#doing literally everything but writing fics

[whokilledsamara]

I love your Homicipher hc, they are so good! Would you be willing to do some N/ SFW for Mr. Chopped too? Like you did for some of the others? I understand if you don't want to or if it makes you uncomfortable, thank you anyway!

MR. CHOPPED N/SFW HCS

a hc list of Mr. Chopped x reader {an: SORRY GUYS IM POSTING MAINLY HCS RN,,, fics for me take a lot longer than usual so im just posting hcs to atleast get some reach.}

warnings! : smut, cunnilingus/blowjob, idk,,, cuckhold

{an: freaky shit,,,, like hes just a head so its kinda hard to fuck. did give him a section for IF he had a body.. MAINLY HIM GIVING HEAD,, i didnt rly know how to write this im sorry!! def will write more tho,,, im into him ngl}

SFW

what it would be like to be in a relationship with Mr. Chopped.

it would be relatively hard to be in a relationship with him for obvious reasons, though not impossible!

the thought of you makes him happy, and especially when you hold him.

he would have Mr. Silvair help most of the time. usually for the romantic aspects of things though.

while Mr. Silvair doesnt quite understand the relationship, he is glad to help.

being a talking head will obviously raise a few insecurities, so just reassure him that you indeed do love him! he gets his feelings hurt easily.

he absolutely loves when you play with his hair. if you put bows in it or decorate it, that will make it all the more special for him.

the first time he bit you when he was sleeping, had him crying for hours. he felt so bad that he harmed you in any way, and it took a while for him to "recover"

he loves kisses! he always shouts things like "Up, Up" or "Desire, Carry!" just so he can kiss you.

if you manage to get a hold of make up or something, he would absolutely love for you to do his makeup. {he likes to feel pretty}

he is a very sensitive boy, also a crybaby. how cuuuttteee...

if Mr. Silvair gives him a body, {ignore that one ending... we dont talk about it} then he wpuld be even more excited to see you.

the moment he gets a body would mean so many hugs and affection as a thank you for saving him.

he gets picked on a lot by the others so he usually tries his best to come to you.

NSFW

sex...?

sex is definitely a hard concept with him.

while yes, it is possible, just not in the way intended.

you could see him more as a pure object for your pleasure honestly, and he wants that.

whether you are amab or afab, he is perfect for the situation.

ive seen this referenced by another writer, but he would be like a "rose toy" or a "fleshlight" as people call it.

its a secret pleasure to watch you go at it with someone else. {ex: Mr. Silvair or someone.}

if he is gifted a body though, he definitely will pay you back for saving him in the first place.

personally he would be a soft and sensual lover with his new body, rarely going rough unless specifically asked to.

he is more of a giving top. definitely not dominant but is a top. he cares more about your pleasure than his. though, he does get all giddy when you wish to go down on his or something.

he is open to literally anything you want, he would have very few limitations on what he would do, but everything is open for discussion.

again, definitely either wants to watch you have sex with someone else, OR wants someone else to watch you and him go at it. {he would prefer Silvair.}

he definitely likes when you pull his hair or use him. will be submissive sometimes.

he is the type to cry during sex...

omfmg i love him sm

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[planetpedri]

Heyy I’m wondering if you could write a part 2 with angst/comfort of the waiting room Pedri fic I literally need to see them get together so badly (⋟﹏⋞)

Waiting room p.2 — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: He was all you thought about for weeks after you saw him and you finally get yourself to grow up and seek him out.

Word count: 1.74k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a majority angst but will end in fluff! this is also a part two! click here for part one !

A/N: “sleeping with the lights on” by searows is so like im clawing at my head!! this is what it’s based on !! this was so rushed soz.. also!! it’s pedri’s birthday so i will be posting quite a lot of blurbs for him today ^_^~

The dim lights that lit up the porch of a home you’d once known no longer casted a welcoming glow over you. They were cold and whispering for you to leave, to get out of there before you made another mistake.

Your eyes closed for a moment as you collected yourself. You were here. You had been planning on doing this for the past week, you couldn’t go back now.

You don’t get the chance to walk away, the door cracking open and in it appears a blonde. Your heart sinks the moment you see her, but it goes away quickly. Behind her is a man you recognized, Fermín. Great.

The blondes eyes shoot wide in surprise, “shit, is that who I think it is?” He clambers down the steps, his girlfriend—presumably, in tow. “Long time no see, Pedri’s inside. We’re the last to leave.”

You force a warm smile, trying with all your might not to topple over. “Fermín! Wow! How nice to see you.” Your brain goes fuzzy as he offers a short conversation, one you desperately wanted out of.

When he does finally leave, you take a few steps up and onto the porch, now only a few feet from the door. You take a long, calming breath before knocking on the door.

“Did you forget—“ Pedri’s words die on his tongue the second he opened the door, his breath being knocked out of him.

Something flashes in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite decipher. The second it appeared though, it was gone in a simple blink, a look of vacancy filling his expression.

“Come to personally give me your.. invitation?” He sighs, not bothering to allow you into his home, instead opting to close his fist tighter around the door handle.

You look away, staring down at your feet for a moment as you gather your bearings. When you look up, your mouth opens and closes, seeking out words that never come.

From his stiffened posture, the spite in the crevices of his expression, you know he wants you to leave.

Forcing yourself to speak, you run a hand over your arm in a smoothing up and down motion. “Do you see a ring?” It came out a lot more sarcastic than you meant, but when Pedri’s gaze flickers to your hand, you see something short of relief cross over his face.

Pedri looks up, meeting your eyes for the first time since you’d arrived. “What happened?”

You. You happened.

“It doesn’t matter.” You shake your head, “I just… I, uhm, I miss you.” You felt pathetic—weak even, showing up to his house like this. Your fiancée loved you, yet here you were on the porch of a man who’d never one uttered those words to you.

Pedri doesn’t look at you anymore, his gaze fixing on the ground as he shuffles uncomfortably, silently battling between his heart and mind.

“You can come in, it’s cold out.” He steps aside, making room for you to enter into his house.

You give a small nod, hesitantly walking into the house. It had changed a lot, but still held remnants of the past. Everything that you’d helped decorate, was gone. Every ounce of you in that house had vanished. Your heart cinched when you caught a glimpse of the drawing you made of Camp Nau on the shelf beside a few trophies, which the collection had significantly increased since you last saw him.

But, there was no familiarity beside that. The decorations were different, the furniture was different—except for the lounge chair his mother had gifted him as a housewarming gift.

“Sit, I was just making coffee.” He says, disappearing into the kitchen a few feet away.

You wander further into the living room, fingers trailing the cream colored couch. There were blankets scattered across them, and you were quick to figure out why. A black puppy laid on one edge of the couch, clearly sleepy, but watching you with curious eyes.

You smile faintly, slowly sitting down beside him. His collar read, ‘Nilo’. Pedri had always wanted a dog, he was so good with pets.

“I made you a cup, in case you wanted some.” Pedri announces his return, handing you the mug carefully. The second it was securely in your hands, he let go, as if being that close to you would make him catch some sort of virus. He choses to sit on a seat a few feet away, watching you closely and silently.

You weren’t sure what to say to him, so you start with the question you’d ask any old friend. “How have you been?” You hum, taking a sip of the coffee he’d made. A jolt of surprise hits you when you realize he hadn’t just made any coffee, he’d made your special coffee. The one that only he and you knew how to make.

He’d remembered something like that?

“Fine.” He answers bluntly, “and you?”

Setting the mug on the coffee table beside you, you meet his eyes. You were here to be honest, to not hold back anymore.

“Well, I broke off my engagement, so. Not great, but not terrible either.” You exhale, thankful to at least get that admission off your chest.

