#custom imprinted bags

[yellow3m]

Welcome to the vibrant city of Miami, where the sun shines bright, the vibes are always lively, and the fashion scene is as diverse as its people. In this bustling metropolis, one accessory stands out among the rest - custom imprinted bags. From the trendy streets of Wynwood to the upscale boutiques of Brickell, these bags have become synonymous with both fashion and function, making a statement wherever they go. Miami Bags: More Than Just an Accessory Let's talk about Miami bags - those stylish carryalls that have become an essential part of everyday life in the Magic City. But these are no ordinary bags; they're a reflection of Miami's unique flair and personality. Whether you're hitting the beach, exploring the art districts, or simply running errands around town, there's a custom imprinted bag to suit every occasion. Imprinted Shopping Bags: The Ultimate Fashion Statement Picture this: you're strolling down Lincoln Road, the palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze, with an Imprinted Shopping Bag slung casually over your shoulder. Not only is it a practical way to carry your purchases, but it's also a fashion statement in its own right. With bold designs, vibrant colors, and personalized logos, these bags add a touch of Miami flair to any ensemble. Custom Imprinted Bags: Your Brand's Best Friend In a city as bustling and competitive as Miami, standing out from the crowd is essential - and that's where custom imprinted bags come in. Whether you're a local business looking to boost brand visibility or a corporate giant aiming to make a statement, these bags are the perfect marketing tool. Imagine your logo emblazoned on stylish tote bags carried by fashion-forward locals and curious tourists alike. It's not just a bag; it's a walking advertisement for your brand. Promotional Bags: Making a Lasting Impression When it comes to marketing your brand, you want promotional products that leave a lasting impression - and promotional bags with logos do just that. Whether you're handing them out at trade shows, corporate events, or community gatherings, these bags are sure to turn heads and spark conversations. And in a city like Miami, where style is king, ensuring your promo items are as fashionable as they are functional is key to success. Shopping Bags Wholesale Miami: Affordable Style for Every Budget Let's talk about practicality for a moment. In a city where shopping is practically a sport, finding affordable yet stylish bags is a must. That's where shopping bags wholesale in Miami come in. With a wide range of options to choose from, from durable totes to eco-friendly alternatives, these wholesalers cater to businesses of all sizes. So whether you're stocking up for a seasonal sale or gearing up for a major event, you can do so without breaking the bank. Retail Poly Bags Miami: Eco-Friendly Chic for the Modern Shopper With sustainability becoming increasingly important, eco-conscious consumers are on the lookout for retailers who share their values. Enter retail poly bags in Miami. Made from recyclable materials and featuring customizable designs, these bags offer a guilt-free shopping experience without sacrificing style. So whether you're browsing the shops of Coconut Grove or perusing the galleries of the Design District, you can shop with confidence, knowing you're making a positive impact on the environment. In Conclusion Custom imprinted bags have become an integral part of Miami's vibrant culture, combining style, functionality, and marketing prowess in one chic package. Whether you're a local business looking to make a splash or a fashion-forward individual eager to show off your Miami pride, there's a custom imprinted bag to suit every need and occasion. So go ahead, strut your stuff down Ocean Drive, or hit the shops of Bayside Marketplace - with a stylish bag by your side, the Magic City is yours to explore.

[restaurantmatchbooks]

Custom Imprinted | Logo Printed On Canvas Bag in New York

Custom Imprinted Canvas Bags

We provide a variety of cotton messenger bags and custom logo printed on canvas bags in New York. We offer quality custom imprinted canvas bags in New York

Looking for a unique and stylish way to promote your brand or business in the bustling city of New York? Look no further than custom imprinted canvas bags! These versatile and eco-friendly bags are the perfect promotional item to make a statement and stand out in a sea of competition.

Attracting attention in a city like New York can be a challenge, but with custom-imprinted canvas bags, you can turn heads wherever you go. Whether you're attending a trade show, networking event, or simply walking around the city, these bags will serve as a mobile advertisement for your brand. With your logo or custom design prominently displayed on the bag, you can increase brand visibility and create a lasting impression with potential customers.

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In a city as diverse and dynamic as New York, standing out from the crowd is key to success. By investing in custom imprinted canvas bags, you can elevate your brand and make a lasting impression on potential customers. With their versatility, sustainability, and stylish design, these bags are the perfect choice for promoting your brand in a city that never sleeps.

Contact us today to learn more about our custom imprinted canvas bags and start promoting your brand in style!

[k12academics]

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[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Three

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.6K

Series Masterlist

She missed her alarm the next morning, but that was the consequences of staying up all night, texting.

When she woke up, she was a mess. Hair all over the place, imprint of her sleeve on her cheek, and very late for work.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She cried as she climbed out of bed. She raced into the bathroom and worked on fixing her hair as she cleaned her teeth. She attempted to throw her pyjamas into the hamper as she ran back into her bedroom.

It took her five minutes to get dressed, another three get her get jewellery in. She did her makeup as quickly as she could and ran out of the door, heading to her office.

At three minutes past nine, Y/N walked into her office. She could feel the eyes on her as she walked over to her cubicle and sat down.

Her phone vibrated against her desk. She picked it up and checked it. I've got dinner with that asshole and his dad tonight, Lando had texted her. No good morning, he was straight to it. She liked it like that.

Y/N logged into her work computer before she replied. You should put salt in their drinking glasses.

She didn't hear from Lando for the rest of the morning. She worked quietly, slowly, still tired from the night before.

At her lunch break she checked in her bag but, of course, her lunch wasn't there. No, in all of her rushing around, she'd left it at home. "Fuck," she hissed as she pulled her jacket over her shoulders, placed her bag on her back, and ran down to the nearest shop.

She had just twenty minutes to buy and eat her lunch. If it came to it, she could eat at her desk, but those whose cubicles joined to hers wouldn't be happy. She had no time to check her phone as she bought a meal deal from her local corner shop.

As soon as she was back at her desk, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. A message appeared on her lock screen and she rushed to open it.

Salt is in the drinking glasses Will keep you posted

Both of the messages were from Lando. She smiled fondly as she typed out her response.

***

Lando's day job didn't often allow him a moment to text pretty girls. He was essentially the head of the Norris family, but he was also 'The Enforcer'. It was his job to go around to businesses that paid the family for protection and scare them into paying.

And, if they couldn't pay, it was Lando's job to deal with it. He loved it, loved watching the fear in people's eyes as he cracked his knuckles. There was always a point, usually when he pulled out his gun, where the fear left their eyes and they accepted their fate. It was rare that it had to get that far, but Lando had felt another mans blood on his face far too many times.

He was a monster, and he was proud.

This was where he was on his way to when he began texting Y/N that morning. He was pissed, he'd just found out he'd be hosting the dinner with the Sainz family and he wanted to kill something.

She'd given him a good suggestion, one that would start an all out war, though. Lando couldn't say that to her, not unless he wanted to scare her off.

So Lando took some time to think of his response. He climbed out of his car and walked into the small, family owned bakery. It was time for The Enforcer to do some enforcing.

He didn't come out of the bakery covered in blood. As soon as he had walked in all other customers had left and the Matriarch of the family had run to get Lando the money he was owed. She pleaded with him, said they needed the money to live, but Lando pocketed it and left. Not before leaving a pretty nasty 'warning' on the face of the baker, the father.

Lando climbed back into the car and pulled out his phone. He sent a response to Y/N and sat back in his seat, allowing himself to be driven home. His response was a lie. He wasn't going to attempt to put salt in Sainz's glass, not unless he wanted to die.

Before she could respond, Lando sent one more text. Come to the club tonight - i have a feeling i'm gonna need a drink

She agreed quickly, the text coming through as Lando left the car and walked up to his house. He walked quickly through the house, heading up towards the room where his father was currently laying, currently dying.

"Dad," he said as he sat in the chair beside his bed. Lando fished the money from the bakery from his pocket and presented it to his father. "Dunn's Bakery paid up," he said as his fathers frail hand reached for the money. "They shouldn't be late again."

His father counted through the money and handed it back. His lifted his hand to his mouth and coughed, his entire body moving with the force. "I have one last job for you before you take your sister to Spain," he said.

Lando sucked in his breath. He was dreading taking his sister to Spain, to marry Carlos Sainz Junior. If he was lucky, this job his father was going to give him would take weeks, would let him put off this trip to Spain.

"HC Publishing hasn't paid their rent yet," his father said. Lando nodded his head and stood up. He put the money back into his pocket and walked out of his fathers room.

***

The dinner with the Sainz family came and went. As soon they had left Lando went to his car. He sat there for a moment, looking up at the windows of his impressive house, looking at his sisters window as she closed the curtains and turned out the light.

Lando started the engine and drove away from the house. He headed towards the club, driving much faster than the speed limit. But Lando was a damned good driver, getting there in one piece.

As soon as he was parked out the back of the club, he texted Y/N to come and meet him. He made his way into the club, waving to the girl dancing and heading straight over to the bar. "Hey," he said to the bartender as she immediately poured him a whisky, never with ice. "There's gonna be a girl coming in here. If she looks lost, can you tell her to come to the back office? She knows where to go."

With that, Lando headed to his office. It was a mess, pillows from the couch on the floor and paperwork spread everyway. He put the whisky down and began clearing up the paperwork. Only some of it was meant for him, the rest for the manager to complete.

He tidied his liquor cabinet and put the cushions back into the couch. He sorted through his desk and made the office look more presentable.

Thirty minutes later the door to his office opened. "How did the salt go?"

Y/N strode into the office. She had her bag slung over her shoulder as she walked into the room and sat on the now presentable couch.

Lando stopped tidying and turned towards her. "You got here quick," he said, holding his whisky towards her. But she shook her head, frowning at just the smell. "I had to swap the glasses for clean ones," he said as he pulled open his liquor cabinet and poured her a weak gin and tonic. "My dad would have murdered me if I actually did it."

"Next time," Y/N said as she gratefully took gin from him. "Or you could put vodka in their glass instead of water," she proposed, head tipped towards him.

Lando laughed. "Do all of your plans involve putting something in someone's drink?"

"You're not ready for my other plans, Lan," she said, his tone teasing. Fuck, Lando hadn't been prepared for that. He almost choked on his whisky as she laughed at him. But the laughter stopped as she sipped her gin. "But how was it."

The smile dropped from Lando's face. He finished his whisky and placed the glass down onto his desk. "It was... okay at first. But then we got into business and then I was trying to do everything to keep my sister as protected as possible."

"Protected from what?" She asked as Lando joined her on the couch.

He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. I just want to make sure she's gonna be taken care of when she's married." She offered him her gin and he gratefully took it, having some before passing it back. "My dad is really sick," he said as soon as he swallowed the gin. "We're gonna lose him soon and I wanted to make sure she could come home for his funeral. If they don't let her I'm gonna fly where myself and get her," he said, cracking his knuckles.

