#gray cocktail dress

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Criminal ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Kidnapping.

Little gift for the New Year! Hope you guys like it :)

--

◾ Yandere!Criminal whose specialty is small robberies of convenience stores and bodegas, nothing that goes beyond that.

That also means that money is tight, it’s hard enough to cover for the insanely high rent, let alone cover for monthly groceries, water and electricity bills.

◾ Yandere!Criminal who’s fucking tired of sitting in his dark shitty apartment, smoking a blunt in hopes of deceiving the hunger that rumbles in his stomach. 

He lays back on his second-hand couch, eyes following the gray ropes of smoke that ascend from his lips, mind racing on every possible way of making money fast.

His rent is due in a week and his fridge is desolately empty, aside from a bottle of water. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who gets restless and in the spur of the moment, decides to head out on a walk around his block. Maybe that’ll give him some ideas or distract him from the ache in his stomach. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal barely takes a few steps into the street when he sees you. 

A pretty girl walking down the street, eyes nervously darting towards every shadow that moves. 

What are you doing out in the dark street at such hours?

It’s way past midnight, as the old watch in his wrist tells him. That’s not time for a girl like you to be out, especially not his neighborhood at least.

You’re lucky that no one has approached you yet or you wouldn’t be looking so damn cute right now. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal whose interest is spiked when he notices the clothes you’re wearing under the dim moonlight.

The short dress only long enough to cover your ass, the high stiletto heels clicking on the dirty floor at each step you take. 

You’re looking like a serious sex-bomb in those clothes, despite the scaredy expression covering your dolled-up face. 

But a second look at your body has him squinting his eyes, brain engines rolling as he examines your outfit.

Is that a fucking Prada cocktail dress? And the heels that you’re wearing Louboutins? The fancy purse, a Channel limited edition? It’s got to be daddy’s money, cause that face of yours isn’t giving smart vibes.

◾ Yandere!Criminal who instantly knows this is destiny.

You were sent to him for a reason. And the reason is that you’re his new bank account. 

You have to be, otherwise it would’ve been some disgusting scumbag to find you first. 

He wastes no time in reaching out for you. He knows he’s not bad looking, high-cheekbones and lustrous dark hair. Hopefully that works in his favor. 

And it certainly does, a kind expression on his face as he offers you help. You immediately accept - so fucking naive, you poor dumb thing - immediately blabbering that your phone lost battery and that you’re sooo late to his super-chick party whose address you’re not entirely sure of. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who nods, pretending to understand all your issues. Slapping his face as he remembers that - oh, yeah, he kinda forgot his phone in his apartment. Maybe you’d want to come with him while he grabs it?

It’s not safe for you to be out here, on your own. Dangerous neighborhood and all of that.

And you follow him right away, like a lost duckling. It’s so easy, a smirk creeping on his face when you enter his apartment.  

◾ Yandere!Criminal who instantly pounces on you, dragging you by the hair to his bedroom, a new found adrenaline running down his body.

You shriek and cry out loudly so he’s forced to push some old cloths on your mouth, using duct tape.

Honestly, he’s not even that worried about you getting away cause you’re barely able to put any fight. You’re a weak little thing, aren’t you?

◾ Yandere!Criminal who only waits a day before contacting mommy and daddy, demanding a good amount of green for them to be able to retrieve you.

He thinks a lot about how’s it gonna play out, creating a plan that sounds pretty much bullet-proof.

He gets easily distracted by you, eyes greedily running over your body. The dress doing even less to cover you in the daytime light, the make-up smudged and half-disappearing, revealing a younger – cuter – face.

You’re relatively obedient too, toning down your hysterical cries after he harshly yelled at you. He could bet that if he put on a mean face and threatened you, you’d probably suck him off. 

◾ Yandere!Criminal who finally gets his money, a large grin opening up in his face as he receives the cash. More than enough for him to move into a fancy mansion on a private neighborhood and retire for the rest of his days. 

No more stealing, no more spending his days worried about rent or food. Now he can finally sip on a freshly-made margarita and relax by the infinity-pool of his new house, the sunny rays hitting his toned skin. 

Maybe after he’s done with his drink, he’ll go pay you a visit. You’re still adapting to your new house - and him, hence why he’s keeping you in a tight leash (literally). 

Now you’re all his. His little ATM.

[corruptedcaps]

Maid for it

“Another day, another mess.” Issy muttered, pushing the door open and stepping into the dim, stale air of the nightclub. Sammy followed close behind, tying her graying hair into a loose bun.

“I don’t know how they do it.” Sammy said, squinting at the leftover chaos. Empty glasses, glittering confetti, and half-crushed cans scattered across the sleek floors. “Every weekend, they come in here acting like they own the place. No respect for anything but themselves.”

Issy snorted, picking up a crumpled cocktail napkin. “The youth of today. They think the world revolves around them. Everything’s a selfie, a status update.”

“Right? Did you see that girl last week when we were on the night shift, the one in the sparkly dress? Spent more time filming herself than dancing.” Sammy shook her head, grabbing the mop.

“Remember when we used to go out? Actually had fun without needing an audience.” Issy said grabbing a trash bag.

Sammy smiled. “Good times, Issy. Good times.”

Issy looked around the club, hands on her hips. “So, where should we start?”

Sammy, already eyeing the far end of the room, groaned. “We should flip for the bathrooms. You know they’re always the worst. I swear, they must turn into animals in there after midnight.”

Issy pulled a coin from her pocket, holding it up with a smirk. “Heads, you do the bathrooms. Tails, I’ll take the hit.”

Issy flicked the coin into the air. It spun, catching the dim light, before landing in her palm. She peeked and grimaced. “Tails. Dammit.”

Sammy chuckled. “Good luck in there. I’ll take the bar.”

With a sigh, Issy grabbed her cleaning supplies and headed toward the bathrooms. The door to the ladies’ restroom creaked open, revealing the usual chaos. Loose makeup smeared across the countertops, lipsticks rolling about, and a few forgotten articles of clothing thrown haphazardly on the floor.

“Same old, same old.” She muttered, shaking her head. As she wiped down the counter, something caught her eye. There, lying next to an abandoned sequined purse, was a black wig.

Issy barely had time to blink before the black wig sprang to life, leaping from her hands and onto her face. “What the hell—!” She gasped, stumbling backward as it crawled across her skin like a living thing.

The wig slithered up her cheeks and over her eyes, settling firmly on top of her head. She reached up to tear it off, but just as her fingers touched the strands, a sharp, sudden pain pierced her scalp, like dozens of tiny needles burrowing in.

“Ow!” Issy yelped, frantically tugging at the wig, but it was on tight, as if fused to her head. Her hands shook, and as the seconds passed, a strange warmth spread through her body. Subtle at first but soon, it grew into an intense heat, like something was shifting beneath her skin.

She stumbled toward the mirror and froze. Her wrinkled skin, the creases she had grown accustomed to over the years, began to smooth out. The sagging around her chin and eyes lifted, disappearing before her eyes. Her body shrank, her waist narrowing, her arms slimming.

Her breath caught in her throat. “What... what’s happening to me?” She whispered, her voice sounding younger, sharper.

Issy stood frozen in front of the mirror as the transformation continued. Her chest began to swell, her old bra straining as her tits grew larger, fuller, and perkier. The sight made her gasp, her hands instinctively moving to her chest, feeling the unfamiliar weight.

“Oh my god.” She groaned as her hands grasped her new sensitive boobs.

Her lips plumped next, slowly puffing out until they were full and glossy, as if she'd just had an expensive treatment. Her fingers twitched as her nails elongated into perfectly manicured, polished claws, no longer the brittle, chipped things she had grown used to. Every detail, every change, unfolded right before her eyes in the bathroom mirror.

At first, her mind raced in panic. “This isn’t right! What’s happening to me?” She could barely recognize herself. Her body was no longer that of a middle-aged woman, but something else entirely. A younger version of herself, but not even that. This version of her was more idealized, almost like one of the women she’d see strutting around the nightclub, basking in attention.

“This... feels kind of... good.” She murmured, a smile creeping across her face.

Issy’s smile widened into a full, self-satisfied smirk as she admired her reflection. She couldn’t stop staring and why would she? She was perfect. Her body was flawless, every curve exactly where it should be, her skin glowing like it had been airbrushed. Her lips curled as she traced a finger along her jawline.

“God, I’m gorgeous.” She purred, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. She tilted her head, catching the light just right, and let out a soft laugh. “No wonder those girls spend all night taking photos. If I looked like this every day, I’d never stop looking at myself.”

Her eyes gleamed as she adjusted her stance, taking on a more bratty posture. “How could anyone not be obsessed with me?” She purred, running her hands over her hips, admiring the perfect hourglass figure staring back at her. She turned, posing, admiring herself from every angle.

Now, she felt invincible, untouchable. No one could match her. Not even the sluts she cleaned up after. “I’m better than them. Better than everyone.”

Issy’s breath caught in her throat as the words echoed in her mind. “Better than everyone.” She repeated slower, taking in the gravity of the statement, the condescension of the words. She blinked, suddenly horrified by the vanity consuming her.

“What am I saying?” She whispered, shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t like those girls, shallow and self-absorbed. She was… a good person, wasn’t she?

“No!” She muttered, forcing herself to look away from the mirror. Her hands shot up to her head, fingers gripping the wig. She tugged, trying to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Instead, a tingling sensation crept across her skin as the hair started to defend itself by hitting her with more changes.

Her maid’s uniform tightened around her body, the fabric hugging every new curve as it shrank higher and higher, separating at the middle. The bottom part morphed into a slick, black leather skirt, clinging to her like a second skin.

The top part relaxed and in fact became bigger, becoming a luxurious and decadent, fur coat draping over her shoulders. Her sensible work bra followed in her new skirts footsteps by turning into a tight leather tube top.

Issy’s hands dropped from her head and ran over the leather, feeling the smooth texture, her fingers grazing the fur. “It’s perfect.” She said, her bratty tone returning and a smirk creeping back onto her face despite herself. She twirled, watching the coat flare out.

She looked better than any girl she had seen walk in or out of that club and the feeling was intoxicating. She knew could any wan eating out of the palm of her hand with just a look. As a maid she was invisible, but looking the way she did now who could ignore her?

And yet there was still a voice in the back of her head urging her, begging her to rip the hair off. The hair was giving her a body to die for but it was also making her more conceited and vain.

“No! This isn’t right! Ohhhh fuck but it feels sooo good! No I have to end it before it’s too late.@ she groaned.

Using what resistance she still had in her, she reached up and grabbed the hair in her hands. Her pretty nailed fingers wrapping around as many strands as possible. With one big tug she hoped it could at least come a little loose but the hair had one last card to play.

All at once Issy felt a surge of heat flow to her pussy and she felt it tighten to an extreme she didn’t know was possible. The very act was making her cum like never before, her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“Ohhhhh goddddd yessss!” She moaned loudly. Images of hot guys railing her in the very bathroom she was in filled her mind and made her cum again. She pictures herself strutting through the club like it was a buffet, choosing any man she wanted. She would be the best sec they ever had and she would make sure they spoilt her as rotten as her soul.

“Why fight it?” The thought slithered into her mind like an invader she couldn’t argue with. “I deserve this.”

Issy’s eyes rolled back to normal but there was a change instantly in them. They were no longer soft and caring eyes, instead they sparkled with spoilt narcissism. She stared at her reflection, the smirk growing wider, her eyes gleaming with pride. “Of course I fucking deserve this.” She said, the words slipping out effortlessly. She felt a surge of power, a thrill that coursed through her veins.

