a flicker of normalcy in their chaotic world.

Inevitably, Jim gets wind of Jerome's newfound...stability. He's suspicious, wondering if it's a trap. You find yourself caught in the crossfire, Jim mistaking you for a hostage. Jerome, in a rare display of seriousness, stands between you and the detective, a manic glint in his eyes.

"Touch her, Jimbo, and you'll be facing more than just a laughing fit." You become a bargaining chip in their twisted game, but you also become a reason for them to find a fragile truce.

The Jim, intrigued by Jerome's newfound…softness, decides to investigate. He finds you at the bookstore, surrounded by fairytales with happy endings. A flicker of something akin to curiosity dances in his eyes.

"You must be very special," he whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice, "to tame the likes of him."

You reply calmly, "Maybe everyone just needs a good story once in a while, Mr. Gordon." The Joker raises an eyebrow, a rare sign of genuine surprise, before tipping his hat and disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke.

Deep down, Jerome craves a connection, a feeling of belonging. Your presence sparks a flicker of protectiveness in him. He "borrows" flowers from the park (with some...creative pruning methods) and leaves them on your doorstep, accompanied by a note scrawled in messy handwriting that reads, "For the most beautiful flower in Gotham (who deserves thorns, but I couldn't find any)."

He notices a stray cat hanging around the bookstore and, surprisingly gently, coaxes it inside with a can of tuna. You name it "Puddin'," much to Jerome's amusement (and secret delight).

Gotham may never be a place with a happily ever after, but with Jerome, you find a strange sense of belonging. You learn to embrace the chaos, your own inner strength blossoming under his (surprisingly) supportive gaze.

Gotham's perpetual gloom seemed to cling to you more than usual. You shuffled through the rain-slick streets, head down, the colorful flyers advertising Jerome's upcoming 'show' swirling around your ankles like taunting mockeries.

Jerome. Just the name sent a shiver down your spine, a peculiar mix of terror and...something else. Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes gleamed with manic delight, or the easy way he made you laugh, a sound rarely heard these days.

You bumped into someone, scattering flyers. A hand brushed yours as you reached down. You looked up, startled, into Jerome's face. A wide, genuine smile stretched across his lips, devoid of its usual malice.

"There you are! I was hoping you'd make it," he said, his voice a melodic whisper.

You stammered, cheeks flushing. "I, uh, I wasn't sure..."

Jerome tilted his head, his smile softening. "Why wouldn't you be? You're the star of the show, doll."

A disbelieving laugh escaped your lips. "Me? But I'm...ordinary."

Jerome's smile faltered for a brief moment, then returned, wider than ever. "Ordinary is boring, darling. You? You're captivating in your own little way."

He tucked a flyer behind your ear, the garish colors a stark contrast to your drab clothes. "See you tonight, love."

He winked and sauntered off, leaving you breathless and bewildered. You stared at the flyer, the bold letters screaming, "Jerome's Grand Finale: The Unveiling of Gotham's Most Exquisite Catch!"

Was he serious? You, an afterthought in most people's lives, Gotham's most exquisite catch? The idea was laughable, if it weren't coming from the city's most notorious villain.

That night, you found yourself drawn to the abandoned theater, a moth to a flame. Jerome's laughter echoed from within, laced with a dangerous edge. You hesitated at the doorway, then pushed through.

The scene that unfolded was pure chaos. Jerome, dressed in a flamboyant ringmaster's coat, orchestrated a mayhem of explosions, confetti, and terrified hostages. Yet, his eyes kept searching for you.

When they met, a secret smile played on his lips. He held up a spotlight, bathing you in its warm glow. "There she is, folks! The one who makes the world a little less dreary!"

A blush burned your cheeks, but you couldn't help but straighten a little, a flicker of newfound confidence warming you from the inside. Maybe, just maybe, Jerome saw something special in you, something you couldn't see in yourself.

The ending, as expected, was a fiery spectacle. But as the flames subsided, Jerome knelt before you, a single red rose held out.

"You were magnificent, doll," he whispered, his eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

In the flickering light, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, a hint of the man beneath the mask. And in that moment, you knew, whatever this twisted thing between you was, it was real.