Pedri’s eyes widen momentarily. He hadn’t expected you to be the one to break it off. “Oh, i’m sorry. Was the guy an ass or something?”

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “No, he was a great guy. I just..” Now or never, now or never.. “I just couldn’t love him the way he loved me, I suppose.”

The raven haired man knew he shouldn’t have felt happy about that but, a part of him was. “I’m sorry to hear that.” He was giving you small and short answers, like he couldn’t form anything but.

He so desperately wanted to ask why.. to pry something out of you. He holds back though, because why risk prying when it could potentially leave him hurt once again.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me, I know I shouldn’t have shown up unannounced.. but Pedri?” You speak quietly, ashamedly, beckoning for him to show you a sliver or something other than indifference.

Pedri’s tongue darts out to wet his lips before he speaks. “Yeah?”

“I couldn’t love him because..” Just say it God dammit! Just— “Because he wasn’t you.”

A weight lifted off your shoulders the second the confession left your lips. Running a hand through his hair, Pedri laughs in disbelief. “You waited years to give me an hint of.. of anything!? Jesus, I’m trying to move on from you!”

Your eyes glaze over and you blink rapidly to push down any hurt his outburst had caused you. Then, you pause, confusion flashing across your face. “Wait—wait, what? You? Hint? Pedri. I waited for you?”

He blinks, “you waited? I—I thought.. what?”

A tight, tense air fills the room while the both of you sink in the revelation. Pedri’s the first to break it though, pushing himself up and off the chair. “Come with me.” He pushes his hand out in your direction, waiting patiently for you to take it.

You stare at it curiously, reaching out and connect your hand to his. A jolt shoots up your arm at the contact. That was the first time you’d felt him in years.

Without another word, Pedri tugs your hand and leads you out back, to the place you’d thought about every time you saw his face on the screen when watching Football.

Nilo’s collar clinks and clangs as he pads behind the two of you, which you smile at when his soft fur brushed against your leg.

Once Pedri reached his intended location, he motions for you to sit. Your eyebrows are pulled together as you lay in the grass, the bristles itching your back when your hoodie rides up.

Lying down beside you, his hand still in yours, he gazes up at the sky. “I thought that one day,” he starts, tracing the big dippers outline with his eyes, “that when I said I hoped you’d find requited love one day, you’d realize I was talking about me. That I would be the one to do that for you.”

“Then why did you get with whats-her-face.” You ask quietly, heart burning at his confession. Leaning your head against the itchy grass, you study his side profile. While in the midst of burning every single difference in his face compared to the last time you saw him, Pedri doesn’t look at you.

“Because I told myself you could do better, that you deserved better and there was someone out there that would love you better than I could.” He does turn to you now, “but I was wrong. Nobody will love you nearly as much as I love you.”

You felt dizzy, like you were floating outside of your body. This had to be a dream, right? You had dreamt of a confession similar to this since you were a teenager.

“Say something.” Pedri whispers, eyes flickering across your face trying to decipher what you were feeling throughout your long silence.

“I..” You cough lightly, a small laugh slipping through. “I can’t believe I let you push me away.”

His gaze drops to the grass for a moment before it raises back to you. “I can’t believe I pushed you away.” He admits, “i’m sorry.”

Forcing w small smile, you take your hand out of Pedri’s, pushing yourself up onto your side. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

“Tell me..?” He tries not to frown at the loss of contact, but does anyways, telling himself it was just because he didn’t understand what you were saying.

“I love you.” You frown, “I love you so much I ruined a potential marriage without even knowing if you felt the same.”

Pedri pushes himself up onto his elbow, his face mere inches from yours. “Is it terrible of me to say i’m glad you did?”

A soft laugh escapes your lips and you shake your head. “Not terrible at all.” Your eyes fall to his lips, quickly flickering back to his eyes. “What would be more terrible would be you making me go another minute without knowing what it’s like to kiss you, no?”

Pedri’s eyes roll with amusement. He cups your cheek, mumbling, “that would be a crime,” before his soft lips were against yours.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pedri posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @sakashq @ar4ujos @hrts4havertz @spidybaby @gadriezmannsgirl @unx100to @st4rgirl-ellie

[penelopegarciaismygf]

Hey guys, so in case any fanfic writers are desperate to write a fic for me, here's an overly specific criteria: (I'm not sending an ask because i get scared of sounding demanding and also this is silly please don't take me too seriously)

○BAU!reader x spencer is superior. I said it. I really believe that the only way for there to be a functional relationship is for them to be working together because otherwise, they'd literally never see each other. Also, this is the best because of all the fun options there are- forbidden romance, reader gets kidnapped/injured, + writers can have fun writing cases... you get my point. It's the best.

○if the reader annoys me then I won't read the fic. I get that the purpose of having an unnamed character is so the reader can relate but that really doesn't mean they have to be an emotionless void. Give me some flavour please!

○Spencer not being anything like he is in the show annoys me to know end. No, I'm not going to read a high school fic where spencer is popular, and he bullies the reader for being a nerd. Have we watched the same show?? (Unfortunately, that is a real fic 😔) but I'm also not going to read a fic where he cheats either because that's ridiculous.

○I want to see the team! Sure, I love spencer reid, but I'm also a Criminal Minds fan, and I miss seeing fics that involve everyone. Especially if the reader is in the bau because i love the different dynamics

(Okay now we're going to get me specific)

○I love the daddy issues reader trope. Because yes I do believe that reading a fanfic of spencer reid saying everything I need to hear would fix me. Also if it's a bau reader fic I want to see a rossi father figure situation. I wholeheartedly believe that if I was in the bau I would force that man to adopt me and I want to see that in a fic

○I need more fics where spencer is obsessed, like just so down bad for the reader it's crazy. I know it exists and I need more because i know for a fact that he doesn't catch feelings often so when he does it's crazy

○spencer would lowkey be manipulative. I don't think it would be intentional but in a relationship he would make sure he KNEW his partner and we anyway know that he has issues with people leaving so if the reader tried he'd be reading those microexpressions (whatever that means) and hed know exactly what to say to make them stay. I don't think he'd do it intentionally, but that fear of abandonment runs deep. That+those puppy eyes would make him impossible to leave, and I really want a fic that captures that. Like more than anything.

[aayakashii]

Helloo Aya love your content as always and I have a request if you want to do it😊

Could you write "how would the Vagastrom and Jabberwock ghouls(+jin cause he's the only one I care about from frostheim lmao😭) propose to you/mc"😩

Anyways either way I love your fics and headcanons pls never die❤️

I love when ppl say "pls never die" to someone and now I feel elated that I'm on the receiving end of that too LMAO thank you for enjoying what I write <3 and thank you for helping me get out of my writing slump holy crap 😭

Warnings: none. Just tooth-rotting fluff, I might need a shot of insulin after writing this.

proposal headcanons

Jin

It depends on you, first and foremost.

If you're introverted, he'll make sure it'll be just the two of you, in the dim light of candles, with a dinner catered entirely to you.

Gentle music will be playing in the background as you two talk, and he tries to calm down his nerves by holding your hand tightly throughout the night.

You barely feel when he slips the ring into your finger, only noticing it when a precious gemstone glints brightly as he kisses your ring finger and murmurs the question into your trembling hand.

If you're extroverted, he'll throw a party just for the occasion. Whatever theme you like, you can consider it done.

You'll have the prettiest dress, the tastiest foods, the most delicious drinks with all the people you love surrounding you, despite you not knowing what warranted such a grand celebration.

Laughter and happy conversation suddenly quiet down as Jin brings you to the center of the room and gets down on one knee and the guests swoon over your fairytale romance.

Either way you prefer will be more than perfect for him, as long as your answer to his question is "yes".

Alan

Oh, he's so nervous. Almost can't look at you in the eye for an entire week before he gets the ring ready.