“I’m never going back to being some fucking loser maid again.” She declared, her voice full of conviction. The memory of her old self, ordinary and invisible, was pathetic. She sneered at the thought.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Sammy’s voice echoed off the tiles. “Issy, are you ok in here? I heard a moan of pain.” She called, her tone impatient. But as she stepped inside, she froze, her eyes going wide. “What the hell…?”

Standing in front of the mirror was a woman Sammy barely recognized. Issy, or at least what was left of her, turned slowly with a bored expression. “Relax loser, haven't you ever seen perfection before. Of course you haven’t just look at you.” She drawled, rolling her eyes.

Sammy’s jaw dropped as Issy picked up a glittering sequin bag from the counter. Unzipping it, she pulled out a thick wad of cash, a grin spreading across her face. “Look at this, my day just keeps getting better.” Issy purred.

Sammy stepped forward, her voice shaking. “Issy I don't know what happened to you, but you can't keep that cash and we need to get you help to reverse whatever the hell happened to you!”

Issy scoffed, flipping through the cash. She playfully put it up to her face like it was a telephone. “Hello police? Yes my friend put on a sexy black wig and turned in to the hottest bitch I've ever seen. Get real loser, even if there was a way to reverse this why the fuck would I want to go back to that pathetic loser I was?”

Sammy grabbed her by the arm. “Because this isn't you, Issy.”

Issy yanked her arm free, her eyes flashing. “You're right, I'm not Issy anymore. That weak, invisible woman is dead. I’m Bella now. And Bella gets everything she wants.”

Sammy’s heart raced as she backed away, her eyes darting between Bella and the door. “I’m going to find help. We’ll figure out how to take that wig off, Issy, I swear.” she said, her voice firm but shaking.

Just as Sammy reached for the door, Bella moved with lightning speed, slamming it shut with a loud bang. Sammy froze, staring at her in disbelief. “What are you doing?” She asked, fear creeping into her voice.

Bella leaned in, her eyes gleaming with a dark, twisted delight. “I can’t have anyone knowing about my wonderfully evil hair now can I? So, you’re just going to have to join me… Samantha.” She said slowly, her voice dripping with malice.

Sammy flinched at the sound of her full name, her body tensing as Bella ran her hands through her long luxurious hair, pulling thick chunks from her head that seemed to instantly regenerate. Without effort she twisted the clumps it into a sleek ponytail. Before Sammy could react, Bella flung it at her.

“No!” Sammy shrieked, trying to duck away, but the hair came to life midair, writhing and twisting like a serpent. It latched onto her arm, tightening with terrifying strength. Sammy gasped, frantically tugging at it, but the hair slithered up her arm, relentless, heading straight for her head.

“Get it off me!” She cried, her voice desperate. But Bella only smiled, cold and sinister.

“Don’t fight it, Samantha. You’ll love being a hawt bitch.” Bella purred.

Bella stood back, her arms crossed, watching with gleeful anticipation as the living hair slithered up Sammy’s arm and latched onto her head. Sammy let out a muffled scream, clawing at the strands as they dug into her scalp, but it was no use. The transformation had already begun.

Bella’s grin widened as she saw Sammy’s body start to change. Her chest swelled, her boobs growing fuller and rounder, the fabric of her cleaning uniform tightening around her frame. Sammy’s lips plumped next, growing into a pouty, perfect shape as if they had been touched by a masterful surgeon, designed to be prefect for dick sucking. Her wrinkles faded before Bella's eyes, years melting off her face as her skin smoothed into a flawless, youthful complexion.

Sammy’s body slimmed and reshaped, her figure becoming athletic and toned, curves in all the right places. Her old exhausted, middle-aged self was disappearing by the second. Bella felt a surge of satisfaction and pride watching the transformation unfold, seeing Sammy’s resistance fade.

Sammy’s eyes, once wide with panic, began to dull, her expression shifting from fear to something colder, more detached. Her lips, once trembling, now settled into a perfect, pouty smirk.

Sammy’s maid outfit began to shift, the fabric tightening and shrinking against her changing body. Her uniform morphed, the dull cloth replaced by sleek black leather that hugged her hips, forming a short, revealing skirt. Her top dissolved into a thin black string bra that left little to the imagination, her big tits barely being held by it.

A shiny black puffer coat materialized around her shoulders, draping loosely and adding a seductive edge to the ensemble.

Bella grinned in approval. “Now that’s more like it. Doesn’t that feel better, Samantha?”

Samantha turned to the mirror, her new reflection staring back with cold confidence. She ran her hands over her curves, admiring how her new clothes showed off her perfectly tight new body.

She turned to Bella, her eyes gleaming with approval. She took the cash from her friend’s hand and held it up to her face, mirroring the fake phone call Bella had done earlier. "Hello police? I want to report a crime. The crime of looking oh being a bad bitch." She said sticking her tongue out playfully.

“Thanks babe. You were right, I do love being a hawt bitch. I was meant to be this beautiful.” Samantha said, handing the cash back to Bella she turned back to her reflection. Bella sadled up next to her and the two beauties primped and admired themselves. Samantha grinned pushing her tits out at her reflection.

“We’re going to have so much fun. Imagine the broken hearts we’ll leave behind, the envious bitches watching us, desperate to keep up. We’ll show all those poser girls what it really means to be spoiled brats.” Bella said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

Samantha chuckled, tossing her hair back. “They’ll hate us, but they’ll wish they were us.”

Bella nodded. "Of course but they never will be because we were maid for this."

THE END

[marzipanandminutiae]

there was almost nothing worn for mourning that couldn't be worn in everyday life- even the most staid matte crape fabric probably had some non-mourning enthusiasts, though not many. and a lot of everyday black clothing could stand double duty for at least the late stages of mourning (sparkles, shiny fabric, accents of white, gray, purple, or sometimes red were all allowed in late mourning but not early/deep mourning). unless it's like...full 1860s Widow with a bonnet and veil, all together, with provenance, it's VERY hard to say "that was just for mourning"

think about it this way. is the cocktail dress you wore to your grandma's funeral only for mourning? or is it a non-flashy black dress that was appropriate for the occasion but could also go to the ballet with different accessories?

also not all Victorian black/black and gold/black and gold and pearl jewelry is dedicated mourning. not all Victorian skull jewelry was dedicated mourning or memento mori. sometimes they just thought Skulls Looked Cool and I have read the Sears Roebuck catalogues to prove it

also also, you weren't necessarily Required to mourn for a specific time length with everyone else keeping score- most etiquette manuals I've read, even the ones that delineate a time frame for each type of loss, also acknowledge that it's a very personal matter. would tongues wag if you didn't seem to mourn long enough? maybe, yeah. but it seems like the Mourning Police were less common than people like to think nowadays.

oh and widowers? were often expected to mourn as long as widows generally did (roughly 1-2 years). I only found a few manuals proscribing a lesser term, even though the popular Common Knowledge nowadays is that widows HAD to mourn for ages and widowers could basically press F and move on with their lives. that's not to say there weren't sexist double standards placed on widows vs. widowers who were ready to move on, but. it wasn't quite like we think, as with the time thing in general

I'm sorry you had to find out like this

[lacroixqueen]

your opal eyes are all i wish to see (sevika x reader, undercover fake dating)

Summary: Silco sent you and Sevika on a covert intelligence mission to a ball on the topside. You have to disguise as a couple to blend in.

Pairing: Sevika x fem reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: slow burn, unrequited love, crush, fake dating, undercover

Silco ordered you and Sevika to partake on an intel mission on the topside that evening. You were obviously over the moon. It wasn’t often he assigned you a job out in the field, but since you have been working extra hard recently, he decided to give you a chance.

“It’s a cocktail party,” he explained casually as he was explaining the operation to you both. He swished around the whiskey in his glass as he spoke. “In the Council headquarters.”

“Who’s our target?” Sevika asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She always wanted to get to the point of every conversation, and fast. 

Silco pushed a file holding a couple photographs across the table. “These two. They are both famous inventors in Piltover. I want you both to get the latest information on Hextech development and report back to me after the event.”

You stood on your tiptoes, peering over Sevika’s shoulder. One of the men in the photos was a stocky-looking broad, and the other was much skinnier. Seemed like an easy enough job. And besides, it was an excuse to doll up and spend more time with your crush. 

You two decided to get ready at the office later that day. Sevika was already changed into a gorgeous black split thigh dress. You walked in shyly with a red off-the-shoulder gown. She glanced at you, grimacing slightly at your amateurish makeup.

“Your eyeliner is uneven,” she commented, sighing as she stood up. “Let me fix it.” You noticed Sevika’s tasteful smokey eyeshadow and glimmery cheek highlights as she walked toward you. Why did she have to look so good but with seemingly such little effort. It simply wasn’t fair.

“I-it’s okay, really!” you assured, stepping back a little. “I just whipped something together last minute, I’m sure no one will notice.”

“I said, let me fix it,” she repeated, sitting you down in a nearby armchair and kneeling before you. She lightly rested the base of her thumb against your cheekbone, taking her makeup pencil and gently drawing out your liner. “These are topsiders. They care about how you look.”

You swallowed that lump in your throat as you noticed how intensely focused her gray eyes were on your face. You hoped she wouldn’t feel how hot your cheeks were burning against her wrist. If she did, she didn’t say anything. 

“There,” she said, capping her eyeliner pencil and then flicking the edges of her work with the side of her fingertip. 

“Thanks, Sevika..” you murmured softly, looking down at the folded hands in your lap.

“Just help me zip up,” she said, standing up and turning her back towards you. 

You gulped apprehensively, stopping to admire her beautiful skin. It was heavily scarred, probably from all the fighting she had to do everyday. You also noticed some faint, blue-purple lines. Most likely aftereffects from her Shimmer-infused mechanical arm. 

Slowly but surely, you slid the zipper up and closed the clasp of her dress. There was a brief pause. And for some reason, you felt this overwhelming urge to just kiss her.

So you did. Very gently, you planted your lips along the curve of her neck. 

She immediately turned around. “What are you doing?”

“I-I just, I’m sorry. I wanted to um.. show you that..” Words failed. You were struggling to figure out a way to express to her that in this moment, she was just about the most beautiful person you have ever seen. That she looked so drop-dead gorgeous in her dress that it was criminal. And that you have had feelings for her for months, and that it was getting hard to even talk to her without wanting to burst into a million little pieces. That you wanted to kiss her so badly at times it was hard to even breathe. 

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“Okay.. I’m sorry, Sevika.” 

The cable car ride up was so silent you swore you could hear a pin drop. You tried to distract yourself from how your heart was effectively shattered by staring mindlessly out the window. 

Stupid stupid stupid. How could you just go and kiss her like that without even asking? It was so obvious from the very beginning she never saw you as anything more than just a colleague. And now it’s like you’ve ruined whatever semblance of a friendship you two had together. You wished you could just take it all back. Rewind the clock and fight that dumb urge you had, or whatever that was. She probably hates you now. And that was just about the worst part. 

Sevika led you two into a back entrance in the Council headquarters to avoid being noticed. The party was tasteful, if a little loud. It seemed like just about anyone who was anyone in Piltover was in attendance. 

“Hold my hand,” she would instruct icily. “We need to look like a couple, not coworkers.”

“O-okay,” you agreed reluctantly, still overthinking the awkward moment you shared not too long ago. 

Her hand felt warm, sturdy, safe. You wondered what it would be like to actually hold it, and not just pretend to. 

“Follow my lead,” she would say as she took your hand and grabbed your waist when the music swelled. You felt protected whenever you were with her. Like nothing bad could ever happen to you. Even though she wasn’t entirely focused on the dance, you could feel her powerful presence. 