Y/N took her gin from him. She stood and walked over to his liquor cabinet, putting a little more gin into her drink and handed it back to Lando. "Come on," she said. "We're getting you drunk."

Permanent Taglist: @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @minkyungseokie @formulaal @darleneslane @hiireadstuff @urfavnoirette @goldenharrysworld @andydrysdalerogers @hrts4scarr @llando4norris

Series Taglist (OPEN): @millinorrizz @cinnamongirlontv @sainzluvrr @aquangxl @hollie911 @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @queenofmanydreamss @somepeoplemaybe @shobaes @thatsusbitch @ibanstro @sobersidedly @ririgy @barcelonaloverf1life @hotbuns13 @dinodumbass @bellezaycafe @maddie-naps @yl90 @itscrzy @dontleaveitsmyfault3 @jule239 @noneofyourfbusinessworld @annispamz @mxmtewnz @thehufflepuffavenger1 @eviethetheatrefreak @lovejunz @nervous-bee

[fernandopiastri28]

stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side. 

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away. 

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin. 

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach. 

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her  shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up. 

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso. 

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,” 

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,” 

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Miller's Book Nook

Rating: G. Lots of shy fluff. Pairing: Bookstore Owner Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: 600 Summary: You've been infatuated with the handsome owner of Miller's Book Nook and it might just seem that he likes you too. Warnings: Tooth aching fluff, Joel's POV at the beginning.

A/N: I wrote a little something for Secret Springs. @secretelephanttattoo spun the wheel and I got Joel Miller and bookstore, AKA the coziest of cozy dreams. Thank you @saradika-graphics for the divider.

Masterlist

The door jingles alerting him to a customer. Christ, it’s almost time to close. Really? His internal anger dissipates once he looks up. He hides a smile, it’s you, his secret favorite customer, his heart springs to life when you shyly smile towards him. 

He clears his throat, removing his reading glasses and tucking his novel to the side. “Evening, looking for anything in particular?” 

“Oh, hi, no, just browsing, thanks.” 

“Just let me know if you need any help.”

Your head bobbles a nervous nod before turning down the new release aisle.

It’s always the same interaction. Same question, same answer, same response, so why does it always mean so much to him? 

—

You’re running out of shelf space, most of your extra income sits in the cash register of Miller’s Book Nook. You can’t keep away from the cozy brick building with its creaky hardwood floors and cinnamon scented air… not to mention the handsome owner.

Joel.

He’s always here. Quiet, intimidating, a man of few words. If you weren’t such a voracious reader, you’d still be trying to find excuses to stop in just to look at him. 

The text on the back of the book swirls in your head as you hear Joel’s heavy footsteps approach you.

“Heard that’s a good book, it’s next on my list,” his timorous voice is deep, sending a wash of calm across your body.

“I’ve been meaning to get it, guess today’s the day,” you glance up towards him. He wears a slight smirk, his eyes crinkling with warmth. 

“Guess it is. I’ll take it up to the front for you so you can keep looking.” 

“Thanks.”

He grabs the book and walks away, his wide shoulders taking up most of the aisle. A long exhale you’ve been holding deflates your lungs before you move to the next section.

—

A glance at your watch shows it’s fifteen minutes past closing time. Whoops. 

Timid steps bring you to the checkout counter where Joel looms behind, greeting you with a warm smile.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t see the time.”

“Not a problem at all, got nothing else going on,” his pleasant and deep voice sends a shiver up your spine.

Your head angles down, searching for your wallet in your bag. 

“On the house.” 

Your head darts up, eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, I can’t do that, Joel.”

This is the first time you’ve ever said his name out loud, you’ve never been formally introduced. 

“I’ll have none of that, please,” he urges the book into your hand. “You’re my favorite customer.” 

His voice softens with the last sentence, a wave of goosebumps prickle across your skin while your head swims with the implication of his words. 

“Thanks Joel.”

One last smile is sent your way before you clutch the book to your chest and leave.

—

You’ve been looking forward to this moment all day. Comfy couch, warm lamplight glowing, a lit cinnamon candle that smells like Miller’s Book Nook, your favorite fluffy plaid blanket covering you, and soft music playing. You nestle yourself amongst all of the coziness and open your new book. A small note card drops out. Neat, angular handwriting is written across it. 

Enjoy. I’m going to start reading it tonight. Please feel free to text me and we can talk about it.-Joel 

Your finger runs across the imprint of his phone number, a huge grin breaking across your face as you reach for your phone. 

[thezombieprostitute]

Lloyd Hanson - Soulmate AU

A/N: I swear, I tried to ignore him but that only made things worse. @alicedopey didn't help!

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: Reader is kidnapped. Smut. Sub/Dom dynamics vs Dub Con?

The bag is removed from your head and you're finally able to get a look at your surroundings. It's a dark room with one light above the table. It looks like one of those police interrogation rooms in TV shows. The duct tape is ripped from your mouth and you hiss from the pain. You test the bonds around your wrists, tied behind your back, but they're too secure to wiggle out of.

The chair across from you is abruptly pulled back and you're face to face with a tall, broad, blue eyed man with a porn mustache. He's smiling at you. You say nothing, letting your confusion show on your face. He rolls up his shirt sleeve and you see his soulmate tattoo. It's an exact match for yours.

"You couldn't have just bought me a coffee," you ask, trying to keep from snapping.

"Sweetheart," he coos, "you're my soulmate. I have to get you used to what the rest of your life is going to be."

You raise an eyebrow at that, "I'm going to constantly be kidnapped and talk with over-the-top idiots?"

He laughs at your comeback, "not quite. But I do have a lot of enemies and I gotta make sure my soulmate doesn't panic, cry and rat me out if they get picked up." He leans forward and rests his arms on the table. "And I gotta say, you are a champ!"

"I'm good at getting kidnapped," you deadpan. "What a wonderful compliment."

"Not easily scared, sassy and sarcastic," he croons. "You really are my soulmate." He winks and you roll your eyes.

"How did you find me," you ask. "I rarely, if ever, let my soulmate tattoo show."

"Someone used a rare photo of your mark to draw me in," he admits. "Imagine my surprise when it was someone trying to kill me."

"And from there you were able to find me," you nod. "Any chance of untying me, now that you know I'm not trying to kill you?"

"I dunno," he leers, "I'm kinda getting hard at the thought of you being so helpless to stop me."

"I swear to whatever deity will listen, I can and will bite you. Literally and metaphorically."

"Metaphorically?"

"The reason you like me being tied up is because your limp dick needs to feel like it's actually capable of leaving some kind of imprint."

"Ouch!" He moves his hand over his heart, "you weren't kidding, Sunshine. That really hurt!" He leaned forward even more, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "do it again."

"The only reason you don't shave your mustache is because you enjoy getting looks from people because you're a needy man-baby who needs the attention."

"Ooooh, that feels so good," he leans back, chuckling. He makes a motion and someone comes up behind you and undoes your bindings.

"Thank you," you nod, rubbing your wrists.

"Ah, I was wondering where the niceness was." You raise your eyebrow again, silently asking him what he meant. "You work with people a lot and always get such glowing customer service reviews. That means you can at least pretend to be nice. But when I dig further, I find that you're a good neighbor who helps the old lady carry in her groceries. Helps the kiddies with their homework. All that wholesome stuff."

"I have social skills," you retort. "Kinda required for the job."

"You don't have a job anymore." You don't try to hide your surprise at that statement. His tone goes stern for the first time, "I can't have my soulmate wasting her time on other people. All of that goodness you do for others? You're gonna do it for me and only me from now on. I get to be the only outlet for your kindness and you're gonna pamper me every time I'm home."

“No I'm not.”

“Excuse you? I don’t see that you have much of a choice here Sweetie.”

“Not my fault you lack the imagination to see my options.” 

“Your options are to either tend to my every want and need or wallow in a basement on starvation rations.” You smile at him and enjoy the momentary drop in his confidence. “You will give me everything I want. In return, I’ll give you everything money can buy.” You throw your head back and laugh at that. He’s squirming a little, wondering what the hell is going on.

“You can have my submission when you earn it,” you coo. “And you don’t earn it by buying it.” You lean forward, putting yourself in his personal space. 

“What the hell is going on?”

You roll up your sleeve to show Lloyd the matching soulmate tattoo and put your arm next to his. At the first touch of your hand, you both feel the electricity that confirms the two halves have met. You reach out and gently rub his cheek with your hand and he leans into it, gently moaning before he catches himself. 

“You see, even though I don’t know your name, I can see right through you. Your reactions to my snipes and my politeness were quite telling. You do crave attention but you’ve only ever been good at getting negative attention. A soulmate could give you that positive attention you long for. Why else would you actually come looking for me? You could keep up that attention seeking behaviour without involving me but you put yourself at risk for the chance at meeting someone who might be kind to you. Who might like you, if only because they have to.”

“My name is Lloyd,” he grumbles.

“Thank you, Lloyd. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you definitely started on the wrong foot.” 

He goes silent but he doesn’t stop your hand rubbing his cheek. He wants to be angry at you. He wants to follow through on his display of force. But he can’t do that. He makes another hand motion and a door opens. He stands up, comes around the table and lifts you up out of your chair. 

“I don’t appreciate not being in control, Sweetheart,” he growls at you. “I may want all of your affection but I will not hesitate to use force if you try to take control from me ever again.”

“As I said, you can have my submission when you’ve earned it.”

“And how do I do that? You turned down my offer of everything money can buy.”

“Treat me like a queen or goddess, not a pet.”

Lloyd takes a deep breath and starts walking towards the door, taking you with him. You manage to keep pace as he leads you through several hallways, up some stairs and finally emerging into, what you can easily assume to be, a mansion. He doesn’t stop to let you take too close of a look. He leads up the wide staircase, to a set of double doors. He pushes them open and you see a giant, canopy bed. You also see things that, while you can’t name them, you're pretty sure they’re meant for BDSM activities. 

He pulls you towards him, wrapping you in his arms, and forces your face up to look at him. “You’re not the only one who can read people, Sweetheart,” he purrs. “You enjoy being a bratty, submissive slut. You want someone who can properly dominate you, satisfy that craving your cunt aches for.”

He walks you to the bed as he keeps talking, “you always tried to hide your tattoo because it was your one rebellion against a world that makes you feel helpless. You are kind to your neighbors because you’re too stubborn to let your customer service job kill your soul.”

He pushes you onto all fours on the bed and smacks your ass. “And your unusual calm at being kidnapped? You expect the world to fuck you over.” He smacks your ass again and you bite back a moan. “You expect things to be out of your control so you don’t sweat it when you’re proven right.” He smacks your ass a few more times and you can’t stop the moan that escapes you. As soon as he hears it he chuckles. “You don’t want to be treated like a pet? Fine.” He spanks you again. “But I won’t treat you like a goddess or a queen.” Another slap. “I’m gonna treat you like the dirty slut you’ve always wanted to be.” Another slap. “And I’ll make sure you never feel you have to be more than just the cock hungry whore you really are.” 