[justanotherrpmeme]

Seven deadly sins

Bold those that apply to your muse:

Lust: desire for connection, pursuit of pleasure, emotional intelligence, obsessive, lovesick, one-night stand, seductive encounter, flirtatious conversation, erotic party, seductive attire, revealing clothing, passionate gaze, provocative makeup, sensual expressions, suggestive gestures, flirtatious smiles, lingerie, love letters, perfumes, provocative behavior, love poems, erotic art

Gluttony: indulgence in experiences, savoring moments, hospitality, generosity, hedonism, culinary expertise, wine tasting, excessive snacking, overloaded plates, excessive portions, bloated stomachs, messy eating, greasy fingers, full tables, indulgent spreads, overflowing cups, satisfied expressions, wine bottles, can't get enough, fast food wrappers

Envy: motivation, competitive spirit, strategic planning, observational skills, bitter, rivalry contest, envious gossip, resentment-filled argument, social media jealousy, furrowed brows, clenched jaws, side-eye looks, pursed lips, tense posture, whispering behind backs, crossed arms, gossip magazines, keeping up with the Joneses, the grass is always greener, feeling inadequate

Greed: resourcefulness, entrepreneurial spirit, negotiation, materialistic, aggressive investment, lavish spending spree, resource hoarding, get-rich-quick scheme, auction bidding war, property acquisition, piles of money, overflowing wallets, luxury items, locked safes, penny-pinching, rare collectibles, selfishness, unwillingness to share

Sloth: calmness, stress management, nonchalance, relaxation techniques, lethargic, apathetic, inactive, lazy weekend, binge-watching marathon, neglected chores, skipped workout, long nap, lounging on the couch, missed deadline, unkempt appearance, messy hair, pajamas, blankets, slippers, procrastination station, self-care routines

Pride: confidence, self-assurance, self-respect, dignity, public speaking, self-promotion, arrogant, conceited, egotistical, self-important, vain, boastful speech, puffed chest, raised chin, smug smiles, spotlight, tooting your own horn, showing off, refusing to admit mistakes, feeling entitled, personal branding, leadership development

Wrath: assertiveness, decisiveness, strength, intensity, boundary setting, courage, indignant, heated argument, road rage incident, physical altercation, angry outburst, clenched fists, glaring eyes, tense muscles, raised voices, reddened faces, aggressive gestures, stormy demeanor, intense frowns, destructive actions, broken objects, punching bag, out for blood, fists, simmering anger

Tagging: YOU!

[marveltrumpshate]

One of the beautiful things about fandom is how vast the definition of fanwork is, and the auctions in the following categories are great examples of that reality.

OTHER FAN LABOR

Not only are there auctions that focus on beta services and translations, which you're probably familiar with, but there are also offerings like ficbindings/bookbindings, musical compositions, monthly fic rec lists, conversions of Marvel characters into playable D&D characters with customized sheets, and more! This is the time to make your fandom dreams come true, and these 17 auctions would love to help you out with that.

BETA SERVICES

Or maybe you heard about beta services but aren't quite sure what that means. It's a common question to have, especially for anyone new to fandom (and even for some of us who aren't!). Beta readers check a story before the writer posts it publicly—and this year, we also have an art alpha/beta-specific auction in the mix where you can get feedback/tips/edits while drawing. For writing, betas are great for things like:

SPaG (spelling and grammar) and typo checks

Sentence flow and story/plot structure

Soundboarding/planning

Canon compliance

Characterization and dialogue

Fact-checking

Culture-picking

Sensitivity reading

Knowledge about specific topics or experiences (e.g., identities, lifestyles, professions, interests, and fields of study)

Cheer reading

Betas are worth their weight in gold, and if you weren't sure how to get one before, MTH is a great opportunity to get one now! Check out the 23 auctions offering beta services here.

TRANSLATION

Finally, let's talk about an elephant in the fandom room: our fandom as a whole is multilingual, but a lot of us…aren't. Thankfully, there are members who can help bridge the gap between different language-based fandoms. Maybe you'd like your work or one of your favorite fics by another writer translated into a different language, or you always wanted to read a fan comic in your native language. If so, make sure to check out these translation auctions!

[commissions4aid-international]

📌 Intro Post

We are a Tumblr blog dedicated to finding and sharing creatives who do art for Palestine. We host raffles/auctions, games, and other events to raise funds for Palestine. We also share verified fundraisers, news updates, and other related information.