But her eyes were surveilling around the entire room. She somehow never lost sight of the mission’s goal. Even amidst the glistening chandeliers, sparkling champagne. The kaleidoscopic ball gowns and the shallow conversation. She never cared for the superficial bullshit.

Almost immediately, she noticed the targets across the ballroom, conversing quietly next to the table of hor d’oeuvres. She proceeded to glide gently over in their direction, guiding you along in the process. She expertly waltzed her way behind large swaths of people, weaving her way through the venue with such quietude and ease.

“Sevika,” you whispered through gritted teeth. “What are you doing? What if they notice us?”

“They won’t,” she shushed you softly. “Just follow my lead, and nothing bad will ever happen.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Even her tone of voice was able to calm you down into a level of zen you have never experienced before.

Deftly, she plucked a glass of bubbling champagne off a wandering waiter’s tray and passed it into your hand, quickly grabbing another one for herself. 

With a level of grace you have never seen before, she naturally clinked her glass against your own and took a generous sip. 

The pair of Hextech researchers were a mere few feet away, whispering about something fervently. 

You placed your hand on a side table, subtly tilting your ear in their direction. 

“I said,” the leaner man repeated. “I made a new breakthrough. The Hextech, it’s.. evolving. As if it has a mind of its own.”

“What do you mean?” the more muscular of the pair muttered. 

“It’s like.. it can learn. It’s making mistakes, and it’s adapting,” the skinnier one elaborated. “If it keeps going like this, I think I can make it–”

“Be quiet!” the other man shushed. “You’re being too loud.”

Without even a moment of hesitation, Sevika took you by the waist and pulled you into a deep kiss. 

At that point, you weren’t even thinking about the crucial piece of information that was just mentioned casually within earshot. 

All you could focus on was her soft lips. And how sturdy and perfect her large hand felt in the delicate curve of your figure. 

How her warm tongue tasted like wine and red lipstick. How you wanted to push her into the wall and return her kiss tenfold. But people were watching. 

“No one is even paying attention,” the thin man continued, running his hand through his hair after scouring the room. “We are fine.”

Sevika smirked into the kiss. They didn’t suspect a thing. 

The inventor pair quickly scurried off, however, much to your dismay. But the deed was done. Besides, you knew you both had to report back to Silco right away. 

Your heart sank when Sevika interrupted your kiss to peer over her shoulder. Once she noticed the targets have left, she grabbed you by the hand and started to lead you out of the ballroom. 

“Sevika, wait!” you plead. “Why can’t we just stay a little while longer?”

“The mission is complete,” she replied. “Our intelligence became aware of the new development. Besides, we should head back before we are caught.” 

You sighed, knowing that you were fighting a losing battle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t even slightly looking forward to one more dance, one more drink, one more kiss with her. But you knew you were just setting yourself up for more heartbreak. 

Like clockwork, you both disappeared into the night, as quickly as you came. 

On the cable car ride home, there was an eerie air of silence that cloaked the space between you. 

Sevika was looking intently out the window, searching for any potential stragglers who might be on her tail. 

You desperately wished to bring up your misstep from earlier. You wanted to spill out your heart and soul to her, and apologize for overstepping her boundary. 

“S-Sevika,” you managed to stammer out. 

“What is it,” she murmured without taking her eyes off of the road as the lights and signs whooshed by. 

“I-I just wanted to apologize again,” you stuttered. “About what I did when we were getting ready. I should have just asked you first, or not even thought about it at all. I’m sorry.”

She sighed, gently placing her hand on your exposed thigh, rubbing it ever so softly. 

You immediately felt a jolt of electricity rush through your spine. 

“You know..” she started. “I really, really don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to even meet her gaze. You wanted to object, ask her to clarify, or tell her about how much you really did enjoy the kiss, or how you couldn’t take your eyes off of her when she was wearing that goddamn dress the entire night. But you bit your tongue. 

Something in you told you to hold back. At least for now. 

Now wasn’t the right time, a part of your conscience would remind you. 

You relentlessly wondered when exactly that time would be. 

[bruciemilf]

Y'all don't understand how much I want Harley to take Bruce on his first gay club experience. He's sheepish, unsure, playing with the strings of this corset she shoved him Into.

"So, bi or rainbow eyeshadow? Trans? Pan? Ace? Lesbian? Just trying to get the right thing here."

" Pink."

A snap of fingers, pleased, " Never thought I'd say this, but impeccable taste."

" You had a green mohawk and purple shorts last month."

" I was in a dark place. Now chop chop. We have a loooot of free drinks waiting for us."

Now just picture Bruce, sipping on a strawberry vodka cocktail, dressed in a nirvana crop top, matching shorts with fishnets beneath, all pretty on his stool.

He's info dumping about Gray Ghost lore to a bunch of leather daddies.

Harley's having a great night.

[m0chisenpai]

Hey 👋 Can you do a Louis fic where after he and Armand break up, he doesn’t get back with Lestat and moves on or tries for a better healthier relationship with her/reader?

seal the cracks

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader

in which Louis begins to fill the neglected cracks of his relationships

As Louis stares into the crack of the wall, he find your eyes in the debri. he sees the same brokeness as the eyes that stared at him. Broken and beautiful.

Not even Armand's words could convince you to say after the carnage that Louis caused.

He needed to find you. He needed to apologize.

His eyes fall shut and his mind opens to the voices.

"This is the vampire Louis De Pointe Du Lac, searching for the vampire Y/N L/N."

Conversation contiues to overlap, until one voice alls to him. It is hoarse, "she is a ghost. By night she comes out, slaughtering dozens. Then she seals herself away till the hunger can not be bared ny longer."

"No!" a feminine voice hisses, "she fled to Russia! There is a coven there that speaks of her briefly."

More rumors fill him with dead end leads til he hisses, "enough." silencing the voics he sits on the couch. Elbows on his knees, hands in his face.

You could be anywhere. you could be dead. That thought makes ice fill his veins. But one of his workers tell him his ride is here. Ready to take him to the meeting place.

When Louis steps out of the car, he is met with the owner, happily telling him of all his establishment has to offer. But it’s like a fly in his ear as he enters the elevator. Twenty floors felt like a lifetime until he reaches the rooftop which would be filled any other night. But thanks to his financial pull, it is completely empty. Save for the one body sitting at a seatette overlooking the city.

Your body is still, and Louis takes his time to approach slowly, he sees the gleam off your bare shoulders. Admires how the olive little cocktail dress accentuates your body. What should he say? He can feel the rage, the grief. All of the dark murkyfeelings roll over him. As much as you hate him, he is your maker. And he feels you deeply and completely.

He dares to take the seat beside you, giving you the space you deserve. Your head moves just enough to look him in the eye. Your eyes are gray, nearly so light you looked like your eyes were blank white. But the faint streaks of blue make them pop.

“Hello.”

Louis echoes back, “hello.”

“I trust the flight here went well?”

“It did,” you experienced first class in all its beauty and comforts. Not the first time, but from the moment you left your home to landing in Dubai every little thing was covered for you. At first in your pettiness you intended to waste every bit of his money.

Buying obscene five star meals that you tossed. Glasses of champagne, an entire new wardrobe. You waited for him to chew you out as he did all those years ago. But not once did he respond.

“I want to talk about San Francisco.”

“Ah yes,” you pick up a golden case, pulling a cigarette out to settle between your lips. “Do you mind?” He shakes his head. Focusing on the cigarette and it flickers a little. You take a slow drag, tilting your head to blow it into the night air.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

You look to him, “always have. You just never noticed.”

Louis can recall the first time he and Armand met you. You were a bartender in the city trying to make ends meet to make it to New York. You wanted to perform on the big stage. But until then you were stuck mopping puke, taking tips stuffed in your bra and ignoring the perverted glances of customers.

When the two men sat down, they ordered two shots on the rocks which they barely touched throughout the night. Sticking to their cigarettes instead.

“You work here long?” Louis asked as you wiped along the table top.

“Started three months ago.”

“Long term?”

“Hardly, Next year you’re gonna see my name up in big lights in the city,” your smile was giddy. It stirred something in him. Armand hatred how easily you could pull such a smile.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed sir, though I need to start workin' on my accent" Louis feigns surprise. But truth is he could hear the southern twang in your voice the moment he entered.

"What brings a southern girl like you up here?"

"Well, I would have to tell you another night." A drunk waves you down stealing you away from Louis.

A crisp twenty brightens your night beneath his cup. And he and Armand kill the man who took your attention.

Every evening he comes to sit in that same spot, some times with the brooding partner of his, others without him. Some nights he's philosophical, others he's cynical. There are nights where he never utters a word. Just his eyes following your every movement.

You would become his second and final fledgling that following year. Your final night of humanity was spent in New York Armand accepted it, but even though he was hundreds of years older, wiser. The boyish desires to have ones things all to themself remained.

That night Louis took you to a Broadway production, putting you in the best box seats. Though he promised you for the rest of your days you could sit here, you declared tonight to be the very best.

Following afterwards you ate your final meal. Soul food from an old mom and pop shop and half glass of champagne which led you to where you sat now. He held you in his arms one final time.

"Will this truly be the last time you hear my mind?" your voice is hoarse from the silence as you soaked in your final sunrise.

"It is," he sees every memory one last time. He relishes in those big brown eyes, that gap in your teeth, the freckles from being out in the sun all day. He remembers that day so well, and you replay in your mind, wondering if days like that will ever return.

When the sun has completely gone and all that is left is the inky blackness of the night, something in Louis eyes tells you, "it' time."

You wonder what his final thoughts are. aHe wishes he were stronger, because he would project them to you. so instead he bgins to tell you. "I'm thinkin' about you. How I'm gonna miss the way your hert skips a beat at your favorite song, how you ear them bright sweaters int hat grungy bar...."

He empties his entire mind, his entire heart to you. Not even Armand had this kind of access to Louis. At midnight, you give him one last kiss as a human, and make love with him for the final time as well. And by the next nightfall you wake up something new, something beautifully cursed to stalk the night by his side.

Nightmares and terrors filly our nights. All from Armand. Only he would have lived enough to see such grotesque horrors. You see boys packed together on a boat weeping covered in their filth and sitting in their own sick.

Another night you are doused in rats and sealed shut in a coffin unable to scream as the giant rodents work to eat you apart in this giant tin box.

But the worst ones are the ones of those who are set on fire. Lying across a pyre and burnt slowly to a chard crisp. At first Louis brushes your worries aside, holding you in his arms in his coffin. But then Louis starts entering your dreams, beaten and bruised fried from the sun in some theatre while an audences thundering laughs rattle you as they cackle at the bloody tears puring from your eyes.

That's when the fight happens.

as soona s you are awake you pounce on Armand and Louis has to pull you off from him, cursing and hissing.

"I know its you!! You monster!! Just cause he won't screw you anymore!!" You thrash at Armand who was tossing into a hole into the wall of the apartment you three reside in.

"What were you thinking?" Louis hisses at you holding you at arms length like some child.

"You're being reckless! Now we gota get the hell out fore' the neighbors start calling the cops!" He hisses rubbing his hand across his face.

"That's what your worried about? What about your boy keeping me up fpr nearly a fucking YEAR!" ypur screams rattle the walls and Louis is quick to clamp his hand over your mouth.

"You just haven't gptten used to the change yet," your eyes go wide. He was dfending him. The one who has been torturing you.

You nod stepping out his grasp.

"It's either me or him."

"Love..."

