#even his feet are selling the performance

[itneverendshere]

shy!sweetheart!reader being secretly a metalhead (enjoying bands like falling in reverse and bad omens). rafe finding out like 🤨

this was ridiculously cute to write😌 and i felt like it feet pogue!bartender!reader's universe 100% so i did it.....if it wasn't want you wanted IM SORRY but it's canon in my head and my fingers worked really fast to write this down lmao. thank you for the request!!🩵🫂

you're in the walls that i made - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

It had been a long day, and all you wanted to do was get home, toss on your favorite oversized hoodie, and dive into a YouTube rabbit hole of random videos on your phone.

Rafe, of course, was your ride—like usual. He’d somehow appointed himself as your unofficial chauffeur after shifts, and you weren’t exactly complaining. You were saving up for a car, and you were almost there, only a few more weeks and you’d have your baby.

But it was nice to have a reliable ride, even if it came with his very questionable music taste.

"Alright, let's go," Rafe said, pulling up in his shiny black truck as you slid into the passenger seat.

The smell of leather and cologne hit you immediately, as did the unmistakable thumping bass of whatever rap song he had blasting. The lyrics were, as usual, about women, money, and something about getting high on a yacht. You made a face without even realizing it—like you did every time.

"What's that look for?" Rafe smirked, glancing over at you as he pulled out of the parking lot.

You shrugged, hoping he’d let it slide. "Nothing. Just... nothing."

Rafe wasn’t the kind of guy to let anything slide. "Nah, you do that every time I play my music.”

You bit your lip, wondering if he thought you were a snob now. “What? No I don’t.”

He shot you a side-eye, his smirk widening as he pressed a little harder on the gas. "You got somethin' better on your playlist?"

It wasn’t like you were embarrassed. You just didn’t think Rafe, with his expensive taste and rich boy vibes, would get it. But before you could answer, the radio cut in between songs with an ad, and you almost jumped in your seat.

“On September 6th, for one night only, Bad Omens will be performing live at the Greyhall venue on the mainland! Get your tickets now before they sell out!”

Your heart raced. Bad Omens. They were one of your favorite bands, and they were going to be right there—just a ferry ride away. You stared at the radio, gripping the sides of the seat like you were about to take off.

"Wait, what?" You said under your breath, but loud enough that Rafe noticed.

He furrowed his brow, glancing between you and the road. "You okay? What's up?"

You bit your lip, feeling the excitement rising inside you and knowing it was pointless. You couldn’t afford concert tickets, let alone the ferry and everything else that came with it. But still, you couldn’t help the tiny squeak of frustration that escaped.

"It’s nothing. Just…one of my favorite bands is playing."

Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. "Favorite bands?" His voice lilted with surprise. "You never told me you had a favorite band. Wait—what band?"

You fidgeted in your seat, the seatbelt suddenly feeling too tight. "Bad Omens."

He blinked. "Who?"

Of course. You sighed. "They're a metalcore band. Like heavy, but not just noise. They actually sing. And scream. It’s complicated."

Rafe's expression was priceless—like you just told him you were secretly a wizard or something.

"Metalcore?" He repeated, testing the word,"Wait, hold up. You’re telling me you like that screamo stuff?"

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

You? The girl who got him by the balls since he laid his eyes on you? The quiet, sweet, always-put-together girl he drove home after work, into metalcore? It was like you just told him you had a secret double life.

You shrugged, feeling yourself blush a little. "It’s not just screamo. There's a lot more to it. It's deep."

“Screamo stuff,” he repeated, trying to wrap his head around it. His eyes moved from the road back to you, still processing. You were full of surprises, and every time he learned something new about you, it knocked him off his feet. He wasn’t used to it. Most girls he’d been with were pretty predictable—into the same stuff, liked the same fancy dinners, designer bags, the whole kook lifestyle. And then there was you.

You still sounded a little defensive, your fingers messing with the hem of your shirt. “I swear, there’s actual singing and meaning behind the lyrics.”

Rafe leaned back in his seat, still smirking, but he wasn’t laughing at you. He was actually impressed. You really didn’t care what anyone thought, did you? He couldn’t even pretend to understand the music, but it wasn’t just that—it was everything about you that threw him off in the best way.

"So that’s why you’re always making faces at my music? ‘Cause it’s not—what, hardcore enough for you?"

You couldn’t help but giggle. "I mean yeah, kinda." You glanced over at him, like you were waiting for him to crack a joke or say something stupid, but all he could do was stare at you like you’d just become ten times more interesting. “What, I don’t look like someone who’d enjoy heavy music?”

He laughed, shaking his head.  “I would've never guessed. You’re always so quiet. Sweet. I thought you’d be into, I don’t know, something soft and cute. You look like you’d be into Taylor Swift, not dudes screaming about whatever it is they scream about.”

You let out a small laugh, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sound. He loved that laugh. “Well, I do like Taylor Swift. But, you know, metal is just...it hits different.”

Rafe’s face went from shock to something else, like he was putting pieces together in his head. "Wait, that explains so much. Every time I put on something with a chill beat, you look like you’re dying inside."

"I just have different taste," you admitted.

"Damn, never thought I’d see the day," he muttered, more to himself. “So, this band of yours—Bad Omens—where they playing?"

"Greyhall in September,” you said quietly. "But it’s fine. I can’t afford to go."

He frowned. "The hell you can’t. Just get the tickets."

You blinked at him. "I can’t, Rafe. They’re probably expensive, and I’ve got rent and bills. Y’know, real life stuff?"

He furrowed his brow, like the concept of not being able to afford something was completely foreign to him. “It’s just tickets. How much could they be?”

"Probably more than I make in a week. Plus the ferry, the drinks, food—it's not that simple."

He glanced at you, like he was doing the math in his head. The guy lived in a world where nothing was “that simple” because everything was already done for him. He didn’t have to think about rent or ferry costs or budgeting for groceries. That wasn’t Rafe’s reality, and for a second, you could see it in his eyes—he forgot that your world wasn’t his.

"Alright," he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal, "I’ll get them."

"What?"

"I’ll get the tickets," he repeated, more casual this time, like it was the easiest solution in the world. "You wanna see them, right? So I’ll buy the tickets."

Your mouth fell open. "Rafe, no. You can’t just—"

He looked at you like you’d just said something offensive. "I can.”

"No, you’re not buying me concert tickets. That’s ridiculous."

He rolled his eyes, acting like it was no big deal. “I’ve spent more on dumber shit. Consider it an early birthday gift. Or whatever."

“Do you even know when my birthday is?”

He didn’t even miss a beat, "October 8th” he said, his voice so smooth and confident that it caught you off guard.

Your jaw dropped a little, and you stared at him. "Wait—how do you know that?"

He shrugged casually, but he was proud of himself. "What, you think I don’t pay attention to you?”

When it came to you, he was locked in. Every detail, every little thing you mentioned, he was soaking it up. He knew. Out of all the random things, that’s what he remembered. You never told him outright; maybe it came up once in a passing conversation, weeks ago, buried under a million other details about work or life or whatever. And yet, here he was, dropping the exact date like it was nothing. You tried to play it cool, but inside, your brain was short-circuiting. Rafe Cameron knows my birthday. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, that smirk still glued to his face. He was being way too natural about the whole thing.

“Okay,” You snapped out of it, “You’re not buying me tickets, Rafe,” you warned him, crossing your arms and shaking your head. “Seriously, I can’t let you do that.”

He barely glanced at you, too busy making a smooth turn, “You act like I just offered to buy you a house. It’s a couple of tickets, not that big of a deal.”

“To you!” You huffed, leaning back in the seat. “It’s a big deal to me. I’m not just gonna let you drop money like that. For what? For a concert that you’re not even going to?”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, which only fueled your frustration. He thought this was funny.

“It’s just tickets,” he repeated, like that was going to wear you down. “Look, if it bothers you that much, you can pay me back. And I can go with you”

You felt your heart do this weird little somersault, like it didn’t know whether to panic or be excited.

What the hell was he talking about.

Rafe Cameron, Mr. Country Club, wanted to go to a metalcore concert with you?

Your head was spinning. He doesn't even know the band, you thought, trying to figure out if he was serious or just messing with you. But judging by the way he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he wasn’t joking.

“You’re gonna come with me to a Bad Omens concert?” Your voice came out more skeptical than you intended, but could he blame you. The thought of Rafe at a concert full of screaming fans and heavy breakdowns was honestly hilarious.

He shrugged, eyes still on the road, totally unfazed. “Yeah, why not? Could be fun.”

Fun? FUN? You were genuinely struggling to picture him, in his usual attire, khaki shorts and a Ralph Lauren polo, at a venue packed with sweaty metalheads. You almost wanted to laugh, but then again, he was doing this for you. He was willing to put up with a night of music he definitely didn’t like, just so you could see one of your favorite bands. That meant something.

You scoffed. “How would I pay you back anyway? With what? My tips from bartending at the country club? Gonna take me six months to pay off Bad Omens tickets.”

He glanced over, eyebrow raised, like he was sizing you up. “You’re seriously gonna pass up the chance to see one of your favorite bands because you’re too proud to let me help?”

You bit your lip, torn between how much you wanted to see them live and how uncomfortable it felt to accept help from someone like Rafe. He was used to throwing money around—his daddy’s money, no less—and you... well, you weren’t like that. You’d grown up on the other side of the island, working your ass off to afford anything. 

The idea of someone just buying something for you? It made you feel weird. Like a sell-out.

“It’s not about a couple bucks. It’s about you doing this because you feel like you have to or something.”

His jaw tightened just slightly, and he shook his head like you were missing the point completely. “I don’t feel like I have to do anything. I want to do this. There’s a difference.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, not letting him off the hook just yet. “Why? Why do you want to do this so bad?”

There it was. That look again. He hesitated, like he was deciding whether to be fully honest or not, then leaned back in his seat, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel again, trying to play it cool.

“Because,” he started, his voice casual but his eyes were giving him away. “This is what friends do. They look out for each other. I’m not letting you miss something you clearly want.”

Saying the word made his chest hurt just a little. Friends. Right. But he didn’t let it show. He wasn’t exactly the relationship type, and everyone knew it. You probably knew it, but when it came to you things were different. And maybe the idea of spending time with you at that concert—just the two of you, no work, no distractions—sounded like a dream. How could he say that without looking like an idiot? Or worse, like a an asshole trying to buy his way into your life.

“Rafe, be serious,” you sighed. “I don’t like feeling like I owe someone.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” he said quickly, a little sharper this time. He seemed almost offended. “Why do you keep acting like this is some big favor? I’m not holding it over your head or anythin’. I just want you to go to the concert and have a good time. Is that so hard to accept?”

You did want to go. Badly. But accepting help like this wasn’t your style, especially not from Rafe, who lived in a completely different world. And yet you could feel how much he genuinely wanted you to say yes.

 “I’m being realistic.”

Rafe snorted. “Realistic? You’re being stubborn as hell.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are,” he cut you off, pulling into a stop at the light and turning his whole body toward you. His eyes were locked on yours now, serious but still with that hint of playful annoyance. “Look, I get it. Fine. You want to go to the concert. I’m offering to make it happen. End of story.”

He was used to getting what he wanted, and, right now, what he wanted was for you to take these tickets.

“Why do you care so much?” you asked, your voice coming out quieter than you intended.

He hesitated for half a second. Then that smirk of his came back, though it felt different. “Because I like seeing you excited about something. You’ve been dragging your feet every time I see you, and now, you hear some band’s coming to town, and you light up like it’s Christmas. You think I’m gonna let you miss that over a couple bucks?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. He was always so sincere. And it threw you off completely. Rafe was a lot of things to a lot of people—cocky, reckless, arrogant—but he wasn’t usually thoughtful. Not to them. Not like this. You seemed to be the only one who saw the good in him.

But you still weren’t giving in. “Rafe... it’s just weird, okay? I don’t want it to be like you’re doing me a favor.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Fine. Then don’t think of it like that. Think of it like— I’m investing in something I wanna see. You freaking out at this concert, screaming your head off, losing your voice for two days—that’s entertainment.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re difficult,” he shot back, eyes narrowing playfully. “But I’m not backing down, so you might as well just say thank you and take the tickets.”

“Or what?” you challenged, but your voice was softening.

“Or I’ll buy the tickets, show up at your door, and force you to go.”

You blinked. “You wouldn’t.”

He grinned. “Try me. C’mon,” he pushed, sensing you were caving. “You work your ass off at that club, always taking care of everyone else. For once, just let someone take care of you.”

Your breath hitched at that. He wasn’t just being cocky or trying to win an argument anymore. He meant it. You looked out the window, chewing on your lip. This was new, this was all so new to you it felt a little pathetic with how hard your heart was racing. There was a moment of silence, like you were both just waiting for the other to blink first.

Finally, you sighed, throwing your hands up in defeat. “Fine! Fine. Buy the stupid tickets. But don’t think I’m not paying you back. I’ll find a way.”

He just laughed, clearly satisfied with his victory. “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Rafe. You’re the best friend ever.’”

You rolled your eyes again but couldn’t help smiling a little. “Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Cameron.”

As the light turned green and he started driving again, you let out a long breath, not knowing why you were giving up so easily. There was this strange warmth in your chest, knowing he cared enough to go toe-to-toe with you over something as small as a concert.

“Hey, for the record,” Rafe said after a moment, glancing over at you. “I’d do it again. Just so you know.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Fight me over tickets?”

He grinned, looking back at the road. “Nah. Fight you over anything, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but you were beaming like an idiot now. You felt lighter. “Just don’t think this means I’m letting you pick the music on the way there.”

“Deal,” he said, laughing as he leaned back in his seat, clearly proud of himself. “But don’t get too used to it. Next time, it’s back to rap and yachts.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

As he drove, you couldn’t help but peek over at him, catching the way his jawline tensed and relaxed, the way his fingers tapped the steering wheel like he was still buzzing from the conversation.

And yeah, maybe you’d heard the rumors surrounding him, believed them a little before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

All the while Rafe felt like he’d just won the lottery. You had no idea how hard he was falling for you, piece by piece. Every small detail about you made him fall harder, and it scared the hell out of him how much he cared. But he couldn’t stop now.

Truth was, he didn’t want to.

[toointojoelmiller]

Joel Miller's sock feet ™️

[fandoms-x-reader]

Attention Grabber

Requested By: @anxious-chick

Word Count: 978

You let out a loud sigh as you stretched your arms above your head, releasing all the tension that was held in your back. You rolled your shoulders back before looking at the work that was in front of you once more.

You had just finished writing an essay on the history of the Devildom. It took you multiple hours, but you were finally done. Now, all you had to do was proofread it and check for grammatical errors…I’ll do that tomorrow.

You gently closed your books, placing them back in your bag. You had been studying so hard lately, making sure to keep up appearances by getting good grades. You wouldn’t want to embarrass Lucifer.

Unfortunately, studying meant that you had to lock the demon brothers out of your room for the time being. You were one hundred percent positive that if you didn’t then they would have been in your room the whole time either arguing or trying to get you to leave and do something with them.

You braced yourself as you unlocked the door, expecting them to be on the other side, ready to enter your bedroom the second the lock unclicked.

A small wave of relief washed over you when no one entered. You loved spending time with the brothers, but you were exhausted and all you wanted to do was lie down on your bed. Which is exactly what you did next.

You flopped down on your stomach, pulling out your D.D.D. You started scrolling through Devilgram, getting lost in the posts. You were so distracted, you didn’t even hear when the door to your bedroom opened.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re finally done studying. We have an emergency on our hands!” Asmo stated, entering your room in a frantic state. His eyes were wide and his hair was slightly disheveled to sell the performance, but a frown fell on his lips when he saw that you weren’t paying attention to him.

“Y/N!” Asmo reiterated, waving his hands to try and get your attention. But, nothing. Were you deaf or something? 

No, you were just really good at not being bothered by the brothers. There are too many shenanigans for one human to be able to pay attention to them all. So, when you simply weren’t in the mood you toned them out and focused on your own thing whether that be a book or your D.D.D.

When you did this, usually the demon who was trying to get your attention would move to physical touches. Pulling on your legs or arms, poking you in the cheek, etc. Really anything they could do to make you focus on them.

But, Asmo was not in the mood to play this game. He was having a serious emergency! He had been invited to an upper class event and he needed your help finding the perfect outfit. He was running out of time and you had the audacity to ignore him? Unacceptable.

Smack.

Your eyes widened in shock as Asmo’s open hand made contact with your ass. A blush immediately rose to your cheeks as you spun around in your bed and sat up, facing Asmo. Your D.D.D. getting lost in the commotion.

“A-Asmo, did you just…?” you began to ask only to blush even harder as you trailed off, unable to finish your question. “Yes, now that I have your attention. I need your help!” Asmo replied, completely unbothered by his actions.

“But, you just…” Asmo was now in front of you gently cupping your cheeks and guiding you to look up at him. “Hun, you need to focus or I’m going to have to spank you again,” Asmo told you, his eyes lighting up at the idea.

You quickly moved out of his grasp, flustered. “Okay, let’s go,” you told him, stumbling to get to your feet and get out of the room.

Your cheeks were bright red and you had a hard time looking at Asmo. You turned your attention to helping him find an outfit so that he could go to the event and leave you to go back to your room.

Asmo wore a smirk the entire time, knowing how flustered you were. He was enjoying it. He thought you looked adorable when you were blushing and acting nervous around him. 