CHECK OUT OUR RAFFLE

Important note: We do not vet nor verify fundraisers. All fundraisers have been sourced from Palestinians here on Tumblr or larger group verification efforts from places like Operation Olive Branch and Gaza Funds. we cite our sources on all original posts. we are not Palestinian, and we do not, nor have we ever vetted fundraisers.

DO NOT CITE US AS A SOURCE OF VERIFICATION. We are not a source. We are an art account that shares already vetted fundraisers. Please cite the Palestinians who actually vet fundraisers

If you are seeking verification, especially if you are a Gazan Palestinian yourself who came here to share your fundraiser, please first reach out to Palestinians who do verification work! Current known teams doing this work: Operation Poppy Flower, Pali Pals

[If you can help translate/adapt the above message to Palestinian Arabic so that Gazans coming here for help can find the right place to seek initial verification, please reach out!]

we are a small team of volunteers, please be patient with us!

spotlight!

you are welcome to tag us in any spotlight posts for boosting.

People and databases we look to for information:

Palestinians here on Tumblr you should absolutely be following and listening to first and foremost:

el-shab-hussein ✵ nabulsi ✵ ibtisams ✵ palipunk ✵ 90-ghost ✵ sar-soor ✵ fairuzfan

Databases:

Operation Olive Branch ✵ Gaza Funds ✵ Operation Poppy Flower ✵ Project Watermelon ✵ GoFund(water)Me(lons) ✵ Ottawa4Palestine ✵ Strawberry Seed Collective's Strawberry Seeds ✵ Help Gaza ✵ Fundraisers for Gaza/Sudan & More ✵ Gaza Evacuation Relief Fund

Important Links

@/el-shab-hussein and @/nabulsi's Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

Other Fundraiser Lists

List of Commission Groups, Raffles, and Individual Creatives Raising Money

Blog Organization

Tag Guide

Self-Submit Commissions Directory

Self-Submit Commissions Form

Our Discord (We hope to encourage donation commissions here.)

Minimal Tag Guide (See full tag guide for more!)

#pcca : general tag for our posts

#verified : fundraisers that are vetted by palestinians. all artists who only accept donations directly to fundraisers/charities, and don't use AI/stolen art are automatically verified.

#v- : currently being verified. (BY PALESTINIANS. NOT BY US)

#unverified : artists, charities, and others we cannot confirm, but are most likely legitimate. this is mostly for asks about if someone has been verified yet, or artists who need to post proof of donations

#commission sheet : commission sheets by artists/creatives in exchange for donations

#donate : vetted charities/fundraisers

#resources : resources and other helpful information

#action : other things you can do to help

[transmutationisms]

Hello. I've seen some of your pists about Gaza. I'm unable to send money at the moment but I'd like to still help. How can I help? I was planning to reblog the link for the foundraiser but couldn't find it.

Thank you!

Hi! I am not sure which fundraiser you were trying to find so I will promote my friend Mohammed's. He has until Tuesday before his campaign organiser starts the next money transfer, so we're trying to raise as much as we can before then so it reaches his family ASAP!

As to your main question, I'm presuming you're asking specifically how to help with personal fundraisers (as opposed to, joining an organisation or activist group, which I would also recommend where possible). Here are a few ways you can help even when you are short on money yourself:

1. Boost and promote campaigns. Even having one person pay attention and post updates can help keep a campaign from entirely stagnating. Especially if you have a low follower count, you will want to use the tagging function to get some bigger blogs to reblog your posts and updates. It feels awkward but it can be a genuine lifeline for the person whose campaign might be going slowly or slipping through the cracks.

2. Consider 'spotlighting' a specific campaign. This is a great guide from @/feluka on how to do that. You might have seen me doing it with Mohammed's campaign and a few others. This involves keeping up with the campaign more closely and probably writing more of your own posts. It takes some time and effort but again, it can be invaluable for the person on the other end.

3. Even if you can't donate yourself, consider putting together a raffle, auction, or commission opportunity that can incentivise other people to donate. Visual art (digital or physical) is a common prize/commission I see offered on here; there are also raffles for handmade or rare items such as plushies, cross-stitch, hand-sewn clothing, knitted items, limited-edition books, fancy journals, writing requests, etc. Anything you can make, someone might be interested in. If you need help boosting a post about a raffle or commission, tag some users who reblog fundraisers! You can also send that kind of post to me and I will happily boost it for you :-)

4. Consider reaching out to anyone you see promoting a slow or stagnant campaign if you have the kinds of artistic or graphic design skills to create artwork or graphics for them to use. Visual aids, banners, etc can make a huge difference when you're trying to get people to read a post and click through to a donation link. Or, if you can't make graphics, could you learn how to write accessible image descriptions for any that you see, and offer to do that? It's easy for people promoting a campaign to get overwhelmed by alt text and image descriptions when a post might involve numerous visual elements, time-sensitive updates, and an urgent need for donations as soon as possible.