"Don't call me that," you stp up chest pressed aginst his and whisper once more, "it's either gon' be me, or him."

Silence fills the apartment. But te look in his eyess break your heart. You nod stoeming into your shared room. He and Armand handle the police that arrive, but when he goes back to your room it's emmpty and torn into pieces.

The memory ends there as you finish your cigarette which you stub out in front of you. You look into his eyes, see the pain, watch as a bloody tear slips down the curve of his nose.

"I should've picked you..." his voice is hoarse.

"I know."

"He...he just..."

"Was a rebound. For Lestat right? Out of spite. I figured, Daniel sent me an adanced reader," you read it ten times. It was lying on the night stand of your hotel room now. "Was I a rebound too?"

"No" Louis immediately shakes his hand. "I'm done makin' exscuses for myself. But I know for a fact I fell in love with you and all your singing and dancing till the sun rose and"

"You would tell me 'cher get in here before the sun burns you'" you finished wistfully.

"I came to every performance of yours. When you were in the background and then you got your first main role in rent and you glowed on stage." You remember that opening night, seeing him sitting in the front. His eyes never leaving you once, but not once did you return his gaze.

You hate how much you love him right now. How much you miss him, but he will always be your Louis. Your maker, your lover, your companion.

"If I return," hope for a moment glimmers in his eyes, "and he is there. I will set him and you on fire. And spread your ashes to the four corners of the earth."

"Anything for you my love" he goes to reach your hands which you quickly pull back pointing one finger up.

"And no more of that dull black and gray macarbe stuff. I need color in my life Louis. Stop living like the dead, for me. Please" You scoot closer, gazing up into his eyes.

His gaze warms your cold heaet, as he stares down at you like you've hung the very moon and stars.

"Of course, cher. For you."

[bradshawssugarbaby]

I Can See You (Aaron Hotchner x Reader)

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem! reader

song prompt: I Can See You (From the Vault) - Taylor Swift

warnings/content: mutual pining, Hotch being a gentleman, making out.

word count: 1571

And I could see you up against the wall with me, and what would you do, baby, if you only knew? Oh, oh, oh, that I could see you throw your jacket on the floor, I could see you make me want you even more

You sipped your drink as your eyes scanned the room for a familiar face. You dreaded social events, especially ones where you hardly knew anyone by name, let alone anyone you knew comfortably enough to talk to at length. These work galas were nothing short of awkward and you were thankful they only happened a handful of times a year, but even that was too often. You specifically took up an admin position with the FBI to avoid the social interactions with others regularly - you just weren’t a *people* person. As you continued to sip your cocktail, praying for the fire alarm to ring through the hotel ballroom as the perfect escape for you, you heard a deep voice say your name. You spun around on your heel to see Aaron Hotchner, the unit chief for the Behavioural Analysis Unit standing before you, a warm, friendly smile on his face.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here!” You grinned, trying to mask the social anxiety you were feeling, especially when faced with a man you had feelings for. 

Aaron laughed softly, holding his whiskey glass firmly in his large hand. His fingers wrapped around the glass, making it look as though it was meant for a doll rather than an average sized high-ball glass. He rarely smiled, let alone laughed, so the fact that you were able to accomplish even the slightest snicker out of him was a feat to be admired.

“I don’t normally come to these things,” he nodded his head, “I was told I had to attend this one though for some reason.”

Aaron’s dark brown eyes watched the others as they mingled, creating small talk with colleagues and avoiding the dance floor like the plague. He shook his head, laughing. 

“Why did they think a group of FBI agents would want to dance?” He said discreetly to you.

You laughed at his comment and shrugged your shoulders, “You know, I was wondering the same thing.”

Aaron turned towards you, a warm smile on his lips. You were used to the odd friendly glance from him in passing, but a genuine smile was rare. You couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lit up when he smiled, his whole face appearing completely different from the normally reserved, stoic man everyone knew him as. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of golden brown you’d ever seen, with honey and hazel coloured flecks in the irises. His dark hair had the faintest hint of gray to it, which made him even more attractive, if that was possible. He wore his hair cropped fairly short, with his bangs gelled up slightly, the way he always wore it. In fact, he didn’t really dress any differently from how he usually did at work with his suit and tie, except instead of his usual red or blue tie, he opted for classic black, with a black suit and pure white pressed dress shirt underneath. Aaron was at least 25 years older than you, but that didn’t change anything about the crush you’d developed on him over the past year. If anything, his maturity made him *more* attractive to you. 

“I could use some air,” you nodded, a soft smile forming on your face as you spoke to Aaron.

“Mind if I join you? I could use some fresh air too.”

You nodded your head and followed behind Aaron as you walked outside into the cool October air. The two of you walked further down the pathway into a garden area, further away from the party that was taking place inside. You could feel a shiver down your spine as you walked, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or the sheer nervousness from being alone with Aaron. You bit your lip as you looked up, admiring the stars and the peacefulness of being outside, and you didn’t notice Aaron’s eyes on you at first. He watched your features closely, as if he was studying them carefully, trying to memorize them. Aaron sighed happily as he looked up at the sky, watching whatever it was you were staring at.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Aaron said, breaking the silence between you.

“Go for it,” you laughed softly, nodding your head. You couldn’t help but wonder what Aaron could possibly want to ask you.

“You always seem to come to these events alone,” he nodded, his profiling skills coming into play, “are these events just, not your partner’s thing?” He asked. 

“I don’t have a partner to bring with me,” You laughed softly, shaking your head. “I sort of wish I didn’t have to attend these things alone though, at least then I’d have someone to talk to for the evening.”

“Well…you can always come find me,” Aaron nodded. “I get the sense I’ll be attending these more frequently now.”

Your eyes met with Aaron’s, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip slightly as your gazes crossed paths. He gave you another rare smile, before shaking his head.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who makes me as nervous as you do. I’ve never had an issue talking to women before,” Aaron let out an awkward laugh.

You almost couldn’t believe what he had just said, you had half a mind to ask him to repeat himself. Aaron Hotchner was one of the most intimidatingly handsome men you’d ever met, and here he was, telling you that you made him nervous. You raised an eyebrow at him, speechless, and hoping he would elaborate further. 

“You know, I’ve thought you were beautiful since the day I first saw you,” Aaron nodded, his cheeks flushing to a soft pink colour. 

You couldn’t help but laugh awkwardly as Aaron complimented you, and for a moment, you swore he almost had a look of defeat on his face. You shook your head and smiled at him.

“You know, I’ve had a crush on you since the day I first saw you,” you replied.

Aaron took a step closer to you, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. You could feel your heart racing as his hands rested on your hips. You’d had the odd daydream about this happening to you before - you’d often daydreamed about Aaron, but rarely of him in a romantic light, normally your daydreams consisted of Aaron inviting you into his office for a “meeting”. The sweet, soft kiss he was giving you now was a welcome surprise. 

“Aaron,” you said softly as he pulled away, “you have no idea how long I’ve been wanting you to do that.” 

“Oh? Funny, I could say the same to you,” he grinned. 

“Do it again,” you challenged. 

As if on command, Aaron kissed you again, this time with passion and excitement behind it. You felt like a teenager having their first romantic experience - almost giddy with excitement as his tongue slid across your bottom lip gently. You had to admit, kissing Aaron was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You couldn’t tell if it was the passion he had, the experience of his, or the fact that you’d longed for this moment, but Aaron was unmatched in terms of passion. You felt Aaron press his body against yours, your back gently pressing against the wall behind you. He gently caressed your sides, his hands running up and down on your waist and hips slowly, in almost a teasing fashion. 

Aaron pulled his lips apart from yours slightly, shrugging his suit jacket back off his shoulders in one quick motion. He tossed his jacket to the ground as his lips met yours again as if magnetized to one another. He put one hand into your long curled hair, perfectly styled for the event, although at this point, you couldn’t care less about how your hair looked. Aaron’s fingers gently tugged on your hair, pulling you in as close to him as physically possible. You could smell his Bleu de Chanel on him, the notes of his cologne giving you a rush as you realized just how close your bodies were to one another. The typically reserved, serious Aaron was a completely different person as he kissed you - he was passionate, romantic, intimate, and it only made you crave him more. You craved his touch, the taste of his lips, the smell of his cologne, the sound of his voice, the feel of his gaze on you. You didn’t just want Aaron, you needed him, at this point. 

As you heard the sound of voices calling Aaron’s name, you realized that some of the other guests had set out to look for him, wondering where he had disappeared to, as he was about to be called for an award of some sort. Aaron pulled his lips away agonizingly slow. He whispered softly to you and smiled. 

“We can continue this once I’m no longer needed inside,” his voice was almost seductive as he spoke. 

Aaron bent down to pick up his jacket, then straightened his clothes out before laughing softly. You noticed a smear of nude lipstick across his mouth and grinned. 

“Aaron, you know, that isn’t really your shade,” you laughed as you licked the tip of your thumb and wiped it off quickly. 

Aaron smirked at you before whispering again.

“Maybe we should test it out again, it might look better in the lighting at my apartment.” 

[moongreenlight]

Nanny!Reader x John Price hnnnnngh

Tw/Cw: Cheating, mentions of drug use and abuse.

@ceilidho put the words ‘marriage kink’ and ‘ambiguous gray blob wife’ into my head and it has been eating away at my psyche for DAYS.

The Maddie from Euphoria of it all, honestly.

Getting the job through a Craigslist ad because it pays better than some of the office jobs you’d been perusing and it comes with free housing and a car to use? It’s a no brainer.

The kids are alright. Spoiled, but not entirely obnoxious. They’re school-age, so you really only deal with them for breakfast and a few hours after school. Their mother is absent. Some sort of philanthropist who travels for work and prefers to jet-set instead of sitting home. Their father is lovely. Truly picture perfect.

He only brought you on because he couldn’t step away from work, and he wouldn’t hear of sending his children to some daycare. Too impersonal. He prefers to get to know the person raising his cubs. He’s sweet like that.

John doesn’t expect much of you. Decently tidy house. Well-tended kin. A pot of coffee in the morning before he’s off to work, and a hot supper if he’s home late.

Leaves you to your own devices while the kids are at school. What’s his is yours. At first, you mainly stuck to your quarters and the living room, but after so long, you got a little lax.

Started wandering the house. Awfully fucking big for a philanthropist and a military man with three kids, but you’re not one to speculate. You try out the hot tub. The jacuzzi bath in the primary en-suite bathroom. The home gym in the basement.

Even that gets boring after some time. Too routine. So you get adventurous. Get your paws on the mother's medicine cabinet. Take a cocktail of her nearly expired prescriptions and take a few hours to yourself in the bath.

You must have fallen asleep, because the snap of a door closing makes you jerk your head up off the cold rim of the tub.

"Hello?" You're trying to figure out who exactly would be home. Scrambling to yank the plug out of the drain with one hand and track down your phone with the other. Suddenly very worried you slept through school pickup.

But when your pruny fingers finally swatted at the screen hard enough, you were grateful to see you'd only really dozed off for twenty minutes or so. Still no response even though you were fairly certain you heard the door come from somewhere upstairs with you.

"Someone home?"

The drain was loud. A dead giveaway of your neglecting your job. Gargling as it sucked away the evidence of your lavender-scented bath. What's worse? You'd forgotten a towel. Mind fogged by some desperate housewives-adjacent combination of stimulants and muscle relaxers.

You nudged the bathroom door open with a dripping wet toe, poked your head out to see what was going on. Seeing nobody, you decided that maybe you were just hearing things. Just the house settling.