After some time, you finally found an outfit for him. He looked great. “That’s the one,” you told him, hoping you could now retreat back to your room. But, he stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist with his hand.

You looked up into his amber eyes as his lips curled into a small smile. He wasn’t moving, he was just looking at you, letting the tension build. It was as if he was still deciding what his next move would be. Your heart was racing but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

He finally leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, leaving a lipstick stain behind. “Thank you for helping me,” he told you genuinely, letting go of your wrist. He then moved out of your way so you could go back to your room, but as you were leaving he called out, “Don’t ever ignore me again, hun. Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

You were now desperate to get back to your room before any of the other brothers saw you. You couldn’t let them see how flustered you were right now. You closed the door immediately and went back to your bed to calm yourself down.

You made you sure to sit this time though, to prevent Asmo from another attack. Now that you were finally alone, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation.

Only the Avatar of Lust would have the confidence to get your attention by smacking your ass.

[ak319]

Weird Yan Cousin x reader (Platonic)

//Warnings: Mentions of prostitution, human trafficking, kidnapping, weird behaviour but not incest, gore)

Your life had taken such a twisted turn for the worse this year, leaving you wondering if you were cursed. First, your parents died tragically in a fire that destroyed their home. Then, you found out your partner had been unfaithful. Since you shared an apartment, you had to move out, but they stayed, and the two of you were still arguing about selling it to split the money.

As if that wasn’t enough, you lost your job just three days after the breakup--allegedly for poor performance, which was completely untrue. None of this was your fault, yet everything seemed to be spiralling out of control. You were teetering on the edge when you received a strange phone call.

It was from someone claiming to be a distant cousin, Nova Salem. The name struck a chord--she was from your father’s side, the daughter of your uncle Ralph. But you had never met her or any of that side of the family. Your father had severed ties with them long ago. Ralph was only his half-brother, born from your second grandfather, Edmund Salem, whom you’d also never met.

Her sudden call made you feel uneasy, but you were desperate for help, and she offered it without hesitation. Pushing aside all the questions swirling in your mind--about your family dynamics, her abrupt contact, and the series of unfortunate events that felt like a row of dominoes crashing--you packed your bag. The next day, Nova's chauffeuse, Robyn, picked you up from your friend's place.

Robyn was an odd one, giving you mostly one-word, cryptic answers to anything you asked. What really threw you, though, was the route she took. You’d assumed Nova lived somewhere in the city, but Robyn just kept driving... and driving.

Now, here you were, standing in front of a massive estate in the middle of nowhere. You nearly jumped out of your skin when Robyn suddenly spoke from behind you.

"Let's get you inside, ma'am." Robyn's voice cut through the eerie silence as you gripped the strap of your bag, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Um, are you sure this is--"

"Yes, it's the Salem estate."

You glanced around, trying to keep your nerves in check. It could easily pass as a horror movie set, noting the distant tree line, the stormy skies, and the endless dirt road behind. Was this even the right choice? Panic started to creep in. What if she's not my cousin and just stalked my family tree to lure me here?! I am so stupid!

"Welcome, cousin."

Your eyes snapped forward to see a tall figure standing in the entrance, finally registering. Nova, no doubt. She stood taller than you, with short, thick black hair neatly styled, wearing a black turtleneck beneath a long cloak-like robe, paired with black pants...and bare feet?

Before you could even react, she closed the distance and pulled you into a tight hug, muffling your greeting and leaving you a bit breathless from the unexpected embrace.

"I can't believe you're finally here! You see this, Robyn?!" Nova exclaimed, her large hand gripping your head and shaking it playfully. "My little sister is here at last!"

Robyn merely nodded and silently took your other suitcase inside, leaving just the two of you.

"S-sister?" you stammered, taken aback. Her eyes gleamed even brighter, if that was possible, the intensity in her gaze at odds with her composed appearance.

"Indeed, my soror," she affirmed, her hands now firmly grasping your shoulders. "I never got the chance to feel the love of siblings, and with all the family drama and stuff, I was always left out. I never had the chance to have any real connection with family. You’re the only cousin I have."

Her words tugged at your heart, though you couldn’t shake the underlying suspicion.

"No other cousins at all?" you asked, cautiously.

"Nope. My mother was an only child. Anyway, let's get you inside." Nova kept her hold on you, gently steering you toward the entrance. Just before stepping in, she paused, making sure you took off your shoes in the porch. "Enter humbly," she said with a strange conviction. "We are born of the earth, and to the earth, we will return. It’s only right that we honour our origin, for soil should never fear soil."

What? The statement left you puzzled, but you decided to go along with it, stepping inside the dimly lit hallway.

Candles? Really?

"Um, why are the lights off?" you asked, your voice slightly shaky.

"Electricity? Oh, I forgot--you’re a city girl," Nova replied, her tone almost teasing. "I'll ask Robyn to have the switch on for your room--the fan, the lights---but the rest of the house operates without it."

"Why, though? In this day and age? Like, nothing at all?"

Instead of answering, she simply let out a low, eerie chuckle, leaving your nervous laugh hanging awkwardly in the heavy air.

"Let me show you your room." Nova's voice echoed down the dimly lit corridor, where candle flames flickered against the walls, casting long, dancing shadows. The mansion’s interior had an unmistakably gothic feel, with dark wood panelling, high arched ceilings and classic, aged furnishings. The air was thick with an old-world charm as if you had stepped into a place frozen in time. The paintings on the walls, though faded with age, exuded an eerie beauty, depicting somber figures mostly of a woman--always the same portrait of her--and forgotten landscapes

You stepped inside the room, expecting more of the same gloomy charm, only to freeze in disbelief.

What the hell is going on?

"Why is it… all… pink?" you asked, blinking at the sight before you. The walls were plastered with Barbie stickers that looked as vintage as the rest of the house. The bed was oversized and covered in frilly pink bedding, surrounded by plush toys that had seen better days.

"Isn't this what girls love?" Nova said with a wide, innocent smile. "Like little sisters?"

You spun around, trying to process everything. "Hold up. I just met you for the first time ever, so can you please stop calling me your little sister? We're cousins and barely even know each other." Your voice rose as you gestured at the pink explosion around you. "Also, do you think I’m 12?!" The moment the words left your mouth, you felt a pang of regret. Nova’s smile faded, and she looked taken aback. Guilt set in as you realized how harshly you had reacted. She had offered you a place to stay during a rough time. Maybe you could have been more understanding and patient, especially considering she provided you with a bed and a roof over your head.

"Oh my God..." For Nova, that was the most adorable thing she had ever witnessed.

"Um... I--"

"ROBYN! ROBYN!" Nova’s voice cut through the air, making you back away nervously. Her gaze remained fixed on you as she continued to shout.

"Yes, ma'am? How may I assist you?"

"(Y/n)..." Nova grabbed Robyn by the collar, shaking her with surprising force. "My sister--sorry, soon-to-be sister--just had her first tantrum! All thanks to you, Robyn, you absolute genius!"

What in the world--is she being excited or just passive-aggressive? You couldn’t tell.

"It’s okay! I mean, I like it... It’s good."

"You do? You don’t want another room?"

"Um, if... it’s available th--"

"No, it isn’t."

"...this is it then... I guess."

"Robyn, get the food ready. My cousin needs her evening nourishment."

"Aye."

They left you standing in the room, utterly dumbfounded. Everything about this day--and about her--was making you feel dizzy. The way she carries herself, the way she speaks--it’s all becoming a blur. Something in your heart warns that this is going to be a nightmare.

But at least you’re not in some serial killer’s clutches, as you feared before entering. Being an only child and living in such a large mansion might have messed with her mental health, but you hoped it hadn’t gotten worse than this.

The sudden flicker of the lights jolted you from your thoughts, making your soul feel like it had left your body. The room’s colour was now painfully vivid, almost too much to bear. Honestly, the dim glow of the candles was easier on the eyes.

You soon found yourself dining with Nova in the grand dining hall, the two of you beginning to learn about each other. Mostly, you listened to her recounting her adventures. It was impressive how many languages she knew and the places she had visited, though she seemed completely oblivious to modern slang and anything related to media, which you found a bit amusing.

"Anthropologist, huh? Isn't it boring?"

"Boring?" She cackled, her laughter echoing through the vast room. "Absolutely not! I get to travel, explore, and find fascinating things." Judging by the eclectic items scattered around the room, she was certainly telling the truth.

"You seem to have a fondness for skulls."

"Oh! Haha! Aren't they so symbolic in their own way? They are empty, yet their hollow eyes seem to gaze into the essence of mortality itself. Each one holds the silent echoes of a life once lived, a reminder of our own fleeting existence and the stories that we leave behind."

"Are they real?"

"I leave that to the admirer to decide. What do you think?"

"Fake or maybe both, judging by how much you’ve explored."

"You think I’d bring skulls from my adventures?"

"Umm..."

Her laugh interrupted you again. "You’re so naive, (Y/N)."

Just as I suspected.

"Anyway, what about your love life?"

"I don't feel attracted to the idea of being subjected to bodily fluids, particularly in moments of passion. " You felt your appetite slip away.

That’s a rather...unique way to say you’re asexual and single...?

"Cool. But doesn’t it get lonely here?"

"Loneliness isn’t something I mind. Besides, I’m not alone--I have Robyn and now you. A little-"

"Cousin."

"Indeed, a little cousin." You picked up your phone and then realized something. "Oh, I need the Wi-Fi password."

"Sorry, but that might not be possible."

"What?! Don’t tell me you don’t use Wi-Fi! That’s atrocious."

"You see, this technology that the youth have become so attached to has many malevolent effects. I cannot let you be subjected to that."

"What do you mean?! I need to find a job! And how do you do your own work?" Her calm demeanour remained unshaken as Robyn appeared behind you, slamming a newspaper down in front of you. The suddenness startled you. What is it with these people and their jump scares?

"This is today’s paper and your source for finding work."

"Are you kidding me? I need Wi-Fi for my job. I do half of my work online!"

"I’ll need to observe the signs this week. If they are favorable, you might get access. Farewell, cousin. Have a good sleep. Robyn, please escort her to her chambers." You clenched your jaw as she walked away. "WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?! WHAT SIGNS?! SO YOU DO HAVE WI-FI?!"

God, what is going on? Is this a fever dream?

You were absolutely enraged in the following days. Apparently, the signs were negative, which meant you were stuck with no FUCKING Wi-Fi!

"Maybe the signs will be positive next month."

Whatever that means. In the meantime, you faced a series of bizarre occurrences that only deepened the unsettling feeling about your stay here and made you question reality. Despite her insistence on not using electricity, the candles lit themselves as if by some hidden mechanism. You were certain she used Wi-Fi--how else would she manage her research and extensive travels?

Her behavior was equally bewildering. She walked barefoot, even in the muddy grass outside during the rain, and would spend hours out there.

Some events left you sleepless for nights.

You once saw her talking to a pillar in the lawn from your bedroom window at night. At first, you thought she might be on a call, but no. She was facing the pillar the entire time. And then there was the incident where she literally smelled your... period.

"Eat this," she said, offering you a bowl of literal pickles. You swatted it away.

"What the fuck, dude?!"

"It’s to relieve menstrual pains. Although not scientifically proven, it is a good remedy."

"I’m fine. AND HOW THE FUCK DID YOU DO IT AGAIN?!"

"Just a matter of having good senses."

In the evenings, she always visited you for tea, bringing her two black hounds along. Despite your protests, she continued to bring them inside. You hated how they always seemed to sniff under the bed, her dark, void-like eyes trained on them as if she wanted them to find something.

Wouldn't want her cousin hiding something, would she? Perhaps thinking she could slip away, unnoticed, back to her old life?

Due to the lack of Wi-Fi, you spent most of your time reading books and exploring the mansion, trying out the strange array of activities Nova had set up for you. She instructed Robyn to teach you various skills like shooting, wrestling, and knife throwing....? You enjoyed it though but yes, you were shocked to discover that Robyn wasn’t just a driver, chef, or butler but seemed to be some sort of retired hitwoman. She never confirmed nor spoke about herself, adding to the mystery.

Despite the chaos and strangeness, you found yourself adapting to this bizarre new routine, almost treating it like a vacation and unexpectedly lifting you out of your depression.

You tried finding jobs but with no success. Every time you found a promising ad, something mysteriously went wrong with the car. It always seemed to break down, as if on cue. The phone in the estate barely worked, with your friend's voice garbled into unintelligible fragments or the call cutting off entirely before you could get a full sentence in. It was as if the house itself refused to let any connection to the outside world slip through.

One day, you had had enough of watching Nova work on her COMPUTER in her study while you languished in boredom.

"Look, I appreciate your hospitality, but it seems I’ve actually found a job, and it's time for me to-"

"You haven’t," Nova said, her voice smooth but chilling as she stepped closer, her face half-hidden in the shadows. "Don’t lie. I despise liars."

"Nova, I’ve had enough of this. I’m sorry, but living here is overwhelming with all the bizarre restrictions, the eerie silence, and the lack of contact with anyone! I can’t stay here. I need to go out and find a job! I didn’t come here to live permanently."

"And you think you have a say in that, cousin?"

"Wha-" Before you could finish, a cloth soaked in a strong, suffocating chemical was pressed against your face. The world around you blurred and faded as you struggled to breathe, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You are not going anywhere, Duif." (dove, in Dutch)

You woke up to the unsettling sound of floorboards creaking and the ominous clinking of metal against metal. Your body felt unnervingly cold, and you soon realized you were bound to a chair with ropes.

"Awake, (Y/N)?" Nova's voice, as smooth and chilling as velvet, made your blood run cold. You shivered uncontrollably as you saw her standing a few feet away. Robyn was in another corner, methodically sharpening a row of gleaming knives.

God, no. This can't be happening...

"Please... Nova, what is happening?! THIS ISN'T FUNNY! Please!" You didn’t care that you were pleading and sobbing in front of this lunatic. Fear clutched at your heart, twisting it painfully. You regretted everything that had led you to this point. You’d already lost your parents, your partner, your job--was your life now slipping through your fingers as well?

"Shush. Don't be scared. I just want you to listen to me. And carefully." Nova said as she grabbed a stool and sat in front of you. Where are we even? Is this some hidden room? Your eyes darted around frantically, taking in the grim surroundings, chains hanging from the bloody walls, a nailed coffin standing ominously in the corner, a table cluttered with various torture tools that Robyn stood beside, and, bizarrely, a fucking jacuzzi in the corner.

"Listen, it's time I tell you the things you need to know. About me, this family and even yours. You see (Y/N), my father, Ralph Salem, he wasn't a good man. He was involved in all types of bad things. Especially regarding...women. I was a teen when I found out he was involved in trafficking girls, the reason he fucked around with lots of women and... young girls, simultaneously abusing my mother mentally and physically. When he caught her leaving with me, he killed her... in front of me. Imagine that, I couldn't do anything." She paused with a dry scoff, "You have seen that pillar right? The devil buried her under it. I couldn't stand it. I wanted to die but he kept me alive because I was his heir, with his fucking disgusting blood inside of me. So I waited, I became the perfect heir for him only so that I could kill him in the most brutal way...which I did," You whimpered at her dark chuckle as she wiped your tears.

"Do you know where you come in?" Nova's voice was icy as she continued. "I began researching you the moment I discovered your existence. I wanted some form of familial love, even after I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone." Abruptly, she rose and moved to Robyn, taking a freshly sharpened knife from her hands.

"Guess what I found? Your parents were my father's business partners at one point. You see these skeletons here?" She gestured to the grim collection. "These are the people I hunt, (Y/N)--the ones my father worked with, those entangled in this... industry. And I continue hunting them. So I did to your parents what I did to all of them. Robyn, show her."

The butler pulled a lever, causing a hidden closet to open. Inside, the bodies of your parents were revealed--half burned, half slashed, with their limbs gone, only torsos-making you scream in horror.

"The bodies at the crime scene weren’t theirs. I used my connections to save them for you--along with another surprise," Nova said, her voice dripping with cold satisfaction as she slid the door open further. There, your partner’s corpse was revealed, grotesquely nailed to the wall like a butterfly, their chest open and hollow, blood eagle...which Nova once told you about. Without warning, you threw up to the side, your legs trembling uncontrollably. You could barely breathe, each gulp of air shallow and shaky, and you felt the world closing in. Please just let this be a nightmare. Wake up (Y/n), wake up!

"Did I mention that I eliminate bad partners too? How could I let them live after what they did to my dear...cousin?" She stepped closer, the knife gleaming in her hand. You shook your head desperately, unable to form coherent words. With a swift motion, she cut the ropes binding you, forcing you to stand. Her gaze was fierce, unyielding.

"You, however , were innocent, unaware of your parent's past. So from now on, you are a Salem. You will live here, as you are meant to." Her gaze darkened. "This is your place, your family. And I won’t have you trying to run away."

You slammed the trunk door shut and turned to Nova, who was meticulously removing her gloves.

"He was quite the noisy one," she remarked with a nod. "Indeed, sestra. Though you did a commendable job tracking him, little nerd. Now, let’s head back. My favourite part awaits in the mansion."

Ah, yes, it was Wednesday--skinning day.

From a software engineer to an assistant to a serial killer cousin with an intriguing butler, you found yourself strangely enthralled by this new life.

‘I want this world to be rid of those like my father, who mirror him in even the slightest way, together with you, my dear cousin.’