5. Some people contribute to Gazan fundraisers by raising the donation money through irl events like bakesales or charity drives. These may take a little more effort or upfront materials costs to set up, but they can also be a great opportunity to spread the word and connect with other people. If you have local activist groups or parties, this might be a good time to reach out to them and see if they can help facilitate such an event.

[ofmdrecaps]

07/05-06/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; David Jenkins; Nathan Foad & Con O'Neill; Leslie Jones; Nat Torres; Darby Family Foster Kittens; Articles; Fiber Arts Brigade: Auction/Fundraiser Updates/Bronson Pinchot Cameo; Uproar in the UK; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; OurFlagMeansFanfiction/BabyKrakenPodfics; OFMD Themed Earrings; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Today's Taika

== Rhys Darby ==

More coverage of Rhys' new show The Hungry Games! This time on Today.com.

Source: Rhys Darby's Twitter

Annnd more shots of Rhys and Bonus Rosie & Finn at the Great Big Cow Band Concert on July 4!

Source: Rosie Carnahan Darby's Instagram

Annnnd yet another Tural Commercial for FFXIV!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by FINAL FANTASY XIV (@ffxiv)

Source: FFXIV's Instagram

== David Jenkins ==

Well the last two days were big clowning days for everyone! Early Friday we had Chaos Dad commenting on a tweet from March.

Source: David Jenkins Twitter Next, fans noticed that the "Got a really good feeling about 2024" post that David took down from Instagram was re-added. Our friend cremeishere noticed that the post had been removed from David's Instagram after one of the cancellations (around March 22). Today however, it was noticed that it was back. Do we know exactly when it came back? No idea-- but Honking ensues!

Source: CremeIsHere's Twitter

And if that wasn't enough honking, our friend Jules mentioned the following from Kinga's recent post about Simone LeBone, "When dad is working we're napping" and asked "what is he working on"? Good question.

Source: TheRevengeBoys Twitter

== Nathan + Con ==

Nathan posted some more about his spotlight in the Hot Shots publication, and our dear Con wrote him a lovely love note <3

Source: Nathan Foad's Instagram

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie's been out to the LA Sparks game!

Source: misterjt319 Instagram

== Nat Torres ==

One of our awesome writers, Nat Torres, is making a rare appearance on Instagram.

Source: Natalie Torres Instagram

== Darby Family Foster Kittens ==

As we all know, I'm a sucker for kittens! Here's new Darby Family Foster Kitten content!

Source: Rosie Carnahan Darby's Instagram

== Articles ==

@adoptourcrew Found some very interesting articles regarding the cancellation of OFMD. In addition-- the #1 from Collider is adding to the Honkfest going on!

10 Canceled TV Shows That Deserve to Be Revived

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

"I Tear Up Every Time I See It": Here Are 23 Romantic Movie And TV Moments Without The Words "I Love You"

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Fiber Arts Brigade ==

The Fiber Arts Brigade reached their next tiered goal! They've raised $1750 with the #ThriveAsACrew campaign to support SageUSA! Thank you to everyone who's donated!

An anonymous donor was kind enough to pay for another cameo in honor of FAB reaching the fourth tier goal! Below is a video from Bronson Pinchot on his (and Ned Low's) advise on how we can ThriveAsACrew!

The Fiber Arts Brigade Ebay Auctions are ALMOST DONE! If you were bummed to miss out on Moosh's cross stitch commission from the AOC raffle, here's another chance! Check out the ebay listing here! Thank you to all the artists and patrons of this auction!

Source: Fiber Arts Brigade Twitter

== Uproar In The UK ==

Thank you @adoptourcrew for keeping us apprised of the UK Release of Uproar on Prime video! Check it out UK Crew!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast cards from @melvisik are Nathanial Goodman who's "another submission for ‘Outstanding Cinematography in a Comedy Series for Impossible Birds’ -AdoptOurCrew"! And Jaden McLeod -- "Soldier #1 in Mermen, no doubt someone who came across Ed and/or the crew of the Revenge..."