The spanking continues, hard, fast and painful, until your arms give out. Lloyd reaches his arms around you and pulls you up so that your back is flush against his muscular chest. One hand holds you up by your neck. His other hand reaches under your clothes and smirks at how wet you are. He gathers up some of the slick and starts rubbing circles over your clit. You start whining and gasping at the sensations but you don’t dare move your hips. You’re certain he’ll stop if you do anything he doesn’t tell you to and you don’t want this to stop. 

He whispers in your ear, “so long as you never try to wrestle control from me again, I’ll treat how you really want to be treated.” His fingers move faster and you whimper from how close you are. “Not like a queen or a goddess, no. Not a pet, either.” You’re focused on not moving, trying to make sure that his fingers continue to work their magic. “I’ll treat you like my dirty little slut who will do anything so long as I let her cum.” 

His grip on your neck tightens and he whispers, “cum for me.” Your orgasm hits you harder than you ever thought possible. He keeps his fingers moving as he whispers “such a good slut.” As the ecstasy ebbs your legs start shaking and he lays you down on your back. 

Lloyd licks his fingers and moans appreciatively. He pulls off your pants and underwear, whistling appreciatively at the mess you’ve made of your panties. You try to lift yourself on your elbows but he pushes you back down. “You move when I tell you to, Sweetheart,” he orders, his tone making you whimper. He winks at you, “now let me show you the real reason I keep this mustache.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To a Tea 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc. 

Part of the Sweet and Spicy AU 

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk. 

18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you. 

Summary:  A demanding customer grows increasingly needy.

Character:  Raymond Smith

The title is a pun, don’t @ me.

Please comment and reblog if it’s not too much. I always love getting to chat about these stories and hearing all your ideas! You all are wonderful and loved. 

Six days in a row and you’re ready to keel over. Amid your busy schedule, you hadn’t a chance to fill your quickly dwindling cupboards and fridge. So, after a ten-hour shift on your feet, running all around the tables and between tea rooms, you expend the last of your strength on a quick trip to the shop. 

It isn’t too far out of your way. It’s just a half-block away from your stop. You could wait until tomorrow, your day off, but you’re dying for a strawberry shortcake mochi before you tuck into bed. The rest of your night isn’t too unusual; you’ll be happy to fall asleep to an episode of the same old sitcom that you know by rote. 

You yawn over the bask hooked over your elbow. You have your mochi and a few other staples to get you through; eggs, oat milk, and your favourite brand of granola. You rub your forehead as a stitch threatens to imprint itself permanently. Tomorrow you’ll do a proper shop. 

You stop just before the cashier and peruse the discount shelf. Those chocolate-covered gummy worms are deadly. You shouldn’t. 

You reach for the package, eyeing it up, blinking away another yawn. Those will only have you waking up with a sore tummy. 

“You’d be better off with the dark chocolate, or even the peanuts,” someone says. The timbre is dulcet but firm, and strangely familiar. 

You look over at the figure standing around the side of the shelves. You fear you might be hallucinating as you stare at Raymond. He has a square of protein chocolate in hand but sets it back where he got it, making certain it and every other bar is straight. 

“Oh, hi?” You stammer.  

The tea shop is busy and you’re certain you’ve probably crossed paths with at least one customer outside store hours, but never like this. If anything, you both look the other way and carry on. Instead, he’s intent on you, shifting to face you fully as he sets his shoulders, clutching his hands before him. 

“Though I do suppose you’ve already got the ice cream, it hardly matters what else you add to your lot,” he muses. 

You look in your basket then at him. Is he judging you? Mr. Black Tea, plain. You hang the bag back on the hook. As you do, he steps forward and you shuffle back on your heels. He pulls the bag in line with others, rescinding his hand with a flutter of fingers. 

“If you’re in the mind for something sweet, there’s a place near here, it has a sticky toffee pudding more worth the expense,” he suggests. 

You don’t know what to say. You haven’t seen him since he muttered about your apron strings. In the two weeks after, you assumed he might not come back. As particular as he is, you thought you’d gone egregiously over the line. And yet, you’d forgotten about him for all the other bodies passing through the door. 

“Thanks, I’ll look into that,” you say. 

“Mm,” he hums and his eyes flit up and down behind his lenses, “you sound different.” 

“Do I?” You reach to scratch your neck. 

“You look different too.” 

You tilt your head and give a confused grimace, “well, I...” you glance down, “suppose I'm not wearing my apron.” 

“Must be it,” he agrees, “you sound tired.” 

“I guess... yeah,” you take a breath and let it out slowly.  

It’s strange. He’s not a customer here, there is no need to please and yet you feel you must. You poke the tip of your tongue out then hide it behind your lips. 

“Not in a bad way,” he assures you.  

“Right, thanks,” you say in a fracture, “that’s nice, but uh, I... I’m just on my way home.” 

“I know,” he says. 

“...so then I’ll just be--” you point towards the checkout and falter, “what did you say?” 

“Yes, down Trafalgar. I know. It’s late,” he peers over towards the transparent walls along the front of the shop, “these parts aren’t too safe this time of day.” 

“Trafal--“ you begin but can’t finish, “Raymond.” 

He blinks, his expression scarily placid. 

“Details,” he says evenly, “it is best to keep note of them. It is dangerous not to mind them.” He raises a finger, “one might not notice the shadow that walks behind theirs or the window they left open in the kitchen.” 

Your lip trembles as your heart sinks, “have you... have you been following me?” 

“Following... that sounds sinister,” he gives a crooked expression, “no, no, I would consider it... I keep you safe.” 

“Safe. From what, exactly?” 

He narrows his eyes and his lips straighten thoughtfully.  

“Well, from men like me.” 

His words turn your blood to ice. Men like him. What does he mean? 

“I...” you take a step back and he moves with you. You put your hand up to stop him as you still, “Raymond, do not come any closer.” 

“You don’t understand, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he says, “that’s what makes me different. Not like those other men.” 

“I mean it,” you warn him. “If you come any closer, I will make a scene.” 

Your adrenaline courses through you. You’re awake now. The yawns have dissipated and your eyes are wide. 

“Ah, and that’s where I am like the other men,” he shrugs, “it doesn’t matter if I come closer to you right now. Hardly matters. Because I can wait. I have waited. And when I...” he steps towards you and you put the basket between you, his stomach pressing against it, “come closer, you will not even see me coming.” 

You stare at him, horrified. His blue eyes gleam and he reaches to straighten his glasses. He smirks and his brows draw up coyly. He leans in and you lean away. Then suddenly, he backs off and tugs his cuffs straight, then fixes his tie. 

“Don’t forget to close your window,” he says as he spins on his heel, “wouldn’t want some nocturnal creature creeping in.” 

You gape after him as he saunters off. You can’t quiet move as disbelief has you stuck to the spot. It’s all so sudden. So unexpected. How could you ever predict something like this? The uptight man from the tea shop, a stranger really, a face who disappeared for a whole fortnight, and he’s just shaken your entire world into disarray. 

Men like him? You don’t even know who he is. Only his name and how he likes his tea. 

[samonroegf]

⠀dealer!sam monroe x cheerleader!reader

⠀⠀ ⠀　 sam’s flashback : the fight

⠀⠀　 　 ⠀　 series masterlist

sam laid in bed, after getting off the phone with you, he lays in bed a moment, taking a few more puffs of his cigarette before putting it out on the nightstand next to his bed. rolling out of bed, he throws some clothes on, collecting his supply and walks out the door.

when he steps outside the light is blinding and he puts on his sunglasses to shield himself. as he starts his car, the music is loud enough to make him flinch. he curses and turns it down just slightly.

he eventually shows up to the customer's house, leaves everything but the supply in the car. he knocks and is let in, it's saturday morning and there's a group of hungover kids from school.

one of the boys in a letterman’s jacket waves him over, no doubt the one that called him. he knew the guy, dated you for a little bit and always known for being a dick.

“heard you're messing with y/n, she was fucking crazy when i was with her. she's probably way worse with whatever drugs you're feeding her.” he spoke to sam, like he was better than him. it made sam clench his jaw in annoyance.

sam takes two seconds, trying to decide what the best action would be. shaking his head, he didn't care what happened. he couldn't just let this guy, eric, just walk around and talk shit about you.

he grabs the bag of weed out and hands it to the guy, taking the money from him and then punches the guy straight in the face. eric was bigger than sam, but sam was fast.

eric punches sam in the face, hitting just his eye, before hitting him again and busting his lip. sam wipes his mouth, some blood being seen on his hand. he spits on eric’s white carpet, now stained red.

“you’re just some punk ass kid.” eric shouts confidently, before sam tackles him to the floor, slamming his knuckles into the eric’s face until he stops hitting him back. very obvious imprints from sam’s rings essy to see.

the other kids in the house murmuring to themselves, but not daring to get involved. sam stands up, giving eric one last kick to the ribs.

“i suggest you keep her name out of your mouth, or I'll make sure you never speak again.” he takes a five out of the money eric gave him, dropping it on eric’s body. he's still alive and conscious, but it's obvious his size won't win this one. he looks afraid of sam, and he should be.

“here’s a discount since you got your ass beat.”

[maliciousblog]

Muse (Seonghwa)

Artist

He was surrounded by people singing his praise.

That fell deaf onto his.

He couldn't care less. The money , the fame and the glamour it all lost its appeal to him.

What once filled him with joy now replaced by disdain.

His passion for art had fizzled out.

He felt hollow inside and his work was a mirror his painting to him had lost their charm.

People fawned over them nonetheless but that didn't matter to him...

He felt nothing anymore just a state of numbness.

The showcase had been a success he sold all his paintings and the gallery curator cut him a hefty check not that he needed it but it does help finance his lifestyle.

He laid down in bed staring at the ceiling wide awake once again like many nights before.

He had become an insomniac the bags under his eyes a deep shade of purplish blue.

His cheeks hollowed and his smooth skin pale almost porcelain like.

Giving his the appearance of a doll straight out of a Tim Burton movie.

The air around was cool.

Maybe a walk might help ease him a little.

Roaming the streets as the wind brushed through his hair he looked like a wandering ghost in search of peace.

Deciding on visiting his usual coffee spot

The bell to the door rang as he stepped in.

He saw your head peak out up the counter greeting him with a warm smile.

The warmth he craved so desperately.

His usual barista quit and you had become a welcome replacement.

He froze entranced by you it was like he was struck all at once.

Reborn as vitality began to corse through his veins.

You had given him a new life.

People would call it love at first sight but this was something much darker much more dangerous.

As he walked towards you he took in every single detail of your face as if to imprint a permanent picture of you in his mind you were beautiful no doubt but there was just something about you that drew him in something that sparked a deep seated obsession in him.