(AN: I realised that Nova might have put her own childhood plushies in the reader's room, which tugs my heart😭my baby)

[rafechubbygf]

rafe cameron x plus size!baddie!chubby!reader

you were the baddie one, but surely, the revenge one. you were the most praised kook ever, because of your daddy’s money. nobody made the most unforgettable, dirtiest, and craziest parties, weirdest as project x ones than you. at first, you were mocked and humiliated, always the center of attention but not for the right reasons and now, you were putting the bullies at your own feet, and you were surely making them hard in your expensive clothes that exposed your curves. some kooks denied the attraction they had for you, others only lived for that.

one day, you were sunbathing on your pool chair, an iced cocktail in your hands, sunglasses on your eyes, luxury hat on your head with a pretty black elbow, the life of a girl who was rich and who had the possibility to use her time as she wanted. you thought you were alone, you wanted to be alone, but someone had burst in front of you.

you knew this face. who didn't know him? it was rafe cameron. the one and only son of ward cameron. one of your father's very close friends.

without shame, he stared at your nice huge boobs which overflowed from your tiny bikini, looking down at your chubby belly. there was no disgust in his eyes. you could even tell he loved it, because he discreetly bit his bottom lip.

“ do you want me to help you daydream about my tits by taking off my top? “

“ so confident about your body. “

“ yes, i love making boys shy. “

he cleared his throat, looking up without being embarrassed.

“ i can bet you’ve never seen one this big.”

“ because you're so aware about my sex routine, yea ? “

“ i know, i'm right. anyway, tell me why are you here, country boy ?”

“ i want to sell drugs at your parties by now. you have all kooks in your house, let me help you make bigger parties. it's a win for the two of us.”

“ i don't need an acolyte. but thanks, sweet proposal, cameron.“

“ but you need a big man. “

you took off your sunglasses.

"you're wrong if you think i need a man. boys like you always humiliated me, thinking i wasn't pretty enough to be respected. so why would i do that for you? what if i say no, rafe ?”

“ absolutly nothing, sweetheart because i will take this for a yes. “

“ do you think i'm scared of you, do you think i can't stand up against you ? “

“ such a big girl, it's supposed to impress me ? do better and harder, you want to show off ? then, perform. “

you rolled your eyes, annoyed by his attitude, while crossing your arms, pressing them against your boobs.

“ also, you're wrong. “

“ about what ? “

“ i like chubby girls. “

“ you're not good at making jokes, rafe cameron. and you just love the curvy sexy side. not the overweight one. “

“ again, you're fucking wrong. “

his look had changed, and his voice tone had become firmer. he was serious. you were starting to doubt.

you always saw boys looking at other girls that you also found pretty, but the way men looked at you made you feel terribly self-conscious before. now you felt better in your body.

“bunny, i can swear i love that plump belly and those fat thighs, and i can go to hell for them.”

“ bunny ? “

“ yes, and trust me, i will make you bounce like them, sweetheart. “

“ what do you mean ? you’re not disgusted by my body?”

“the way your body turns me on, you have no idea, i’m so hard right now. be confident, because my cock is really going to fuck you like you are the most beautiful girl on this earth.”

and then, rafe fucking cameron kneeled at your feet, his hands on your waist, pressing with his fingers your tubby curvy waist, while he kissed your chubby tummy, putting soft kissies on your skin. you can felt the tenderness and warmth covering your pretty belly.

" don't try to fool me, country boy. don't be gentle, when you want nothing that being rough and make me cry.”

“i think your pussy is already crying” he had looking at your dripping fanny and pressed his nose into the fold.

with his fingers, he traced the shape of your fat cunt, pressing on both swollen parts, his thumb against your clit.

“ you're so hot. “

“ and you're so damn hard. “

he pulled your string bikini down to your feet, and you lay down on the pool chair.

"open those legs wide. bunny. i said wider. “

you pushed them aside, revealing your wet pussy. he slipped between your legs, pinning them under his biceps.

“ do you think you can make me cum ? “

“ i will do better than that. what about multiple orgasms, needy girl ? “

he spat on his fingers, before starting to fingering you. you could tell he was good, and it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. his movements were fast, all of your wetness stuck to his fingers as he moved hard into your walls, stretching them. he made your chubby legs tremble on his arms, and your cries became more and more desperate.

"acting like a big girl and now crying like a child, such a pathetic slut."

you didn't respond, your eyes rolling all over the place, while you felt your hole open and clench on his fingers.

he was amused by your noises.

"having fun? you wanted to cry so much? keep dropping those tears, ruin your own dollface, crybaby.”

you were so turned on, your hole was dilated, completely open and his tongue had started to play with your clit, a trickle of saliva slipping to his glistening lips from your arousal fluids at your little button. he had licked it, sucking the pearl harder.

your walls were wrapped around his fingers, the sound steamy and hot of him thrusting inside. you were just a whining mess.

"rafe!...rafe...more!" you cried out.

he moved his digits in and out, you could see his lustrous tongue tucked in your clit, his nose against your pubic. his fingers went deep, covered by your wetness. he had speeded, and started to wreck your count with his big fingers.

“ save your tears, chubby bun, it's the beginning. you think my fingers are big ? fear better of my cock. “

he took off his shorts, tossing it to the side. he was painfully hard. your slobbering lips opened,

he had kissed you, crushing his muscular body against your larger one. you could feel his abs against your belly.

he was an aggressive kisser, kissing your lips violently, possessively.

“ don't kiss me like we are something. “

“ then don't get your pussy soaked like you wanted this more than me. enough talking. “

he made you close your mouth with his tongue, his saliva sliding into yours. you wanted it and you couldn’t deny it anymore. and he understood that.

he had positioned himself between your legs, pressing your thighs against his waist before pushing his cock into your pussy. he gave the first hard thrust, letting out a grunt as he felt how tight and wet you were. you could feel him inside you. his cock was hard to take, but you wanted to make him proud.

your mouth curved into a perfect circle-form, drool falling from your swollen lips. he had started to fuck you deeply, you could feel his hips slapping against your ass, his big balls hitting your thick body. they were full.

you were beautiful, a goddamn plus size hottie kook girl. and you made his heavy fat dick getting monstruous inside you, everytime his tip bumped into your spot. the way your ass jiggles as his deep thrusting, the way all your curves swing harder.

your vision was blurry, because he was fucking you too good. he was sweating. as he filled you, pushing his cock loudly and pounding into your inners so hard that you always ended up letting out a desperate cry. he also touched your curves, tracing their shapes with his fingers, emphasizing how perfect he found them. he also said that from now on, it was his.

"this body belongs to me. and you should really be careful not to forget it, you don't want this to end badly right, bunny?”

your pussy gripped him tighter and tighter, while you held your tits in your hands.

you turned your head quickly to say no. you didn’t want this to end badly but he had grabbed your jaw, gripping it tightly in his hand, forcing your mouth to open and curve, a trickle of saliva slipping from your lip.

“i want a clear answer. i want to hear yes.”

the pleasure was intense, your sensations amplified, the desire became more and more terrible.

your slopping pussy was leaking, and hungry. you could feel every inch of his hard cock, especially when he pushed all the way in.

“ i want to cum…let me cum ! “

“ beg for it and i will see. “

he wanted to continue his thrusts in your pussy. he loved seeing you cry. his sweat ran down his face, a drop glistening on the tip of his nose. his hair was messy, and stuck to his forehead.

“ please…! please…! i'm begging you ! i really need to cum…daddy ?” you tried.

and he had exploded in your walls at the mention of "daddy", making your squirts around his fat dick. your cunt was creamy, mixed with his cum dripping from your slit.

“ what was that ? “

“ what…” you played dumb. “ you mean the daddy thing ? “

“ call me that again and i make your pretty chubby tummy bigger by putting babies inside. “

“ i think you want a next round. “

“ you're right. time to make you pregnant.”

[dreamingofep]

A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person. 

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life. 

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it. 

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say. 

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing. 

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage. 

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today. 

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much. 

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage. 

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot. 

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage. 

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand. 

Click. 

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors. 

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted. 

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head. 

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out. 

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight. 

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way. 

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes. 

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything. 

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.  

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch. 

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling. 

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him. 

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you. 

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you. 

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good. 

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse. 

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand. 

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you. 

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

*

*

*

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 1

Jaded by her fiancé’s disinterest in her ambitions to become a professional wrestler, Delilah Parrish’s life takes an interesting turn when one of WWE’s top names offers her the support she’s not getting at home.

Pairing: Jey Uso/OC

Warnings: As we go along...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was initially a Roman fic but I realized I have too many upcoming stories featuring him, so I switched it up and passed it off to Jey. Hope you enjoy!

---------------

“Come on, Parrish, move your ass! Get on her!”

The damp, unruly strands of baby hair in Delilah Parrish’s eyes temporarily obscured her vision and made it difficult to take on her trainer’s instruction. Brushing them away impatiently, her mind flitted to the next line of offense, but her opponent had tackled her to the canvas before her thoughts could fully register. The hard surface made unfriendly contact with her body, but the rushing adrenaline helped fight off the pain, and she battled with her opponent trying to twist her body into a sleeper hold. Delilah tried to concentrate on countering the hold, but between the hundreds of thoughts scrambling around her head and the yelling coming from outside the regulation wrestling ring, it was a near impossible feat.

“For fuck’s sake, Parrish, what are you doin’?” Pounding his palm hard on the mat, her trainer, Makena 'Tank' Kalua, shouted again. “Quit pullin’ her arm like that! You’re gonna break it!”

The other woman, an older, more experienced student named Janie from England, easily slipped out of the armbar Delilah was attempting on her and sat up, seizing both of Delilah’s legs and twisting them in a figure-four leg lock. Usually it was Delilah’s job to sell this move, try to roll over to ease the pressure, or even grab the bottom rope for relief, just like she’d learned. Instead, she kicked her legs carelessly, grunting as she wildly fought out of the hold.

“What the fuck! Is that what I taught you?” Tank screamed again. Blowing the whistle around his neck, he reached under the bottom rope and grabbed Delilah by her leg, forcibly dragging her out of the ring and setting her on her feet. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Huffing irritably, Delilah yanked her arm away from him and marched away to the other end of the warehouse, ignoring Janie and the other girls that glared wearily after her, wondering what Tank saw in her to begin with. Delilah wondered that herself sometimes.

Ever since she was a little girl growing up in the tiny town of Pensacola, Florida, she dreamed about being in the middle of the fabled squared circle, performing for sellout crowds all over the world, making a name for herself in the notoriously tough wrestling business. And now she was finally getting her chance. In two days’ time, she would be partaking in her very first singles match, lacing up the boots she had worked two extra shifts at the local gym to afford. At last, she was taking that small step towards her dream.

So why did she not feel ready? Why was she doubting herself at the last hour?

One word; Andre.

She was starting to lose count of how many fights they’d gotten into in the six months since she’d embarked on what her fiancé openly thought was her childish desire to become a professional wrestler. Once he realized that it wasn’t just some hobby she would lose interest in after a week, his support began to dwindle more and more as the months went on. There were heated arguments between them on a weekly basis it seemed, mostly on what her ambitions were costing the couple financially. After all, they still had a wedding to plan; their already tight budget was being nibbled at by her exorbitant wrestling class fees. There were bills to pay around the house; she’d already squandered a month’s salary to purchase her wrestling outfit and boots. Yesterday, Delilah had kept quiet, refused to argue, and let Andre vent all he wanted. But this morning, her nerves were starting to kick in over her upcoming match, and when Andre began another tirade as he headed out to work, she not-so-politely shut him down. Tempers were lost and words were exchanged, and both left the house angry. Delilah hadn’t heard from him all day. Secretly, she was glad. She didn’t need his crap today.

Evidently, Tank didn’t need her crap either. The trainer usually gave her some leeway but today he wasn’t having it at all. “Hey, get your ass back here!” His deep, angry voice sounded behind her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “Where ya goin’ huh? You wanna run home like a little girl?” he asked her. “Go ahead, go.”

“Just stop, alright?” Delilah snapped, her fists clenched involuntarily as she fought the urge to hit him right in his face. Unfortunately she didn’t stand a chance against him, not when he weighed over a hundred pounds more than she did and was an entire foot taller than her, and certainly not with his over two decades of wrestling experience in comparison to her puny half-year.

Moving closer to her, Tank placed a calloused hand on her shoulder. “What’s goin’ on Dee? You’ve been acting up today.”

Delilah knew she was among the very few trainees Tank afforded the luxury of his concern and sympathy. She liked to think it was because she was one of the teachable ones, easily picking up the wrestling moves like she’d been doing it for years. She was always one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave, helping set up the ring and take it down after classes. Her attitude was refreshing, and she eventually managed to become something resembling a friend to him.

But there was only so much friendship could do for her current situation. Running a hand through her hair, Delilah tried to figure out where to start answering his question. She was fuckin’ tired, for one. She was wrestling in front of an actual crowd in a mere forty-eight hours. Her fiancé was being an ass. Her pride however, wouldn’t let her say those things out loud. That he considered her to be a friend didn’t mean she had to go crying to him for every problem she had. “It’s nothing, I’m fine,” she murmured, choosing to focus on the Polynesian tribal tattoo spread over his right arm.

Tank rolled his eyes with a huff. “We both know that’s bullshit, but if you say so.” Turning back for the ring, he sighed heavily. “You got sixty seconds to clear your head, then you get your ass back in that ring. We got shit to do so hurry up.” With that, he walked away.

She expected no other response. He never coddled her, not during working hours anyway. She didn’t want him to, either. The last thing she wanted to look was weak in front of fellow trainees; people, as Tank always reminded her, who wanted this career, who wanted this life, more than anything else in the world. And that brought her back to the same question she’d been asking herself for months.

How badly did she want it?

----------------

The next couple of hours seemed to go on forever. Tired, bruised and battered from a long day of training, Delilah hitched her bag over her shoulder and cast a glance at the round black clock on the wall as she walked towards the exit of the warehouse. Andre had sent a text message that filled her with hope of reconciliation after their heated morning. Maybe they could sit down and talk about what had happened, and hopefully work things out like they always did.

“Hey, Parrish, come here a sec,” Tank's voice sounded out of nowhere. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Sighing heavily, Delilah turned her gaze towards the doorway of the small office where he stood. “Do I have to? I gotta meet up with Dre.”

“He’ll be there when you get home,” he dismissed her excuse. “Come say hi. You won’t regret it, come on.”

With a quiet groan, Delilah shuffled toward the office. “I hope not,” she mumbled, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the hulking, tattooed figure sitting on Tank's desk. Her eyes widened and her jaw slackened, unable to believe what she was seeing. “Oh shit!”

Tank's grin widened as he pushed her further into his office. “Told ya. Delilah, meet Jey Uso. Jey, this is one of my students, Delilah Parrish.”

Standing up from his place on the edge of his friend’s desk, Joshua Fatu extended a hand to the toned beauty standing in front of him. He smiled when she placed her hand in his, noticed how it trembled. “Sup, Delilah, nice to meet you,” he said.

Delilah tried to reply, but her mouth seemed to have forgotten its primary function. She could feel her face burning as she continued to hold his large hand, wanting to let go but somehow unable to. It wasn’t every day she shook hands, or was even within a mile radius of Main Event Jey Uso himself. She’d been a big fan of his ever since his debut with his brother, Jimmy. To see them evolve and grow from a tag team to singles stars was so rewarding. The Bloodline storyline was must-see TV for her, and she had found herself sympathizing with the Right Hand Man over the course of the storyline. She followed him on X and Instagram, and had a couple of his Yeet T-shirts. To be in the presence of a man whom she watched on TV every week, a guy she grew to idolize and respect so much, was beyond mind-blowing.

Before her silence could grow awkward, Delilah removed her hand from his grasp. She’d always hoped that the day she got to meet a WWE Superstar, she’d act much cooler and more composed and not like the average tongue-tied fan. She knew she just failed miserably.

Josh crossed his muscled arms over his chest, his gaze firmly on her face. “So Delilah, Tank tells me you gotta lot of potential, uce. Says you’re very talented,” he said, his deep, gruff voice tinged with curiosity.

“Well, all those bumps he’s taken over the years have finally damaged his brain cells,” she said sarcastically, smiling when she drew a laugh from both men, particularly Jey.

“Nah, I’ve known this fool for damn near twenty years now,” said Josh, jerking his thumb in Tank's direction, “If he say you got talent, then you got talent.” He sat back on the desk and let his eyes admire her, silently wondering just how smoking hot the body hidden underneath the baggy clothes was. “So how long you been training?” he inquired. 

Delilah shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “I started working out about nine months ago, tryna get in ring shape,” she answered. “But I’ve been training for about six.”

Josh nodded his head. “And your first show’s the day after tomorrow, right?” he queried, keeping his eyes on hers.

“My first match,” she corrected him. “I’ve been to a few shows, done some ring announcing, valeted a couple of times,” she added proudly, as though that would make her look more credible in her idol’s eyes. As she spoke, she stole the chance to look him over. Diamond Cuban links glittered around his neck and both his wrists and gave a shine to his fitted Nike sweatsuit that covered up the tattoos she knew decorated a good portion of his russet skin. He was taller than she expected, and just as ruggedly handsome. And those eyes…a hint of danger lurked behind the jovial, friendly facade, very much giving off bad boy vibes. Against her will, she was intrigued.

Ignoring the eye-fucking session going on in his office, Tank patted Josh’s shoulder. “A’ight y’all, time to get outta here.” He ushered the two of them out of his office and towards the exit of the gym. 