However, Alan isn't the type of guy who would prepare a special event for the proposal (but if you love him, you know this would never be his type of thing).

He does, however, want privacy to say whatever he needs to, if his heart finally decides to pour out of his mouth.

So, he takes you to a small hike.

Once you two can't hear anything besides the sound of leaves crunching under your feet and birds singing, he holds your hand tightly and turns towards you.

It's quick but soft and brimming with emotion: Alan only needs to tell you, through stutters and endearing mumbles, that you mean everything to him and that he wants to spend a lifetime with you.

He doesn't even need to ask whether or not you'd marry him. You're already hugging him so tight that you vanquish all of his anxieties in a fell swoop.

His heart thumps loudly in his chest, right under your ear, and he buries his face in your hair. You stay like this for a while, grounded and almost merged into each other.

You two only let go only when he finally remembers to slip the ring in your finger.

Leo

It's a show for the ages. It's not surprising at all that Leo would plan the fanciest, flashiest, trendiest proposal.

It will all be going straight to his TikTok right away.

But you already knew that. You know all the things that come with dating Leo. You know that his online career is way too important for him. You're fine with letting millions of fans ogle at him as he winks and vlogs and dances for them.

Because they will never see what you see.

They'll never really see how Leo's eyes look brimming with tears, nor how his hands tremble a little bit as he puts a ring on your finger.

They can't hear the little crack on his voice as he rests his forehead on yours and quietly asks you to marry him.

And when he turns to the camera, internet persona covering the tender little parts of him that he only lets you see, a smug smile on his face after you said yes, you know that you're the only one who truly knows him.

You're the only one who will marry him.

Sho

You're in for a ride, quite literally.

You don't suspect anything when he invites you to ride his motorcycle with him – Bonnie is his baby and you're his favorite person, it's more than common for him to get the two of you together.

Sho, however, can barely hide his anxiety. The dark blue band in the ring box feels like it weighs a ton, tucked deep in his pockets.

You notice his uneasiness. Of course you do. Your mind races with awful thoughts, and, as you two get off Bonnie, you immediately hold his hands, begging him to please let you know if you did anything to make him upset.

Sho feels like a dumbass. He thought he was hiding his emotions well, but it was silly of him to expect that you, of all people, wouldn't see straight into him.

But it's such a pretty day, and the air feels crisp, and the sunset paints you with orange rays of sunlight, and you look prettier than ever in his eyes.

He sighs and pulls the ring box out his pocket, putting it on your hand. His face burns with embarrassment as he says the words out loud, squashing any doubt you could ever have about the strength of your relationship with him.

You say yes as tears of relief escape your eyes, and you bury your face in the crook of his neck, a small laugh bubbling out of your mouth as you feel how warm his skin is.

Haru

From the moment he saw you holding Peekaboo in your arms, Haru knew what he wanted.

He waited and waited, wondering when it could be considered socially acceptable to ask you to marry him.

Oh, if only Bahnti could make him run fast through time as well.

He tells you so once he finally decides to propose, holding the ring box he had bought right after meeting you. It was now old and muddied after all those long, agonizing months in which he kept it hidden inside his pockets.

He tells you of all the times he thought of buying other rings, one exponentially different than the other, because it was so hard not to think of you whenever he saw anything bright and pretty.

It's easy for him to see his future with you, and he promises to also make it easy for you to live with him.

He doesn't expect you to tend to his wounds nor work like he does. No, he would never even think of having you break a sweat for him.

Haru only wishes to be on the receiving end of your caring hands as well.

When you accept his proposal, you pull him onto your lap, fingers threading into his hair, and he sleeps, knowing he would wait it out all over again if it always meant you'd be his.

Towa

It doesn't take long for Towa to propose. In fact, he probably proposes every single day ever since you two got together.

But it's always light-hearted, like another way for him to say "I love you" without actually saying it.

He's given you countless rings made of flower stems, which you keep tucked safely inside a box, despite all of them withering way too soon.

When he's serious about it, however, you know.

There's not playfulness nor mirth in his eyes – just deep, infinite adoration. A seriousness on his face that shakes you to your core.

When he slips yet another ring in your finger, you notice: this one was made to look like a flower stem, but it was made of a silvery, hard band.

"This one will never wither," he says under the night sky you two had been watching. "It's a proof that I want to be with you forever".

His proposal is more of a statement than a question. You will marry him, he knows and you know as well.

And you couldn't be happier.

Ren

He hates the idea of proposals. Hates how much attention is drawn to a couple during marriage, hates the huge parties, the self-importance of couples who think the world should clap for them for just being together.

Therefore, he really doesn't expect to have marriage popping up in his mind every time he looks at you, a little into your relationship with him.

It's more of a reassurance than a romantic gesture to him.

Whenever you laugh at his jokes, spend time watching his awful horror movies, listen to his ramblings about games–

Whenever you look at him, kiss him and say his name–

Whenever you exist next to him, he wants, needs the reassurance that you won't simply go away in the blink of an eye. You won't leave him behind, back into a solitude he doesn't think he can handle anymore. Not after you.

So when he asks you after a binge of awful movies, if you'd like to spend the rest of your life with him, he does it out of desperation.

If he likes it, he needs to put a ring on it, right? Or whatever it is that someone said some time ago.

Your smile when you say you do is almost blinding. He nods and looks away, noticing his reflection on his notebook's screen seems awfully flustered.

"We'll go out to buy rings tomorrow, then." He murmurs. You lean onto his shoulder, agreeing and he sighs.

It will definitely feel good to see the proof that you're his right there, glinting on your finger.

[shaiprsly]

𝐂𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : 1972. Fame, wealth, and the haunting allure of Elvis Presley—everything Y/N could ever want, except the one thing that really matters: a simple, normal life. Hired as the nanny for Lisa Marie Presley, Y/N is thrown into the heart of the Presley world, where she quickly becomes more than just a caretaker for Elvis's daughter. As Priscilla remains distant, Y/N steps in, offering Lisa Marie the affection and attention she craves. But it’s Elvis, cold and aloof at first, who soon becomes captivated by her. With 15 years between them, Elvis begins to blur the lines between professional and personal, showering Y/N with gifts and flirting dangerously. He may be married, but that doesn't stop him from wanting Y/N. Torn between duty and desire, Y/N must face the growing tension, knowing that giving in could shatter everything she’s worked for. Will she resist the King of Rock and Roll, or will his love prove impossible to escape?

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬/𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : Cussing, cheating, age gap (Elvis is 37, reader is 22), virgin reader, emotional manipulation. I guess that all !!

𝐀/𝐍 : Hi so this is my first time writing and actually posting (and it's literally a whole fic), but I wanted to give it a try!! Let me know what you think and if I should keep writing, because I'm not sure lmao, I might change little thing in the story !! ALSO MY FIRST LANGUAGE ISN'T ENGLISH!! I'M FRENCH LOLLZ

February 15th, 1972

You stand at the base of the grand staircase, your heart pounding in your chest. The door in front of you looms like a barrier between the life you’ve always known and the unknown world that lies just beyond it. The house, a sprawling mansion with gleaming white columns and intricate ironwork, feels both overwhelming and intimidating. It’s everything you’ve read about in magazines and seen on TV—the kind of place people dream of living in but never actually do. But today, it’s not a dream. Today, it’s your reality.

You’ve always been practical, grounded by the simplicity of life. Growing up in the countryside, you never imagined you’d end up here, working for one of the most famous families in the world. But here you are, standing in front of the Presley estate, about to walk into a life so far removed from your own that it almost feels surreal.