His eyes were firmly fixed on you studying your every movement.

You could feel his eyes on you.

It made you uncomfortable.

As you rushed to make his order trying to avoid his predatory gaze.

He just stood there for a while straing right at you.

The hair on the back of your neck raised in alarm.

As he drunk in your every detail.

It was well passed midnight and you were alone managing the cafe as only a handful of customers would show up at this time.

You tried best to avoid eye contact his eyes were lifeless and cold. His pupils were dialated making his eyes appear like empty dark holes.

Surrounded by the purplish bruse like patches under his eyes.

His skin appearing translucent as the lights above danced on his cheek bones making the fine web of veins under his eyes visible.

His was almost corpse like. His stillness made your skin crawl.

He gave you a smile his lips curling upwards as he turn away and left.

Leaving his drink on the counter.

He increased his pace as he neared his apartment.

His manic state only worsened.

It was like a thread has finally snapped in him turning him into an unhinged madman.

Painting after painting he creates reassembling you in different ways.

He was locked in his studio for weeks.

The only time he ever stopped was when his manager forced himself in to clear out his studio of the completed painting.

No suprise to him they sold in an instant once they were listed. He didn't see any sign of him stoping either.

Soon enough just the image in his mind wasn't enough for reference.

He sent his manager to stalk you taking pictures of you at work but they too soon weren't enough.

It was like he was an starved beast.

His appetite was insatiable and growing.

The pictures from work weren't enough from work he had people follow you around to your home to anywhere you went he had eyes on you.

Anything he wanted his people delivered to him as he kept their pockets filled with the cash off the paintings that sold like hot commodities on the market.

To call you his muse would be an understatement.

As one would predict pictures no longer satisfied his hunger anymore.

He needs to feel you he need to be surrounded by you.

For now he settled for your personal items like your favourite pair of pajamas or the botte of expensive face cream you only used on special occasions or the lipgloss you always carried around in the bottom of your purse.

But nothing could come to close to the real thing now could it.

He was past all reason he had gone made in pursuit of creating his masterpiece and you were the last piece of the puzzle.

He had to have you in the flesh he couldn't wait any longer.

He couldn't just let anyone come get you.

No ..... No .... No you were far to precious to be touched just by anyone.

He had to take you himself he couldn't let anyone else touch you get their grimy hands on you.

It would taint your perfection.

So he waited patiently for the perfect opportunity he knew that it was selfish of him to steal you away but his obsession outweighed any shred of reason he had left in him.

He would consider letting you go but you just looked so beautiful tied to a chair the ropes cutting into your skin the more you struggled turning the tender skin under them a delicious shade of red which he tried to colour match as close as he could as he tried to capture your likeness onto his canvas.

That day your fate was sealed as he added the final touches to his portrait of you.

You were never going to make it out of his studio

His own personal life sized mannequin.

Your only job was to sit still and look pretty for him if not well he would add a few permanent marks to your skin to remind you of your place.

[vhstown]

gwen stacy ★ general headcanons

content/warnings: mentions of underage drinking, implied & mentions of death

a/n: hey 😁 a levels beating my arse. thx 2 @qiupachups 4 helping w these 🫡 give it up for gwendy ‼️ (unedited)

Gwen is a collector — but not of collectibles. She has a secret empire of the most random things, and is thoroughly embarrassed when anyone finds it: tickets, pins, soda can tabs, cool-looking clothing tags, mismatched hair clips, paper clips, little things stolen from school, etc. Anything she things is remotely interesting has a place in a very specifically organised box under her bed, tucked away from the world and taken out occasionally to be adjusted or stared at. It's essentially the same as being a collector, right...?

She had a fashion hobby she grew out of, but it re-kindles when she has to design a suit for herself. Initially, it's made up of thermal sportswear but she comes up with actual designs at some point, modifying it overtime to include the hood and to integrate it with her ballet slippers.

When it comes to art, Gwen's style would be a lot like a fashion student's. I headcanon her to have aphantasia so her main strength is drawing clothing, and a lot of her drawings are based on herself as a reference (she can literally only draw herself well...) Rather than a sketchbook, she has a journal that's also full of photographs and writing as well as her drawings, and the occasional crumpled up drum score.

Has a knack for sewing and customises some of her clothes, though it's more personal touches and the occasional crop rather than completely overhauling a piece of clothing. Everyday items of hers have at least a little embroidery or design on them and she likes doing patterns on like bags and converse for her friends. Wants to make plushies and things but always manages to get distracted so there's a bunch of unfinished projects in her closet. (I would totally buy from her on Etsy though 😁)

Gwen did ballet as a kid and developed the enraging habit of cracking EVERY joint in her body. She's the mf that twists in the chair in front of you and stares deep into your soul while cracking her back. Cracks things you don't even know you could crack without shame my girl is a whole instrument 😭

Ballet is something her dad pushed her towards, alongside music (though he preferred she did something more traditional). Initially Gwen did feel out of place in her classes. A lot of the other children at her classes were already well-versed in it, and a lot of times she found she wanted to quit. Only after learning that her mom Helen did ballet did she willingly pick it up again at an older age, incorporating the technique into her fighting style.

Gwen used to play a few different instruments as a kid but none of them really stuck. For a while, she thought she hated music when she did piano and the recorder, but when she got her hands on a drumkit at her school and a couple lessons, she knew it was the one.

Her drumming is definitely more freestyle, and even though she's good she has a lot of problems with her high energy, spontaneous and emotive style. That means she breaks her drumsticks ALL the time. There's no way she's banging all that out on the drums without an unfortunate snap or two, so she always keeps another pair handy. She's broken her drumsticks so much that there's a collection of them torn up at the bottom of her bag (she never bothers to throw them out, and might've given herself a splinter reaching in to find something 💀)

Speaking of drumsticks, she has one lucky pair she uses for important performances, carrying them practically everywhere. They've essentially rotted in their fancy little fabric case since she'd gottem them, the custom "GWENDOLYN MAXINE STACY" imprinted on it having almost completely eroded away.

Though, she's only ever used them once; her dad had bought them for her for a school performance, which she had to bail last minute when her Spider-sense suddenly activated. Running off to fight a villain not a street away, Peter Parker follows her, and he realises just who Spider-Woman really is.

While she was planning to use them at her prom performance with her band... that never happened. After that, everything reminded her of that night, and her relationship with The Mary Janes dwindled until she quit altogether. The band only lasted a few months prior, and since they never got to perform at prom, Gwen found herself playing for no reason at all, other than to get rid of her pent-up energy and forget about the fact that she's basically a wanted criminal.

When she's living in Hobie's universe, she ends up breaking her "lucky" drumsticks and is, understandably, a little shattered by it, but Hobie gets her another pair, "GWENDY" written in mismatched letters on the side. That "G" was definitely a last-minute addition, though. He also teaches her how to stop breaking them so often. "Bit of advice — use the wrists, not just the arms."

Gwen's definitely not meant to drink, so whenever Hobie goes to the pub he makes sure not to, suggesting his friends don't get pissed out of their minds either (though she might steal a sip of something fruity now and again.)

Hobie takes her to gigs all the time, and sometimes she drums for his ones. The first time she does it, she's nervous of course, but her sound immediately gets the crowd going and it's the talk of the town for a week straight (and her drumsticks didn't break!)

There's no shortage of junk food, of course. Just like all the takeout she'd have back at home, Hobie would make sure to take her around all the local spots. Although it's not exactly the same, anything beats the plasticky cafeteria food in 2099. Stopping for a kebab or two in the middle of anomaly-hunting isn't really against the rules anyway.

Gwen is friendly with pretty much everyone in the Spider-society because everyone knows who "Gwen Stacy" is, but she never really wants to meet another version of herself (given how unsettling it is with context). Also very awkward around any MJs — or Peters. Peter B essentially being an older 65!Peter definitely freaks her out a little at first.

Misses Miles, obviously, and probably had something she wanted to make for him back in her universe that she could never retrieve. Maybe when she gets Hobie's watch she'll bring it along with her — would Miles like a knitted neckwarmer?

SO best friends with Margo. Her tech lets Gwen see into her universe sometimes (Miguel wouldn't let her 😞) and Margo is super keen on learning about her universe. They both hang out with Peni and it's a fun little girl trio (Peni totally takes them to her universe to see all the giant mechs 😁 "Girls night!" BOOM!)

Number 1 girlfail. She hasn't broken those new drumsticks yet! But drumming can wait — and all those projects at the back of her closet, and her unresolved dispute with MJ and the band, and her dad at home. Going from her small world to having an entire multiverse against her and her friends, Gwen's got one hell of a show to put on, right?

“I never found the right band to join, so I started my own, with a few old friends.”

“You want in?”

🩰🕸️💫

@phoenixinthefiles (it's cause of you im always writing hcs 😭😭😭 /pos)

hi bunklies 😁 ive been averaging like 4h of sleep cuz of skl but ill fix up soon trust... hope you are all doing okay ! ive never written anything for gwen before so i hope this is an okay start lol

atsv masterlist here! reblogs always appreciated :) see u around <3

[inkformyblood]

over and over and over again (SatoSugu, JJK)

Slight canon divergence, pre-canon, Pining

It’s said that the definition of insanity is trying the same actions and expecting a different outcome. A curses titters in the corner of the small cafe, oozing between the packets of sugar and sauce, a mug discarded by the previous owner with a spoon resting against the handle. It’s still small, barely more than a wisp of violet light in the corner of Gojo’s eyes, and he lets himself wonder how it came to be. 

Strong emotions, fear, anger, grief, all tie together to make curses, to give them shape and substance, and he thinks the wisp might be leftover from a breakup. It would fit. It’s small at the moment, the dying rattle of every what could-have-been a life together would hold, and it would linger over the sheen of the tables and every discarded crumb of burnt arguments and sticky regret that would be left behind by the endless waves of customers. Over time, that corner would grow dark, damp, miserable, and the owner would tear their hair out trying to fix a problem they couldn’t see. They might drag in fans to clear the air, knock a hole through the wall and encourage natural light that would never fully settle where it was most needed. 

The bell above the cafe door chimes. Gojo doesn’t look up at it. 

He doesn’t need to.

There isn’t anywhere on this earth that Geto could hide from him. Barriers are more of suggestions, the memory of Geto’s fingers tapping against Gojo’s nose the same way he would caution a puppy from leaping up at his leg is still sharp, still bloody, so Gojo stays in the spaces that keep him away from Geto; the school, other countries, places he had never been able to travel with Geto but always wanted to. Even Gojo’s old room feels off limits somehow, the past bleeding into the present with every ragged second, staining everywhere Geto hadn’t touched more than the places he had. 

Gojo brought souvenirs. 