“So…what brings you back to town, Jey?” she asked Josh as they walked side by side behind Tank.

The Samoan smiled at the young woman who hadn’t stopped blushing since they met. “Not much. Just hangin’ out with family and shit,” he replied. “Thought I’d come visit my mans over here, but now I hear there’s a show in town, I may just stick around a while longer.” He paused, noting the way her face paled a little. “You nervous?”

Delilah blew out a breath. “Honestly? I’m terrified.”

Josh shook his head. “Naw, don’t be. Focus on all the positives, how far you’ve come, and you’ll be fine.”

She nodded and bit her lip. That was reassuring, just a little bit. “Thanks,” she said, noting that her trainer’s car was heading their way. Tank always dropped her off at home as he lived not too far off from hers. “Well, I better get going. It was so cool to meet you, Jey,” she added, thinking it better to wave this time rather than shake hands. 

“Same here Delilah. And trust me when I say I’ll be seeing you more often in the future,” Josh replied.

For some reason, it sounded to Delilah like there were a handful of promises in those words, but she waved off the silly notion immediately and opted to leave before she made a fool of herself in front of the Jey Uso. It felt like she was walking on air as she approached Tank's car, still star-struck, still stunned by the last couple of minutes that had just happened.

But then, as she slammed the car door shut, she remembered what was waiting for her at home, and with a tired sigh, she was forced to push the moment away, forced to forget about the intense brown eyes that continued to stare after her even as the car drove away from the warehouse.

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Thoughts so far?

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[the-xolotl]

Songbird, Sing Me a Song

Alastor x singer!Reader

𝄞 A/N: i have this HC that Alastor has a special appreciation for singers (musicians in general) who are more classically inclined or those to perform music of his tastes especially if it reminds him of home

summery: In which Alastor owns your soul, just for the purpose of having live entertainment for himself.

✎ TAGS: sfw, no warnings, Alastor just wants to hear Reader sing, terms of endearment, no use of y/n, gn reader, no physical desc of reader, not proof read

“Come here, my pretty songbird,” Alastor’s lulling voice beckoned with his usual jovial tone, sounding like a lowly whisper. Your ears seem to almost perk up as he calls to you, pausing your current task in favor of answering to his command. Alastor has a habit of summoning you to his side at the drop of a hat, you were use to dropping whatever you’re doing in the moment to adhere to whatever he asked.

The call felt like a tug on your very soul, a gentle pull on the chain that tethered you to him. This very connection guiding you to where he is, like an automatic instinct of just knowing where he is. So your feet carried you to follow that direction, which you quickly realized is his radio tower. It’s going to be one of those evenings, the corners of your mouth curled upwards in a small smile.

Once in front of the door you knocked in a specific pattern letting him know it’s you entering, “Good evening, Sir, what can I do you for?” you asked with a polite smile.

The Radio Demon sat behind his desk elbows parked atop it resting his chin on the back of his hands, “Good evening, darling!” he greeted with glee, “Come in, come in. I find myself awfully bored doing this paperwork, I thought perhaps you’d be able to help me with that.”

You enter closing the door behind you, making your way in front of the console with a small giggle, “You’d like me to provide with a lil’ live performance, I take it?” you raise a playful eyebrow at him. This has become quite the habit since he summoned you to the hotel ever since his return.

You’ve been contracted to Alastor for a good few years, even before his impromptu sabbatical. In life, you had been a fairly known jazz and swing singer in some circles. Unfortunately you met an untimely demise due to a freak accident that cut your career short just as you were taking off, ending up in Hell, a little surprising to you.

Alastor had found you at the time you were struggling to adjust to your new hellish life. But everything comes at a price, he decided to take you in after you told him about your singing and musical abilities; your unconditional services for his protection. Simple.

It had been a little rough at first, selling your soul to one of the most dangerous overlords of hell, you later found out. He’s peculiar and extravagant but admittedly not awful. Just different. With time you learn to keep up, and he helped you gain some influence as a singer again by pulling strings and limbs where he needed.

Most recently you are the Hazbin Hotel’s front performer as per his request. As well as his private entertainer.

He flashed a bright smile, “Why you read my mind! Would my nightingale regale me with their beautiful voice for a while?” He regarded you with an extended palm, which you took with a spirited bow.

“How could I deny a personal request from my master? Specially with such flattery.” Sending a wink his way, you skip around the radio equipment over to pull the mic and stool he has for you just for these occasions.

You set your items, sitting a few feet in front of the console with in his line of view. Just how he liked it. “Any requests?” you ask with a smile.

“How about some originals? I’d be delighted to hear the music you wrote, or if you’ve written any recent pieces” His head tilted to the side, a little endearment slipping into his voice. It’s not often he does it, only in very private moments. He’d never say it, not even to you, but you are one of the pets he is most fond of.

Your eyes widen slightly feeling a little sheepish at the request, a light blush tinting your cheeks, “There’s a couple pieces actually,” you straighten your back and fold your hands over your lap preparing to start.

With a wave of his hand one of his shadows skidded about the floor, rising up to place one of his radios next to you.

“Lovely,” his radio filter crackling with the low notes of his voice, “Just adjust the dials and it will do the rest.”

Eying the item curiously you reach out to turn the little nubs. A small sparkle of green light flashed at your fingers. So quick you almost thought it hadn’t actually happened. Though, just as you adjust the frequency a familiar tune begins to play. Your tune.

Blinking a few times you readjust on your seat, things Alastor does shouldn’t surprise you anymore yet he manages to catch you every time. “This one is my favorite in particular,” you speak into the mic now, “Sound coming clear?”

“Crystal,” he says in his transatlantic accent as he leans forward on his desk.

You don’t miss a beat to come in hearing the into of your own song playing. Your melodic voice filling the room carried but the romantic jazz beat. It’s definitely a more modern sound of jazz but Alastor enjoys it nevertheless judging but the way his foot taps to the rhythm.

Gracefully, you croon every word into your mic hitting every note with expert ease. Not a single flat or too sharp note. Even as the tempo crescendos or decrescendos. Your delivery of the piece full of emotion, holding the mic delicately between your fingers. It’s mesmerizing even as you sit in place but your voice holds all the colors to paint the story of your song. Perfectly tuned voice with high and low notes.

As the song came to its end, Alastor applauded along to a clapping track sounding with a proud smile playing on his lips, “What a performance! Truly, one of the most unique voices I’ve ever heard,” he praises, “Well done, dear.”

You smile while bowing your head, “I’m glad you’ve found it enjoyable. I should add it to my set list for the next performance at the hotel.” You couldn’t help the rosie tint rising on your cheeks again. You had been quite proud of that one, so having Alastor appreciate it before anyone else has had the chance to hear it filled you with pride and joy. “You got to be the very first one to hear it.”

His smile grows playful, “Oh-ho! What an honor, dearest,” slightly bowing his head and bringing a hand over his heart to make it heartfelt. You chuckle at the gesture.

For the next couple hours the radio tower becomes immersed in the blues and swing that accompanied your finely tuned voice. The Overlord seemed delighted to have a personal concert while he worked. It reminded him about the little things he enjoyed while alive, your style being different but jazz will always take him back to good ol’ times in New Orleans.

His foot taps along to the rhythms, humming along to the words quietly harmonizing with you. His smile becoming more relaxed and work didn’t seem half bad anymore song after song. It relaxed him greatly to have your voice bouncing off the walls of the radio office, especially being the two of you. It’s like being in your own little bubble, he liked that.

Though, more than just for nostalgia he had other reasons to constantly call private audiences with you he would never tell you about. Even if he seems concentrated now, he occasionally stole glances at you, taking in the way your body swayed to the various beats.

By the end of the night, you had essentially performed a whole set. Some were your own songs, others classics and some of Alastor’s personal favorites. The mood is light even Alastor seems in a much better mood.

“Thank you very much, dearie, phenomenal show,” he praised as a wave of claps are heard throughout the room. You get up to give a deeper bow much like you often do for your public performances.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week,” you joked, “I’m only a call away.”

Alastor chuckled standing up from his chair, finally, gathering all of his work, “You must be tired by now, how about we both retire, hm?” his hand cupping your lower back gently and guiding the both of you to the door. “Wouldn’t want to strain you, now would we,” he stated more than asked opening the for you.

Yawning you nodded, “It’s getting quite late. I think we both got carried away,” He agreed with a silent nod.

“I’ll take you to your quarters, it’ll be quicker,” hooking your arm under his, the shadows beneath his feet wiggle and curl around you, “Hold on tight, darling.”

You didn’t need to be told twice knowing exactly what he’s doing. You pressed further into his side tightening your grip on his arm. The darkness swallowed and you felt like the ground beneath you became quick sand sinking deeper and deeper into the void, it’s uncomfortable, a little claustrophobic. Fortunately it didn’t have to last very long, you could never get use to his teleportation method.

Delivering you right in front of your door, he lets you hold him until your legs are steady again. “Here we are!” he cheered, before letting you go he brings your hand delicately to his lips, “Good night, my songbird,” pressing a small kiss to your knuckles.

You smile up at him tiredly, “You as well, Sir.”

With that he’s disappearing off again, yet you never feel like he ever truly leaves. At least, figuratively. Somehow you always feel his presence lingering over you, in a good way.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

—

࿐ dividers © cafekitsune ✧

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 56)

Hi, quick authors note. I have little to no experience writing action... and I'm a little afraid that might show in this chapter. That being said I do hope it's not confusing and you all enjoy it. It's a Doozy!

The next store, smaller then the toy store and really no more then a kiosk, with trinkets and scanners placed on a simple wooden table, the man standing behind it was cleaning a nixie tube with a cloth.

“You two seem a little young to be looking at these antiques…” His voice was gruff, sporting green eyelights and brown hair under a simple hard hat.

“Just… something specific.” Uzi cracked a wary smile as she took a look at what he had, ancient tech mixed with more modern parts… some of it wasn't exactly… legal. But that had never stopped her before, even if N looked increasingly nervous.

He was off duty sure, he was under no obligation to arrest the man even though his booth was sketchy and some of the parts he was selling were clearly ripped from other parts of bunker. But it still felt wrong to just… not do anything.

Uzi eyed the medical scanner, half buried under other medical equipment (mostly pain relief spikes) it was older, a screen on the front with the back shaped like a scan gun you find at registers. The ones the medical bay had now were automatic, this one was manual, but it would still do the trick.

“How much?”

She pointed to the scanner and the drone squinted at her, his eyes trailing over to Tera, who was still enthralled by her bat toy, then to N.

“Hundred and fifty.” N winced, that was like… half a paycheck. But it wasn't like they needed the money for anything else. So he transferred the credits without another word and the drone grinned wide and toothy, N just turned away as Uzi grabbed the scanner, her nerves seeming to skyrocket now that she had it in her hands.

This thing would tell her what she was, if she was still mechanical or if she was more flesh, ignorance had been bliss, a bliss she wouldn't have for very much longer.

“We got it… you wanna go home and perform it or…”

“No. No we can go home, I need to know.”

N nodded, taking her hand and attempting to lead them out of the marketplace before something seemed to catch his eye. Thad was walking with one of their female classmates, he was being hit on… clearly. But he wasn't giving her much response back, he looked almost bored….

“Hey Thad!” N shouted, making Uzi elbow him in the gut. They were supposed to be heading home! And she definitely didn't feel well enough in any way, to be put in more social situations.

But it didn't matter, Thad heard his name and locked eyes with N, his bored expression turning up into a friendly smile as his attention was turned away from the girl and to his freinds.

“Hey guys! What are you all doing here?” He turned to N, who immediately began to talk nearly nonstop, about his job, about Tera, about her. It would be sweet if she wasn't currently zoning out, thoughts running elsewhere and everywhere.

Maybe that's why she didn't see the red glint from a darkened hallway behind her.

The world around her began to slip away as she tuned out the conversation, there was so much to worry about, and it all seemed to be slowly creeping in on her, she felt like if she focused on it she would suffocate.

And that's when something grabbed her from behind, and she didn't even have time to give out a yelp and barely had time to wrap her hands protectively around Tera as she was yanked backwards, sailing quickly through the halls and into a small room that was only half finished, bare stone making up two of the furthest walls.

She was on her feet instantly, tail wrapping protectectivly around Tera, spines flexed outwards and fangs bared, eyes scanning the dark room for any sign of who dragged her here, a growl left her lips as Tera was uncharacteristically quiet, pressed up against Uzi tightly.

[Hello Uzi] A voice spoken in Russian, automaticly translated by her receptors but it sent chills down her back all the same, she gasped pulling Tera closer and her eyelights hollowing out from anger to fear. She looked around, she didn't even know where the hell she was, much less the route Doll had dragged her to get here, it had gone by too fast.

“What do you want?” She snarled, she couldn't see but a few feet in either direction, this part of the bunker was dark and empty, the only real lighting being the dim florescent light above her.

[To talk] She couldn't pinpoint exactly where Doll's voice was coming from, which only succeeded in making her frustrated, but mostly sacred, Tera was here, this was a bad situation…

“Then why drag me here alone?” She asked, focusing hard on where the response would come from. But she didn't have to, Doll stepped into the light.

She looked… awful.

Her clothes were nothing but tatters and all of them covered in some combination of oil and blood, she walked with a limp and her visor was cracked, she'd tried to cover it with an eyepatch, but she could still see the spiderwebbed fracture. Her remaining eyelight was still as peircing as ever, however.

Even still, Uzi didn't let her guard down.

Doll activated her solver, beginning to circle Uzi like a hyena about to pounce, there were black veins snaking up the leg she was struggling to put weight on, but Uzi recognized the look on Doll's face, hunger.

Who knows how long it'd been since she last fed.

[I had a plan that fell through, I've got nothing and the planet will soon be transformed. I did not find what I was looking for, for that, I am sorry.]

She started talking quickly, like she was running out of time.

[But I am not sorry for what I am going to do to your murder pets when you lure them in here for me, if I cannot be cured, then I want to take them down with me.]

“W-what?” Transformed? Cure? What the hell was Doll talking about?

“Like I'd just let you do that.” She replied, deciding to focus on the most important thing, which was keeping her daughter safe. She activated her own solver, feeling power from her core rush to her fingertips as she accessed it.

[I thought you might say that.]

Something hit her shoulder and sunk in deeply, causing her to yelp and wince as oil oozed out of where a kitchen knife dug into her metal, Uzi immediately made Tera look elsewhere, silent tears of fear shining in the toddlers eyelights as her mother hissed in pain.

“Fuck…” Uzi used her solver to pull out the knife from her shoulder, the wound already beginning to heal over the moment it was removed, she aimed it at Doll and got into the best fighting position she could while carrying a toddler.

[Don't worry, I'll just knock you out.] Doll grinned before summoning more knives and taking aim, Uzi growled, and dug deep to what she remembered doing with the pens to duplicate them, there was more at stake now, her daughters safety depended on her winning this fight.

She duplicated the knives nearly effortlessly, and launched them at Doll at a speed even the Russian was surprised at, though she just teleported out of the way of them, she looked back on them with a half smile.

[You've been practicing]

“Bite me.” Uzi lept out of the way of knives sailing towards her, ending up unfurling her wings to crawl on the ceiling while she held Tera with her actual arms, she felt a different kind of white hot rage fill her, and another feral growl left her lips. Her tail whipped in front of her, sending razer sharp spines raining down on Doll's head, once again, the projectiles just seemed to bounce off, but ever the observant one, Doll had something to say about it.

[I have never seen that mutation before… how cute, you're literally prickly now]

Uzi just growled, crawling over the ceiling and the walls around Doll a lot like an actual bat, she had to keep her distance, her kit was in danger and she had to make as much space between Doll and Tera as possible. She sent more spines her way utterly filling the wall behind the Russian like a stone pincushion.

[What the hell are you holding anyway? It can't be that important.] Uzi blinked, could… could Doll not see very well? That would make sense, she only had one working eyelight…

But that thought came at a bad time, a knife came flying her direction that she couldn't dodge and it caught her in the side, sending her falling off the wall and tumbling to the ground, she sheltered her daughter the best she could from the fall.

She lifted her arm to try to launch the knife back but her core suddenly lurched and visibly sparked with gold, gold glitched across her screen and her solver turned a similar color, her entire body screaming at her to stop what she was doing instantly.

“Agh!” She yelped, curling in on herself and pulling Tera into her, she felt like she was on fire, but Tera was still in danger…

[Oooh… that looked painful.] Doll closed the distance, pointing her solver directly at Uzi's visor, she closed her eyes shut and shielded Tera in her wings as best she could, N could take care of her… V might even step up, she had family still…

“No! Bad! Bad! NO!” Tera flung herself at Doll, slamming her tiny fists uselessly against her, Uzi wanted to scream, but any movement to try and rip Tera away was sending so much agony through her that she just ended up sinking further into the floor.

“Tera No!”

She kept at it though, punching as hard as her little fists could, Doll stopped after a moment of processing, her solver dissolving into nothing as the toddler did her worst… which wasn't much.

[What?] Doll blinked before picking the toddler up with one hand and holding her slightly away, Tera kicked and screamed and spat in her direction, digital tears streaming down her face.

“No! Mama! Bad! No!” Her limited vocabulary spoke volumes, and Doll looked back over at Uzi, who had switched from fighting to downright pleading.