So you inched forward, cringing at the trail of wet footprints you were leaving on the carpet of John's bedroom floor. You made a mental note to tidy those somehow before you went to get the kids. It wasn't until you were out on the walk over the living room that you heard someone clearing their throat in the kitchen.

It made you whirl your head around, scrambling to cover your modesty as best you could. Maybe it was a contractor? John had a bad habit of not reminding you that his buddies were coming over to do some project or another.

"That how you dress when you've got the place to yourself?"

You wouldn't be so lucky.

"J-John?"

A chuff from just beyond the wall downstairs. Strategically positioning himself where he could see, but wouldn't be seen.

"I-I didn't know you'd be home. God- I'm so sorry."

You weren't sure if it was better to run to your room or stay where you were. This was uncharted waters, after all.

A tsk, like he was sucking his teeth to keep the smile from creeping into his voice.

"In my room?"

Your mouth is painfully dry. You can't even manage to swallow.

"I'm so sorry, John. So sorry."

"Why don't you dry off and then we'll chat?"

[thewritersaddictions]

Day Twenty-One: Ada Wong + Panties/Lingerie

You see, Ada's favorite color on you was red.

It could be anything, the Christmas sweaters you wore during the cold and harsh winters.

You always wear that red cocktail dress when the two of you go bar hopping.

God, those red pumps that you styled with pretty much anything just so you could show off how good you walked in them.

To say that Ada loved you in red was an understatement. She had never clearly said that she would rather see you in red than any other color, but you already knew that about her.

That's when you get an idea of a surprise for the both of you in a way. You shifted through your clothes, socks, and panties drawer before finding no stylish and new lingerie sets. So, you were set out on your mission.

You made your way to the mall. The large letters above the store's entrance lit up with pink hues. "Victoria's Secret." It was a store that you very rarely ever came into now.

But for Ada, you'd do and spend whatever just for her.

You walk into the crowded store. Women and young girls are all walking about the store. You are bee-lining it towards the sexier, less teenage side of the store. The mannequins that are around are dressed in beautiful sets of pink and black bras, but that's not what you're looking for.

Then out of the corner of your eye, you watch the glimmering sparkles of red. A flowing top that barely covers the tops of your breasts. As you get closer, you see that the panties are basically nonexistent.

You grab two before grabbing a few other things. When you walk up to the checkout, the woman standing there is smiling with a bright smile. "Did you find everything you were looking for?" She asks you. You nod, "Who helped you?" She asks. You don't want to answer her question.

You just want to slip out of the mall and back into your car before you go home and can surprise your girlfriend.

"I was able to find what I needed without help. Can you wrap that one up separately?" You ask, pointing towards the other set of lingerie. The woman nods, wraps that one up, and then everything else.

When you get home after the backup on the highway, that made getting home, take an extra hour half. Ada is thankfully not due home for at least another thirty minutes, so it gives you time to take a quick touch-up shower and get into your set of lingerie before wrapping yourself up in your fluffy gray robe.

You set the small Victoria's Secret bag on the table, moving it around as you try to set up something special and sexy. You crack out and open a glass of wine for the both of you. When you hear the front doors lock turn and you feel your heart start to beat up.

At first, Ada isn't paying attention, dropping her bag at the front door and slipping from her boots.

"Y/n?" She yells from the front door, "In the kitchen, babe." You yell back and hear the light footsteps padding through the apartment. Silence, then a question, "What's this?" Ada asks, staring at the Victoria's Secret bag. "A present, my love.' You say to bring her a glass of wine with you after refilling your own.

"A present?" You nod, "Open it." You demand, waiting long enough to see the glorious expression on her beautiful face. She tears into the pink wrapping paper, and when she finally grabs the lacy fabric, her cheeks go just as red as the fabric in them.

"What is all of this for baby?" Ada asks, but when she turns to get the answer from you.

You've dropped the fluffy gray robe down to the floor of the kitchen. You're on complete display for her to see. Plush skin held in by sweet lace. Her mouth drops open.

"So we can match Ada." You murmur gently, taking a small sip of your wine. Ada smirks and bites her bottom, 'Give me a moment, my love, and I'll be right back, and we'll continue this." Ada says with a promising glint in her eyes.

Completed on: 08/05/23

Posted on: 10/21/23

Kinktober 23- @lanad3lreyscokewhor3 @homelanderscumdump @hummusxx@chvnsdimple @vvitzvafflezvv @lokisivy @claud-blood0703 @iliketoreads-stuff @all-that-glitters-is-treasure@clearscissorsbonkgiant-blog @lxonix--ac @piecesofx @mortallyswimmingpainter @playwithfire99 @fucak @everythingneytiri @lovetheos @xxxxxoseungxoooo @durazopato @hotpead42069 @oddseabiscuit @capoda @witching-hour @viviwows @lover103 @alexlovesfiction @katiecat10 @electricfans @jianasmind @max-505 @powerbun21o @the-horny-simp @missy420-0 @jaq-dav @arescosplays

Resident Evil Master List // Resident Evil 4 Master List // Kinktober '23

[security-chief-odo]

The Fake Dating Job - Chapter 2

Eliot Spencer (Leverage) x Reader

Read chapter 1 here

Word Count: ~1.6k

Summary: The rehearsal and rehearsal dinner kick off the wedding weekend. Will your family believe your lie, will you be able to keep your feelings a secret from Eliot?

• • •

In the weeks before Eliot and you had already laid out an iron-clad backstory and decided that some PDA would be necessary when your family is around. Even with your plan falling into place, getting in the car to go has you beyond nervous. Though you can’t say your family is what has you so nervous about this trip anymore.

The wedding venue is a two hour drive from the loft and Elliot insists on driving, an offer you gladly accept so you could get a nap in before dealing with the chaos this weekend has in store.

Both you and Eliot are nicely dressed already as you were heading straight to the rehearsal dinner. Eliot is donning a light gray suit that fits him a little too well. You’re wearing a cocktail dress, which leaves you shivering as the evening chill rolls in with the sunset as you near the venue.

You stir from your slumber to the sound of Eliot whispering your name. At some point during the drive he must have taken his jacket off because you now found it wrapped around you like a blanket.

There is no way you’ll survive this weekend if just the smell of his cologne on his jacket has you ready to confess your feelings, but it’s too late to back out now.

Finally looking out the window, you see you’re at the wedding venue, so you sit up as Eliot gets out of the car. You stretch lightly as he opens your car door. He takes the jacket and folds it on his arm, offering you his other hand to help you out of the car.

“How do I look?” you look down at your outfit before looking up at him for an answer.

“Almost perfect, may I?” he asks. You nod and he begins adjusting your necklace that had gone askew as you rested, then he fixes the few strands of hair that no longer laid as neatly as before. “Now you look perfect.”

Your face flushed as you looked into his eyes, “Thank you again for doing this whole thing for me. You’re really saving my ass here.”

“Happy to help darlin’” He offers you his arm to hold as he gestures towards the doors.

The rehearsal goes off without a hitch, and you now find yourself seated at the restaurant, with Eliot’s arm resting on the back of your chair.

He is sitting next to your mom who just can’t seem to get enough of him. As she regales him with stories about your family drama, he moves his hand to rest on your thigh, just above your knee. Your breath hitches as he absentmindedly traces his thumb across your leg.

Neither you nor Eliot have been drinking much, but the flush on your cheeks could have the whole room fooled.

Your mom, on the other hand, is just past tipsy when Eliot excuses himself to go to the bathroom. As he gets up he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’ll be right back sweetheart.”

You not-so-subtly check out his ass as he exits the room and you take a sip of the glass of wine you've been nursing all night. Your mom leans in and tells you “That man is a keeper.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Do you not see him y/n?” your mom is looking at you incredulously, “He’s gorgeous, a perfect gentleman, and don’t even get me started on the way he looks at you.”

So maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to convince your family of your relationship after all. Eliot has clearly already sold your mother on it, perhaps a little too well. “I don’t know, mom. I’m not sure he’s as into me as I am into him. It’s only been a couple months anyways”

You figure sprinkling in the truth will make it more believable when your eventual “break up” happens, and at least they'll feel bad enough to comfort you once you're through breaking your own heart. You put yourself in this situation, so you swallow your disappointment down with another sip of wine.

“Honey, Eliot looks at you like you hung the moon and stars,” she pauses, seemingly lost in thought, “ I think you’re wrong about him.” She shrugs and walks away to go talk to your sister.

You can practically feel your blood run cold as James, your ex-boyfriend, approaches you for the first – and hopefully last – time this weekend. “You should listen to your mother. You’re definitely wrong about your new boy toy.”

He clearly has only caught the last bit of your mom’s statement. A fact that becomes more evident as he continues on with his drunken rambling. “He probably only came here with you because you’re dressed like a fucking whore. He just thinks he can get some, but that’s not gonna happen. We both know you’re still not over me.”

“Fuck off, James.” you spit out quietly, hoping not to make a scene.

“Why? Can’t handle the truth sweetheart?” That word had felt so right when Eliot had said it, but it now felt like poison on your ears.

“Don’t call me that.” you move to walk away but he blocks your path.

“Oh,” he laughs with a venom to his voice that is all too familiar to you. “Now I get it, maybe pretty boy is right. You did move on – by moving under every guy in town. Maybe this one’s just bored enough to keep a slut like you around, at least until the next girl with daddy issues and–.”

Before you could get another word in, Eliot comes to your rescue. He isn’t exactly sure what is happening but his heart breaks a little when he sees the relief cross your face at his arrival. He wraps a protective arm around you “Hey beautiful,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. This left James to walk away in a huff.

Eliot pulled you into a hug, kicking himself for ever leaving you alone. He excused himself to the bathroom just to collect himself. Every time he holds you, every time you brush his hair back, every time your eyes meet, he feels terrified you’ll figure out just how in love he really is. He has been in love with you from the moment you joined the team.

He is supposed to be here to make your weekend easier, but let you down because he can’t control his emotions. He whispers in your ear, “You ok?” and his body relaxes when you nod against his chest.

Pulling away, you rest a hand on his chest while his hands settle on your waist. “He’s just drunk and thinks he can still get under my skin. It’s no big deal, really.”

“Well why don’t we head back to the hotel anyways? Tomorrow will be a long day” Your heart sinks a little, knowing that behind closed doors, you’ll just go back to being friends. No arm around you, no hand resting right above your knee, and no more kissing.

***

You get your key card from the front desk and grab your bags from the car. Opening up the door to the room, you stop dead in your tracks. Your sister had booked you a single bed. Of course she had. You were staying with your “boyfriend”, so what else would she have done?

Eliot enters behind you and notices your predicament. The way you’ve frozen confirms all of his fears about how you feel about him. “It’s ok, I’ll just call down for some extra bedding and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“No, I’ll do that. You’re doing me a favor. The least I can do is let you have the bed.”

He moves closer, some of the nervous tension having dissipated, “Darlin’ you’ll be up and on your feet all day tomorrow, in heels no less. You need it more than I do.”

“Well I’m not going to sleep unless you take the bed.”

“Well I won’t either until you do. Two can play at this game sweetheart.”

You’d be lying if you said the pet names didn’t make you feel something, and maybe that’s why you say “Well then I guess we’ll have to share.”

The challenging look in your eyes as you stare Eliot down fills his body with a familiar warmth, and maybe that’s why he replies, “I guess so.”

With that resolved you grab your pajamas and take a quick shower before heading to bed. When you exit the bathroom in your short shorts and tank top, Eliot is lying shirtless on his side of the bed with a movie playing on the TV.

An almost silent tension fills the room as you both struggle between checking the other out, and desperately avoiding checking the other out for fear of being caught.