It had been the box that caught his eye first, more than the curse woven round the face of the woman running the stall. She’d been tall, broad-shouldered beneath her neat pinstriped shirt, and she’d only taken a moment to adjust to Gojo’s appearance before her smile stretched wide. He’d babbled about something he couldn’t remember now, might have been about his students — Fushiguru continuing to nurse his crush on Itadori like it’s something possible to blow out, not the controlled blaze Gojo can see that it is — and she’d nodded along, indulging him even as she nudged him towards a sale. She’d been very good so he’d exorcised the curse as he paid, tore clean through the rationality of the universe with a wink as he dropped the coins into her palm.

It screamed as it died, maybe a semi-Grade 3 if he had to put a number to it, digging into her cheek with claws that looked sharp to slice through flesh in an instance and left nothing more than a twinge of pain. She’d cupped her cheek as Gojo walked away, already likely thinking about how she was going to tell her friends about the strange rich man who’d stopped by late at night. The box is dark paper, handmade with the logo embossed on the underside, masterfully made and closed with a ribbon that gleams beneath the artificial lights in the cafe as Gojo pulls it from his bag. There’s a small dent in one corner, a natural weakness in the paper degrading over the journey here, every step Gojo had taken when the bag had swung out and back again imprinted on the shape. He reaches over and places the box on the table next to his, tapping it into neat alignment with the collection of sauce packets and the plastic menu before he retreats. Little gestures he didn’t know to act upon when he was younger and the bitterness still stains his teeth, clogging his throat with everything he should have said. 

It would never be enough, but it would be a start.  

Satoru Geto walks past Gojo’s table and he doesn’t look at him.

Gojo looks at Geto enough for a half a lifetime to slip through his fingers and it would still never be enough. He’s dropped his usual costume for something simpler, his shirt neatly pressed and the cuffs already unbuttoned. The sleeves cling to his forearms, the rough edge of a burn barely visible past the dark fabric, and Gojo’s thoughts catch on it as neatly as a snare laid in his path. Geto’s skin is faintly marked, scars long since faded to silver over the span of his arms, the backs of his hands; Gojo wears the same. His trousers are the style he favours, wide-legged and gathered at his waist and ankles. The fabric rustles together softly as he sits at the table next to Gojo, his stance wide for an instance before he crosses one ankle behind the other. 

Not a single stitch of him touches Gojo.

He looks tired.

There’s fresh lines at the corners of Geto’s mouth, faint enough that Gojo thinks he could smooth them away with the pad of his thumb like they’re nothing more than errant pencil marks; a few new strands of silver winding their way from his temples. He’d never considered what they would look like as they aged, what fresh aches and pains time would bestow on them because it felt like sacrilege. They were never meant to grow old. Geto’s hair is drawn back from his face by a simple braided cord and he pulls it free, sliding the tie onto his wrist instead. He pulls his hair over one shoulder, the opposite side to Gojo so the line of his neck is exposed.

There’s a bruise there, not the expected mark from nails drawn against the same spot in thought or from the heavy chain of jewellery. It isn’t even a bite, some conspirator of Geto allowed nearer than anyone else to peel away the heavy fabric he wears and press their mouth to his skin, taste the tang of his blood across their tongue and wear his colour across their mouth. It’s a bruise from a curse, a blow that stains bone and soul worse than the flesh above it, a wound Gojo couldn’t protect him from.

“You got me a present?” Geto asks, facing forward, his head inclined to one side. There’s an old note of delight in his voice, the same question he would offer to Gojo when they returned from separate missions, both worn thin with exhaustion. As if he couldn’t imagine existing in Gojo’s mind when they were apart.

As if he isn’t the entirety of Gojo’s universe.

“I did,” Gojo answers. He props his chin onto his palm, curling his fingers into the loose section of hair there. He twists one lock around his finger, too short to keep hold of it, long enough to be pulled as a dull ache of pressure creeps across his skull. He bites his tongue to keep everything else he wants to say behind the cage of his teeth; a litany of please come back with me, I miss you, I love you, I love you, I love you I love youiloveyou. 

Geto hums, drawing the box towards himself. The ribbon is the same colour as his hair, ink tipped into water, and it slides free just as easily as Geto draws it loose. There is no chance of interruption, not here, not now. Infinity hums across Gojo’s skin like a second heartbeat, his own personal constellation pulled out of the sky and branded into skin and bone, and he pushes it outwards, drawing a veil around them both. Geto’s lips purse, a deliberate inhalation tripping the exhalation that should be filled with smoke.

The chocolates in the box still shine the same way they did in the small shop Gojo stumbled across, a rainbow hue of colours splashed across the mirror-like surface, each one a perfect bite. He’d eaten one before travelling here, plucking it from the separate bag and biting down, letting the smoky flavour wash over him, crushing the nut pieces between his teeth, wishing it had lasted longer than the few seconds it had taken. There are seven pieces in the box he’s given Geto, seven pieces to last seven days, seven instances when Gojo has to remember him. 

Because Gojo could keep Geto next to him. He could wrap his fingers around Geto’s and never let him leave again. 

He wouldn’t.

But he could.

The thread that keeps Gojo human was braided into existence when the only thing keeping him tethered was the weight of the corpse in his arms and Geto’s hand on his arm. It frays and Gojo reties it with the memory of Nanami’s glare, the one that mean he is trying not to laugh, the corners of his mouth drawn upwards more than down; ties a fresh knot between decaying strands when Megumi leans his head against Gojo’s shoulder when they return from a mission, bone-tired and defiant like a child all the same; weaves a fresh extension from rotten ends because Itadori is still breathing and fuck anyone who tries otherwise. 

But Satoru Gojo is human because Suguru Geto told him to be.

Geto peels back the paper packaging, trailing his fingers over the offering, considering. He plucks one chocolate — the same bright blue as Gojo’s eyes, as infinity — and holds it up to the dull light of the cafe. He twists it this way and that, the pads of his fingers growing tacky as the chocolate melts, clinging to the warmth of his skin. The curse, tiny purple wisp of a thing, crawls out from behind the salt shaker, a tiny chuckle falling from it. What it had wished to do, Gojo can’t say, but Geto’s hand falls, chocolate still held between thumb and forefinger as his palm slams into the curse. It dies stickily, a dark smear over Geto’s palm as he raises his hand to his mouth.

He runs his tongue over his palm, the pale skin beneath revealed, and Gojo chases it with the chocolate, breaking it between his back teeth with a crunch. A shadow falls over Geto’s face, the tendons in his neck cut into sharp relief, a marble carving of suffering that would exist for an instant and an eternity in Gojo’s mind because he hadn’t seen, he didn’t notice, and he would break the universe if it would bring Geto back to him. 

Geto swallows, his eyes closed and his mouth drawn into a tight line before he relaxes. “Thank you for the gift.”

He stands and walks away.

Gojo watches him leave, his palms bloody and his smile too full of teeth. 

[bl00dyloverzz]

𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚃𝚠𝚘: 𝙺𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚊 𝙰𝚔𝚊𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚎, 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, character is aged up!! m/f, facefucking

———————————————————

The idea of collaring you had always interested your boyfriend, but he never brought it up to you. It’d be a secret thing he’d fantasize about. You, down on your knees in front of him, with a collar tight around your neck, a leash hanging down in front of you. The thought turned him on so much.

So, he surprised you one night.

He told you to sit on the bed with your eyes closed as he went to go get your surprise. You were nervous. A moment later, Karma walks back in with a sparkly black bag in his hand. He handed it to you. “For you, my love.”

You took the bag from him and pulled all the tissue paper out. Your eyes widened when you saw what was inside. You reached in, and pulled out a shiny leather collar with a long chain attached to it. You looked at Karma, and he was smiling.

“Well?” He said, taking the collar out of your hands. “What do you think? I got it custom made for you, see?” He showed you the little heart attached to the front with your name on it. You blushed.

He leaned down to your level on the bed and reached his hands around you. He put the collar on your neck, and made sure it was tight. When he stood up, pulled away and looked at you, his face went red.

“You look so good, doll.” He said, and you could hear the desperation in his voice. He wanted you, and you knew it.

“Do you like it that much?” You asked, noticing how the imprint in his pants was getting more and more noticeable.

“Oh, y/n, you have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He picked up the leash and wrapped it around his hand. He pulled a little bit, the collar choking you a little bit as he did. “Now I want you to get on your knees for me, okay?”

You obeyed. You moved from the edge of the bed to the floor. You looked up at him with big eyes and he grinned from ear to ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. He yanked on your chain again, whipping you forward towards him. “Now I want you to work that pretty lil mouth of yours.”

Karma dropped his pants and boxers, revealing his hard-on. You drooled and took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on his pretty cock. He threw his head back while a moan escaped his lips. He brought his free hand to the back of your head, while the other yanked on your leash. Your vision went hazy as you choked on him and the collar. It hurt, but it felt so good.

Pretty golden eyes stared down at you as you struggled to take the whole thing down your throat. You were a mess, drool soaked your shirt and tears fell down your face. Your collar would jingle any time he thrusted into you. Your throat was burning, but seeing how Karma was reacting made you hungry for more. His face was flushed a light shade of pink, and his mouth was slightly open. He looked so hot like that.

You moaned around him when he tightly pulled your leash, pushed himself deeper down your throat one last time, and suddenly came down your throat. It burned but you swallowed every last drop.

He pulled out you soon after and dropped your chain. He kneeled down to your level and wiped the spit off your cheeks. “You did so good for me, doll. Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He said, patting you on the head

[skellymom]

Chapter 2

The BAD BATCH Mini Series HALLOWEEN Fan Fic

To read Chapter 1:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/731338076301000704/the-tale-of-the-dathomir-witch?source=share

"The Tale of the Dathomir Witch" 

All Ages: Sadness, mentions of canon Star Wars Empire badness, crying, and some sweet revenge at the end of this tale (you will have to wait until Chapter 3)! (I did change some of Old Daka's canon lore to write this. She really doesn't have too much of a story, decided to give her some more.)

Warning: Some of you might want tissues handy. This fic features lots of crying.

Word Count: 2K

“Crawl” by Unsecret x Bryar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZ6CQKj-wkY&list=RDMMLsgO5OTUsRU&index=17

The Batch waited on pins and needles for Old Daka to arrive. Tech brewed another full pot of Caf. He was sucking down caffeine like mad. Restless legs wiggling as he sat. Wrecker broke out his hidden stash of Mantell Mix and snacks to the group but ate the lion’s share. Echo pulled out his “special occasion” Spotchka bottle from his footlocker and shared sips with Hunter. Omega, unaware of the full gravity of this mission, was full of energy and excitement to meet “Gran-Momma Daka.” 

She arrived halfway into one Imperial rotation. The ship that landed next to the Marauder was a stolen Republic shuttle, repainted with scrawling anti-Empire graffiti. Its name written in red Aurebesh: The Anarchy. The gangplank lowered and Old Daka emerged carrying a bandolier strap case. She was accompanied by a white armored clone also painted with graffiti: His chest emblazoned with an A inside a circle and the initials RR on his helmet, all spray painted in blazing red Aurebesh. 