“Please don't hurt her… please… you can do whatever you want with me, but let her go…” It wasn't like Uzi to beg for anything, but the life of her daughter was too important, too precious. Doll's eyes went hollow, her breaths came in quick pants.

[You- Since when?] Doll choked out before she dropped the toddler like she had burned her, Uzi fought through the pain to catch her and hold her close, both mother and child clinging to each other, pushed up against the wall.

[I… I'm…] She looked down at herself, at her ratty clothes covered in oil and blood and the strange growth on her leg as she tumbled backwards, looking terrified, of what, Uzi wasn't sure.

She locked eyes with Uzi, breathing heavily, before red code began to scrub her out of existence, dancing around her like a veil before… she disappeared.

Uzi waited for something else to come, for Doll to come to finish the job or her body to genuinely begin to fall apart or some combination of both, but the pain slowly subsided, her core returning to it's normal functioning, and the room fell silent, absent of Doll.

Tera was sobbing into her, gripping her like she was her only safe haven, digital tears began to fall from her own visor too, she gripped her back, petting the back of Tera's head.

“You were so brave sweetheart… so brave.” Uzi was proud and terrified and tired so tired, but mostly she was relieved that she was safe, although no doubt traumatized.

“Mama…” Tera whimpered, curling up tight next to Uzi's core and refusing to let go, Uzi took several deep breaths, okay, Doll was gone, and even though she didn't know why. It didn't matter, she just… needed to get up off the floor.

But… her legs weren't listening, it didn't matter what she told them to do she was frozen there, either from shock or fear or even the slight aftershocks of pain or the combination of all of them, she just… didn't have the strength.

There was a banging somewhere, a furious, desperate type of banging that progressively got louder, Uzi cocooned them both in her wings and wrapped her tail around them, becoming a living full body shield.

Then a door opened and light poured in.

“Uzi!” Oh… that was N. He was here, thank Robo-God he was here.

“N!” She popped her head out of her wings just in time for her to get scooped up into his warmth and his scent and everything was suddenly feeling so much better.

“What happened? You disappeared!” He sounded so worried, and on the verge of tears himself, he looked her over, the gash on her shoulder was almost healed but her side was still bleeding freely, she didn't respond, only trembled as she tried her best to melt into him.

“D-doll” She choked out and she felt him flinch as he looked around, she assumed he was using his other vision modes, since she heard the soft beeping of his HUD switching modes.

“She's gone, Tera uh… scared her off.” N helped her stand, her legs were wobbling and she was still struggling to take deep breath, Tera was crying so hard in her arms that she was near silent aside from her harsh sobs and whimpers.

“Tera?” N replied, confused.

“Yeah, I don't know either.”

“Uzi! N!” There were more footsteps as Thad ran into the room, out of breath and venting heavily, his gaze met the family and his eyelights turned worried.

“We're fine…” Uzi said immediately, trying to hide how beat up she was, artificial adrenaline slowly waning, replaced by a dull ache in every joint, every servo and every gasket. The area around her core felt sore…

“Yeah I don't belive you…” Thad replied, immediately looking her over in much the same way N had done, just with far less lingering touches.

“Since when did you become so doting?”

“You're my freind Zi, I'm like… Tera's uncle at this point.” He held something in his hands, something small, purple, and shaped like a bat.

“Hey, I think you dropped this.” He knelt down to where Tera was and brought the bat plushie into her view, she gasped, and breifly let go of her mother to grip it tightly and hug it to her before curling right back up in her previous position.

“Thank you…” Uzi found herself choking up again, causing Thad to back away slightly, he wasn't used to seeing Uzi so… vulnerable.

But in the next second she pulled him into a hug, making his eyelights go hollow for a moment before he returned it, squeezing her tightly.

“No problem.”

It took several minutes for Uzi to calm down enough to begin to try and walk, N steadied her on one side, Thad on the other, Tera resting on N's back, gripping him tightly.

She limped home, ignoring how slowly her wounds were healing compared to normal, ignoring the aches and pains and desire to just collapse into a pile of spare parts and letting herself get near dragged back home.

N and Thad lowered her onto the couch, tye furniture creaking unhappily with the addition of her weight, N turned to Thad, talking about something she couldn't focus enough to listen to.

She'd lost… and the only reason her and Tera weren't dead or used as bait was because Tera surprised Doll… She'd failed to protect her, her one job.

“Hey Thad's going home, do you want me to move you to the bed?” N's voice broke through the thoughts, and she nodded without thinking, he scooped her up in her arms and was off towards the bed, shutting the door behind him with his tail.

He sat Tera down on the edge of the bed first, before he laid his girlfriend down gently, Tera immediately crawled towards them both, refusing to be anywhere but curled up next to them.

Her wounds were healed well enough, neither no longer openly weeping, but her hoodie was still stained with oil, no blood thankfully…

She had no qualms with sleeping like this even through she felt filthy… she was too exhausted to even think about getting up and changing, not to mention the dull ache of her limbs and joints only adding to it.

N wasn't satisfied with that though, and began to change her into her clean pajamas instead, Uzi just let him, she'd never felt more tired in her life. The glitch with the solver draining every ounce of energy she had.

“Wait.” She managed to get out, pointing to her pocket weakly as N was throwing it into the hamper, he dug into the pocket, pulling out the scanner.

“Scan me.” She asked quietly, and he looked at her worry etched on every inch of his face.

“You've been through a lot today… maybe we should wait until you've recov-”

“My solver glitched out during that fight… I need to know what's going on… inside.” She gulped, she really wanted to sleep but… this was more important.

“O-okay, walk me through it.”

So she did, she showed him how to calibrate the scanner and tune it for her systems, how the data it collected on her internal systems would be displayed on the screen, and all he had to do was slowly scan her.

He started with her head, pulling the trigger on the scanner and allowing a little blue light to roll over her, the scanner beeped as a map of her head was taken, first just her silicone, then the metal underneath, then through that.

He had to hold the scanner over each part of her for several minutes to completely map each part, on the side of the tiny screen, her code read out flashed, all bathed in purple and running nominally, as far as he could tell.

“You look fine so far.”

‘Keep going, end on my core… that's the most uncomfortable.”

“Okay.”

He continued the scan, taking note of any abnormalities he could find, her limbs were all normal, no fleshy bits or arrant code, just basic, stock worker limbs, complete with the ball joints and industrial hydraulics running through them.

Her head was… mostly normal, her processors were all neatly wired up, but the scanner had picked up… extra wires? At least that's what they looked like, that made a web over most of her main processing units, connected to bits of organic tissue.

It was her torso that really held everything… off.

The scanner picked up her wings and tail, folded into compartments he knew for a fact normal worker drones didn't have, but that had to normal for Uzi, at least since her transformation, but those weren't the only organic parts.

She had a small, but fully realized set of human lungs, breathing in time with her vents to pump air in and out, her oil tank was artificially enlarged and rerouted into… a very strange organic mass in her midsection. When the scanner broke through the tissue, he realized it was a digestive system.

“Not liking that face your giving.”

“It's fine. Let me finish up” He quickly said, he didn't want to freak her put before the scan was done, despite the weirdness and the fusing of flesh and metal, none of it was damaged or working improperly, so none of it had the capacity to make her sick.

Slightly further down, below her midsection there was another, extremely small ball of… something. It wasn't organic, but it was dense, and the scanner couldn't get a good read on what it was. N kept it at the back of his mind as he raised the scanner again, this time over her core.

“Alright, last little bit, you ready?”

“Mmhm.”

The scanner flashed over her core and she gave an uncomfortable shudder, the scanner beeped incredibly rapidly as it both mapped through her casing and exploded in code readout; which made sense, the core was like a motherboard.

Only… the code it read out looked different from the code running through systems in the rest of her body. For starters, some of it was mixed with gold instead of the ocean of purple code it had read out to him before.

Her core was also beating, like a human heart, it still thrumed normally, but surrounding it was a fleshly mass that beat in a constant rhythm. N blinked, feeling his own core and feeling the soft beating that had always accompanied it. It was like his now.

The more the scanner dug in though, the more golden code it read out, as he slowed down to read it, he realized that he recognized it. After all, it was easy to recognize your own code.

“Uh…” He made a noise of confusion making Uzi look up at him with a brow raised, he blinked before showing her the screen that was still reading put mixed code.

“I- sorry I don't know what this means.” He admitted, but Uzi suddenly grabbed the scanner, eyes growing wide as she looked through the model of her internals and the code read out.

“Holy hell I have lungs! And an actual stomach! That might explain why I've been so hungry…” Honestly? It wasn't as bad as she was expecting it to be, none of her internals had been replaced, just added onto, she held her chest and felt the the rise and fall, something that had started after her transformation that had been so imperceptible she hadn't noticed.

Shen she looked over at the core code and felt everything stop.

That was gold code.

That was gold code in her core.

She wasn't stupid, she knew what that meant, she'd seen it in nursery screenings about a thousand times shown to prospective new parents. It was N's code, mixing with hers.

She was… pregnant.

Next ->

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

personal hobie headcanons!

he asks you to do his eyeliner for him; pulls you in real close and you hold his cheek with your hand, drawing on a quick smudgey look for him. he likes staring at you while you do it too.

you're his cute little rockstar gf <333, he loves taking you to his shows, sometimes drags you up on stage with him

he has this kind of adrenaline rush when he performs on stage, heartbeat thundering, sweat beading down his forehead, a somewhat proud smile on his face. you like seeing him in his element

i envision him slinging a lanky arm around you often, like he's always pulling you close by your shoulders

very attentive, he starts noticing the smallest details about you. knows where you like to be held, how you love to be kissed. he's a decent gift-giver, likes picking something up at a store if it reminds him of you.

i knowww he doesn't like labels and all that, but i cant get over hobie calling you "luv" or "sweets" like UGH got me kicking my feet fr fr

mischievous, loves to tease and poke fun at you, pinching your side with a smirk, nipping at your liip while you kiss, barges into your house without invitation, that kinda stuff

likes experimenting with fashion; somewhat genderfluid presentation of himself? i'm talking sheer tops, fishnets under distressed jeans, crop tops, maybe even a skirt or two.

never did well at school, possibly a dropout

he'll wear cute kandy bracelets that you make him along with his spiked cuffs, ones with the letter beads.

he'd help you get dressed, like tying your top into a cute little ribbon or maybeeee tying your shoes for you?

he likes putting lipstick on you!! holds you by your chin and starts dabbing makeup onto your lips. when he's done, he kisses you to seal the deal.

has a idgaf-type attitude towards pda. like if hobie wants to kiss you then he will? if hobie feels like keeping a hand on you, he will, regardless of location or circumstance

isn't the type to shop at hot-topic; instead opts for alternative thrift stores, ones that specialize//specifically sell punk-type clothing

when you sleep together, sometimes he stays up a little too late, thinking about your relationship. when it's late night, his feelings are raw and he gets a lil sappy, hugging you just a little bit tighter or pressing a kiss to your forehead.

its fun to think that hobie likes to ask you distress his clothing with him, whether it'd be utterly tearing into a t-shirt or fraying away at jeans with a pair of scissors. "that's it, yeah, maybe a li'l more?" he says, holding up the shirt with pinched fingers. "y'did a good job, though."

one day hobie shows up with a pair of platform boots, asking about your opinion on them. they're very hobie, studded with spikes, leather fraying at the creases. "whad'you think, sweets? pretty cool, right?" now he's 6'1 (pretty sure he's 5'11 at normal height)

has a prince albert piercing

handles jealousy by being like "alright, mate i'mma have to stop you right there-" casually slinging an arm over you, lightly pushing a guy away by his chest. "let's stay at least 5 feet away from my girl, yeah?" all with a slight smirk on his face

lets you wear his millions of band tees around the house

if you haven't already, hobie's music taste will start to rub off on you. he shares cute little playlists with you or starts playing with tunes on his guitar.

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

[shiratamahatsumiyo]

Daniel Park with Baoqing reader

I'm back!

• I'm not going to include the fox head or the giant nine-tailed fox transformation. I will also going to make you younger (ex. 17, 18, 19). You will have a smoking pipe as a form of weapon and Kiserujutsu as a form of martial arts. I'll just name you Baoqing here.

• You are actually a young CEO of a company that sells high quality tobacco in China for generations. But that's all layers from the public of what you really sell. You came here in Korea to establish new workshops... One workshop that sells antique artifacts with your company brand, and an underground workshop that sells illegal weapons to gangs. You earned a name from all the gangs that you've made deals with, so as an underground alias, your name is Jade Fox.

• Your meeting with Daniel takes place during his Jaewon High School days and his part-time convenience store job. He still has his ugly and fat body working the nightly hours away.

• His employer came in the store one night to check on how he's working since there's been a drop of customers due to his unsightly appearance. Before the manager could even scold him about Daniel not welcoming the customers properly, the sound of the door opening made the manager fall silent as to not bother you, so he bowed his head to greet you. The manager kept his mouth shut until you ring up to the counter and left the store.

• Daniel was confused as to why the manager suddenly crossed his arms and scowl after you left...

The Manager: "Hmm..."

Small Daniel: "... U-um, is everything okay, sir?"

The Manager: "Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. It's... It's nothing."

Small Daniel: "I-i couldn't help but see that you seem... at unease?"

The Manager: "Well... It's that kid right there... Looks a lot like a gumiho."

Small Daniel: "G-gumiho?"

• Daniel has heard of the myth of the gumiho, or the nine-tailed fox, from his mother. But he only remembers the part of the myth that gumihos are dangerous and bloodthirsty spirits.

Small Daniel: "A-aren't gumihos mythical evil creatures that older people tell to kids?"

The Manager: "What? You forgot the part where gumihos can disguise themselves into humans. The only give-away is their face resembling a fox. That kid that was here a minute ago looks a lot like it..."

Small Daniel: "Oh..."

The Manager: "Ahem! But enough about the creepy stuff! Now where was I?... Right, your performance during work hours."

Small Daniel: "I-i promise, sir! I'll keep improving!"

• As Big Daniel walks to school early in the morning, he couldn't help but let his mind wonder. He couldn't get you off his mind, he could've swore that you looked familiar... His thoughts were interrupted by a rustle from a nearby tree...

Big Daniel: "Wah!"

???????: "Good morning~ you seem to have dropped this. You need to be more careful next time."

• Daniel is shocked, not because you have his phone, but because you're casually hanging upside down with your legs clinging to the tree branch.

Big Daniel: "Uhh, good morning. Wait a second... Why do you have-"

???????: "Like I said, you dropped it. It'd be a shame if someone else other than me took notice of a lost item and decide to steal it~"

• You dropped down from the branch, landed on your feet, and give Daniel his phone. Daniel saw your uniform and realized that you go to the same school as him. Then all the pieces of the puzzle joined.

Big Daniel: "Uh, Thank you. I don't know how can I repay you."

???????: "Well... That might have to wait for another time. As a fellow student, I must make a good impression~"

Big Daniel, bowing: "I'm sorry, I'm Daniel Park. I go to Jaewon High as well."

Baoqing: "Why, it's a pleasure~ Call me... Baoqing. I'm afraid our little introduction will have to wait. As you can see, we're going to be late."

• Daniel asked Zoe Park about you before class started and she said that you're a new student from the Beauty Department. You are quite popular with men but you didn't date any of them. However, two boys who became way too desperate for your attention offered to assist you with anything and everyone was surprised that you accepted the offer, but also confused by how much you kick them whenever they get too close to you.

• Daniel also has learned that you are one of the most powerful students in school. Despite lacking strength, you made your way to the ranks using your high intellect and several dealings. He respects how you don't cower in fear when confronted by an annoying Vin Jin began to threaten and flirt with you. You kicked him in the face for that and the bruise took a month to heal. Daniel made a mental note to never upset you.

• You two grew unexpectedly closer during all those years. When he found out you brought a smoking pipe with you to smoke on the school rooftop, he became disappointed and scolded you to stop the habit. You brushed him off, saying that it's relaxing for you and that it's a part of your Kiserujutsu.

Big Daniel: "Kiserujutsu?"

Baoqing: "Yes, it's a fighting style on how you use a smoking pipe as a weapon."

Big Daniel: "So it's like Jay's Kali Arnis?"

Baoqing: "Hmm, you could say that~"

Big Daniel: "Wow, I've never seen a smoking pipe up close before. Is it heavy? It looks pretty old."

Baoqing: "Heavy? No. I've been trained to hold and harness it. After all, it's a family heirloom and a fighting style passed down for generations."

Big Daniel: "An heirloom?! Then why would you bring that to school?!"

Baoqing: "😊"

• Timeskip to the part where Daniel wanted to talk to Crystal at the Festival but was interrupted by Gun. You and Vasco were actually getting some snacks at a nearby store when you witness the fight. Gun was about to kick Daniel while the boy was in a defensive stance.

Gun: "You heard the lady, boy. Now beat it!"

Big Daniel: "I just want to talk-"

Vasco: "HEY!"

Gun: "Huh?"

Big Daniel: "What? Vasco?"

Vasco: "Why don't you fight someone your own size?"

Gun: "Dammit. Why does a rando always have to ruin a good fight?"

Baoqing, clapping: "Ahahahaha! My, that was amusing!"

Daniel: "B-Baoqing?"

Gun: "Oh... It's you."

Baoqing: "Long time, no see, Gun~"

Gun: "....."

Crystal: "G-Gun, let's just go!"

Gun: "...Fine."

