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amirasainz · 4 months ago

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Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💙

Her protector

Carlos had always believed that there was nothing in the world more important than the safety and happiness of the woman he adored. Yn, his beautiful, elegant wife, was the very center of his world, and he would do anything to keep her by his side, safe and loved.

It had been a quiet morning in Madrid. The city buzzed with its usual energy, but inside the mansion Carlos had gifted Yn after proposing to her, everything was calm. The sprawling estate had been more than enough to give them both peace. Security was tight — cameras, guards, and walls that could withstand any force that dared to try and breach their sanctuary.

Today, however, Carlos had decided that a little indulgence for Yn was in order. After breakfast, a lavish meal prepared by the mansion’s personal chef, they had made their way to the shopping district of Madrid. Yn’s eyes sparkled when she saw the designer stores — the luxurious brands she had always loved. She squeezed Carlos’s hand, a smile lighting up her face, and he couldn’t help but feel a rush of affection for her.

“You look stunning, as always,” Carlos murmured as they walked through the bustling streets. His voice was low and rich with adoration, but the protective tone lingered underneath.

Yn chuckled, the sound like a melody to his ears. “Stop it, cariño. You’re making me blush.”

He grinned. “You should blush. You're a work of art, mi amor. You deserve to be spoiled.”

And spoil her he did. They visited every boutique, and Carlos had his men stationed outside, watching over them. Inside the stores, security guards positioned themselves discreetly, ensuring nothing would threaten the peace of their little outing. No one could harm her — not while Carlos was around.

Yn tried on various outfits, each one more beautiful than the last, and Carlos sat comfortably on a plush velvet sofa, enjoying the view. His dark eyes never strayed from her. She was the most exquisite thing in the world to him. He loved how she looked in everything she wore, but especially in the clothes he picked out for her. They made her shine, and he wanted the world to see that.

“Carlos,” Yn called, emerging from the fitting room in a soft lavender dress that draped elegantly over her figure. “What do you think?”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, taking in the sight of her. The fabric clung to her curves in all the right ways, and the soft color brought out the brightness of her skin and eyes. “Perfection,” he replied, his voice thick with approval. “It was made for you.”

The shop assistant smiled, clearly eager to please. “I think this one is perfect for you, señora,” she said.

Yn smiled back, clearly pleased with the compliment. “I’ll take it,” she said, before slipping back into the dressing room to change.

Carlos leaned back against the cushions, his gaze still fixed on the door. He was surrounded by his men, who were positioned throughout the shop. Though he trusted them implicitly, his attention was always with Yn. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not even for a second.

It was all about control for Carlos. His empire, his wealth, and his reputation were built on power, influence, and intimidation. He was the most powerful Mafia boss in all of Europe, a man whose name sent shivers down the spines of anyone who dared cross him. Yet, when it came to Yn, all that power meant nothing. She was the one he cherished, the one he would go to any lengths to protect.

Carlos had made it clear from the beginning: his love for her was fierce, and he would destroy anyone who thought of hurting her. She was his queen, and nothing — not even the world’s most dangerous enemies — would ever come between them.

Yn returned to him with a small bundle of bags, her face glowing with happiness. “Thank you for today, cariño,” she said, the words soft but full of meaning.

Carlos smiled, his gaze softening as he stood to meet her. “Anything for you, mi amor. You are the light of my life. Let’s go home, alright?”

They exited the store, walking side by side, but something felt… off. The hair on the back of Carlos’s neck stood up, his instincts kicking into overdrive. He glanced around, noting that several of his men were now positioned at key points, all alert. The streets of Madrid were busy, but the quiet hum of activity felt wrong to him today.

He moved closer to Yn, his arm slipping around her waist protectively. “Stay close, amor,” he murmured, his voice low but commanding.

Yn glanced up at him, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “What’s wrong?”

Carlos didn’t answer right away, his eyes scanning the surroundings carefully. Then it happened. A single shot rang out — loud, piercing — breaking the calm like a thunderclap.

Without a second thought, Carlos grabbed Yn, pulling her into his chest. His body shielded her as he spun them around, pressing her back against the stone wall of the building beside them. His hands moved quickly, steadying her as he dropped to one knee, protecting her as best as he could.

“Stay down, mi reina,” he whispered fiercely, his voice a mixture of fear and determination.

Yn, heart pounding, clung to him as her world seemed to spin. She could hear the sound of shots echoing, but Carlos’s presence was her anchor. He was there, always there, keeping her safe.