Priscilla Presley had called you last Tuesday, saying she’d come across your nanny advertisement in a mall, and that she needed help with Lisa Marie since Elvis would be away for a month. You had never worked for anyone like them, and the idea of leaving your quiet, small-town life was intimidating. But when Priscilla’s calm, urgent voice came over the phone, you couldn’t refuse. After asking you a series of questions, she offered you the job, promising a paycheck at the end of the month of $3,700. It seemed too good to be true, but you couldn't turn it down. This was Elvis Presley’s daughter—how could you?

Still, that knot of nervousness twisted in your stomach. You'd been a nanny before, in your small town, but this was a whole different level.

You shift your weight, feeling the weight of the mansion’s presence. The world you’re about to step into feels much larger than you, and you’re unsure if you’ll ever truly fit in. But there’s no turning back now. You’ve been hired, and now you have to prove you can do the job. As you lift your hand to knock on the door, it opens slowly, and there he is.

Elvis Presley.

In person.

Standing before you.

You’ve seen him on TV, in movies, and on the covers of countless magazines, but nothing prepared you for the way he commands a room the moment he steps into it. His presence is magnetic—powerful, undeniable. He’s taller than you imagined, his broad shoulders filling the doorframe, his gaze steady and intense. There’s something about the way he looks at you—cold, assessing, as if he’s evaluating you in the span of a single heartbeat.

“Must be Y/N,” he says, his voice low, rough, and heavy with that familiar drawl. “Priscilla told me you’d be here, she's out for the day.”

You nod, throat tight. You’re not sure what to say. Elvis Presley doesn’t feel like a real person. He feels like an idea, a legend. And yet, here he is, standing right in front of you. “Yes, that’s me,” you manage, trying to sound confident, though your heart is racing. “I’m here to look after Lisa Marie.”

His eyes flicker for just a moment, a hint of something you can’t place passing through them, but then it’s gone, replaced by the same indifferent expression. “Come in,” he grunts, stepping aside to let you enter. His voice is dismissive, as if he’s done this countless times before.

You step inside, the cool air of the mansion washing over you. The grand foyer is decorated with dark wood furniture, vintage paintings on the walls, and thick, plush rugs that muffle your footsteps. The space feels like it’s frozen in time, a snapshot of another era. You feel like you’ve stepped into a different world, one where wealth and fame are the rules, not the exceptions.

“Hey, squirt,” Elvis calls out, his voice surprisingly soft for a moment. You turn, and Lisa Marie is standing there, staring up at you with big, innocent eyes.

“Are you the new lady?” Lisa Marie asks, her voice soft but clearly curious. She can barely form full sentences at her age, but you catch the excitement in her tone. She’s only four, after all.

You smile, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “Yes, I’m Y/N,” you reply gently. “I’m here to look after you.”

Lisa Marie grins widely and grabs your hand. “Yay! I like you,” she says, pulling you toward the living room. You can’t help but laugh, her enthusiasm melting some of your nerves.

As you follow her, Elvis lingers in the background, crossing his arms and watching you both with a detached interest. His gaze, however, is still sharp, as if he’s measuring you up, trying to figure you out.

“Don’t make a mess, kid,” Elvis mutters under his breath, not even glancing at Lisa Marie. It’s clear he’s trying to maintain some semblance of authority, but he doesn’t seem particularly engaged with his daughter. He’s just there, overseeing it all.

Lisa Marie pulls you down to the carpet, surrounded by her scattered toys. She starts showing you some of her favorites, her speech still childlike and a little jumbled. “This is my bear. He talks,” she says, holding up a stuffed animal that looks like it’s seen better days.

“Really?” you ask, playing along. “What does he say?”

“He says ‘I love you,’” she replies matter-of-factly, “but only when no one’s looking.” She giggles softly and looks over at her father.

You glance over, and Elvis is still watching, but now his gaze is a little different—colder, perhaps, but you can’t be sure. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he observes you.

“Do what you gotta do, but keep it quiet,” he grumbles. “Lisa’s gotta learn some focus.”

You try not to let his words bother you. It’s clear he’s not the warmest man, and his attitude toward you seems colder with every passing moment. But you’re not here to be distracted by him. You’re here for Lisa Marie, and that’s all that matters.

____

The afternoon sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting long shadows across Lisa's room. Lisa had finally fallen asleep around 3 PM, her small body curled into a peaceful ball on her hamburger bed, the gentle rise and fall of her chest the only sound in the otherwise still room. You smile at her for a moment, the warm feeling of accomplishment filling your chest. You had managed to calm her down after a long afternoon of playing, and now, for the first time in what felt like hours, you have a moment to yourself.

With soft steps, you turn and leave the bedroom, your fingers brushing against the cool walls of the hallway as you make your way toward the living room. You need a break, just a few minutes away from the constant responsibility of being Lisa Marie’s caretaker. But as you step into the living room, you freeze in place.

There, on the couch, is Elvis.

He’s sitting back with his legs spread out, a glass of whiskey in his hand. It’s barely 3:15 PM, and yet, there he is, drinking. You blink, confused by the sight. You glance at him, and his eyes flicker up from his glass, catching yours. But he doesn’t say anything, his gaze simply lingering over you, as if expecting you to say something.

You don’t. You don’t have the courage to. After all, you’re not here to challenge him or question his choices. You’re here to take care of Lisa. That's it.

As you take a hesitant step forward, your eyes can’t help but notice something strange. Elvis is taking more than just a drink. With the glass still in his hand, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small bottle of pills. Your heart skips a beat as he pops a few into his mouth, tossing the bottle back into his pocket without a second thought.

Your mind races. You’re not sure what those pills are, but the way he’s handling them, so casually, it feels like something you shouldn’t be witnessing. You stand there, paralyzed by the scene in front of you, unsure of what to do. You don’t want to intrude, but the anxiety building in your chest makes it hard to ignore the obvious signs of something troubling happening.

You stand frozen, unsure if you should say something, or if you should just leave and pretend like you didn’t see anything. But before you can make up your mind, Elvis's voice cuts through the thick air.

“What the hell do you want?” he growls, his tone sharp, and full of irritation. His eyes narrow at you, anger flickering behind them.

You jump back in surprise. “I— I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammer, your hands instinctively clasping together. “I just thought I should check on you, maybe—”

“Check on me?” Elvis interrupts, his voice rising. He slams his glass down on the table with a loud thud, causing you to flinch. “You’ve got no damn business checking on me! You’re here for one thing, and one thing only— to take care of Lisa. And that’s it, understand?”

His words hit you like a slap. The sharpness in his voice cuts through you, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. Your mouth opens to respond, but nothing comes out. Your heart is pounding in your chest, your body trembling under the weight of his words.

“I— I just thought I could help, but I didn't mean to see you like—” you whisper, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Help?” he spits, his words venomous. “You think I need help from you? You’re not here to ‘help’ me, darlin'. You’re here to watch my kid, to make sure she’s taken care of. You’re nothing more than a stupid nanny. Nothing more!”

The insult stings like a slap in the face. You want to argue back, to stand your ground, but it’s hard when you’re this shaken. Your breath hitches in your throat as his words cut through you, each one sinking deeper and deeper. You had hoped, naively, that you could have a more personal connection with him, but now it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Elvis stands up, towering over you, his expression twisted in anger. He steps forward, closing the distance between you. The air around you feels thick and suffocating as he grabs your arm, pulling you harshly toward the door.

“You’re not welcome here, d'ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!” he shouts, his grip tightening around your arm as he shoves you toward the door.

The force of his push sends a shock of fear through you. You stumble back, your eyes wide with shock. “Mr.Presley, please—” you begin, but he cuts you off.

“I don’t want t'hear it! I’ve got no goddamn time for your pity, or your whining! You’re just here to look after Lisa—nothin' else! Now get out, before I make you leave!” He’s shouting now, his voice seething with fury.