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Our Flag Means Fanfiction ==

Our dear friends over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction are moving up the charts on spotify!

Annnd coming up this Monday, a New Episode - The Silly Voices Episode, this time joined by BabyKraken Podfics!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction / BabyKraken Podfics

== OFMD Themed Earrings ==

I would just like to say I love all of the beautiful and creative ways everyone continues to honour our favourite show! The darling @paleoleigh has been making OFMD Themed Earrings and she was kind enough to allow me to share some of her work! You can learn more on PaleoLeigh's Tumblr Post and if you're interested, order them on her Etsy Store!

Source: PaleoLeigh's Tumblr Post

== Love Notes ==

Hey there Lovelies! I hope you all are getting some much needed rest this weekend! It's been a lot lately, huh? The world, elections, so many different countries struggling, online -- everywhere's been pretty crazy lately. I know a lot of you have so much on your minds, and rightly so. When so much is happening all at once, seeing struggles go on in your safe spaces too can make things so much harder to cope with. It is okay to feel sad or upset if your safe space doesn't feel the same way it did right now. It doesn't mean it won't feel safe again one day. Life and situations ebb and flow, and circumstances change, as much as we always want good things to stay the same. Good things can come from change too. Our magnificent and kind friend @xray-vex shared a screenshot on twitter the other day of this tumblr post and I thought it was incredibly appropriate to how a lot of people have been expressing they've been feeling lately.

I know sometimes it feels like you have to respond to that tweet, or get into that discourse, but if you don't have the energy, just remember you don't owe anything to anyone. You are wonderful the way you are, and you deserve to enjoy your space too. If it feels like too much, take a break, watch a new show, read a new book, step away if you need to. Or if re-watching our pirate show would help-- feel absolutely welcome to do that too. Whatever YOU need for YOU. It will be different for everyone, and there is no shame in wanting to do something different to make you feel better. There will always be folks here for you if you decide to step away and come back, so don't be afraid to if you need to okay? We love you crew, we care so much about you, and your health. Be well <3

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Some BTS gif tonight for the discerning gif lover. Git courtesy of @dallonismysavior!

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1970 Dodge Challenger

The legend returns: Unveiling the powerful 1970 Dodge Challenger ‘Black Ghost’ with its iconic HEMI V8 engine

Posted on March 4, 2024

Emerging from its mysterious past as a street drag racer piloted by a police officer, the 1970 Dodge Challenger “Black Ghost” has now claimed the title of the most coveted classic Mopar.

Honoring its legacy, Dodge has introduced a contemporary tribute based on the 2023 Challenger Hellcat Redeye Widebody. In addition to this homage, the enigmatic “Black Ghost” is gearing up for its moment in the spotlight at an upcoming auction.

Captivating audiences at Kissimmee 2023 in January, the “Black Ghost” was proudly displayed alongside its contemporary counterpart. For those eager to witness its numbers-matching 426-cubic-inch (7.0-liter) HEMI V8 come to life, YouTube’s “DtRockstar1” recently shared footage of the legendary vehicle making its grand appearance at a few classic car events.

Although the video doesn’t showcase drag racing or burnouts, the striking all-black 1970 Challenger, now road-worthy after years in storage, is a breathtaking sight. Remarkably, the car remains in near-original condition, save for a few upgrades like a rebuilt brake booster, new carbs, radiator, master cylinder, and tires.

But what truly sets the “Black Ghost” apart from other classic cars, and how did it earn its intriguing moniker?

The original owner, Godfrey Qualls, was a Detroit police officer by day and a secretive drag racer by night. Risking his career, he would make unexpected appearances at local gatherings, dominate quarter-mile races, and then mysteriously vanish.

While Godfrey’s Challenger wasn’t entirely stock during its racing heyday, he kept modifications minimal, opting for a muffler delete, an aftermarket coil, and slick rear tires on stock wheels.

The HEMI V8’s impressive 425-horsepower output was more than enough for him to claim countless victories before disappearing for good in 1975. By then, the “Black Ghost” had already secured its legendary status in Detroit.

The enigmatic Challenger driver’s true identity remained a secret for decades until Godfrey revealed his thrilling drag-racing tales to his son, Gregory. Inheriting the car when his father passed away, Gregory brought the “Black Ghost” to light in 2017, sharing the astounding story of officer Qualls and his legendary vehicle.