You climb into bed and settle in, watching the movie Eliot had turned on. He had been watching 10 Things I Hate About You, so you turn to him with a questioning look and wordlessly point to the TV.

Immediately defensive, “What? This is a goddamn cinematic masterpiece.”

“Fair enough. Just didn’t peg you for a rom-com kinda guy.”

“Well there’s plenty you don’t know about me y/n”

With your amusement evident in your voice, you reply “Goodnight, Eliot”

“Goodnight, doll.”

You both drift off to sleep, only dreaming of each other’s touch.

• • •

Taglist: @mini-kunoichi @javicstories @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky @being-worthy @xkell-bellx @imaginecrushes

Let me know what you think or if you want to be added to the series taglist!

Read chapter 3 here!

[loveshotzz]

Wednesday @ 4pm ct

🌇<- chapter six

older!steve edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

(A sneak peek since I left you on a cliff hanger last week 🧡)

You aren’t expecting to see him at your front steps when your Uber drops you off at your gate. His hair sticks out wild at the ends, like he’s been pulling it all night, scratch that all week and it makes guilt settle deep in your gut. The scruff on his jaw is almost dark enough to be a beard now. His legs are covered in gray sweats and the white undershirt he wears fits tight over his shoulders. You hate how handsome he still is, even with his slides and socks.

He’s talking to himself, moving his hands like he’s trying to explain something, reciting a speech you can’t quite hear from as far as you are. The leftovers shift in your bag when you take your first step making the styrofoam squeak and plastic crinkle, his eyes shoot up instantly at the noise.

“Honey?”

Those wings start to stretch and flutter even after just one word. You wish you could be mad at how much power one word from him has but all you feel is the weight of how much you missed him when his face softens.

“Hi Steve.” You catch the way his lips twitch at the sound of his name coming from your mouth when you open the gate. It had been too long for him, he’d become addicted to it.

He stands up, his eyes can’t help but roam your bare legs that sit exposed in your cocktail dress, or the way the middle sinches into your waist before fluttering out over the tops of your thighs. His own jealousy threatens to bubble over at the thought of you wearing this for someone else. He needs you to understand him.

“Is this a bad time?” He asks, scratching the back of his neck while he reads the restaurant name on your bag. He hopes whoever took you there isn’t coming back. “If it is sweetheart, I can give you more space. I just, I just wanted to see you.”

You stop in front of him, further away than normal but close enough to smell the cigar smoke that still clings to the cotton of his shirt. It mixes with the spice of his cologne from earlier this morning. His eyes find yours without hesitation, glazed over from the glass of whiskey you’re sure he nursed before finding himself on your front steps. They shimmer under the moon like emeralds and you just want to get lost in them.

The answer you want to give and the answer that you think will protect you are at each other’s throats, constricting yours from giving him anything right away. His face crumbles a little when his question is met with silence. You don’t want him to go.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” It comes out before you can fight it.

[ddeongies]

situation infatuation

strangers to friends to lovers, idiots in love, slow burn, fluff & smut | word count: 31,170 🔞

She’s leaning against the front of the café and staring at her phone. The black cocktail dress has been replaced by cargo pants in the same color and a matching baseball cap. Not to mention the gray hoodie. Ryujin thinks she likes her even more this way. What that means when they haven’t even really met is a question for another time.

OR ryujin and yeji first see each other from separate balconies and can't ignore the spark

✨chapter 1

✨chapter 2 (post)

✨chapter 3 (post)

✨chapter 4 (post)

[deluxewhump]

The Scry

Chapter Fifteen: the Hearts and the Brains

CW: whumpee with powers, medical whump, needles, drugging, mention of surgery, captivity, nsfw mentions (not explicit)

“It was a crazy thing to do, you know. What we did.”

Carlo moaned. There was blood in his mouth. He was sure that if he opened it, it would come pouring out. His jaw felt wired shut.

“Do you feel the lack of its presence? Can a creature like you tell when such a gift has been snuffed out?”

He hated that gift. And he hated Erik Holstrom, even though he was the one who took it away. He had the wherewithal to hate both.

He managed to get his jaw apart enough to ask for water in a whisper. There was no blood after all. Only the taste of it. Please, he added. Always a good boy for the men in the white coats.

Erik placed a straw between his lips so he could weakly pull a sip of water. He whimpered when it was taken away.

“More soon,” Erik promised, and touched his cheek, almost lovingly. Carlo frowned, lost in memories of Max’s unassuming and harmless touch. He missed those hands, those gray eyes. These ones were heavy and authoritative, petting harder and with some purpose he didn’t quite understand.

“They may have no use for you now,” Erik was saying. “But I won’t discard you just for that.”

“So it worked?” he asked.

“As far as I can tell. Only you can tell us that for sure.”

Carlo tried to send a telepathic feeler into the region of himself it felt like the scrying power came from. But he didn’t know if that was something he could really do or not. Didn’t the ancient Egyptians believe thought and therefore consciousness came from the heart? Didn’t they toss the brains out like bathwater when they did their embalming? Some doctor had told him that once as he lie shivering on their operating table…

“I can’t tell,” he whispered, head falling back in exhaustion.

“It’s alright,” the doctor told him, and fed his arms through the holes of a T-shirt like dressing a rag doll. “You need to recover first.”

-

And he did recover. It was slower than he would’ve liked, and he had the suspicion it was the special cocktail of drugs Erik had given him to sedate him that was keeping him feeling lethargic and confused rather than the small incision and minor surgery itself.

Even so, he knew he should be grateful Dr Holstrom kept his word on that, at least. There was no trace of his power anymore, only a vestigial tingling in his fingers and a pain at the back of his neck when he tried. Even though he was relived it was gone, it felt strange to be all alone in his body.

When he was well enough to come downstairs for dinner, the doctor made him an offer.

“You can stay here, if you like,” he said, slicing expertly through a piece of meat as pink as a tongue. Carlo was reminded of the way those same hands had been inside his skull, double surgical gloves Valentine red with his blood.

“Why?” he asked warily.

The doctor gave him a performatively wounded look, and forked the piece of meat he’d been cutting into his mouth.

“You wouldn’t offer me that if there wasn’t something in it for you,” Carlo said. “And I can’t think of what’s in it for you.”

“You’re not very imaginative then.”

“Sorry,” Carlo answered sarcastically. “I never had to be before.”

“Because of your gift,” Erik laughed, and took a sip of bourbon. “Of course. So many things you’ve never had to do, or worry about.”

“So what is it you want?”

“Just your companionship,” answered the doctor. “I can still think of a use for you. Several.”

Carlo wondered if he’d imagined the tone that came into the doctor’s voice at that last. If he’d imagined the flicker of lascivious want in his dark eyes.

He stared in disbelief. Sure, he’d thought of it himself. But only in a passing, vague way. He thought of all the reasonably attractive doctors that way, and even some of the unattractive ones. It was likely some sort of backfiring, pathetic survival instinct of his, telling him to try to fuck his captors. His torturers. As if it’d make them like him, and subsequently make him safe.

“Are you—?”

“Propositioning you. Yes.”

Heat rose in his face and he looked down to hide it.

“Are you simply surprised, or offended?”

“Both,” he said without conviction.

The doctor set down his utensils and smiled his benign smile. “Think about your current lack of alternatives before you have a knee jerk reaction.”

“I have an alternative,” he answered, anger coming in hot on the heels of his flustered embarrassment. He didn’t realize it had been like that. How many times had the doctor dressed him, touched him, carried him barely conscious from one room to the next?

“Max and Ingrid would take me in, in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t have to stay long, just long enough to get a job.”

“Doing what?” Erik asked, falsely genuine.

“I’m not useless. I have experience, even without the scrying part.”

“Of course, but I’m afraid on paper you don’t. You’ve been detained as a scry for over five years. Do you even have a high school diploma?”

Carlo looked down at his hands.

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen now, but you’re going to want to play your next hand very strategically,” Erik said gently. “I can get you positive press coverage, friends in the places you’ll be needing them… I can get you paid for all the necessary testing and monitoring they’ll be dying to do in the coming months.”

Carlo made a face of disgust. “I don’t want any of that,” he said. “You offered to help me. I did this so I could be left alone and do what I wanted.”

“What is it you want?”

“I…” he closed his mouth before anything stupid came out. He didn’t know. How could he? All he knew was what he didn’t want. “I don’t want to be monitored, or studied, or tested. I don’t want to tell anyone my story, or talk to press. I want the whole scry thing to stop.”

“The whole scry thing,” Erik repeated thoughtfully. It sounded utterly stupid and childish coming from his mouth.

“I have some friends…”

“Oh, Carlo.”

“No, don’t do that. I do.”

“You have nothing,” Erik said calmly. “Do you understand? You let me take from you the only thing you had that kept you off the streets and fed. Without it you have no value, no experience, no credentials, no family, no idea what the world actually looks like for someone who isn’t a precognitive. It will eat you alive. I just gave you a hundred thousand dollar procedure pro bono because I believe in it. Because I believe in you. But you have got to grow up and play ball.”

Carlo pressed his shaking hands into his eyes. “Listen…”

“You listen, ungrateful little wretch. That man, Max? He owes you nothing. You think he really wants some homeless kid at his doorstep because he was nice to you back when you were actually worth something? You think he’s gonna take care of you now like a three legged puppy? You think he and his wife won’t be immediately conspiring on what the hell they’re going to do to get rid of you?”

Carlo rolled his eyes, but the words stuck to him like flypaper. He had assumed Max would be relived to see him. Why? He was probably relieved the problem resolved itself when Carlo disappeared. He never wanted his doorstep darkened by a scry anyway, why would he want to ever see him again? Things would be different. Feelings change.

For the first time he imagined the sting he would feel if Max Kelly looked at him with awkward disappointment, like what had happened between them in his office last spring was just a distant bad dream.

Carlo got up and walked around the table. He felt strangely optimistic, like he could walk out of the dining room and the front door would be waiting at the end of the hall, unlocked.

But Erik grabbed his wrist as he passed like a striking viper. He wheeled him back around so hard he lost his balance and slammed into the table. A plate fell to the floor and shattered. He tried to right himself but the doctor had his arm pinned strategically behind his back in a way that felt very precarious, like any real pressure or struggle would snap it very painfully. Irritated nerves flared in the back of his skull and radiated down his spine in waves. He made a noise of protest, cheek pressed into cool mahogany.

“We’ll get along eventually,” Erik said mildly, as if to show him it took very little effort to subdue him. But Carlo could see where the doctors pressed, dry-cleaned shirt had come untucked from the commotion, and a green vein was raised and taut in his neck. Something about this reminded him the doctor was mortal and fallible, and he vowed to remember this no matter what happened next.

He cried out when he felt a needle stick his arm.

[alicedopey]

The Wound Licker

Fandom: The Gray Man

Genre: AU, Dark, Smut-ish

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Plus-Size reader

Warnings: Dubious consent (groping, kissing) coercion, blackmail, Lloyd (he is a villain so he is a menace) These warnings are not to be taken lightly. Read at your own risk. 

Words: 3879

Summary: You go back to school for a reunion and meet a good old friend, Lloyd Hansen.

A/N: This fic was written for Roo’s HalloCream Extravaganza thrown by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor​.  Got the prompt: You run into an old friend but they’re nothing like the person you remember. I’m awfully late and I’m really sorry. Bear with me on this please because this is the first time I’m posting a dark fic. 