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to regain your balance, the sting of his words cutting deep. You can’t believe this is happening. The man you’d been trying so hard to please all day, is now throwing you out of his house like you’re nothing. His hands are still gripping your arm, pushing you toward the door with alarming force.

“Please, Mr.Presley…” you beg, your voice shaky, so afraid of loosing your job the first day you got it, but he’s having none of it.

“Didn’t y'hear me?” he snarls, his face twisted in disgust. “You’re just a damn servant to me! That’s all you are. So get out of my damn house before I call security to throw you out!”

Your chest is tight with emotion as he shoves you toward the front door. You don’t have the strength to fight him. The tears you’ve been holding back fall freely now, but there’s no use. He doesn’t care.

With one last, hard push, he opens the door and practically forces you outside, slamming it shut behind you with a finality that echoes through the empty hallway.

You stand there on the doorstep, your body trembling. Your hands are shaking as you wipe your tears away, but it does nothing to stop the flood of emotions pouring out of you. How did things get so bad? Why did Elvis, the person you tried so hard to help, turn on you so cruelly?

Your mind is a mess of confusion and hurt. You had only wanted to be kind, to make things easier for Lisa, but instead, you’re treated like garbage. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, Elvis would see the real you, see that you were trying to help him, too. But now, all you are is a nuisance in his eyes.

Hesitating for a moment, you turn and walk down the front steps. Every part of you is screaming to go back inside, to make things right, but deep down, you know it’s not going to happen. Not today. Not after the way he treated you.

You have no idea what tomorrow will bring, but as you walk away from the house, you wonder if it’s worth coming back at all.

to be continued...

[riddlers-roulette]

luv ur arcane post!!! totally agree. like it’s so frustrating?? i was going thru the caitvi tag the other day and i saw a post where someone was responding to an ask that said smth like “i noticed cait always resorts to sexual behavior when vi is emotional” and the askee was like “omg yeah ive noticed that too vi’s body is constantly a tool” except op went on for a bit basically. literally was just two clowns going back and forth. op was a vi x oc shipper too so explains the cait bashing lol

I’m glad you liked my post anon!

Also wanna preface this by saying (more as a general thing than a message to you anon!) that while I appreciate the asks, I in no way want drama brought to my blog! So please, if you all have a gripe with a blog in particular or something specific, I am asking you not to bring it here. A general fandom or character related misconception or gripe is fine however! Thank you :)

Now onto the actual ask—while I’m not an x reader or x oc fan myself, and never have been, it being something I never myself understood, I do know that oc shipping is something a lot of people do, and I’m not going bash it. Fanfiction takes all types after all.

I am going to point out though the absurdity of the “Caitlyn always uses sexual behavior whenever Vi is emotional” statement is absolutely absurd. First of all, the sesbian lex act, which happened at a time Vi was distressed and emotional, was initiated by Vi. It was initiated by Vi after Caitlyn proved her deep care for Vi, admitting that she had moved all the guards so that Vi could have an easier time breaking her sister—the person who kidnapped Cait, killed her mother and countless innocents, amongst other things—out of prison. Caitlyn, who once, in the throes of grief, asked Vi to put on an enforcers badge and help her track down her sister, was now admitting to giving Vi everything she needed to help said sister escape.

This concession coming at a time when Vi was doubting herself and fully expecting Caitlyn to be feeling betrayed instead of accepting. Vi moved in for the kiss first. Vi initiated the sesbian lex. And Caitlyn doesn’t let Vi go into it blind. She pulls away and explains that she was with someone while Vi was away—something that wasn’t cheating I might add, as they had ended things in Act I. And, “was with someone” implies either a) her thing with Maddie is over, or b) her thing with Maddie was a FWB type thing, something non-exclusive.

Look at the end of the day, if you want to write an x oc fic, that’s absolutely fine! You don’t need to create a new narrative and pass it as canon to do that though. It’s not required to bash a character just to justify shipping your fave with one of of your own?

[scarletwinterxx]

one sunday morning - hong joshua imagine

how it took me this long to finally write a sunday morning referenced au for joshua idk too HAHAH but it's here

for my other svt fics, check them here

if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You hear the soft hum of the espresso machine as you stand behind the counter of the cozy little café you’ve managed for years.

It’s a quiet Sunday morning, sunlight spilling through the wide windows in golden waves, the kind that makes everything feel warm and alive. You’re arranging the freshly baked croissants in the display case when the bell above the door chimes, signaling the arrival of your favorite regular: Joshua.

Joshua, with his tousled brown hair, that lopsided grin, and the slightly oversized denim jacket he wears like it’s a second skin. He walks in with a lazy kind of confidence, as if the world couldn’t possibly surprise him, but his eyes light up the moment they find yours

Every. Single. Time.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, leaning casually against the counter. “What’s the special today? Let me guess… something ridiculously overpriced but totally worth it if you make it?”

You roll your eyes, but your lips curve into a smile anyway. “Good morning to you too, Joshua. And no, the croissants are reasonably priced. But since you’re feeling cheeky, maybe I should double the price just for you.”

His laugh is warm and rich, like a favorite song you never get tired of hearing

“You wouldn’t dare. You like me too much.”

You arch an eyebrow, trying to look unimpressed. “Bold assumption.”

“Oh, come on. Admit it,” he teases, leaning closer. “I’m your favorite customer.”

“Second favorite,” you counter, suppressing a grin. “Mrs. Kim tops you, hands down. She doesn’t mock my pastries.”

“Mrs. Kim who said the cake wasn't moist when it was literally called moist cake?” he says, feigning offense. “But fine, I’ll accept second place... for now. What do I need to do to get bumped up to first?”

“Be nice to the barista, that’d be a start.” you say, pointing to yourself

Joshua places a hand over his heart, as if wounded. “I’m always nice to you. I even brought you this.” He pulls a small bouquet of daisies from behind his back, slightly crushed but undeniably charming.

You blink in surprise, the teasing retort on your tongue dying instantly. “You brought me flowers?”

“Don’t look so shocked,” he says, grinning sheepishly. “I saw them at the farmer’s market and thought of you. Figured they’d look better on your counter than in my office”

Your cheeks heat, and you curse the telltale blush. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. Then, his voice drops into a playful lilt. “But if this earns me a free croissant, I wouldn’t say no.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try. But fine, I’ll give you one. Consider it a thank-you for being marginally charming.”

“Marginally?” He gasps in mock horror. “I’m devastated. Here I thought I was irresistibly charming.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Joshuji” you say, sliding a warm croissant onto a plate and handing it to him. “There. Now go sit down before I change my mind.”

He takes the plate, his fingers brushing yours for a brief second.

A touch so fleeting you’re not sure he even noticed.

But you do. Every time.

As he settles into his usual spot by the window, you catch yourself glancing his way more often than necessary. He’s flipping through a dog-eared paperback, his brow furrowing every now and then in concentration.

There’s something about the way he exists so effortlessly, so entirely himself that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Later, when the café is quieter and he’s the last customer lingering, he makes his way back to the counter.

“So,” he says, resting his elbows on the polished wood. “What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”

“Nothing too exciting,” you admit. “Probably just laundry and a terrible rom-com.”

“Terrible rom-coms are my specialty,” he says with a grin. “Need company?”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you inviting yourself over?”

“Depends. Do you have popcorn?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he says, his grin softening into something quieter, something warmer. “Let me make the popcorn. You can pick the movie. Deal?”

For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of the invitation hanging in the air. But then you see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, and you think: Why not?

“Deal,” you say, and his face lights up like a summer sky.

And just like that, without even trying, Joshua makes the ordinary feel extraordinary. This, you think, is how you fall in love.