Beyond its captivating history, this Mopar is an exceptional rarity from the golden age of muscle cars. Of the nearly 77,000 Challengers sold in 1970, a mere 356 were equipped with the formidable 426-cubic-inch HEMI V8. Godfrey’s choice of a four-speed manual gearbox further refines the car’s status to one of just 136 produced.

But the exclusivity doesn’t end there. With the added SE package, it’s one of only 60 Challengers ordered with the bundle. Considering the color and other options, it’s possible that fewer than 10 such examples were ever made.

In summary, this Challenger is the epitome of rarity, boasting a captivating story worthy of a book. It stands as a highly collectible classic that could very well be more valuable than any other 1970 Challenger in existence.

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

6/18/2024 - 06/19/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Leslie Jones; Vico Ortiz; Nathan Foad; Anapela Polataivao; Kristian Nairn; Dominic Burgess; Kay Buchanan; Relax I'm From The Future Special Edition; Articles; Fiber Arts Brigade; Gotcha for Gaza; Love Notes; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

== Rhys Darby ==

So Rhys has decided to send us all to Costa Rica again.

The running theory as to WHY Rhys has decided to give us a topless shot is because of this lovely post by our dear crewmate Moosh, where they requested we post tits on the tl when WBD got down to below $7.

Now that was back on June 17th. Guess what just so happened to happen on June 18th?

So yes, the current theory is that Rhys quite literally did #TitsUpWBD for all of us. Just. Wow.

Source: Rhys Darby Instagram / Moosh's Twitter / WBD Nasdaq

== Taika Waititi ==

Taika was out at the premier of The BikeRiders! Lots of shots both on and off the carpet! Are those Pearls I spot?

@keshiasih's Instagram

Bikeridersfilm Instagram / TylerDisneyOfficial Instagram

Source: @fuckyeahworldoftaika's Tumblr

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico's got so much going on! Spark comes out on the 24th! Don't tell my Mother comes out on the 25th! Spark Film / Don't Tell My Mother

Source: Vico Ortiz Instagram

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie's gonna be doing live showes starting in Sept! Preorders are live tonight through tomorrow at 10pm local. https://linktr.ee/lesdogggg

Source: Leslie Jones Twitter

== Kristian Nairn ==

Reminder! Kristian is going to Yorkshire Comic Con this weekend! If you're in town consider dropping by! He also just dropped another episode of Spektrum! Check it out in the link below. https://linktr.ee/kristiannairn

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== Anapela Polataivao ==

Did you know that our dear Auntie directed the new performance of Red White and Brass going on in AoNZ? Well she's out at the premiere! If you're in AoNZ please check them out!

Source: Anapela's Instagram

== Nathan Foad ==

Nathan out and about with friends!

Source: MonicaHeisey's Instagram / Nathan's Instagram Stories

== Dominic Burgess ==

Dominic is up for Outstanding Supporting Actor in a Limited or Anthology Series for American Horror Stor:y Delicate! Keeping fingers crossed Dominic gets an Emmy!

Source: Dominic's Twitter

== Kay Buchanan ==

Our lovely leatherworker Kay Buchanan has posted some more pictures (some dupes some not) of more leather work she did for OFMD! I ran out of image room on the recap so I made a side post-- please visit it below to see more!

More parephenalia BTS

Source: Kay Buchanan's Instagram

== Relax I'm From The Future ==

One of Rhys' movies-- Relax I'm From The Future has come out with a special edition version with additional improv by Rhys and much more! The link is below! Amazon Link

Source: Luke Higginson's Twitter

== Articles ==

Our friends over at @adoptourcrew spotlighted another article related to WBD. Warner Bros Discovery Falls Apart.

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter

== Gotcha For Gaza ==

The awesome people over at @ofmdaction are still looking for more writers and artists! If you're interested please sign up here! More information on the event here!

Source: OFMDAction Twitter

== Fiber Arts Brigade ==

Our crewmates over at the Fiber Arts Brigade have reached their first and second tier goal for the #ThriveAsACrew fundraiser for SAGE USA! They've put together the first and second Cameo reward (provided by a generous donor, NOT from the raised funds) and you're welcome to check them out! 1st Up is Christopher Corbin (aka Magic Man in the Republic of Pirates)! You can watch it on their Twitter/Facebook page!