• Crystal got in the car with Gun and drove off school campus with an apology to Daniel and Vasco... But why does she look at you with such an intense glare? Before the competition begins, Daniel kept staring at you with confusion. You sensed his restlessness and it annoyed you.

Baoqing: "Judging by how upset you look. Is something bothering you?"

Big Daniel: "... Baoqing. Do you happen know that man?"

Baoqing: "What man are referring to? 😊"

Big Daniel: "You know, the man with sunglasses with the girl."

Baoqing: "I do not know how Vin Jin and Mary Kim have caught your interest, but it's best to leave me out of it-"

Big Daniel: "Not them!"

Baoqing: "Hahaha! I'm joking~ That man, Gun Park. You could say that he's... A client of mine."

Big Daniel: "A-and the girl?.."

Baoqing: "If you want to learn more information about them, you're going to have to offer me something in return~"

Big Daniel: "Right. Forget I asked..."

Baoqing: "Buuut~ since you seem interested of the girl, I'll only give you her name. Crystal Choi."

Big Daniel: "Why are you giving me her name?"

Baoqing: "For my amusement, of course~"

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Shapeshifter/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,334 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You left home hoping for a new beginning, and stumble upon a safe haven in the carnival. The owner isn't what he seems, but maybe that's exactly why you trust him.

You sat on the edge of the hotel bed, a small stack of crumpled notes and coins spread out in front of you. Counting them for the third time didn’t change the total; it was still worryingly low. This money was supposed to buy you a new life; but all you had left was spare cash.

Had it been the right choice, leaving everything behind? The question gnawed at you as you glanced around the sparsely furnished hotel room. No roots put down, just fleeting encounters and temporary addresses. You had envisioned this journey as a liberation, a chance to get away from your stifling life. Maybe you’d been wrong.

Your eyes wandered to the window, drawn to a flicker in the distance. Past the glow of the streetlights, there was something different tonight—a distant glow. Squinting, you tried to make sense of it. A carnival, maybe? Curious, you leaned closer against the cool glass. 

The light hadn’t been there yesterday, had it? It drew you in, a golden glow against the black sky.

With a deep breath, you considered your dwindling funds once more. Maybe what you needed was a distraction, something fun and cheap to take your mind off things until you figured out a more… permanent solution.

Without waiting to change your mind, you tossed the purse into a handbag. Locking the door, a familiar twinge of uncertainty tugged at you as you made your way to the lobby. The night air greeted you with a crisp chill, and you shivered.

Outside, the street was unusually alive for this time of evening. Groups of people, families, and couples, all seemed to be migrating in the same direction—towards the bright lights that had captured your curiosity. 

Among them, a young orc man followed, his green skin glowing slightly under the street lamps. Maybe noticing your intrigued gaze, he smiled and shared, "it's Avalon Carnival. Comes around every summer. Haven't missed it since I was a kid." His voice carried a nostalgic warmth that made the lights ahead seem even more inviting.

With nothing more than a polite nod, you fell into step with the moving crowd, letting the hum of their excitement wash over you. The streets soon gave way to an open field, transformed into a bustling carnival ground. 

As you crossed the threshold, the real essence of the carnival came into full view—it was nothing like the cheap, gimmicky fairs you had visited as a kid.

This was the real thing.

Strings of lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a soft glow that illuminated faces filled with awe. You imagined your own face must have looked the same.

Tair was alive with the rich, sweet scents of candied apples and spicy mulled wine. Stalls lined the pathway, each offering a glimpse of something new — frmo games to handmade confectionary, to dwarven artisans selling little trinkets.

Further in, the carnival opened up into a wider space where performers waved at the audience. Acrobats twirled and flipped with elven grace. The gathered crowd, mostly elves and humans, watched on in rapt silence.

As you absorbed the dazzling display, a sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you from your reverie. Heart skipping, you whipped around — and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the man standing before you. 

Dark hair fell to his shoulders, swept back to reveal sharp, angular cheekbones and stubble dusting his chin. When he smiled, crows feet crinkled at the corner of his eyes and oh, he was lovely.

His eyes, startlingly blue, softened as you looked up at him. The corners of his lips tilted in a knowing smile. "You look a bit lost," he remarked, his voice a smooth. "Do you need help?"

"No, thank you," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. Despite your words, his gaze lingered, and your cheeks warmed.

"I'm Avalon," he said, "if you need anything, just call my name and I’ll appear.”

Avalon. Hadn’t you heard that name before..? 

Oh! This was Avalon’s Carnival. Which meant… he owned this place.

The revelation made your heart stutter. The owner himself, standing right in front of you. You wondered why he had bothered to even say hello; you were nobody important. Nobody at all.

"I hope you're enjoying the night," he continued, his voice pulling you back from the edge of your thoughts. "This place is meant to be a sanctuary, a spot of light for those who are far from home."

His words struck a chord. You were far from home, if you even still had one. Yet here in this space, the possibility of staying suddenly seemed more real. 

The warmth in Avalon’s eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he regarded you—it all spoke of a kindness that was as disarming as it was genuine.

"Perhaps I could show you around?" Avalon offered, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "There’s much to see, and sometimes, the best parts of the carnival are not the obvious ones."

With a breath, you nodded. “That actually sounds lovely. Thank you.”

When Avalon extended his arm, you took it, practically melting into his warm body. He was so much taller than you, so much broader. He smelled faintly of cinnamon. 

Together, you began to weave through the carnival. The crowds seemed to part naturally for Avalon, people moving aside without seemingly meaning to.

As you walked past trapeze artists, and stalls brimming with all manner of foods and trinkets, a sense of delight washed over you. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of roasting nuts, and Avalon’s strange cinnamon cologne. 

Yet, as enchanting as the carnival was, you found your gaze drifting back to Avalon. There was something undeniably captivating about him. Whenever you glanced away, you noticed subtle shifts in his appearance—nothing drastic, but enough to blur the details if you looked from the corner of your eyes. 

His hair seemed to darken slightly, then lighten; his eyes occasionally flickered from one shade to another. Sometimes, his ears looked slightly pointed like an elf’s.

Your lips parted to ask about it, but those beautiful, expressive eyes fixed on you — your questions dissolved.

Turning away, cheeks hot, you quietened.

You expected him to lead you to another show, or maybe a grand tent that hosted the main events. Instead, Avalon guided you away from the heart of the carnival to a small hill on its outskirts. The noise of the carnival receded gently into a comforting hum, and the view from the hill was breathtaking. 

The carnival lights spread out before you, as far as you could see. Although you could still hear the buzz of the guests, it dimmed to a low murmur.

"Why here?" you found yourself asking, looking up at Avalon. When he smiled, you caught a glimpse of sharp teeth before he disentangled himself from your grip.

“I come here when I need to think,” Avalon said. “When it all gets a bit too much. You look like someone with a lot on your mind. Maybe you could make use of this spot, too.”

Nearby, someone had set up picnic benches and chairs, likely for quiet moments just like this. You moved towards them, the grass tickling your ankles, and took a seat on one of the benches. 

Avalon joined you, sitting across with his own gaze lingering on the scene. As you both settled in, your feet accidentally bumped under the table. It was a small, unexpected touch that sent a gentle ripple of awareness through you. You looked up, meeting his eyes, and for a moment, the vibrant carnival below faded into the background.

"Thank you," you said, your voice soft but sincere, "for showing me this place. It’s more than I could have expected." You paused, the question that had been gently simmering within you now finding its voice. "Why me, though? What makes me special?"

Avalon’s gaze returned to the carnival, but you sensed his attention was fully on you. "I have a certain... ability," he began, turning back to look at you with a thoughtful expression. "I can sense emotions. Among a sea of happy carnival-goers, you stood out. There’s something on your mind, something important."

You said nothing, trying to ignore how your heart fluttered. He moved as if to stand, perhaps feeling that his presence might impose; but as he rose, you reached out without thinking to take his hand. He paused.

"Please, stay," you found yourself saying, voice soft.

Avalon looked at your joined hands, then back at you, and something unspoken passed through his eyes before he sat down again, this time a little closer. 

As you both sat in silence, you couldn’t help but observe Avalon from the corner of your eye. His appearance shifted, almost imperceptibly, under the carnival lights. For a second he looked almost orcish, his features rough, skin tinged green; but as soon as you turned to look directly at him, he looked the same as always. 

It was mesmerizing, this chameleon-like nature of his. What was he? 

The quiet between you stretched comfortably, and your foot bumped his again. This time he didn’t move away and so neither did you, Converse gently tapping his boot.

You didn’t know why you had the sudden urge to tell Avalon everything. Maybe it was the silence, or his smile, or the fact that he had taken you to this quiet spot for no other reason that he wanted to.

"I left home," you admitted finally, brows scrunched as you said it.  "I was hoping to start new somewhere else. My family... they broke my trust." You paused, gathering the strength to continue. Biting your lip, you said, “they demanded money and never paid me back. Then my rent went up and I asked for the money back to put a deposit down somewhere new. They refused. I lost my house, and they wouldn't take me in. I haven't seen them since."

Avalon listened, his expression unchanging, yet his eyes softened. They were more green now, than blue.

“My parents have always been overspenders. Trips to Las Vegas, gambling. They were in a lot of debt, and I did my best to help them but… I think they resented that I started asking questions. That I wanted the money back.”

He stayed quiet, but one slender hand reached out to clasp yours. 

“It’s not like I asked for it back all at once. Just… I hoped they would have helped me the way I helped them, you know?”

Silence settled between you. The wind rustled. Below, cheers rose up from one of the big tents.

Finally, Avalon spoke. "Thank you for trusting me with your story. Places like these," he gestured vaguely at the carnival below, "they're meant to be sanctuaries. A lot of the people here have families who didn’t love them the way they should have. You’re not alone here."

His hand squeezed yours. You squeezed back. Sharp nails tickled your palm, never enough to actually hurt.

"You could stay," he said suddenly, voice firm but quiet. "There’s no need to decide right away what you’d do here. We have many roles, and everyone finds their place in time. Everyone is treated fairly, too.”

He shifted, free hand splayed across the picnic bench. Your own were beginning to sweat, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move away. 

“You could talk to some of the carnival family, see for yourself."

The idea settled within you. The chance to travel with the carnival, to be part of a community — a family, even — was more than tempting. It was a vision of a life you had longed for, one where you could find your people. Live a life you wanted.

He was watching you, a softness in his eyes that made you shift. The carnival lights cast a warmth across his face, long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.

The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the background noise of the carnival fading into a distant murmur. 

Your heart beat a little faster, and without consciously deciding to, you found yourself leaning slightly closer. How easy would it have been, to lean in and press your lips to his?

Now, where had that thought come from? Remembering that he could sense emotions, you wondered if he knew how much you wanted to kiss him.

The sky was beginning to darken fully now, the first stars twinkling above you. You glanced up, smiling. 

“I never realised how beautiful the countryside is.”

When you looked back, Avalon looked different. His hair was longer, his eyes narrower. You swore they were almost golden. 

Before, you could have put his appearance down to a trick of the light. Now, even as you looked directly at him, you could see the gentle flux of his features — sharp and elven one second, skin almost glittering. Broader the next, with sharp teeth and blue-tinged skin.

Avalon turned away slightly, cheeks hot under your stare. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I hope this won’t affect your choice to stay.”

Without thinking, you leaned across the picnic table, your heart guiding your actions, and gently took his jaw in your hand. His skin was warm under your touch, and as you guided his face towards you, you felt him relax.

Without a word, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that made you shiver in delight. The kiss was gentle, his lips soft against your own; you sighed into it, eyes slipping closed, allowing Avalon’s presence to envelop you.

Finally, as you pulled away, the world rushed back in — the lights, the sounds, the chill of the night air. None of it could dispel the warmth that had blossomed in your chest. You smiled, a little breathlessly, and the words that followed were quiet.

"I'll stay."

He smiled, revealing pointed teeth. “I’m glad.”

[omegawolverine]

i love how the first three episodes of soul eater very clearly tell us what the characters are like even in a 24 minute episode limit...soul and maka are very capable as partners, they had 99 kishin souls but the thing that sent them all the way back to square one was overestimating themselves. they thought blair was a witch, they didn't bother checking and just. killed her. sure, she has 9 lives, she's fine, but they not only overestimated their ability to tell she was a witch, but they also jumped right into the fight and kept persuing her without confirming at all if she was a witch all because maka was so determined to make a weapon stronger than her mother had, a weapon stronger than her dad who she hates. and soul is so caught up in the excitement of getting the status of death scythe that he just follows along with it.

the episode show us how well they work together as a pair, maka being quick on her feet and soul coming up with a plan out of nowhere, something not even maka imagined him doing which ultimately helped them sell it in the end, but we also saw their weaknesses.

we get a glimpse into maka's insecurities early on with her truly believing soul was leaving her for blair, equating it to cheating and us getting a montage of spirit cheating on her mother with various women all in front of maka (although he was unaware of that last bit). and although soul had spent the better half of the episode picking at her insecurities in a way that could come across as mean spirited, we see his immediate reponse be "how am i supposed to know? cool men don't cheat on their partners." which makes maka realize he was just setting up blair to fall directly into his trap and get her soul. while maka is usually regarded as the smarter partner, soul shows he is a great asset in a fight, weapon form or not, because he's a quick thinker and can transform from weapon to human fast enough for them to get the drop on blair who has cat like reflexes for...obvious reasons.

in the defense of maka and soul, even lord death and spirit think she's a witch at first, but lord death also stresses to them both that if they fuck this up they have to start all over and they don't even...double check that she's a witch? idk how easy that is in this universe especially given this is before maka can see soul wavelengths (which is probably a huge part of why they just went with whatever intel they had) but i'm sure there has to be some way to tell if it's this huge of a deal to aquire one.

and then we have black star who...immediately shows us he could be a very good assassin if he didn't give himself away every fucking time 😭😭 his ego is his biggest downfall but it's also what gained him his incredibly loyal, kind, forgiving partner tsubaki, who saw him be so bold as to stand on top of the building and ask who would work with someone as loud, obnoxious and brash as him and that's honestly probably the best way he could've went about it. how else would he find somebody willing to put up with all of his flaws if they couldn't even handle him as his regular, outgoing, over the top self?

it's also really interesting how tsubaki and black star go over the assassins' rules of silence, stealth, not being seen, etc. followed by black star immediately throwing that out of the window. and tsubaki chastises him. instead of her being the type of girl who just goes along with whatever black star does, she tells him he doesn't understand assassination at all and complains about how they never collect any souls. black star doesn't take any of her words to heart though and tsubaki doesn't take his actions to heart either.

after this we see lord death even say their issue isnt skill, its purely performance, its how they (black star) don't take the mission seriously and tsubaki accepts blame for both of them instead of just pinning it on him. even if she knows he's the problem, she also sees them as a package deal, a team all the way through and she's okay with this. tsubaki also shows that she fully trusts black star as a partner and thinks he will make her a death scythe, it'll just take a little longer than others.

tsubaki and black star both show a lot of strength in battle, with tsubaki being able to transform into multiple weapon forms, black star being very agile, with the ability to do all sorts of moves that most of the other characters are never seen doing. we can see black star go from a poor excuse for an assassins to an impressive one within seconds to mifune and all it took was him actually wanting to do it. we see he can make himself silent and he can use stealth quite well, making it so mifune doesn't even notice him and tsubaki have switched places for a few minutes and he only notices because tsubaki's breathing is different than black star's. we also get to see that even if his ego is a flaw of his, it's also why he can use his wavelength so well when nobody else in his class really can. he has the confidence in his abilities that most of his other peers do not and that is part of what makes him dangerous when he is actually determined to kill somebody.

and he was determined to kill mifune until he found out that he was just protecting a kid. witch or not, angela was a fucking kid and black star couldn't do it. tsubaki could've. she even tells black star they should take they opportunity that was practically handed to them, with plenty of kishin soul's and angela's right there for the taking and he refuses. despite how they have no souls collected, he still choses to walk away and takes the souls back to lord death in a sack rather than having tsubaki consume them because that isn't a real win to him, he didn't kill those kishins.

and then we get to kid's episode and right off the bat we see this dude is talented and a bit cocky but despite his abilities, his ocd gets in the way of retrieving kishin souls. patty's stance is off, he yells at her about it and she responds apologetically, but clearly isnt upset by him yelling, implying it either happens a lot so she can brush it off or she is truly just that bubbly that it doesn't phase her (probably both). liz, on the other hand, tries to reason with him, telling him now is truly not the time as they're in the middle of pursuing a man and when he keeps lecturing them, she just complains, but let's him do it anyways. it's only when he gets a little too out of hand with it does she put him in his place, punching him and telling him he probably shouldnt be talking about how unsymmetrical her and patty are when he has three stripes on one side of his hair and not the other. he calls himself an abomination and cries. they comfort him despite their (liz's) clear annoyance before.

this shows us that despite them all working well as a team in battle, they get caught up in the actual performance of it all, much like black star and tsubaki do, but for completely different reasons. they're plenty skilled, but instead of ego getting in their way like it does with black star, it's arguing (similar to soul and maka) over what seems like little details to liz and patty, but are all consuming to kid.

we also get a line from liz about how "these little rich kids are always so gullible" which implies her and patty are, at the very least, not well off (though we don't know the extent yet). this is when we learn he is lord death's son and that he doesn't actually need to be doing...any of this. he doesn't need to collect souls, doesn't need to train to be a meister or have weapons or work with his team to make them death scythes for his father, he's doing this out of pure want. lord death says because he had two weapons, he needs to collect double the souls. kid, cocky once again, says he wants to collect all 198 + 2 witch souls at once. he's cocky, but they have the skill to back it up.

and obviously they do, kid's a reaper after all and he specifically picked out patty and liz because he knew of their reputation on the streets (plus the symmetry, but lets stick to skill rn)

but again this isn't what slows them down. they go on a mission and as soon as they get there, kid starts worrying about whether or not a painting he has at home is off center and he cant stop obsessing over this thought until the point where he straight up abandons patty and liz when theyre in a pyramid about to fight mummys.

so instead of seeing kid's strengths, we see liz and patty's. the sisters are great at fighting even when the plan goes to shit, likely due to their time before the DWMA. liz shoots with good aim but switches with patty effortlessly when the mummys get too close, not even having to say anything for patty to know to switch with her. and patty shows that she's definitely less scared than her older sister and works better under pressure, hugging the mummys, giggling at them and sticking liz right in one of the mummy's mouths to blow its (metaphorical) brains out while liz complains about it being gross and creepy.

they collect all the souls alone, without their meister and split them evenly just to respect kid's unsaid wishes.

and then finally kid comes back! he's on his gay little skateboard of course, forgot to mention that earlier but it definitely says something about him that it's his primary mode of transportation and its named beelzebub. he gets back just in time as patty and liz have been captured and since they cant use their weapon forms, kid uses his skateboard to free his partners, but that's about as much as he can do before realizing the pharaoh is perfectly symmetrical and he would rather die than destroy it. like he is literally getting torn to shreds by this fucker but he cant do anything about it.

but then the pharaoh steps out of it's tomb and kid sees how asymmetrical it is and that's also what saves them. it almost gets him killed, it ruins missions regularly, his ocd absolutely disrupts his day to day life, but in this instance it also saves them as he gets so mad about the asymmetry that he blows a fucking HOLE through the back of the pyramid and DESTROYS THE ENTIRE THING by unbalancing it.

so yeah, basically i say all this to say the first three episodes do such a good job of introducing us to the main characters and showing us what their strengths and weaknesses are, even if they're played for laughs like kid's ocd, maka's insecurities or black star's ego.