The clone removed his helmet to reveal a shiny Reg clone sporting long red ponytailed hair with sides shaved. He saluted Hunter. “Sergeant, Private Riffraff, Sir. Requesting permission for Grandmother Daka to board the Marauder, Sir.” 

“No need for formality, Shiny.” Hunter scoffed. 

“Riffraff???” Echo called out.  

“Echo!” Riffraff beamed. He shook like a happy puppy, then quickly looked at Old Daka and Hunter for permission. They both nodded, and he took off like a shot, embracing Echo. Echo returned the hug, smacking his back enthusiastically. 

Wrecker, Tech, and Omega smiled at the clone reunion. They just gained another new brother. 

“Stars it’s good to see YOU!” Echo beamed. He pulled Riff back to get a better look. “Custom painted armor I see. Giving a good one to The Empire!!!” 

“I barely survived Order 66, Vod. Kriffin’ crazy time. Thanks to Granny Daka for saving my butt.” He beamed at the old woman, who returned a small warm grin. 

Hunter cleared his throat loudly. “Shall we go inside and discuss our POSSIBLE mission?” 

“OH! Yes...carry on.” Riff let go of Echo and stood at attention by his ship. His contented smirk never wavered as the crew climbed aboard the Marauder. 

************************************************************************

“Fight For Survival” by Klergy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Epak9TqrKLs&list=PLTsJd3M7E5yeGJaZsh3pgYUAQdsnbgyBD&index=128

They exchanged introductions then settled in and Daka rehashed the Force conversation she had with Omega and Hunter openly with everyone aboard. She then dropped the bandolier bag in front of them and opened the top. It was chock full to the top with credits.  

“I am paying you all in full ahead of the mission...whether we succeed or not. The bottom line is that I require transport and cover to face Darth Sidious and destroy him forever. This is your role. However, participating in this will markedly change each one of your lives forever.” Daka advised. 

“Oh, how so?” Tech scrutinized the old woman. 

Daka grabbed Tech’s hand and looked deeply into his eyes. He shrank from her severe gaze. 

Echo spoke up. “He doesn’t like to be touched...or stared at!” 

She ignored him. 

“Look at me, Clever Boy! I bring news of your possible future.” 

Tech cowered but managed to look at Daka. 

“Listen to me. I am imprinting your mind with the coordinates of a blue-green planet. You will tell Hazard you seek Phee Genoa. And will take your little brother with you.” She grabbed Wreckers hand and put it in Tech’s. “NO ONE ELSE! You hear me??? Your other brothers and sister have their own path to walk.” 

“We understand Gramma Daka.” Wrecker answered reverently. He did not question her authority. 

Old Daka addressed Wrecker. “Good Strong Boy. You must take care of your older brother. Defend him from harm. Hazard is waiting for YOU, even though he doesn’t know it yet.” 

“YOU, The Unbroken!” She swung around to Echo. He gave her an annoyed look. “The time to emancipate your brothers has arrived. You spoke to Hunter about aiding a growing Rebellion. Now Rebellion is calling for you.” Daka eyed him. 

Echo threw up both arms and rolled his eyes. While he agreed with her message, he didn’t like her bossy attitude.  

Old Daka knelt to Omega. “I’m sorry, Sun Child. You cannot stay with your brothers.” 

Omega, somehow suspecting Daka was right, began to cry. “Why???” 

“Because some things are bigger than love for your kindred. Bigger than the desire for comfort in times of strife.  There is a darkness that threatens to devour everything in the galaxy. You all will play a part in stopping that darkness.” 

Old Daka glanced up at Hunter. “I have a Shaman among the Tuskan Raiders who will take Omega in. The Tribe will raise her as their own. Protect, teach, nurture her. If we succeed on this mission, she will seek out the Son of Vader. If we fail, she is to stay with the Sand People until Vader’s Son seeks her out. Omega will be safe there.” 

Hunter was thrown totally off balance by the news. “Now, wait. Leaving Omega with total strangers on Tatooine...” 

“I have seen Shatterpoints in all your futures. My own, even. This is the most favorable path for the galaxy.” 

“Shatterpoints??? Lady, no disrespect, but what are you going on about? Omega and my brothers are staying...” 

Old Daka stood with difficulty and faced Hunter. She stared him down...all 6 feet of her strong presence. 

Tech finally found his voice. “I think Daka is referring to her Force ability to sense a significant event and key moments where actions could change events.” 

Everyone turned to stare at him. 

“I...don’t claim to understand The Force. It’s not something I can quantify or calculate, being elusive. But I comprehend Daka’s logic of preventing Palpa...Darth Sidious’ pogrom of growing power. Although, I may be in the minority here?” 

“Seems that she isn’t asking of us something some of us wouldn’t already do.” Echo added. 

“As long as Omega's safe...” Wrecker looked so sad. 

Old Daka threw back her head and cackled with glee. “THEY get it!” 

Hunter shook his head, cutting eyes at the old woman. He wasn’t convinced. 

“Keen Man!” Daka snapped her fingers at Hunter. “What does it take to understand? I came to you in your dreams. You sense things others cannot...to a strong degree. Things you cannot quantify. Yet you struggle to understand while your brother who quantifies like the act of breathing understands.” She pointed at Tech. 

“No...” Hunter backed up. Put his hands up while shaking his head. 

“You FEAR! I smell it.” Old Daka slowly advanced at him, pointing her bony finger. 

The back of Hunter’s legs hit the front of The Marauders chair; he fell into the seat with a defeated look on his face. Then he put his face in his hands. He was going to lose everyone he loved. 

“The galaxy...possibly the universe hangs in the balance. You have had your brothers most of your short life. Omega was with you before you even were aware of her existence while on Kamino. She helped birth and raise you and your brothers. This is the life you have. Countless others didn’t or won’t even have that. If you sacrifice now, Omega will have a chance of a future. If you don’t, she will have NOTHING.” 

Old Daka’s words broke Hunter. Sobs shook him. 

Echo and tech hid their emotion and watched their brother struggle. Wrecker hugged Omega close while tears ran down both their faces. 

 

She softened her next words. “YOU will live out the rest of your life with your estranged brother. He will care for you.” 

Hunter looked up from his hands, tears streaking his face. “Crosshair???” 

“Yes, Crosshair.” 

Everyone in the Marauder was quiet. You could hear a pin drop. 

Eventually, Hunter composed himself. “Let me discuss this with my family. We’ll give you our answer then.” 

Old Daka nodded. Before exiting the Marauder, she turned to look at Echo. “Oh...Fives has a message for you: ‘For Hevy’. Whatever THAT means.”  

Echo’s eyes widened in shock...then he too started to cry.  

She left the Marauder, found a large rock to sit on, and settled in to wait. 

************************************************************************

“Wolves of The Revolution” by The Arcadian Wild: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VXkFO0h75w 

Old Daka sat for some time. She watched the shadows on Ord Mantell grow long as the sun began to set.  

Riffraff still stood at perfect attention. “You think they’ll help us?”  

“Only The Force knows, Red Boy. We wait and see.” 

The shadows deepened before Hunter, looking tired and defeated, emerged from the Marauder. 

“We’ll do it. When do we leave?” 

“Tomorrow. But Omega must leave immediately. She will go back to Tatooine with Red Boy” she motioned to Riffraff. “He will take good care of your Sun Child.” 

Riff nodded to Hunter “I promise, Sergeant. Lay my very life on it.” 

“We’ll never see her again? Ever???” 

“I’m sorry...no.” 

Hunter hung his head. Clenched his fists. Then he turned and stalked quickly back to the Marauder. 

Ten minutes later he emerged with Omega in tow. She wailed and dragged her feet. Wrecker, Echo, and Tech following behind. None of them had a dry eye. 

“NOOOOOOO! I want to go on this mission with you!!!” She struggled fruitlessly in Hunter’s grasp. 

He stopped in front of Riff, tried to hand her over, she almost narrowly escaped back to the Marauder. Hunter snatched her up under her arms and hefted Omega off her feet lifting her to face him. 

“DON’T DO THIS! YOU SAID I COULD STAY WITH YOU!!!” She cried out, hammered her fists on his arms, kicked at him. 

Hunter shook her firmly, “OMEGA!!!” 

She went limp in his grasp. Then he embraced her tightly and held on. “I’m sorry. Never anticipated something like this happening. I didn’t know...what I didn’t know.” She embraced him, putting her head in the crook of his neck sobbing. Hunter pulled his bandana off. “Omega.” She leaned back and he placed it on her head. It was a little big and fell around her neck. “Take it. I’ll always be with you.” He embraced her again, kissing her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. “If you have any chance of a happy future, this is the right path.”  

After a few minutes Hunter handed her to Echo. She clung to him, and he hugged her back. “Come now, Meg. You’re doing a great thing for the galaxy. I know it hurts now...and will probably hurt for a very long time. But it’s a very noble sacrifice. We clones are strong. We were built to fight.” She nodded silently in the crook of his neck. He pulled off his kama and wrapped it around her.

Tech approached Echo and held his arms out. He was clearly NOT a hugger, but this time was different. Echo, mildly surprised, handed Omega to Tech. She clutched him tightly. “You were my best student.   There is no doubt you will do great things. Wherever you are, remember I am very proud of you, Omega.” Tech pulled something off his belt and handed it to her. It was an extra set of goggles with a recording device. “Our memories recorded, for you to watch any time.” Omega sniffled and nodded. 

Wrecker took Omega next and hugged her hard. “I’m gonna miss you! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMEGA!!!” He started bawling. She held his large face in her hands and kissed his cheek. “I’m givin’ ya Lula to keep. She’ll keep ya company when you're lonely. Maybe one day you’ll bring her back to me?” Wrecker tucked Lula into Omega’s arms and set her down in front of Riffraff. 

“I don’t want to go...I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!” She sobbed, taking one long last look of her brothers. 

Her brothers stood silently looking back. 

“Come, Miss Omega. We must go.” Riff held out his hand. She took it and they both boarded The Anarchy. 

“May The Force be with you, Child.” Old Daka blessed Omega with her words. Omega didn’t respond. 

The Anarchy took off from Ord Mantell. The Batch and Old Daka watched it ascend into the sky. Wrecker fell to his knees crying hysterically. Tech, unsure how to feel, stood there frozen, numbly watching the ship disappear from sight. Echo wiped away his tears, grateful Omega would be safe with his Reg brother Riffraff. Hunter walked away, refusing to watch the ship leave. He ran past the Marauder into the city and kept running with no known destination.  

Old Daka watched them all. There was a pain in her heart, too. She refused to show it. These men needed a strong presence now. They needed time to mourn before embarking on the most important mission of their lives. 