[drivestraight]

have not stopped thinking about eta since it came out and i swear i’ve read it like 5 times since. the formatting is just mwah! with the way you weaved the past into the present narrative. your characterization of oscar is truly everything. “And he cares. All this time he has cared. He has cared so much but it’s gotten him nowhere, and no one can even see it. He never understood why no one else could see it.” → like this is the oscar thesis to me! i would love to hear more of your thoughts about the future of this universe you created !

FIVE TIMES 😭 thank you so much !! it always brings me so much joy to know that people like my writing, and especially the whole past/present timelines being told at the same time - i've said this before, but that was my biggest worry when posting/writing the fic, because i knew that it was kind of high risk (it might be confusing/hard to follow) but also high reward (it was the very best way to tell the story/the only way in the end), so i'm glad it all paid off :)

and yeah. oscar to me as a loverboy who cares so much and doesn't know what to do with it and will feel more than he'll ever let on. <3

re: the universe beyond this fic... lando's side of it i'm like. for some reason i like keeping it a secret even tho i'm probably never going to write it. but as for oscar and max:

nicole invites max to melbourne for the holidays after oscar wins the championship. max chooses to spend it with them mostly because he's already spent so much time with his own family this year, re: retirement, so the timing's kind of perfect. he and oscar are Boyfriends but it still kind of feels like this undefined things coming out of abu dhabi, but spending the holiday together + max getting to know oscar's family and them getting to know him really solidifies it all.

max takes another year off racing, so in 2027 he literally is just being oscar's wag. he doesn't go to every single race or even many races but every now and then he'll show up and just. Hang. he'll hang out with the piastris and eventually people online will be like... why is max so close to nicole. why is he joking around with oscar's sisters. what's happening rn. i think he'd do daytona and endurance racing in 2028, but he really is in a good place in life, seeing all his friends and family and even getting to know oscar's.

oscar's hot shit and hot property in 2027. because i'm a red bull lover, red bull are Really good in 2027. oscar and liam are work husbands and the levels of homosexuality in that team are off the charts (liam is straight). and then there's oscar's underarmor underwear campaign.

anyway oscar wins in 2027 again. it's a bit less of a fraught fight though because he wins it with a race or two to spare. it starts out as a threeway title fight between him, lando, and charles, but then he just starts to pull ahead.

[legitalicat]

So I would like to go ahead and throw this out there, I'm not sure when exactly I'll be back to posting regularly because I'm getting married in the next few months 😅 and I have to plan the wedding.

Until then, I highly recommend the following writers.

@zaldritzosrose can write for literally so many fandoms and do it so well.

@thenameswinterfics is fucking phenomenal and I love everything, is also multi fandom.

@foxyanon for Sihtric/Masema content, specializing in OC work and it is chef's kiss

@alexagirlie is absolutely phenomenal for writing MLM ship fics and could not recommend enough.

@gemini-mama is one of my favorite Finan lovers and she has an amazing talent.

@towriteloveontheirarms is one that just hits all the time, never knowing you need it until you've read it.

This is not all of the lovely writers I know and love and read, but if any of you all love my stories I cannot recommend these lovelies enough.

I will see you when I see you, and wish me luck 😅

[thebestsetter]

THANK YOU FOR THE TAG SOMII SWEETIEE

I added those pics for fun lol

How do you spend your free time?

I usually spend it practicing and/or watching volleyball, reading (both fics and books) or playing online games w my friends!! (Usually Roblox or Minecraft).

What are your hobbies and how did you get into them?

I've been interested in reading and writing ever since I was a little kid reading Turma da Mônica (a brazilian comic). My other hobby is volleyball. I watched a vb game at the 2020 olympics + watched hq and I feel in love with the sport. My friends also started playing and now we're all in a club and/or our school's team

What book or movie had a lasting impression on you?

Percy Jackson tlt fs. I love greek mythology and I'm excited to read the other books!!

What kind of music do you enjoy?

Basically everything. From bossa nova to musicals. I listen to anything I find appealing. BUT if I had to choose my top 3, it would Def be:

1) Musicals (specially EPIC and Hamilton)

2) Bossa Nova/MPB

3) Pop rock (like Arctic Monkeys)

Who is your fav character (all time or atm) and why?

THAT'S A HARD ONE.

I like lots of different charactersaq, so I'mm gonna say 2 here bcs I can.

First, Percy Jackson. He's so me coded, even tho I'm a daughter of Apollo. Poor guy was forced to fight a literal GOD at 12 yo. He's traumatized (and who wouldn't, honestly?)

Second, Michael Kaiser. His backstory's so sad and I LOVE his playing style. He's also handsome. Not that It matters ofc...

TAGS!!: @merlucide @sharkissm @someprettyname + ANYONE WHO WANTS TO JOIN!!

tag + q&a game ₊˚ෆ

hello! i thought it would be cute and exciting to do a tag game with all my mutuals to not only talk about themselves, but have fun! so here is my short little game:

alongside this picrew, share 5 things about yourself!

• how do you spend your free time? • what are your hobbies and how did you get into them? • what book or movie left a lasting impression on you? • what kind of music do you enjoy? • who is your favorite character (atm or all time) and why?

i will start first!

my name is rurumi and i enjoy spending my free time writing!

some of my hobbies (outside of writing) includes: drawing, building gundams and keyboards, and fashion! i got into most of them on a whim and became instantly hooked. aside from self-expression, being into fashion also helps with making friends in college because you always have something to talk about!

a book that left a lasting impression on me would have to be either kafka on the shore by haruki murakami or before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi. both stories have kept me up at night thinking a lot about the 'what ifs' in life.

i enjoy soul/r&b alongside anything of jrock influence, but i will basically listen to anything that sounds good. i am currently listening to 'so what' by lucy!

my favorite character at the moment is rin itoshi from blue lock because hes so ridiculously edgy, but at the same time i sympathize with him a lot. on the other hand, my favorite character of all time is suletta mecury from the witch from mercury series, she's an absolute ball of sunshine that i aspire to be.

tagging (+ no pressure) ₊˚ෆ

@kaiser1ns @naenaex0xx @shomatoriashi @choccorin @ryescapades

@rindreamery @soleillunne @kissxcore @rainswept @mitsvriii

anyone can join as well <3

[stop-talking]

Game of the summer ?!?!

[teethkid67]

PAYDAY

aka a valentine for the lovely @itsnotmystic / @corvids-calling - fanart for stars fic of the same name, which you can read here !!! i really enjoyed this concept and wanted to do some art for it :3 hope you like it because i REALLY loved your work & i hope this shows that !!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY !!!!

this is also a loose love-letter to the wonderful @arginnit 's crazy background-drawing-ability and style/skill at portraying environments . wadds your stuff is insane and i love it

happy @mcyt-valentines exchange !!!!

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[crossthread]

No jokes here. The Navy’s best pilot and the Navy’s best admiral. Between them, eight air-to-air combat kills and five stars. These were men who commanded respect with or without your approval. This was the picture of ruthless competence.

Debriefing (& Other Stories) • part 2 of Easier Done Than Said by @compacflt

[spacedlexi]

twdg s4 really gave us an adorable wlw romance for the main character about building a home and a family where the two antagonists are an evil woman who she was partially cared for by as a child and her girlfriends fucked up not-exactly-ex girlfriend who wants her dead (who has been manipulated by Evil Woman and they are character foils) AND its written by a gay woman and its fucking CRICKETS!!!!! i dont understand !!!!!!!