[thetaoofzoe]

‘It Was Fun to Be Wanted by Someone Like Elvis Presley’: An Interview With Darlene Love

The gifted singer reflects on Elvis’s collaborative presence and his relationship to gospel music

by MICHAEL MUSTO August 7, 2018

The swaggering real-life Jeff Koons statue named Elvis Presley is hot again. Eugene Jarecki’s June-released documentary The King involves a road trip taken in Elvis’s old Rolls to survey his impact on the culture and determine that the American dream the singer represented is officially dead. (But oh, when it lasted!) Even darker is the film’s exploration of Presley’s appropriation of African-American culture, covering songs like “Hound Dog” — originally a non-hit for the brilliant Big Mama Thornton — and making them rock and sell. For singers like Thornton, the American dream never existed.

Enter powerhouse singer Darlene Love, who is represented on another new project, Where No One Stands Alone, a fourteen-track compilation of Elvis’s gospel work due out August 10 on RCA/Legacy. The L.A.-born minister’s daughter started singing in the church choir at ten, on the road to being scooped up by producer Phil Spector to belt hits like “He’s a Rebel,” “Today I Met The Boy I’m Gonna Marry,” and “Christmas (Baby,Please Come Home).” The lead voice of such groups as the Blossoms and Bob B. Soxx & the Blue Jeans, Love ended up working as a maid in the Eighties, but when she heard one of her old hits on the radio while she was scrubbing, it inspired her to get back into performing full-time. Her appearance in the Oscar-winning 2013 documentary 20 Feet From Stardom was memorable, especially when it addressed the way Spector promised her a solo career, but gave other singers credit for her work.

I recently talked to Darlene about her backup singing for Elvis, and how she feels about the King’s relationship to the music he both co-opted and celebrated.

Hi, Darlene. What is some of the gospel work you did with Elvis?

There is “Let Us Pray,” the one from the movie we did with Elvis, Change of Habit. That was his last film.

It was in 1969, with Elvis as a doctor and Mary Tyler Moore as a nun.

We, the Blossoms, are in the first scene. And we were in his 1968 comeback special [Singer Presents … ELVIS].

His new gospel compilation album should be quite interesting.

They [recently] had me do some fill-ins, what we call ad libs, throughout the album to make it sound more gospel. I haven’t heard it yet. Hopefully it’s a wonderful thing.

Elvis went to church and listened to gospel singers to soak up what they did, right? 

Even today, it’s more mixed than it was in the Fifties and Sixties. Whites and blacks didn’t go to church together back then. What Elvis told me he would do — we had night service on Sunday night when we did what we called “praise songs.” A lot of them were songs he loved, what we called “hymn songs.”

We didn’t have air conditioners. We had pushup windows, with a little rope. Elvis said he would stand outside the church rather than going in, because they didn’t think black and white should be in the same churches together. He said he would listen through the windows. It gave him such a thrill. It’s a big difference between the way blacks sang gospel and the way whites sang gospel.

Do you feel he was dedicated to the music or he was just taking it for himself? 

I found out years later, when we were doing the comeback special, that his mother’s favorite music was gospel. He would always sing gospel around her. I think if he could have had a big career in gospel music, that’s where he would have been. But you can always make more money off secular hits. Elvis had 10 or 15,000 people come to his shows to see him. Today, they have mega churches that hold 25,000, but back then, you were doing great if you had 500 people.

I bet they have air conditioning now.

Oh, lord, yes. [Laughs] I lived in Texas for five years as a young kid with my father, and it was so hot we couldn’t even breathe. There was no air conditioning in church or the house. What a difference it makes to have a cool ensemble. You still sweat because of the energy, but back then, we were soaking wet, when we sang in church.

I love gospel music. If I had a calling — meaning from the Lord — just to sing gospel, I would have, but the secular music got to more people. I bet a lot of secular singers like Sam Cooke and Aretha Franklin felt the same way. They never paid us no money. “Do it unto the Lord.” “OK.” [Laughs] We would drive to the gigs and they’d give you an offering — gas money. They were hardly giving us a whole lot of money. But it was worth it, every penny of it. It was a wonderful experience singing gospel.

But was Elvis appropriating the music, or that’s just the way it was?

That’s just the way it was. A lot of people think a white person is copying the black person. He just loved the music and he was singing it the way he felt. He sang “Hound Dog” completely different than Mama Thornton. [Elvis’s version was rock, whereas Thornton’s was blues.] Even today, they take secular music and put it in gospel, and vice versa. You know, Elvis won three Grammys, and they were all for gospel records. 

What were your experiences like with Elvis?

One time, Elvis decided we’d all go to the movies. He bought this theater out that night.

What did you watch — Change of Habit?

Don’t even ask me. I don’t remember. [Laughs] We had a lot of free time when we were recording and when we were making the movie. That’s when the Blossoms and myself got a chance to know the gospel side of Elvis. He’d want to know the songs we knew. He’d get his guitar and say, “You know this song?” “Yes, we grew up on it.” He’d say, “Let’s do it.”

Was he funny or serious?

He was funny and he was serious sometimes. If he didn’t think he was doing great, he’d say, “Hey, girls, how’m I doing?” He was very, very funny. I call it that “country funny.” He would do his moves in the studio the way he was gonna do them onstage. It made it easy to be around him, but sometimes it was not easy because his bodyguards were keeping people from him. He wanted to be with the Blossoms, where he could pull out his guitar. We’d say, “We think you’d better go. You’re gonna get us in trouble.” We’d never forget, because he’d be giving us his personal time.

You’d just be hanging out and singing?

Yes! Whatever song he knew — “Amazing Grace” or “River of Jordan” or “Heaven Is a Wonderful Place” or “Sweet Hour of Prayer.” We called them hymns of the church. There was another one called “Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior.” The Blossoms were known for their harmony. We’d harmonize with him. There’s something we had with Elvis that others didn’t have. It was fun to be wanted by someone like Elvis Presley.

He had tremendous respect for you.

Yes, he did. That was great. I always say he left us way too soon. He is where I plan to go one day, so I’ll see him again.

You were all rather young and great-looking. Was there any sexual tension in the air? 

There was. It could have been. But I was too scared to do anything.

You fool! [Laughs] Kidding. You wanted to keep it professional.

And I definitely did. Something about dating someone you’re working for, it takes away from that. “I know he’s never gonna look at me the same after this.” [Laughs] He’d start playing with me. He’d tap you on the shoulder or do a hip shake, and me and Elvis knew what that meant.

Flirting?

Yeah, I think so, and I think it showed his human side. I wasn’t bad-looking — and I was thin, too. [Laughs] He wanted to take out time and be around us. The reason we sang on his ’68 comeback special is he was the one that insisted that the Blossoms sing in the music section of the show.

So Elvis treated you better than Phil Spector did?

Oh my God, I’d say so.

That’s an easy one.

That’s a real easy one. Phil took advantage of me and my talent. With Elvis, he wanted us to work, and we got paid well. It wasn’t like Phil Spector cracking the whip and us running around!

[theanticool]

Stipe Miocic vs Roy Nelson - UFC 161

While the Stipe-Jones title fight is shambolic in 2024, it did get me thinking about how many new MMA fans have probably never seen Stipe fight outside of maybe the 2nd Francis Ngannou fight and the DC trilogy. And while I like to poke fun of some of Miocic and his camp’s poor decision making over the ‘end’ of his career, I think it’s important to talk about how good he was as a fighter.

There are probably better Stipe performances than this fight with Roy Nelson. But I think it best highlights the things that made Stipe so special, even on the come up. He was an athletic heavyweight with sound fundamental boxing and a wrestling background. Like a true blue chip prospect for heavyweight. He never got to far over his feet when throwing punches. He used his jab and would even double or triple up on it. His footwork was transcendent, especially in a division where top fighters were routinely getting mowed down by an immobile Roy Nelson. Like look at him in this fight. He’s pivoting off of throwing the rear hand! He’s darting in with the 1-2, pivoting out/jumping out of space on an angle and then firing another 1-2. Sometimes off the stance switch. He’s moving laterally. He’s parrying punches. And most of all, he’s making good decisions. He’s not trying to sell out on finishes or prove a point by getting in a firefight he didn’t have to. Just fantastic stuff all around. And it was only his 11th pro fight.

[smurphyse]

Big Bad Handsome Man | Spencer Reid

Series Masterlist | Smurph's Masterlist

Part 20 of Room 405

Warnings: angst, tension, awkwardness, strip-tease shows, morning sickness, blood

Summary: You and Spencer finally learn what each other do for a living

There were a few things in life that knocked Spencer on his ass. He really thought he had himself figured out more than once, and sure enough life came by and sucker punched him in the jaw, emerging from a passing crowd like an assassin in the night. 

Each time his body lifted with the force. His feet left the ground and he hit the concrete with such force he was sure that blow would be the one to do him in. Each time, Spencer got back up. Sometimes it took weeks, months, even years …but he got back up eventually. 

Those fists to the chin could never have prepared him for this, tonight. No, this was definitely another thing Spencer never saw coming. 

"And now, the moment you've all been waiting for…" the announcer's voice rang out over the lounge as Spencer and Hotch waited for the Arends' to begin their set. 

The crowd rowdily banged on tables and stomped on the floor, yelling in their excitement. Spencer looked around and cocked a brow at them. It was just a strip tease, how could these people be so into it when none of these performers would want anything to do with them on the outside?

"The Nocturne proudly presents, not for the first time and certainly not the last… the beautiful minds behind this den of depravity, the parents of pleasure, the owners and leads of this proud establishment…"

It felt wrong being here like this, with scantily clad people all selling the idea of sex and strip tease. He supposed it made some people happier to escape into this fantasy for a few hours…but you were his escape and he'd much rather be with you. 

He blanched when he thought about how he'd tell you all about this, but then he thought maybe you'd like to see the show someday. Then he'd have to explain what the hell he was doing here in the first place… oh you were going to make such fun of him. 

"Momma and Daddy, a song of lust and trust. Just don't cream your pants too early, children," the MC purred over the speakers as the lights went dark in the lounge. "It's about to get hot in here."

The curtain began to lift slowly, the drum rolls of the people and the band shuddering the ground beneath them. The tension in the air was thick, heady and putting Spencer on edge. A shimmering sinful red backdrop appeared behind the curtain, the glimmering dancefloor illuminating the whole place with the illusion of depravity. 

Long, lean legs and glittery red stilettos began to appear, followed quickly by a matching bustier and feathered short skirt. Sleek hair was pinned up in a 50s style boudoir look, shining under the spotlights. The woman posed with a grin, leaning on one hip with a flourishing hand pointing up at the lights. 

Charlie Arends stood behind her in black leather pants and a matching vest with nothing underneath, hair slicked back and a confident smirk on his face. He looked over the crowds as they began to cheer, the rest of the stage cast in shadow. He turned his head into the crook of her neck and placed a kiss there. 

When the curtain hit the top, a sultry crimson glow blew across the stage, blinding Spencer for a moment. 

A blasting of trumpets and saxophones exploded through the venue as his eyes adjusted, cheers from the crowd going wild. It was then that Spencer finally took in this woman and her outfit, and his stomach dropped as he noticed the final finishing touch. 

A red collar with a heart charm…just like the one you'd surprised him with all those months ago when he came back from Texas after five weeks away. 

Because the half naked dancer in a barely-there corset for every rich man in this room to see… was you… dancing with Charlie Arends.

Your head turned to press your cheek against Charlie's, and he quickly moved to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. His whole world stopped, a fifty pound weight sinking deeper in his belly as your hand pulled the back of his neck to bring him closer. You pulled away as the music swelled.

"The man is tall, mad, mean and good lookin', and he's got me at his eye," you sang sultrily as you and Charlie locked eyes with cheeky grins. Spencer's fingers gripped his pants leg tightly as boiling hot jealousy coursed through his veins. "When he looks at me, I go weak at the knees. Got me going like no other guy."

Your palm landed gently on your husband's cheek, his arm wrapping around your waist. He twisted you out in a flash, lingering fingers clutching yours as you posed for the crowds. They went wild as Spencer sat, mouth agape, watching you in the last place he'd ever thought you'd be. 

"He's the devil divine, I'm so glad that he's mine. 'Cause he's my big bad handsome man."

A song of lust and trust…

Spencer foolishly thought you saved the lust part for him. Was this how you two always were? Clinging and close and unembarassed by touch?

Spencer's rational mind recalled you saying how close you were with your husband, that you didn't date because people never understood your relationship…but as he watched Charlie Arends dance sexily with you, he wanted to melt into a puddle of self-doubt and anxiety. 

You twirled and sang with your lacquer-lined lips, smiling like a fiend. You turned back to him, belting out with a beautiful confidence, "Oh, the music he plays, the way he moves me and sways, rocks me to the floor."

Charlie placed a palm on your chest and with a choreographed shove pushed you to the floor. Your hand lashed out to grip his tie and pull him with you. Charlie leaned in close and licked a heavy stripe up your neck, and Spencer nearly shredded his pant leg as your eyes rolled back into your head. "When he sings in my ear, he makes me shiver and leer. Leaves me wanting more and more!"

Another carefully planned move later, and you were swept up high, then back on your feet. Charlie twirled you out, and with a faux look of surprise you gazed demurely at the crowd as your bustier slipped off and was thrown to the crowd, leaving you in just a lace red bra. 

The crowd whooped and yelled, and without much thought besides not wanting any of these assholes touching anything belonging to you, Spencer’s hand reached up and snatched it out of the air. 

“Cause he’s my big, bad, handsome man. He’s got me in the palm of his hand…”

A few celebratory claps and disappointed boos sounded out behind him, but Spencer's gaze was solely on you as he clutched the fabric. He vaguely noticed Hotch watching him worryingly out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it. Instead he rubbed his thumb over the lace and beadwork, his usually lightning fast mind struggling to process. 

He wanted to march right up on stage and throw you over his shoulder. He wanted to carry you out and make sure you knew who you belonged to… but another part of him was heartbroken. You looked so happy, in a way he'd only seen in Room 405. But then again, he'd rarely seen you outside it. 

Your hair bounced free from your updo, falling over your shoulders. It flew with you as Charlie and you performed this routine. It was so practiced, so comfortable and full of trust between the two of you. He couldn't figure out why he felt so crushed, so betrayed. All he knew was that he thought he was falling apart in this stool.

The music swelled and boomed, the lights shone off your bright lipstick. Another flick of Charlie's wrist and your feather skirt was gone, disappearing over the crowd. It left you in only some lingerie and those sparkly stilettos, and it looked like something he would've bought for you. 

Charlie twirled you out and you walked sultrily down the glossy stairs of the stage. Your hands flicked out expertly to draw attention to your figure. The music hit a peak, and with sudden fear, Spencer realized a spotlight had turned to him and you were fast approaching. This seat was a hot seat, a place for the performers to interact with the audience. 

Spencer swore he saw the moment your breath caught in your chest as you spotted him. Your steps faltered, your jaw dropping. He shifted in his seat to sit up straighter, locking eyes with your suddenly pleading gaze. You looked back at Charlie with wide eyes, and his head cocked in confusion, but you quickly snapped back into gear as your part came up again.