The main building of Harvard Law School was just as your remembered it; big, majestic, impressive, pompous… a golden cage which gave you so much, even though it was not your choice in the first place. You couldn’t deny that it offered you the status you had though and that was enough.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your dress, secured the strap of your handbag on your shoulder, squared up your shoulders for good measure and climbed up the stairs that led to the main entrance.

When you entered, you spotted the few tables aligned and the usual members of the welcoming committee that were sitting behind to greet all your fellow former students. You walked to the first one and put a smile on your face.

“Good evening. Welcome to the 2008 class reunion. May I have your name, please?”

You recognized one of the girls who attended many classes with you, but it was not surprising she did not remember you. None of them did – that is, until you stated your name.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You knew when it clicked in her brain. The glimmer of recognition in her eyes, the spark of interest, the wide fake smile. Each time, this wicked name fell out from your lips, it was the same hypocritical and unbearable number.

“Y/N, of course!” She exclaimed joyfully. “We had lots of classes together, remember?”

She handed out a sticker with your name on it. The temptation to pretend you did not remember her was strong but you just nodded and smiled as usual. You took the sticker and put it on your chest before entering the huge room where the reunion was taking place.

Inside, the crowd of former students were intently listening to the speech of the man you referred to as your father. His posture shifted and you knew he had probably spotted you the moment you came into the room and he would enjoy giving you a lecture about being late.

You drew near the stage and managed to find a spot hidden between two tall big guys. Out of your father’s sight, you took the time to admire the decorations and you had to admit the Harvard Law School Association had once again outdone themselves to live up to the school’s reputation and show off as much as they could. Not that Harvard was not one of the best universities, but the way it had been forced on you made it impossible to truly appreciate the value of the place.

A round of applause concluded your father’s speech and you joined them half-heartedly. Another famous alumnus took his place as you made your way to the bar to get a drink. The variety of cocktails they offered was enormous and tempting. You finally opted for a Moscow mule and checked the seating arrangements to find your table. A smile appeared on your lips when you read the name of the person who would be seated next to you and you felt a little bit better as you took the direction of your table.

Your smile widened as you saw him standing at the table, waiting for you. He had grown bigger; the hairdo had evolved and there was that weird furry thick line above his lip. But it was him.

“Lloyd Hansen!”

“In the flesh, cupcake.” He replied confidently with a smirk on his face. His overconfident tone surprised you but you smile when you heard the old nickname. He embraced you without any warning and you awkwardly hugged him back. It was nice to feel his toned chest against you and his hands softly caressing your back. It was a first since you’ve known him though. He was not usually that cuddly.

After a few minutes, he finally gave you some space even if his hands lingered on your ample hips.

“Look at you, Cupcake. You’ve…grown.” He squeezed the tender flesh. You couldn’t help feeling embarrassed but one look at his appreciative stare and the kind of embarrassment you felt shifted. Was he flirting with you? That was a first too. The two of you were quite close at college but it never turned flirty that way.

“And you’ve grown…a moustache.” You retorted, trying to change the subject.

“You like it?” He made it wiggle exaggeratedly.

“It suits you.” It did, strangely enough even if it gave him a strong porn movie director from the seventies vibe.

“Ladies love it. The tickling.” He winked and you found yourself giggling and hitting his chest playfully. What was wrong with you now?

He squeezed your hips once again. “I’m surprised you’re here, Cupcake. You usually never come to those reunion things.”

“I was asked to.” More like ordered to, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Ah! Daddy didn’t want you to miss his important speech.” He snorted.

You frowned at his condescending tone. Even if he was right, he was clearly mocking the situation and you did not like it one bit. You did not remember him using this tone with you.

You took a few steps back and crossed your arms in front of your chest in a defensive stance. Lloyd’s arms fell limply on his side. His jaw ticked but he must have sensed you were upset because his tone was softer when he asked his next question.

“So… what have you been up to since graduation?”

“I’m a lawyer now.”

“Oh. Filling up your parents’ shoes, then? Wanna become a judge too?”

You winced. “Not exactly. I mostly work on civil cases: divorces, custodies… I even volunteer to help people who need counselling but can’t afford it. I know this doesn’t sound prestigious but I love it.” You concluded in a more confident tone. You were proud of what you had become, no matter what your parents or others could think.

Lloyd smiled and inched closer. “I’m not surprised.” He raised his hand to tuck a lock of hair that had escaped from your ponytail behind your ear. “You were always so nice, willing to please everyone. Willing to please me.”

Your cheeks got hot under his praise and actions. A pleasant shiver ran down your spine as his hand found his way to your cheek. You leaned into his touch and castigated yourself instantly. What was wrong with you? What was wrong with him?

He had never behaved this way before, at least not with you. He had quite the reputation back then but your relationship had always been friendly and innocent. Not that it was unpleasant but it made your feel uneasy. You were not used to this kind of attention. Once again, you stepped away from him.

“What about you? What have you been up to?” He smirked, clearly having sensed your discomfort. You tried to ignore it. “I bet you’re working with the police or something. You clearly were a man of action.” You remembered he was not a fan of all those laws but when it came to practicing, he was there.

“I tried but it was too boring. I was recruited by the CIA and I’ve worked for them for a few years.”

“Wow, CIA”. Your eyes widened. “That’s amazing. What are you doing now, then?”

“I’m still working with them but let’s say I’m a free agent. They call me for special missions.”

“Like when they desperately need help and no one else can do it?” You asked with a smile, still impressed but a new smirk appeared on his face and your smiled faltered.

“What I do can’t be taught so you could say that.  See… looks like we’re doing the same job. Helping those in need, just like we used to help each other in college.”

You full smile returned. Those were fond memories. Two misunderstood persons finding solace in each other.

The arrival of the waiters with the hors d’oeuvre put a stop to your conversation and you took your seats next to each other.

To say you had a bad time during the dinner would be a lie. The discussions with the other former students were nice and the meal was delicious. Llloyd was a pleasant company. To you, at least. He could be quite sharp and mocking with the other guests. He was blunt and even almost gross in his replies. That was new. You had heard about this side of him but had never witnessed it and it was… upsetting.

When it came to you though, he was as charming as possible. Very tactile, even. He constantly put his hand on your arm when he talked to you, his arm was nonchalantly thrown over the back of your chair which allowed him to touch your neck and shoulder. The signals were clear and after trying to resist, you let yourself drown into them, no matter what the outcome would be. It was nice to be the center of attention for something else than your name, their name, his name.

Overall, you had a great time. Then your father chose to come around and greet everyone. All of the students at your table raised from their seats at his approach and you felt obligated to do so as well. You watched him talking smoothly to everyone, slipping some advices here and there like a real mentor. You sighed, clearly exasperated by his little show.

“Hansen! Glad to see you there!” He held out his hand and Lloyd shook it firmly, answering with a simple. “Y/L/N.”.

No Sir, no deference, Lloyd did not seem impressed by his little show either. If your father saw it, he did not act like it and finally turned towards you.

“Glad to see you managed to leave your lost causes for a while to be there…even late.”

No hello, no happy to see you. Typical. Well, two could play that game.

“It’s not for everyone to work with criminals, Father.”

“It’s not for everyone to have higher ambitions, dear.” His patronizing tone made you sigh. “You should follow his path.” He added, pointing to Lloyd. “This man could teach you a few lessons.”

You frowned at his words and sat back down on your chair; defeated, hurt and furious. He ruined it. He ruined everything. This place where you were having a good time suddenly became a place to run away from. You strongly wanted to be back home and in your bed.

“This thing is boring.” Lloyd snorted as he sat back down next to you. “I’ll tell you what, Cupcake”. He lightly pinched your cheek to get your attention. “The hotel where I’m staying has a pretty good chef who makes the most amazing desserts. Maybe we could enjoy them together.”

You watched him doubtfully. “I don’t know Lloyd. It’s nice but I’m pretty tired…”

“Come on, Cupcake.” He cajoled you. “Aren’t you up for some sweet treat? You, me and some exquisite chocolate mousse. For old time’s sake.”

He clearly knew how to tempt you. You really needed this sweet boost and the idea to spend some time in his company was truly enticing. It was also very clear that his proposal was not innocent but some little excitement in your life could not be that bad.

“All right, let’s go.”

He leaned on you to kiss your cheek – rather the corner of your mouth. “Good girl.”

For the second time this evening, a pleasant shiver ran down your spine and you felt your cheeks warm up once again. It was just a kiss!

You cleared your throat to hide your embarrassment. “Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before we go?”

“Be my guest.”

You gave him a small smile, put your shoulder bag on and stoop up swiftly to make your way towards the restroom.

The place was deserted but it was not surprising in the middle of dinner time. You were about to get into a bathroom stall when someone pushed you against the nearest wall and a pair of lips attacked yours. You tried to free yourself from your assailant when you felt something hairy tickle your upper lip. Lloyd. The said person glided his tongue against your lips and you gladly granted him access as you gripped his shirt. The kiss was wild and savage, there was no gentleness and you liked that.

Soon, too soon, the need to breathe got strong and your lips had to get separated.

“I couldn’t wait any longer”. Lloyd’s breathed against your mouth.

“I’m not complaining”. You breathed back and closed your eyes in bliss as Lloyd sucked your neck while his hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs. He hooked one of your legs on his waist and your nails sank in the flesh of his neck, pushing him further against yours. He groaned and bit your skin in response. You let out a wispy moan. Your hips were starting to oscillate against his and he was too eager to reciprocate, making him you feel how hard he was in the process.

In the back of your mind, you heard the hinges of the door cringe and soft feminine giggles. You did not care. If anything, it riled you even more. He could take you right there while everybody was watching and you would not care one bit. There was nothing that could put an end to this. Except the ringing of his phone.

Lloyd grumbled and tore himself away from you. He fumbled in the pocket of his pants and extirpated the smart phone.

“Give me a minute.” He told the caller sharply.

You looked at each other, breathless and turned on. Lloyd winked at you. “I need to take this.” He stroked your swollen lips with his thumb. “I’ll meet you at the entrance hall, okay?”

You simply nodded, too stunned to find your voice. Lloyd nodded back and left. You heard his cold “What do you want?” before the door closed after him.

Flustered, you went into the bathroom stall to relieve yourself, washed your hands, fixed your dress and make up before walking out.

The welcoming committee was not here anymore, they were probably enjoying the festivities. You rummaged in your purse to check the time on your phone. 9:30 PM. It was not that late and yet, you felt as if it was midnight after the evening you just had.

You waited patiently and kept checking your phone again, and again, and again…

Fifteen minutes later and still no Lloyd in sight. You could not spot anyone or anything outside so you went back to the banquet hall.

You spotted Lloyd who was in a deep discussion with another man you couldn’t put a name on. The guy had a cocky and overconfident posture but Lloyd did not look like he was impressed, quite the contrary. You were approaching them slowly when something the man said made you stop in your tracks.

“I didn’t know you were hitting that, Hansen. I mean, I thought you were over the desperate ugly chick kink. Looks like you hit the jackpot with her though…and a fat one on top of that!”

You waited for Lloyd’s answer with belated breath. “Jealous? You should try them sometimes, gives you more meat to eat.” He sneered.

“Please, Hansen! We all know you are doing this to get to the father like you used to do when we were in college. I don’t understand why you keep up with this little charade though. I heard you were quite successful, no need to make yourself suffer anymore.”

You closed your eyes, ashamed and humiliated.

“Mind your own business, Cooper.”

Cooper did not appear to be done though. “Ah so there is something else going on. Tell me…”

You did not bother listening to the rest of the conversation and left the room very calmly as not to draw attention to yourself. You managed to keep this even pace until you were back in the hall then you rushed outside, only stopping when you reached the gate.