[menlikeair]

NEW YORK AINT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU. [aidan shaw x fem!afab!reader]

mdni. smut. mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating. intoxication. language. age-gap. oral m receiving. angst! unprotected sex, aidan is kind of an asshole, be warned.

words: 3.3k

new york city drummed on balmy summer nights and the heat only amplified its pulse. people from all walks of life were carving out their own spaces in a city that never slept.

except for you, alone in your apartment. left to your own devices with nothing but the hum of sparse traffic outside and the patter of rain against your window. it poured heavily and bounced from the pavement, adding a rhythmic backdrop to the humid summer night.

the city seemed to mock your solitude with the straight downpour.

on the other side of chelsea, in stark contrast to your state, aidan stepped out of the club into a relentless sheet of rain, his mind a whirlwind. neon lights reflected off the wet pavement, casting a glow around him.

betrayal still stung, and in true aidan shaw fashion, rain or shine, baby, he had once told you. he kept his promises.

the street bloomed white under two jittered flashes of lightning.

“juliet, give me my sin again!” he shouted, his voice cracked and carried a lazy slur. if you hadn’t known this tone so well, you’d almost mistake it for a teenager shittily spewing out shakespeare in hopes of getting some while his little juliet’s parents weren’t home.

you stepped from the bed and to the window to confirm what you already knew. it only took a small squint through the flowy curtains. it would almost be romantic if he wasn’t sopping wet and pathetic with a cocky shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome face as he caught a glimpse of you peering down at him.

you paced down each step before slinging the walk-up apartment’s heavy oak door open.

he leaned forward with both hands against the stairs gate, trying to keep his balance as the water soaked through his clothes and he laughed deeply to himself.

“really cute, but in case you didn’t notice, people live here, romeo.” you hissed and reached down to pull him up the stairs by the collar of his shirt.

aidan trudged up the narrow staircase closely behind you as you stomped. each step creaked under his weight.

“that was stupid, wasn’t even funny,” you mumble and glance at him from over your shoulder as your hands fumble with the keys in the lock.

“i come by it honestly.” he placed his hand over his heart and grinned mockingly.

the air inside your place was thick with the scent of fresh paint and sawdust. remnants of ongoing renovations.

he stumbled slightly, catching himself on the doorframe as he craned his neck to look around you. he surveyed the construction disaster of your so-called ‘living room.’

“well, look at you, little miss la-dee-da.” he pressed past you through the entrance.

“you’re dripping all over my rug,” you muttered from behind him.

“am i?” he sneered back at you.

his gaze flickered to the half-finished bookshelf in the corner.

“i’m quite the handyman, sugar.” he declared as he stripped himself of his jacket and tossed it onto a loveseat sitting awkwardly in the middle of the room.

“could’ve done this for you in a day if you kept me around long enough…” his finger glided over the drywall dust that had collected on a stack of books against the wall before turning to walk closer to you.

“so. what’s new, pussy-cat?”

the tone in his voice seemed to imply he was toying with you. the response was caught in your throat like an air bubble with no escape way.

you studied him quickly, almost obsessively. everything about him was different. they say hair holds memory, and for your own sake, you hoped that had been true. aidan had rid himself of his lengthy cupid curls, and as his broadly toned abdomen pressed against his clinging white dress shirt, you guessed a gym membership was included in the deal.

“what are you doing here, aidan?” you tiredly muttered, trying to hide any expression of shame that dared to ghost across your expression.

“thought i’d see what you were up to, troublemaker.” he grinned deviously, raising his eyebrows as he swayed a bit. he slowly turned on his heels to continue his track around your disastrous living room.

“man, the tunnel! great little place, you been?” he leaned down to pick and prod around at all of the misplaced trinkets on your coffee table. a dull thump of an overplayed club hit rang through his ears, and a few too many straight whiskeys clung to him.

you glanced at him and your mouth fell into a slightly o-shape in a lousy attempt to force the words out of your throat.

the audacity.

you rolled your eyes, “yeah, the tunnel. heard of it.” you mocked back sarcastically.

he hummed in response before letting a short huff of breath out. he turned to face you once again.

“anyway,” he raised his eyebrows and stepped close. too close for comfort. his broad frame towering over you made your heart thump harder and your mouth go dry.

“i think you got some explainin’ to do, little lady.” he expressively pouted his bottom lip.

“you look…different…” you squeaked embarrassingly in response and cleared your throat to divert the attention away from yourself.

“i thought you’d like it.. look like one of those limp-dick wall-street boys you’ve been runnin’ around with lately..” he grinned as his hands wrapped around the small of your waist to manually pull your body closer to his, leaving a suffocatingly insufficient amount of space between the two of you.

his words took you by surprise. on very rare occasions had you heard the man speak with hostility, it just wasn’t his thing, so you wondered why the words left his lips so naturally and smoothly.

“you’re very drunk..” your hands landed on his wide shoulders as you arched your back in a lousy attempt to create any amount of extra space with the man who effortlessly towered over you.

“no, ma, i ain’t.” his deep voice mocked an exaggerated southern drawl as his body leaned closer to dispel the newly added space.

you huffed, exasperated. a strap from your ivory nightdress slipped down your shoulder. you brought a hand up and pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration and took a step away from his grasp.

images of a night months ago flashed through your mind. you remembered the dull headache that pounded between your eyes as sunlight poured through your apartment's cracked window. slamming doors and jumping up to run to the window, hoarsely yelling out for aidan, to tell him it wasn’t what it looked like.

but it was exactly what it looked like.

some lousy bartender with a pierced eyebrow sprawled across your bed right beside you in his underwear, there was no way to explain.

so, you didn’t.

you took your last look at aidan as he quickly hurried away from your apartment for the last time. until now. no email with an explanation or apology. no phone calls, no letters. and, at last, he was here for his closure.

he stepped away and leaned back against his palms on the island bar that separated your tiny living room and kitchen. an unfamiliarly smug smirk painted across his defined face. you caught a glimpse of his ribcage snugly pressed against the damp white fabric of his dress shirt, the newly toned muscle between each column of bone made your breath hitch. rainwater trickled from his brow onto the linoleum below his feet.

“aidan, i’m sorry,” you muttered apologetically. your expression softened as you searched for the words to explain, “i was very drunk and my friends.. they wouldn’t stop pressuring me.” your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as you continued.

“always in my ear about me losing my youth dating someone older, and—”

the shame flashed across your face sent a fresh wave of irritation through him. a deep hum from aidan stopped you and you watched as he tilted his head to the side to examine you. his hard expression didn’t change and your blood went cold as you realized that soft spot in his heart for you had long since turned rock-solid.

he adjusted his hips as his thick length twitched impatiently against his left thigh.

“you left me hangin’, baby, high and dry..”

he sucked his left cheek between his teeth and tsked, glancing down at his feet and he leaned back further against his palms, stretching his toned body.

you threw your hands up with a shrug of your shoulders in defeat “i’m sorry, i don’t know what else to say…”

aidan took one hand he was leaning against and completely grasped around your wrist to pull you a step closer.

“come here. what are you standing so far for?” he relaxed, looking down at you as he examined the surprised micro-expressions lighting your face up. the feeling of your wrist in his hand made his already-drunk thoughts spin. his jaw went slack as his body pressed into you with ease.

“you can’t just do this.” you hoarsely stammered, the pressure around your wrist applying as he pulled you closer.

“do what?” the man grinned against you teasingly. he turned his body and boxed you into the counter, bracketing you against the faux marble.

aidan's broad six-foot-five frame completely engulfed you. his hand released your wrist before snaking around your hips to pull you into his torso.