Aboard the Anarchy Omega lay upon the floor crying hysterically. A little girl wrapped in an oversized kama, wearing a red bandanna, clutching goggles, and a stuffed Tooka. If this was another type of situation, Riff would’ve found it comical. But it wasn’t and Riff’s heart went out to Omega. He had lost siblings too.  

He let her have her moment there on the floor until the ship settled into hyperspace. 

“Miss Omega? Hey...”  

A huge Purrgil floated up to the ship peering inside the windscreen. Its mournful song caught Omega’s attention. She got up and wandered over to Riff. He held out his arms. Omega climbed into his lap, and they watched the Purrgil together as the stars floated past. 

************************************************************************

Chapter 3

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/732696093237870592/the-bad-batch-mini-series-halloween-fan-fic?source=share

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[knightyoomyoui]

The 1% Of Chances | TWICE Jeongyeon x Male Reader Fanfic: CHAPTER 5

After a couple of months of hiatus due to my phone's unfortunate malfunction, we're back on the track! Finally got my whole plot outline for this book recovered, so might as well work ahead already for a new update!

The next day, your departure with the girls and the managing staff quite took a hold when Dahyun suddenly shouted just as when everyone are about to walk out of the dorm.

"W-wait!"

You who is standing near to Dahyun was the first one to face yourself at her who is scrambling through her bag.

"Is there a problem, Dahyunnie?", you asked her with concern.

"M-my customized airbuds. I can't find it here.", Dahyun said as she still kept on digging down through her belongings inside.

"Wait for us guys!", you shouted for the rest who are on their way to the elevator.

"Why, what happened?", one of our senior and higher ups in our team who is handling Tzuyu named Tendo asked you curiously. He was the one also to press the door open.

"Dahyun lost her earbuds.", he said as you looked back on Dahyun who is now flicking her head back and forth trying to guess where could it have been. The girls heard what you said.

"Weren't you using it yesterday, unnie?", Tzuyu said; approaching the confused Dahyun. She can see what Dahyun has been doing yesterday since after all, they are dormmates.

"N-no, I was using my earphone rather."

"Are you gonna use that today, unnie? Just use your earphones instead.", one of her another dormmate and her "bro" Chaeyoung suggested.

"I will but you know that earbuds are special to me guys right? It's our customized design imprinted on there plus I made it for our Japan merch.", Dahyun explained the real downside of losing that object.

The girls nodded and "oh"-ed in guilt, knowing that they forgot to think of that part.

"Have you perhaps... remember where did you last placed those?", you asked Dahyun.

"N-no...", she shook her head.

"Guys!!! We have to go now. Time is running!", Sadness reaalarmed everyone, pointing down on her watch. "Cmon, Dahyunnie. You can find it later, okay? Today's a heavy schedule for all of you girls.", she persuaded.

They began entering the elevator by group. You looked at Dahyun's frown and felt bad for this girl. It can be replaced by buying again but the thought that it wasn't broken yet and only missing is just too waste to hear if it'll end up just being let go without even trying something for it to recover.

That positive mindset had you enlightened with another idea to help Dahyun.

At the very last second, you looked at them and shouted.

"Go ahead, I'll just take Dahyun myself there!"

"Wait, what? YN-"

"JUST GO! WE'LL TRY TO FIND IT FIRST!", you urged them to proceed as you interrupted Sadness's protest. The elevator doors closed, leaving only you and Dahyun alone.

"Oppa, you didn't have to do that.", she looks at you worriedly.

"Don't bother, Dahyunnie. I don't want you to go to work like this, so I'm helping you to find it but we'll be really quick okay?", you assured her. Dahyun stared at you for more until she gave up with a nod.

"Okay."

You smiled in relief. "Okay. Well, I just think of... where are the places you've been at the whole day yesterday?"

Dahyun shuffles and revisited all of what she did yesterday then started enumerating it. "Well yesterday it was my day-off. I just took a rest here in the house. Did laundry, took bath, read some books, skin care, practice dancing  then I played piano after-"

"Wait stop.", you gestured her by showing her your palm. "Let's try going in your private studio."

Dahyun didn't spoke and instead followed you from behind as you entered the dorm then went straight to the room.

You looked around and you didn't had to duck on some narrow spaces and search for it through some closed containers when you definitely had your eyes locked on it.

Walking forward, you stepped in front of the piano. There, you smiled at the sight of her two earbuds unmovable on top of her piano.

Dahyun saw it too and gasped, quickly taking the things in her hand.

"Oh my God, finally.", she sighed and opened her hand, showing her customized cloud designed earbuds of hers. "H-how did you know oppa?!"

You chuckled and shrugged. "It's just simple anyway. I tried to analyze what would you like be if your earbuds would be involved in those areas you listed along what what you did there."

"You don't usually play music while you're doing chores as what Jeongyeon told me, so I crossed out the laundry. If you'll gonna listen to music while taking a bath then ofcourse you will be using speakers rather so no bathroom either.", you elaborated to Dahyun as you count it with your fingers.

"Skin care, nah. Reading a book? Definitely a no. You don't like being disturbed, Chaeng told me that she was once had you annoyed when she just barged in on your bedroom without granting permission and you were literally reading a book at that time. That left me with the last option- that private studio you girls had. Using your earbuds there can be applied while you're dancing and playing a piano there so, yeah."

Dahyun just blinked her enlargened eyes unbelievably as you finished your entire narration of review through all of what she just shared to you from your key question.

You laughed at the stunned reaction of Dahyun clearly obvious at the impression you made at the idol.

"I-Wha-How... DID THEY REALLY-", Dahyun stuttered, unable to process clearly how did you managed to take all of those interesting infos about her.

"HAHAHAHAHAHHA yeah. Those were part of the mini stories they shared with me in our get along together times whenever they're not doing something and we'll just end up talking randomly about everything.", you laughed.

"I really thought I was the one who told you about that... or even you've seen me through all of that.", Dahyun touched her chest in surprise. "You sounded like a stalker for a moment there, oppa."

"Yeah I can tell.", you sniffled another laugh. "But you can ask the girls, especially Chae and Jeongie. They'll make you know."

Dahyun nodded. "Well, I don't need to do that anymore. I know you ain't like that oppa. But I hope you really don't because as our manager and our friend, I trust you already. Even the girls do too.", she said to you hopefully.

"If that so, then I really don't have intention to spy on you girls and end up breaking into your privacy. You girls forgot one more thing from me. I don't just have trust also for you girls: I bring respect."

You and Dahyun exchanged smiles at each other before you gave a pat on her shoulder. "Let's go, they must be in the middle of the road now. We have to follow them right away.", you said to her as you make your way out of the dorm again with her.

----------

Arriving in JYP Entertainment building, you and Dahyun entered the Michael Jackson dance practice room where the members are doing their respective things while waiting for one of their member who thankfully had shortened their wait as they saw her thanking you again for the drive, greeting their choreographer and placing her bag onto the couch.

As they began their schedule by doing warm-ups, you decided to stroll around the building with the managing staff; Tendo, Sadness, Pinky and the rest of the crew.

Returning back to the room after hours of allowing them to maintain focus on rehearsing their dance choreography for their upcoming lead track of their new album, Jihyo was just in time to announce the break on the girls.

Jeongyeon, who is one of the only girls who walked out together with Nayeon, Jihyo, Dahyun and Chaeyoung as she told you to join her receiving her ordered food from online by meeting the delivery guy outside of the building.

As you and her reached the lobby, Jeongyeon was still busy tracking the location of the rider on her phone when you saw the familiar idol entering the area and walking at the direction towards you and Jeongyeon with all smiles alongside with his own manager.

"Jeongyeon-ah!", he called Jeongyeon after recognizing her quickly when she looked at you and told you that the rider finally arrived based on the notification popped out on the screen.

"Oh! Young K!", she waved her hand gracefully. Your face shuddered in awkwardness and distrought, having yourself inserted again in the midst of interaction between these two that were giving you strange feelings difficult to get rid of.

"Good morning! What's your sched today? Are the girls with you right now or just you?", he asked. Seems like they about to brought theirselves into their small talk against without bothering to notice your presence around near them so you just did what you usually do in respect and shame for them: stay still and shut up.

"Good morning! A-ahh... yeah. They're with me today. We're having our break as of now from our dance practice.", Jeongyeon answered with a grin. "How about you, oppa?"

"Well, I have to meet JYP nim today.", he answered. That made you look at him for a second because it kinda suprised you atleast. "I have a work... proposed by him that I definitely agreed on.", he smiled.

"Can you tell me about it?"

"An ongoing collab song. I'm going to be composing with him.", he proudly replied.

"Woahhh! Really?! Congrats, oppa! Can't wait to hear your song with JYP oppa!", Jeongyeom clapped celebratingly. It earned a soft laughter from her bestfriend... you weren't sure if that's the correct term to call him for Jeongyeon yet.

"I have to go now, Jeongie. PD nim might cancel our project if I make him mad for being late.", he joked. "Bye!"

"Bye oppa!" The two high fived. You just had to watched them do that without any rights to disturb or prevent them from talking happily with each other as your heart sunk inches by inches beneath seeing your crush acting suspiciously again with someone very close to her.

Meanwhile, two people were keeping an eye on you from the distance as they hid on the wall of the hallway leading to the right.

As they ended their convo, you directed Jeongyeon on the glass wall of the entranceway where the reflection of the Seoul exterior can be seen, including the motor that is parked on the side where it is owned by what it seems to be a delivery rider checking his phone to keep in touch with the customer.

"Jeong, I think that's yours.", you pointed assumingly to it. She followed where you're pertaining to and agreed after. "Looks like it is."

You were right. You exited the building with Jeongyeon and approached the rider where it was confirmed that the idol's ordered food is there with him. She claimed and paid it after, repaying gratitude towards one another before you helped her carry it and enter the place again with her.

Later in the night, the girls successfully finished arranging their entire choreo from begginning through the end as it was declared by their instructor.

"Good job everyone! Come back here at 10AM tomorrow okay? We will attempt to polish and familarize the moves now. Rest well ladies!", the instructor announced to the exhausted girls sitting and lying down on the wooden floor, now satisfied and relieved that the draining practice is over.

We all clapped in respect for the girls hardwork again which they returned with an appreciation and gratitude too along with a flashy, lively smile like the humble and wholehearted people they are.

As you opened my tablet and checked out their completed schedule today before you reviewed their upcoming ones tomorrow and days following by, Jeongyeon came to your side and brought her bag there to fix it on your side.

You looked at her and she smiled back, which definitely caused an uncontrollable flush and embarassment on your behalf, too weak and instable to contain her lovely looks.

"Oppa, please join me tomorrow at the mall after we left from practice.", she requested while shutting close her bag's zipper.

"Sure. Going shopping?", you gladly accepted accompanying her as if that's not a part of your job as her personal manager.

She nodded in response.