Your breath was erratic and you were shaking, the chill weather of this spring night hitting you for the first time. Your vision was blurred due to the tears that had started to well in your eyes. NO. You thought, wiping them away furiously before they could roll down your cheeks. You would not cry. Lloyd Hansen was not worth your tears. Your father was not worth your tears. This fucking name was not worth your tears.

Ragefully, you tore the sticker from your chest and wrinkled it before throwing it on the floor.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you rummaged in your purse once again to retrieve your phone and open the Uber application. Time to go back home and forget everything in front of a sitcom on Netflix while eating some chocolate or ice-cream. Probably both. You would enjoy your sweet treats after all, even alone.

“Bailing on me, Cupcake?” Lost in your own torment of emotions, you had not heard Lloyd coming after you. Your whole body went rigid when he put a hand on your shoulder. You turned around abruptly and took a few steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired. I’m going back home. But I’m not worried for you, I’m certain you will find another desperate ugly fat chick quickly.” You spat.

Lloyd tilted his head on the side and a smile stretched his lips. “Oh Cupcake, it’s not like you to eavesdrop on people.” He tutted. “Besides, those were his words, not mine. Made him regret saying them by the way.”

He clenched his right fist and you noticed his bruised knuckles.

“Doesn’t change the fact you agreed with him.”

He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. “Desperate ugly chicks will give you everything you want because they know beggars can’t be choosers but you Cupcake, oh you…” He tapped the tip of your nose with his pointer finger. You grimaced. “You don’t beg and you are not desperate. You give and ask for nothing in return. You were always so nice with me, always listening to me, helping me. Hell, I think you would have licked my wounds if I had asked you. I never thought someone like you could exist, I was fascinated by this, by you.”

You rolled your eyes and took another step back. “More fascinated by my father, if you ask me.”

Lloyd chuckled. “Your father was a nice bonus but I did not truly know who he was before I met you so you can’t put this on me. Now...”

“But now you want me to put in a good word for you.” You cut him off harshly. “In case you haven’t noticed, my father and I are not on speaking terms. Find someone else.”

He smiled but an evil glint appeared in his eyes. You shuddered. “Oh, my sweet Cupcake, you haven’t figured it out yet?” His fingers played with the fabric of your short sleeve. “Your father asked you to come because I ordered him to.”

“What?” You whispered incredulously, clutching your phone against your chest. You tried to step back but his strong grip on your sleeve made the fabric crack so you gave up and glared at him instead. “What nonsense is this?”

“It’s not nonsensical at all, Cupcake.” He winked and kept playing with your sleeve. “In my line of work, I got to meet your father several times and I also got to find out all the non-so perfect things he was tangled into. He asked for my help many times and I did help but I’m not you like you, Cupcake. I can be a giver but I take in return. I asked for you.” He concluded with a smile.

A laugh fell out from your mouth at that. “You do know we are not in the Middles Ages, right? My father can’t sell me to some man like cattle to pay his debts.”

“Who said anything about selling? All I’m asking is for you to come with me tonight. We’ll see where we go from here.” His hand let go of your sleeve to caress your arm.

You recoiled from him as if you had been burnt. “Don’t touch me.” He gripped your arm this time and you gasped from the pain, dropping your phone on the floor. “I said don’t touch me or I’ll…”

“You’ll…what? You’ll scream?” He sneered. “And what? You’re gonna tell them I assaulted you when they rush here. Who’s gonna believe you? Huh?” He shook you by the arm and you tried to escape his grip again but to no avail. “We’ve been flirting all night and the rumor that we were caught nearly fucking in the ladies’ room has already spread. You’re the slut of the night, Cupcake.”

You glared at him once again, utterly disgusted. Then it hit you. How come you had not seen it before? Lloyd hadn’t changed, he had always been like this and chose not to show it to you until now because you refused to please him, like you always did. “You’re sick.”

An evil smirk curled his lips. “Didn’t seem to bother you when my tongue was down your throat or when you were rubbing against my dick like a cat in heat.”

He pulled you against him, imprisoning your arms against his hard chest and tilted your chin up with his other hand so you would look at him. “Now you’ve got two choices. You come with me, we have some fun and your father gets to keep his perfect public face or your refuse and I’ll expose his scams. Believe me, they’re numerous.”

You sniffed disdainfully. “If you think for a second, I care about my father’s successful career or my mother’s for that matter, you’re clearly mistaken. Let them be ruined.”

“Oh, but you are forgetting one very important thing, Cupcake.” He stroked your chin. “You are all sharing the same name. You, above anyone else, should know the importance of it. Your career will be ruined too.” He concluded with a sardonic smile.

“Think about it: no more family cases, no more helping those in need…what will they do without you?”

Horrified, you closed your eyes to try and escape the reality of the situation, his mocking smile, his taunting voice. This fucking name. A curse more than anything else, a burden that hard ruined your whole life and kept doing it. Devoid of any choice once again all because of a man. There was no chance to escape from it. You couldn’t contain the tears of rage and frustration that rolled down your cheeks this time. You fell Lloyd’s lips against your skin, kissing the tears away in a tender but mocking gesture. Then, he embraced you and made you sway with him gently.

“What do you say, Cupcake? Up for some sweet treat with your very good friend?”

You nodded against his chest, too defeated and enraged to speak.

“That’s my girl”. He purred, kissing your forehead. “I knew you would take the right decision, always trying to please me. You are my perfect little wound licker. Too perfect to let you slip away from me once again. You are mine now and I will never let you go.”

Tagging: @naaladareia​ (Thanks for the support love)

[slipping-through-my-fingertips]

“A baby.”

AO3

Part 2

Summary: Annabeth maybe doesn’t choose the best day to tell Percy they’re having a baby

If younger Annabeth could be here now, she’d be freaking out and cursing the gods. She wouldn’t know what to make of what 25-year-old Annabeth was facing right now. Her left hand with a shiny new diamond engagement ring and holding a positive pregnancy test. A decade ago, Annabeth never would’ve thought she’d be planning a wedding and starting a family with Percy Jackson.

Sure in her wildest dreams, she thought about it but despite her mentality of being six steps ahead of everyone else she never clocked in on his feelings for her. Too absorbed in hiding, and at times suppressing, her own. At least until they were fifteen. Ever since they were inseparable. Of course, their friends would disagree because Annabeth and Percy had always come as a pair.

The bathroom door was locked and she was meant to be applying her makeup. Percy was probably playing games on his phone in their living room. But Annabeth couldn’t force herself to put the test down. She kept staring at it like the test would say “April Fools, no baby!” but it never changed.

They were meant to be going on a date but Annabeth knew if she stepped out of this bathroom and told Percy, they’d never make it to the restaurant. He’d probably pick her up and spin them around the living room. They’d cry happy tears together.

Damnit, she wanted to go on this date. She was already dressed up and in heels. So, she wrapped the test in some toilet paper and put it in a drawer. Annabeth grabbed her favorite eyeshadow palette and got to work.

Percy knocked softly, “Beth, you almost ready?”

“Mascara and lipstick then I’m done.” She unlocked the door and opened it. “We won’t be late, I swear.”

Percy was wearing a navy button down and a gray tie. He looked good. Almost good enough that Annabeth wanted to say “screw it, let’s just stay home.” It’s not like she could get more pregnant.

Then her stomach growled.

“Someone’s hungry,” Percy said, walking away laughing to himself.

Under her breath, Annabeth murmured, “yeah your kid.”

They made it to their reservation on time.

“Since someone,” he looked pointedly at Annabeth, “hogged our only bathroom, I’m going to use theirs. Order me whatever to drink.”

Their waiter came while Percy was gone.

“Two waters, a coke, and can you make me some sort of fruity mocktail?”

Anytime they went out to dinner, Annabeth usually got some sort of speciality cocktail. She didn’t want Percy to get suspicious though knowing him as she did, he likely wouldn’t notice. On the off chance he did Annabeth didn’t want to risk it.

When Percy returned, their drinks were already there.

“What looks good?” He asked, “besides you of course.”

“You will not get inappropriate with me right now.” She blushed.

“What? Stop being lewd. All I meant was you look beautiful tonight.” He leaned closer, “though you do look good enough to eat…out.”

Annabeth could feel how warm her cheeks were.

Thankfully, they both turned their attention to the food, quietly looking over the menu and ordering. Their food came out quickly.

“I’ve been craving this potato leek soup all week,” Annabeth told their waiter when he asked how things had come out.

Briefly she wondered if it was too early on to be having cravings. Thankfully Percy couldn’t see her hands, she pressed her palm against her still toned stomach.

She was going to tell him when they got home.

Of course, Percy had other plans when they got home. Annabeth immediately found herself pressed against the front door, wrapping her legs around his waist, and Percy kissing her like it was his last breath. He carried them upstairs. Somewhere in the hall she kicked off her red heels and threw his tie to the floor.

Annabeth was in the midst of unbuttoning his shirt when Percy dropped her onto their bed causing several buttons to snap off. She barely heard them fall because Percy was kissing his way down her neck.

“Now can we be lewd?” Annabeth asked.

From between her thighs, his fingers tucked under her panties, Percy grinned.

It was nearing ten pm when Annabeth finally found the right moment. They were sitting on the couch, she had a mug of green tea in her hands.

“Good news and bad news,” she said.

“Bad news first,” Percy answered.

“Well, you know how we were looking to book that Montauk venue for the wedding next August?”

“They filled up!” Percy exclaimed, “the guy I talked to swore they didn’t book up until the end of November. I’ll call tomorrow and…”

“No Percy, they’re not booked up, it’s just we’re going to have to postpone a year.”

“Wait, why?” He asked, “I thought we decided we didn’t want to wait too long.”

He grabbed her left hand and straightened her ring. Honestly, Annabeth wasn’t really used to it yet. It was only a few months old but it didn’t feel odd being engaged to Percy. She had known for years now that someday they’d be right here, together.

“I know but there’s been a change of circumstances,” she replied, “good news is I’m pregnant.”

“Haha,” Percy said, dropping her hands, “very funny Annabeth it’s April first you got me good.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Sorry I figured it out too quickly. Look being with you has made me smarter I think.”

“No? Percy, I’m pregnant.”

He shook his head, “c’mon, give it up.”

Annabeth stood up and ran upstairs to the bathroom. She quickly pulled out the drawer and unwrapped the test. Percy was standing at the bottom of the stairs. So, she held up the test.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, quietly.

Percy froze and just stared up at her. “You’re pregnant.”

She nodded, smiling as she watched his face change. From shock to delight. He tripped up the stairs, Annabeth caught him on the last step.

“A baby?”

Percy pressed her face into his chest and squeezed her. They were rocking back and forth hugging for a long time before he pulled back to kiss her sweetly.

“I love you,” he said, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you too.” She was tearing up.

“When did you find out?”

“Right before dinner.”

“You had a drink at dinner!”

She shrugged, “Mocktail.”

“A baby,” he kept saying.

Like repeating it would make it feel more real.

In the kitchen, washing their mugs. “A baby.”

Brushing his teeth, through the toothpaste foam, “a baby.”

Curling up beside Annabeth, lightly tickling her neck, “a baby.”

She thought Percy finally fell asleep because he had gone silent. Until she felt his fingers tapping her belly.

“You know, I thought Hera hated us.”

Annabeth chuckled, “I guess she got over it.”

[gatabella]

Loretta Young, Photoplay, Jan. 1950

Loretta Young wears a gray taffeta cocktail dress by Angovar, its skirt slit in four places to reveal black lace over blue petticoat