“busting in like you own the place and—” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip and pressed into him closer, motioning over his body with your eyes

“this.”

you nervously toyed with the neckline of his shirt, slipping your fingers underneath to slide against his collarbone.

aidan’s breath hitched as your fingers traced against him. his eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer. the heat between you was palpable, and every inch of your body was hyper-aware of his proximity.

he ducked his head down and hunched over you, slowly pressing a kiss against your mouth and using his tongue to push through your lips like an intruder. you melted into him. thoughtlessly, like second nature.

and for a sudden, hopeless moment, you missed him. you missed his weight against you. his lips on yours just like this, slacking your jaw to allow his hot tongue to slip against yours as his hungry hands palmed your ass through a thin and nearly iridescent night dress.

you felt his thickness twitch against you, behind the constricting material of his tightening dress pants.

you were drunk on the way he smelled.

it was overtly masculine, everything about him was and always had been. heavy, earthy, and warm, the tinge of whiskey lingered on his lips and the scent of oak on his skin long after he’d left his workshop.

he pulled away to step forward, guide you into the living room, and sit in the heavy oak chair he’d designed with his own hands, sprawled back cockily. it creaked beneath his weight.

go on, baby.

you didn’t know whether it was his husky voice that had commanded you or your subconscious guiding you to pay your karma, but you obliged.

watching him loosen his belt, you lowered yourself to your knees and scooted forward.

“pretty girl,” he muttered to himself and tsked his tongue against his teeth in thought.

“you hurt me, you know that?” he felt better when he wasn’t made of steel with you.

his head tilted to the side to examine your flushed face and you instinctively pulled him out of his boxers. you craned your neck forward to trail a lick up the underside of his cock. his familiarity and warmth made heat coil low in your belly, pooling wet and anxious between your legs. he held you off, just enough so that he could watch you struggle forward trying to take him into your mouth fully.

he twitched against your tongue, huffing out a sharp breath. the uneven hitch of his breath urged you to continue and you take him into your mouth further. your throat constricted wildly, and he hissed through his teeth.

the two of you belonged to each other once again, the salvia pooling in your mouth, running down his length as your mouth and lips did the apologizing that your words couldn’t, belonged to him. his hand at the back of your head which felt like security, raising his hips to fuck up into your mouth. his groans belonged to you, just as they always had.

you whimpered softly as he tugged your hair to pull you from his flushed cock. a line of spit hung off your bottom lip, sticking to your chin. you wiped away tears from your clumped eyelashes with the back of your hand and sunk your teeth into your plump bottom lip eagerly. the need to please him was sudden and violent. his strong hand caught in the soft tangle of your hair.

his face was stricken with an expression you couldn’t quite grasp. with his nostrils flared and jaw clenched, you could recognize anger. but his softened gaze and furrowed eyebrows felt like sincerity, guilt. he couldn’t tell if he wanted to fuck a lousy apology out of you or send you to bed and leave as if nothing had ever happened in his drunken haze.

he used his large hand to wrap around his shaft and drag his slick tip against your open lips before pulling you down onto him once again.

your apology was warm around him, pressing up against the back of your throat.

it hurt in the way it was supposed to hurt — your guilt scorching away inside you.

he forced you down, filling your mouth with his cock, tears clouded your vision. your whimpers were garbled, broken things around his cock.

he’d been the one to teach you how to take it without a fuss, maybe he didn’t hear you over the resounding crashes of thunder and your window rattling on his hinges. couldn’t see the tears welling when you fluttered your eyes open up to him as he tilted his head back against the chair in a guilt-stricken haze of pleasure.

his gaze fell onto you, and his strong hand released the grasp on your hair.

“come here.” the man muttered, motioning you up with his head.

your fingers hooked at the straps of the flowing night-dressed and it fell to pool around your ankles. you stepped out of it, slipped onto his lap to straddle him, and closed your eyes as you sunk onto him with ease. he didn’t give you time to adjust to him before he rocked his hips to fill you completely.

a sharp hiss of an inhale left through your teeth as his tip reached far deeper than you had been used to in your time apart.

he leaned forward and groaned against your warm skin as his hips guided themselves upwards, he closed his eyes. his hands grasp around your waist to steady you and hold you in place as your legs shook in response. his head dipped down and his lips and tongue sloppily grazed your nipple.

“ ‘m sorry. ” your words left your lips like a soft cry as his cock reached deeply inside you, making your head fall backward, torso and breasts arching further against his mouth.

“you’re always doin’ shit you need to be sorry for.” he grunted into your skin and pulled you from his cock with both hands on the sides of your waist. he angled himself back and slowly rocked into you with a moan.

“gotta have the patience of a fuckin’ saint with you.” his jaw clenched as his thrusts went harder, deeper than you could handle.

you whined, an attempt to writhe away from him, but it was no use. you were his, and his strong hands around you made it impossible to lift yourself from him. your fingers dug into his wide shoulders over the translucent material of his damp shirt.

“it’s too much, it’s—” you took a ragged gasp as he pressed deep inside, screwing your eyes tightly shut.

he leaned closer as your body cautiously moved up and down.

any expression of guilt or shame had long been replaced by something else. anger, hunger, and he wanted you to feel it.

“it hurts, baby? does it?” he tilted his head with his slack jaw, a ghost of a smirk tugged the corner of his lip while watching you nod weakly through half-lidded eyes.

his free hand reached between you to draw slow circles against your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb.

“how bad does it hurt?” he sneered at you. his words were like venom. any ounce of sympathy had long since flown out of the window by now. he hoped it hurt.

at least this is the type of pain you could contort and manipulate into some kind of unsettling pleasure. you should consider yourself lucky.

he pressed further and you arched forward with a gasp, your lips trembled as they tried to form words that were no longer there, letting out a desperate sequence of moans, whimpers, and sobs. you answered his thrusts with weak rolls of your hips, pulsing around him. enveloping him. your body seemed to respond with a will of its own.

you thread your fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck. you leaned forward to kiss him, sloppily and still salty from his pre-cum. your surrender was sweet on his tongue and he trapped it in his mouth, it belonged to him, anyway.

his thumb continued its path against your clit, spelling his name against you slowly, long and drawn out so you wouldn’t forget.

you were close, desperately so, and your hand slipped down to brace yourself against his chest. you pant into his mouth, sinking and drawing him further inside. he buried his face into your neck, and rocked his hips against you. he felt your throat constrict, your breasts heaving against his chest as he lazily worked his name against your clit with the pad of his thumb, over and over.

you kept making those pretty sounds, clasping your fingers into his hair and holding yourself steady on his broad chest. his orgasm convulsed through him as he moaned, a ripping noise from his mouth that ricocheted through his brain and against the thin skin of your neck. he rocked unthinkingly into you, riding out the rolling tremors that racked his body.

aidan swallowed unevenly, his breath escaping his swollen lips in shaky bursts. his thumb left your swollen clitoris. you whined sweetly in response, trying to rock yourself against his toned naval for any kind of friction. the constricting tightness as you wordlessly begged for more made his hips jolt in over-sensitivity. the feeling dizzied him, striking into the sides of his skull.

he braced himself and stands with your legs wrapped around his waist.

he carried you through the hallway effortlessly and laid you onto the unmade bed with ease.

when he pulled out, you whined and writhed in discomfort, the feeling of anxious excitement pooled somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach. you wanted him, his hungry mouth against you, coaxing you to an undeserving climax with his tongue. not tonight.

he dropped his pants around his ankles and stepped out. from his thighs, he pulled the elastic waistband of his boxers back around his hips snugly and tugged the uncomfortably damp shirt over his head.

aidan watched as he leaked from between your legs, coating your inner thighs. he reached between to gather a bit of it. he brought his two middle fingers up to press past your lips and onto your tongue, watching intently through bleary eyes as you suck him clean.

with a soft groan, he laid down to pull you onto your side and flush against him. he wrapped his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin. you leaned forward to press a ghost of a kiss against his neck.

every breath you took sent the thud of your heartbeat thumping through your head.

you could feel the man radiating heat, his eyes fluttered closed tiredly. you listened intently to the rapid thrum of his heart against his chest.