2nd is Damien Gerard! (aka Father Teach)

"Interested in donating to SAGE and getting to the next tier of the Cameo rewards? Please visit #ThriveAsACrew in support of SageUSA! Haven't had a chance to see which auction items were listed today? Check them out here: FiberArtBrigade Ebay Or...Want to donate a textile item of your own to be included in round two for release next weekend? Visit the Donation Form!" Source: Fiber Arts Brigade Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's first Cast Card features Yvonne Zima! One of our lovely writers, as well as "an actress featured on the hoity-toity party boat listed as Fleur de Maquis"! Next up is Richard B. another one of the folks in The Republic of Pirates! Thank you @melvisik for keeping up with these even on your vacation!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I realise it's a double day today but I wanted to say Happy Juneteenth to all our crewmates out there. This really is an important day in American History, and it continues to highlight each year why it's so important we learn from history and we don't white wash or shy away from the hard topics of our past. Today I'd like to share some quotes/love notes from Cole Arthur Riley, and some of histories brilliant Black writers/philosophers. Take care lovelies, rest well, we've only got half a week left, and then it's back to the weekend. Sending so much love your way.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Black Liturgies (@blackliturgies)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Black Liturgies (@blackliturgies)

Source: Black Liturgies on Instagram

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Today's theme is Relax I'm from the future, and because Taika is not in that movie, I'm gonna use one of my favorite reaction gifs instead. It will never get old. Gifs courtesy of the absolutely sweetest, most amazing folks out there, @bizarrelittlemew and @ofmd-ann. Tumblr would be a sad, lonely place without all the lovely gifs you both bring to it <3

[holylulusworld]

Auction of love

Summary: Your friend talks you into being part of a charity auction.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Plussized!Omega Reader

Warnings: angst, insecurities, low self-esteem, chubby/plussized reader, a/b/o, scenting, true mates, love-struck Dean,a hint of fluff, tension

“Mel, no. You know I hate big parties and events,” you whine. Your friend wants you to join a charity auction. “I’d rather go home, have a glass of wine, and watch my favorite show.”

“Y/N, we need you. All of us agreed to join the auction. Come on.” She nudges your side. “You bought this sexy dress and killer heels for a reason. I know the alphas will go crazy when you get on that stage wearing the dress.”

You shake your head. Mel is your friend, and she means well. Sadly, she doesn’t know how it feels to you to get on a stage to show your body to men bidding on omegas. You’re not slim and pretty like her.

“I don’t want to. Just look at me. I'm twice your size,” you sniff. “Mel, they will judge my body.”

“You’re beautiful. I love your boobs and ass. Don’t sell yourself short, babe. Let’s get you all dolled up. I bet you’ll get the highest bid.”

Nodding you give in. You know better than to believe one of the alphas will bid more than a few bugs to spend an evening with you. But you don’t want to disappoint Mel. If you can at least help raise the fund with a few bucks, you’ll get on that stage.

Even though, you hate standing in the spotlight.

“Five hundred.” 

You watch the alphas fight over your best friend Mel. She smiles sweetly and winks at the alphas. Mel looks like she belongs on a stage, and maybe she does. 

“Six hundred,” another alpha lifts his paddle. 

“Eight hundred.” The next one barks. It looks like he’s about to jump at the other alphas.

“One thousand.”

You sigh deeply. All the alphas are bidding on your friend, fighting over her.

“Two thousand.” Mel sucks in a breath as the next alpha raises from his seat. “For the pretty lady, I want to have dinner with.”

“Do I hear more?” Your boss asks. She plays the auctioneer tonight and grins as the alphas grumble under their breath. “Gentlemen, remember. It’s for the orphans. We want to support the local orphanage.”

“Three thousand!” 

“Alright, gentlemen. Going once,” your boss says. She lifts the hammer while looking around the room. “Going twice.”

The alphas shake their heads. No one will bid more than three thousand bucks for a date. You never thought any guy would pay so much money for a date.

“Going thrice,” she slams the hammer down. “Sold to the gentleman with the lucky number seven. Congratulations.”

Mel grins and gives you a wink. She mouths your name, hoping to encourage you.

It’s no use. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, and your legs wobble when you walk on the stage. All eyes are suddenly on you, and it feels like the alphas staring up at you, are there to judge your appearance from head to toe.