Standing up from your seat, you brought her back for assistance as you let her be with the girls while you joined your fellow managers walking down through the ground floor to reach the exit and go to the parking lot where your car and the company's van are kept.

During the ride, you heard something from them that won your interest; discreetly listening at the words they're mumbling at the back while you paused your task at your tablet.

"Agh, I'm so hungry. I'm craving for some bulgogi right now.", it was Jeongyeon expression her eagerness to taste some delicious famous Korean dish.

"Same unnie, should we order?", Tzuyu agreed and suggested.

"We'll just cook, I guess. I want it to have a homecooked taste also.", Jeongyeon declined.

You smirked as these poor girls gave you an idea to do for them tonight.

Reaching their apartment building, after a not so long drive; you escorted them to enter at Nayeon and Momo's dorm which you assumed that they are indeed serious to be the ones cooking their meal for tonight.

It was left abandoned though when you excused yourself to your roommates Tendo, Heungson and Yeongsu that you'll be back in the dorm for longer.

In their surprise, you entered their room too; and Jeongyeon and Momo who are about to wear their own aprons left their arms raised in their air as they watch you head to the kitchen with them.

"O-oppa, what are you still doing here?", Momo asked curiously. You just smiled and voluntarily removed the lace of their apron on their grasp before you hanged it back to where it was placed, leaving Jeongyeon, Momo and the rest clueless.

"Take a rest. I'll be the one cooking for tonight.", you smiled nicely at them.

Momo and Jeongyeon got shocked. "Thank you oppa!!!", they both went to you and hugged you on your side while the girls cheered and shared their own thank yous at you.

"Oppa, could you please do-"

"Beef bulgogi, right?", you interrupted Jeongyeon. She was left speechless and only able to nod with a fluttered state as she tightlipped her stucked words instead.

"Now go and rest. You girls shouldn't be doing this, all of you are tired enough already. Save some energy for tomorrow. Let me take control of the kitchen."

The girls all responded with a "Yes!" before they went on to rest in their own ways, watching TV, scrolling down on their phone, lay down on the couch and the carpeted floor as they let you move around in the kitchen, starting to work on cooking the preferred dinner of this night mostly by Jeongyeon.

You weren't even aware that your preoccupied self preparing the ingredients prevented you to notice repeated admiring glances of Jeongyeon's sparkling eyes to you. It had made her see you like truly a perfect boyfriend/ husband material from her sight.

Minutes have passed, you ordered them to gather around the table. The owners of the dorm, Nayeon and Momo helped you prepare the plates, spoons, forks and glass to be distributed for each of everyone present.

You transferred the bulgogi from the pan to three bowls before placing them on the tray and deliver it to the table, now presented in front of the girls who were left in awe at how mouth-watering its look and smell.

"Beef bulgogi, everyone.", you clapped your hands once; confidently showed your own cooked meal to the girls.

The girls cheered happily like little kids. It warmed your heart and soul as they sounded like they were your nine precious little daughters finally given granted by their loving father to cook their favorite food.

"Thank you so much, oppa!" The girls chanted again enthusiastically at you, except for one of them who sent her own in a unique manner.

Jeongyeon, who was next to you from the right, grabbed your wrist and pulled it a little closer to her, so that she can cuddle your arm and show you her melting smile and adorable greeting at you.

"Y-you're welcome, Jeongie.", you patted her on the head, earning a giggle from her which you huffed and sighed at how your heart must be beating so damn fast right now all solely because of this woman.

The rest who are witnessing this did a teaseful coughs and other sounds to portray that there's something interesting going on here. "What was that, Yoo Beep Beep huh?", Jihyo playfully asked which was effective to mnake Jeongyeon startle. "Yah I just hugged him because I really liked that she cooked us the food I've been craving since earlier. What are you thinking again, Hyomas?", Jeongyeon lets out her typical pouty duck lips. You glared at them and shook your head before defending your position. "Stop it, I know those antics girls."

"Somebody's defensive.", Sana winked and smirked at you which caused a laughter from all of you. Yes, even you who are getting teamed up here just to get linked closer with Jeongyeon as a tandem.

"If you do, can you tell us what do we mean by that?", Nayeon also smirked as she challenged you. Oh no, you got what she's trying to do. You quickly swapped it away and switched it with a different topic to escape. "Don't mind them oppa, they just love to misintepret and make fun of us again.", Jeongyeon encourages you to disregard and move on.

"Aish, let's just pray to get started. The food's about to be cold now.", you acted annoyed as you heard them still trying to contain their laughs. Jeongyeon on the other hand, was blushing like a tomato while find it hilarious on your part that you're getting targeted by these bunch of crackheads again.

After finishing the dinner, Dahyun and Chaeyoung who loves this specific household chore ever since back from their Twice Private Life rookie days ; are the ones who volunteered to wash the dishes.

Some of them began returning back to their respective rooms. You bid goodbye and goodnights at them for a sweet and peaceful sleep before also doing the same, opening the door and putting one foot out of the doorframe...

... not until in your utter astonishment, a pair of hands from the unknown groped your shoulders from behind and pulled you with force; which avoided you to leave the room for good.

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

If I Could Turn Back Time

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

A/N: This fic is cross-posted on Wattpad and Ao3

Chapter 3

“You don’t have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

First period had started ten minutes before as I rushed into the building. The halls were void of students and staff, and the only sound was the squeaking of my coffee-sodden shoes on the white tiles. 

Every head in the classroom shot up from their phone as I burst through the door, setting my bag down and taking out the soaked papers to dry. “I am so sorry, guys!”

“Miss Foster,” one kid said. “Is that coffee on you?”

I paused and stared at them like a deer in headlights. “Um–uhh…yeah.” I began to set up my desk–booting up my computer, filing away papers, trying my best to not cry at the feeling of wet socks–while simultaneously trying my best to form a coherent response. “Little accident at the Weathervane. I ended up spilling all of my latte on me…and another customer.”

I took a deep breath and fixed my shirt, sighing as I tried to gather my thoughts, but something–her–she lingered in the back of my head. Larissa. Not even ten minutes together and her eyes, her smile, her very person was already imprinted in my mind. “Okay–uh…what class is this again? First period? Right, okay. Where’d we leave off yesterday?”

“The intro to the Russian Revolution of 1917,” a girl in the back answered.

“Right!” I moved to the white board and took a marker, drawing a long line with dashes here and there. When the timeline was built, I began to lecture the students, smiling to myself when turned away from them, knowing that they had no clue I had first hand experience with the subject at hand.

“Okay, the Russian Revolution…” I started. “As we learned yesterday, the revolution was initiated in February of 1917. The first revolt was centered around the capital at the time, Petrograd. This would later become Saint Petersburg. Tsar Nicholas II eventually stepped down from the throne after being convinced by the high ranking military officials that in doing so, the mutinies and turmoil would subside. This would allow the new government, led by the Russian Duma, to take over, and this becomes the Russian Provisional Government.” 

I looked across the sea of students all looking at the board, some taking notes, and one trying to not fall asleep. “Can anyone tell me what was a major contributing factor to the 1917 revolution?”

A girl in the back shot her hand up quickly. “Oh! The Russian Revolution of 1905.”

“Good!” To know that at least one of my students was paying attention and that I wasn’t talking to the wall always filled me with hope–especially in a town like this. “As we learned last week, the events of Bloody Sunday caused a lot of upheaval. If you turn to page 276 of your textbook you can see a primary source image of propaganda from 1905, and if you turn to page 301 you can also see a comparison of the multiple revolutions Russia had pre-World War One and throughout…”

The soft glow of lamplight encases the living room as the TV plays quietly in the background. I scan over tests, marking each incorrect answer and unfortunately recording more D’s than A’s. 

I glance at my phone. It had been an entire day since I spilled coffee on Larissa. I had no idea who she was or what she did for a living, but scenarios crossed my mind as to why she hadn’t reached out yet.

What if she was just being polite?

What if she wants nothing to do with me?

I barely know this woman and I’m already craving her approval and attention.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I don’t even know her last name and I’m already clinging to her.

It had been three days since the incident and now I was convinced Larissa wanted nothing to do with me. I stood in line at the Weathervane, staring off into space. As I stepped up to the counter, I smiled and placed my order before moving off to the side to wait. But once again I was a complete idiot.

“Wow, I really need to start looking where I’m going,” I huffed after running straight into her.

The softest smile from her sent butterflies through my chest. It was incredible, the effect this woman had on me. “Well, at least there was no coffee this time.” 

Larissa’s giggle was the sweetest sound to grace my ears. 

“Oh, by the way,” she continued. “I just wanted to apologize for not messaging you sooner. I’ve been quite busy recently.”

I smiled back, relieved it was all in my head. “That’s fine! I completely understand. I’m a history teacher at Jericho High School, so I’m well acquainted with ‘busy’.”

Larissa paused for a moment. “Would you want to sit down with me? I have some free time so I didn’t order my coffee as takeaway.”

“I would love that,” I said after taking a second to think. “But, unfortunately, I have to be at work in fifteen minutes.”

I could’ve sworn there was a look of disappointment in Larissa’s eyes. The blue hue grew ever so slightly darker and her smile faltered briefly before widening. “That’s quite alright. Your students come first.”

“Well,” I chuckled. “More like my need to pay the bills comes first. The students can be a pain in the rear, but you do have a point. The students are our future. And to have a better future they need a good education.”

The entire day I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It got so bad to the point where I actually had to give one of the classes a free period. “I need to catch up on grading,” I told them. 

What a lie.

I spent the entire time thinking about Larissa. How her hips swayed when she walked. How her perfect red lips would curve into the sweetest smile. And how her eyes could tell you every emotion she ever had. 

“Miss Foster?” 

“Miss Foster?”

A voice brought me from my trance and I looked up at the girl. How long had she been standing there? “Oh god. I’m sorry, Macy. What can I help you with?”

“Well, I just had a question about this section of the assignment you gave us yesterday…”

As she explained her problem it was hard to focus. Out of the corner of my eye I could see my phone screen light up with a text. My heart practically burst at the unknown number and suddenly, for the time ever, I didn’t want to help a student. 

But, I did. I answered her questions, and I helped her answer an essay prompt about the early civilization lesson we were going over. As soon as she sat back down I picked up my phone, and sure enough it was Larissa.

‘I was just wondering if you’d be available to go to dinner tomorrow night? A new restaurant opened up in the square, and I’ve been meaning to try it.’

Dinner. She does want to go to dinner. 

‘And what about the dry cleaning?’

‘The lady said she couldn’t do anything about it. The fabric was too light.’

Figures. 

‘I’m available anytime after 4.’

‘Is 5:30 okay?’

‘Sounds perfect. I’ll see you then.’

I don’t think I had ever been so impatient in my life until then. It was less than a day away and my heart was already fluttering uncontrollably, and it felt like years before the final bell of day had rung, dismissing the students from class.