Strutting to the hot seat he was in both metaphorically and physically, your hand slipped around Spencer’s shoulders as you plopped down in his lap. One long leg crossed over the other, and it took everything Spencer had not to pick you up and run you out of the lounge. Your palm slid over his chest, a perfectly manicured nail moving up to guide him by the chin to look at your beautiful face.

“With his rugged good looks, yeah, he’s got me hooked,” you sang sweetly, but your eyes were watery. You were scared and trembling in his lap at his reaction, and without much thought Spencer slid a hand over your thigh and squeezed your knee. “Got me where he wants me to be.”

“We’re going to talk about this later,” Spencer whispered in your ear as you sang. “Just act natural so nobody suspects.”

You didn’t react the way he thought, your eyes turning into a squint. In a flash you twirled off his lap. The spotlight followed you as you moved, hugging your curves in a silhouette. Your palms slid over his chest as you sang, “He’s the kind of guy that does it for me.”

With a quick push, Spencer’s chair flew back. He landed heavily on his back on the hardwood, watching in pure shock as you glowered down at him for a moment before turning on your heel away from him as the crowd roared. Hotch was there in a second, pulling him and the chair upright. 

“He’s the devil divine, I’m so glad that he’s mine.” You sauntered back up the stairs slowly, hands flourishing out. The music pulsed through his veins as the crowd exploded with excitement and you wiggled your backside for every man in this place to see. 

“Cause he’s my big. Bad! I’m so glad.” You turned enough to gaze sultrily out at the audience with a cocky grin, body posed seductively and wrenching Spencer’s heart in his chest. “That he’s my big bad handsome man, hmm…”

The lights cut out, flooding everyone in darkness. The crowd went wild, clapping and jeering. Spencer clenched his fingers around the bustier as he stared at the spot you and Charlie had occupied, a vein pulsing painfully in his forehead. 

He knew this was irrational jealousy. You'd told him time and time again that your marriage was in name only…but that chemistry between you and your husband was undeniable. 

Another act came on a few seconds after the lights faded, dancers flying about the stage in shimmering costumes and singing along to the beat, but his vision tunneled as it became nothing but background noise to Spencer's own insecurities. 

You were the owner of the Nocturne, the wife of Charlie Arends, the mother of the witness to a brutal murder. You were the burlesque dancer who hated cops…the one Hotch said had a police officer ex who was abusive and cruel. 

Why did you keep this from him?

"Reid," Hotch's voice came from his right, and Spencer turned to see his boss watching him with concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he spat through gritted teeth. Spencer picked up the bourbon courtesy of Miss Fierce and downed it in one gulp before slamming it back down on the table. 

You ran straight to your office after stepping off stage, flinging the door open to your private bathroom as your stomach lurched. Your knees hit the tile painfully as you threw your dinner up into the toilet loudly. 

Clutching the cool porcelain, your sobs broke free as your stomach emptied itself. The music downstairs vibrated the floor beneath you as you sat in a red lingerie set and sparkly stilettos for everyone to see. God, what did Spencer think of you now?

Everything had been going so well, too well. Loud footsteps came up the stairs as you leaned back to lean on the wall. You suddenly felt so dirty sitting there in underwear and a collar on a strip tease bathroom floor. You were nothing in that moment, once again a pregnant whore who felt like she had nowhere to go.

What the hell was he even doing in a place like this? Had one of his friends dragged him here and he lied and told you it was for work? Could you really be mad at him for coming here when you're the one who owned the den of sin?

Act natural so nobody suspects. He'd talked to you like a dirty little secret…and after this that was probably all you'd be to him. 

Charlie flew into the doorway, collapsing to his knees and putting his hands on your shoulders. You burst into unwanted tears and clung to him like a child. Your future was so uncertain at that moment, and all you wanted was your best friend. 

Charlie curled you up in his lap, holding you so tight you were sure to burst. He brushed back your hair to see you as heavy mascara streaked down your cheeks through the glitter and foundation. 

"Baby, what is going on? Are you okay?" he asked softly, full of such protectiveness you wanted to hold him forever and not let go. 

"Oh, Charlie!" you sobbed hysterically. "I need to go home. Please, please take me home."

"I… I, uhm," Charlie sputtered. He didn't let go of you, but you knew how he got when he felt bad about something. You sat up and watched him warily. 

"What did you do?"

Charlie hung his head in shame, "The FBI is here. They want to talk to you."

You shook your head, "I can't. Not tonight. I need to go home, okay?"

"What's going on?" he asked seriously. His arms around you kept you grounded, but you were terrified. Your whole world seemed to be crashing down around you, and you didn't know what was going to happen next. 

"Charlie…" you whispered. Your voice wavered, and Charlie stiffened. Slowly you raised your eyes to meet his. "I'm pregnant."

His jaw dropped, eyes widening in excitement…but then his face scrunched up as he likely realized that baby had no way of being his. Your heart sank into your belly as you watched the father of your children come to his own terms with this, and he nodded slowly.

“The boyfriend?” he asked quietly. You nodded. “Does he know?”

You shook your head, becoming frantic once more. “And for some reason, he’s in the audience in the hot seat… he didn’t know where I work and now he does and… oh, fuck, Charlie!”

You motioned to the mess you looked now with your smeared makeup and scant clothing. “He’s not going to want me anymore… you don’t know about my past, everything… the more he finds out about me the faster he’s going to leave and so will you!”

Charlie’s hand clamped suddenly over your mouth, his brows furrowing together. He watched you with such determination and love you could have died right there. “I know about your past. I didn’t leave, and if he leaves you because of this then you and that kid are better off without him. I’ll be a dad of six instead of five, and you and I both know whoever you marry after me is going to have to deal with that anyway.”

Tears poured over your cheeks and onto his hand. Charlie simply slipped it away from your mouth and pulled you into a bone crushing hug. You sobbed into his shoulder as he rocked you back and forth. “You… you knew? About me this whole time?”

Charlie nodded against your head, “My dad wanted a background check after you told me you were pregnant. I saw everything, and well… I didn’t give a shit because I knew that you were my soulmate, baby. He tried to talk me out of it and… I lied and told you it was because of the club. I’m glad he’s not in our lives, because we deserve to surround ourselves with people who accept us for who we are.”

He pulled back to brush your hair away from your forehead and smile at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s what we’ve done for the people here, together. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Okay?”

Your voice shook but you believed him, and you were so happy he never made you talk about being a call girl or made you ever feel bad for having to do what you did to keep Tulip safe. “Okay.”

Charlie kissed you then, soft and slow. It wasn’t sexual, it never was anymore. It was comforting, full of love and devotion in a way so few people would ever understand. You kissed him back, clinging to him like the lifeline he was in the darkness you’d found yourself in so suddenly. 

There was a clearing of a throat, and a soft knock on the doorframe, and when you pulled away you found yourself looking up at Agent Hotchner… and Spencer, holding your discarded bustier.

“Mrs. Arends,” he said softly, always nice to you even though you’d been a raging dick to him time and time again. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but you couldn’t pull your gaze from the sheepish man before you. He lacked all the confidence he had in Room 405, and instead watched you with watery eyes… you knew he’d seen you kissing Charlie, and it had broken his heart.

“Spencer,” you murmured, mostly in shock.

“Y/N,” he replied quietly. 

Agent Hotchner sighed and ran a hand over his forehead. He held out a hand for you. “I think we have a few things to talk about, including your relationship with Doctor Reid.”

He and Charlie helped you stand shakily while Spencer held himself back with his hands shoved in his pockets. Your brows furrowed, and you pointed between them, “You two know each other?”

Agent Hotchner nodded, “Doctor Reid works with me in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Charlie gasped and his head shifted down to you. Everyone seemed to be staring right through you as your brain struggled to process what he was telling you. Charlie thrust a finger at Spencer, “This is the boyfriend?”

Spencer's eyes lit up a bit, turning to you with hopefulness. Anger and confusion battled in your mind for dominance, old memories of Tulip's biological father swirling to the surface. 

“I… I didn’t know,” you muttered, staring hard at Spencer. You cocked your head, “You’re in the FBI? You’re a cop?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, almost shamefully. “I convinced your husband to let us talk to you tonight… about interviewing Tulip. We think she might be th-.”

“You’re a cop!?” you asked again sharply. All the men seemed to take a collective cautious breath in as rage boiled through you like a wildfire. 

Spencer's eyes clamped shut for a moment, like he always did when he was frustrated, and he ran a heavy hand over the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous. You knew that about him, all those little things about his personality…and here he stood before you in too similar a job as someone who almost broke you. 

He opened them slowly, those long lashes flickering as he struggled to contain himself. Spencer straightened his shoulders and locked jaw. His reached out his palm with your bustier and handed it to you. "You should probably get dressed."

Your battered mind struggled through the slosh of emotions and all this new conflicting information, but you managed to look toward the mirror above the sink and see how much of a mess you were. 

Mascara stained your cheeks, your lipstick smeared. Your lingerie was rumpled and rucked up around your waistline. The only thing still in tact was that fucking collar. Your chin began to wobble as you saw yourself… you looked just how you did when you were stripping for money or getting dressed after visiting a client… like a whore, a sex worker no FBI agent would dare be seen with. 

You nodded slowly and grabbed it from him, your arms moving up to cover yourself. Sucking in a pained breath, you moved forward and pushed past them without a word and into your office. 

You had a paper divider by the window so you could change by yourself and in privacy, and a dresser behind it. With wobbly legs, you struggled to carry yourself over, but Charlie was right behind you, keeping you safe without having to ask for it. 

There was a soft knock on the door, and Miss Fierce came in. Her jaw dropped a bit as she spotted you, but she didn't comment on it when she saw Charlie. She thrust a thumb over her shoulder, "I'm sorry to bother, but there's some guy bothering Tessa near the bathrooms."

"Where's Manny?" Charlie asked gruffly, making it clear he didn't want to leave you. 

"He's on stage and so is Marty."

"Go," you told him softly, but he put a hand on your waist to tell me he didn't want to. You pushed him lightly, "Seriously, go take care of it. I'll be fine."

He shifted so you couldn't see Spencer or Aaron, leaning in close, "You sure?"

"We have to take care of our girls, Chuck." You gave him a soft smile, "You know me. I'll be okay."

Charlie nodded and pressed his lips to your forehead. He turned on his heel and made his way out of the office, making sure to take the time to eye Spencer on his way out. Miss Fierce followed after him, closing the door quietly on her way out. 

"Have a seat," you offered, waving my hands at the fuzzy pink chairs in front of my desk. You went behind the divider and opened a drawer where they couldn't see you. There was a dressing mirror in the corner, and it took all you had not to break down looking at yourself. 

"Obviously, this situation was unexpected," Aaron's voice came from the other side. You heard him sigh and continue, "I knew Spencer had a girlfriend, but I didn't know it was you and he had no reason to tell me as such." 

You shrugged a long duster over a bodysuit tank top and pulled on some jeans, but something about that sentence bothered you as you dressed. You slipped on a black pair of stilettos and pulled your hair back into a ponytail. The anger bubbled further to the surface as you wiped off your makeup, and as soon as you were done you flew out from behind the divider in a rage.

“You knew your team was questioning my daughter!?” you snarled as you stomped toward the desk, your finger pointed at Spencer. “Did you read my file?”

His eyes turned to saucers, wide and a bit scared of your rage. Spencer leaned back in the ridiculous chair and braced himself on the arms. “I… I didn’t…”

Aaron put a hand between you as if to protect him. “Out of respect for your privacy and explicitly detailed lack of trust in the police, I did not divulge any information with my team except what was necessary. Doctor Reid had no idea you were the mother of a victim.”

Spencer watched you and nodded as your chest heaved. You couldn't seem to help but growl as you struggled to contain your anger. You hated cops. They couldn't be trusted. 

You decided to sit down and pour yourself a drink of water from the bottle you kept in your desk drawer. You didn't offer Spencer or Aaron anything, just took a long sip and glared at them. 

"We initially came here tonight to see if you were open to the idea of Doctor Reid speaking with Tulip," Aaron continued cautiously. "He doesn't seem to have had any idea you worked here even though you're supposedly together, but I guess that's something we can sort out later."

"I'm pretty sure I told you exactly where to shove your badge after talking to her last time," you replied coldly, setting the heavy tumbler on the desk. "She's had nothing but nightmares since she spoke with you."

"I understand, but Reid has a great rapport with children, and like I said before I believe talking about it is going to help Tulip more than keeping it inside."

You turned to Spencer, who watched you with those damned puppy dog eyes, "Why should she talk to you?"

"I, uhm, specialize in what we call 'cognitive interviews,'" Spencer started slowly. He cleared his throat awkwardly and rubbed his neck again, and all it did was make you angrier. "This is especially helpful with children. We talk them through the incident as if it's happening in real time, and they experience it again in a safe space where they know they can't be injured or harmed."

He swallowed thickly, hardly able to keep eye contact with you. How could he after seeing you on stage? "It helps people work through the effects of early PTSS, as the event no longer tends to appear in their mind like it's still happening."

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned back, eyeing him critically. Spencer leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and finally locked eyes with you. 

"You'll be right by her side, keeping her safe," he pleaded, eyes wide and full of what you could have confused for love for you if tonight hadn't happened. "Please, sweetheart, trust me with this. I won't let anything happen to her. You have to know that."

"I don't know anything right now," you whispered, and he nodded sadly. Using his nickname for you in this situation… it gutted you. 

And knowing you were pregnant…you wanted to believe him, but your mind was so scattered. You had kids who needed you now, and your body was trying to create a new one. All this stress… it couldn't be good for you or the baby. 

A sharp scream echoed from downstairs, jolting all three of you from your spot. Your family was down there, and you were on your feet quicker than Spencer or Aaron. You tore across the room without any thought, barreling down the hallway with them following closely behind. 

"Sweetheart, stop!" Spencer called, and you heard the familiar click of a gun leaving its holster. You hadn't even noticed one on him… so many things you didn't know about the man you were in love with. 

As you reached the bottom of the spiral stairs, you spotted a group of people gathered around the bathroom doors. The music had stopped, and someone had turned all the lights on, which only made the danger seem that much more nefarious. 

"Move!" you yelled, shoving through the throngs of people. If one of your girls was injured, you needed to get to them. "Get out of my way!"

There were a few disgruntled hey lady's as you elbowed your way through them. Flinging open the door to the bathroom, you stopped dead in your tracks at what you saw on the tile floor. 

A man was slumped under the sink, a bloody trail leaking from his stomach and over the porcelain. Your eyes glazed over the scene, not really processing it, until you saw Charlie. 

He lay on his back, and he wasn't moving. His blond hair was flecked with splattered blood and mucus. His face was covered with thick red liquid, pooling beneath him and onto the floor below. Your veins filled with ice as you began to panic. 

You collapsed with a scream, reaching out and cradling his head in your hands. It smeared under your palms and across his skin, but you tried to push that out of your mind. He grunted a bit but his eyes didn't open. "Charlie? C'mon, baby, look at me!"

"Move," Aaron's voice came from the side, and he pushed you away. His hands wandered under Charlie's neck, and you realized he was checking for a pulse. 

"No, no, no," you sputtered, unable to comprehend the sight before you. It was all too much, and you couldn't do this without him. You needed him. 

You tried to put your hands on Charlie again, babbling like a child, "Charlie, baby. Baby, please wake up!"

"Reid, get her out of here!" Aaron snapped, and before you knew it a pair of hands grabbed you under the armpits and lifted you in the air. 

"Get off me! Let me go!" you screeched, kicking and flailing, but Spencer never dropped you. 

He pushed you out the door, and you managed to wiggle out of his grasp, falling to the floor. Your morning sickness hit, and before you knew it you threw up all over the ground.  

The gawking staff and customers cast a wide berth, not wanting to get your sick on them even during a time like this. Spencer's pulled back your ponytail as you threw up again. 

"It’s okay, it's gonna be okay," he soothed, rubbing a palm over your spine. "Sweethe-."

"Get off me!" you snarled, shoving him away. Spencer lifted his hands from you and held them up to prove he wouldn't touch you again. You panted as you watched him on your knees, "Let me in there. Now."

He shook his head firmly, getting on his knees to block you. "I can't do that. I called 911, and they're on their way. You'll only get in the way."

Your face scrunched up in rage as you pointed past him, "That's my husband in there!"

Spencer sighed and nodded. You watched in confusion as a tear trickled down his cheek. 

"I know."

"He needs me." 

Spencer shook his head now and wiped his face, "He needs EMS, and Hotch is first aid certified. You need to stay here."

You couldn't focus your rage anywhere else but at him, lurching forward and shoving him again from your spot on your knees. "You don't get to tell me what to do! Not you, not ever again!"

"Okay," he agreed sotfly. Spencer looked like he wanted to touch you again, but he kept himself back. "Okay, whatever you want."

All the fight left your body as you began to hear sirens, and you went mostly limp on the floor. Tears streaked down your cheeks, your hands slick with blood as you watched the love of your life keep you away from your soulmate. 

"He's my husband," you whispered tearfully. 

"I know," Spencer said again, his chin wobbling. He nodded bravely, but his eyes were red and watery. He gave you a weak smile. 

"I know."

Notes: I promise you we'll have a happy ending!

I also wanted to say thank you. I know this was a long update coming, but I have had some of the craziest stuff go on, both good and bad! I chose to work on other stories since I had a block on this for so long, and people gave me a lot of hate... so for those of you who were nice and encouraging, THANK YOU <3 It means a lot to me.

Taglist:

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