“Alright, gentlemen. One of you already got lucky with our charming Mel. Now we have Y/N. She’s smart, funny, and speaks six languages. Our lovely lady bakes pie to die for, knows how to repair a car and, she’s my best employee.”

Your boss gives you an encouraging smile. Jody nods as you nervously shift on your feet. The heels are killing you, and the dress uncomfortably sticks to your body. 

“We start with one hundred dollars.” 

Silence greets you. 

Your boss clears her throat and taps the microphone with her index finger to check if its working. “Gentlemen, you must bid if you want to spend the evening with this lovely lady.”

Your heart drops. No one is going to bid for you. If only you listened to your gut instinct, you wouldn’t stand on a stage, making a fool out of yourself.

Jody looks around the room again. She can’t believe no one is bidding for you. 

“Gentlemen, we are waiting for you. Doesn’t she look lovely in this dress?” she gets nervous. Jody and Mel talked you into getting on the stage and now, no one is bidding for you.

“Jody, no one is going to bid for me,” you whisper. “Can I go? I think the other ladies are waiting behind the stage. Let’s just…”

“Ten thousand!” Jody gasps watching a tall alpha step toward the stage. He looks you up and down, licking his lips. “No. Wait.”

You sigh. For one moment you believed someone bid for you only to realize he tried to be funny.

“I think this sweetheart is worth fifteen thousand and more,” he flashes you a cocky grin. “Gentlemen, your loss. I’ll make sure this pretty lady will have the best date of her life.”

“What? I-“ you stammer. 

“Uh-going once, twice, and,” Jody looks at the other alphas one last time, “thrice. Our lovely Y/N goes to number sixty-seven.”

“Awesome,” the alpha exclaims as you hurriedly walk toward the back of the stage.

Your heart is pounding wildly. This must be a dream.

“BABE! FIFTEEN THOUSAND BUCKS FOR YOUR CUTE ASS!” Mel squeals. She jumps up and down, giggling as you just stare at her with wide eyes. 

“I think he tried to be funny,” you tut. “Do you honestly believe any guy would pay fifteen-thousand bucks for a date with me?”

“Of course, babe. Look at you!” She clicks her tongue. “No more self-doubts, Y/N. That guy pays a fucking lot of money for a date with you.”

“Still, this smells like a hoax.” You don’t believe for one second that the man will pay the money to go out with you.

“There you are,” the alpha bidding on you pants heavily. “Alright. I paid the money to the auctioneer. Where do we wanna go?”

“What? Now…I—” You stare at the cocky alpha. He’s the most attractive guy you ever saw outside of magazines and movies and your heart starts to flutter.

“What do you want to eat? I love me some good food.” You can’t react or talk. All you are capable of is watching the alpha step closer. 

He’s at least six feet tall, maybe even taller. Shit, he’s naturally built and muscular, with gorgeous green eyes. Calling him handsome would be an understatement. 

“I like food too,” you finally say. 

“Great. So,” he smirks. “Now that I know that you like food too, we can get to the point where you tell me what you like to eat.” 

“Maybe you could tell me your name first.”

“Crap, yes. Uh—sorry sweetheart,” he chuckles and holds out his hand. “Name’s Dean. Dean Winchester.”

“Nice to meet you Dean,” you say before you can shy away. You shake his hand and smile at him. “Why did you pay so much money for me? I mean… there are more beautiful girls in the back. You should’ve waited.”

“Let me stop you right there, Y/N. I bid on you because I wanted to have a date with you. Not your friend, or any other woman. It was you who picked my interest.”

“Why?”

He cocks his head at your question. “Sweetheart, have you seen and smelled yourself? I can barely think straight since I saw you walk around in that dress. If I wasn’t a gentleman, your dress would lie in the back of my car for half the night.”

Your cheeks heat up at his words.

“Only the dress?” You question.

The alpha dips his head to sniff at your neck. He purrs as he finally can get more of your scent.

“I got me a cocky one, huh?” Dean pecks your neck. “I lost it when Jody said that you love to bake. I love me some pie.”

“If you promise to behave like a gentleman during dinner, I’ll make you a pie.”

“I’ll be the perfect gentleman for you, Y/N,” he inhales your scent deeply. “Until we are done eating. I can’t promise that I won't try to make you mine after dinner…”

Tags in reblog.