His men reacted instantly, moving swiftly to cover the situation. Their training kicked in, surrounding the area and pushing bystanders to safety. Carlos’s men were well-equipped to handle this kind of chaos. They were trained to neutralize threats with brutal efficiency. But nothing mattered more than Yn in his arms.

“Carlos,” Yn whispered, her voice trembling. “What’s happening?”

He lifted her chin gently with one hand, his eyes locked on hers. “Don’t worry, mi vida. I’m right here. I’ll always protect you, I swear it.”

Carlos’s fingers grazed her cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped her eye. She hadn’t even realized she was crying until he touched her. His soft touch was a stark contrast to the violence unfolding around them.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever,” he continued, his voice filled with a deadly promise. “You’re my everything, Yn. No one touches what belongs to me.”

As the gunfire continued, Carlos remained perfectly calm. His mind raced through the possible scenarios, analyzing the situation in mere seconds. This wasn’t just a random attack. Whoever was behind it knew exactly where to strike. And if they thought they could harm Yn… they had another thing coming.

The shots stopped as abruptly as they had started. Carlos didn’t move from his position, his arms wrapped tightly around Yn, keeping her close to his chest. His men had handled the problem quickly — but Carlos needed to be certain.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his hand now tracing small, comforting circles on her back.

Yn nodded, still shaken. “I’m okay… just scared.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “I won’t let them hurt you. Never. I swear it on everything I am.”

The sound of approaching footsteps alerted Carlos, and he raised his head slightly to see one of his men coming toward them. “It’s all clear, boss. It was a distraction, but we’ve handled it.”

Carlos nodded. “Good. See to it that no one gets too close to the area. I’ll deal with this later.”

His eyes returned to Yn, searching her face for any sign of distress. “You’re safe, mi amor. That’s all that matters.”

She met his gaze, her heart still racing but feeling calmer in his arms. “I know. I trust you.”

Carlos smiled, his expression softening as he gently brushed her hair from her face. “I love you, Yn. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” she whispered back, a small, relieved smile forming on her lips.

As they walked back toward the car, Carlos remained vigilant, his arm around Yn as they slipped into the vehicle. The security detail was thorough, and Carlos had his men close by, ensuring their safe return to the mansion. The world outside may have been dangerous, but as long as they were together, Carlos would face it head-on. For Yn, he would risk everything.

And no one — not even his enemies — would ever be able to tear them apart.

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itneverendshere · 10 months ago

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can we see rafe with a pouge reader and they are dating. they go out to go grocery shopping and rafe sees that she has a calculator out and watches as she picks up an item then types it in the calculator and then puts it back and chooses a cheaper option and he has to tell her that she doesn’t need to do that

birds of a feather - rafe cameron

word count: 2.9k belongs to this universe

The grocery store is quiet for a saturday afternoon, a rarity that makes the experience almost peaceful. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead as Rafe pushes a cart lazily with one hand, his other draped comfortably around his girl, you.

He catches your eye and smiles, relishing the way you always lean into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly. Dating you was like finding the missing piece of himself—something he always knew he needed but never thought he’d find, let alone on the other side of the island.

Rafe grabs a box of cereal, tossing it into the cart without a second thought.

“You good on milk, babe?” he asks, scanning the shelves for anything else that might catch his eye.

You nodded absentmindedly, focusing elsewhere. He notices that you are holding your phone in one hand and have a small calculator app open. His brow furrows as he watches you pick up a box of pasta, glance at the price, and then quickly type something into the calculator.

After a moment of calculation, you place the box back on the shelf and reach for a cheaper brand.

Rafe's heart clenches. He hadn’t really thought about the differences between you in this way before. He knows you don't have the same privileges he does—didn’t grow up in a life of luxury as he had—but it’s moments like this that make him feel like a fucking entitled douche.

He watches you do it again, this time with a jar of tomato sauce. You compare the prices, calculate the difference, and opt for the less expensive one.

“Hey,” Rafe stops you as you reach for another item. “What’re you doing?”

You blink, as if coming out of a trance, and look up at him with almost embarrassed smile. “Just trying to make sure I stay within the budget. Groceries can add up, y’know?”

He can’t stand the idea of you worrying about something as basic as food. Sure, he understands budgeting—everyone has to do it to some extent—but this was different. This was a mindset.

He gently takes the phone from your hand and slips it into his back pocket, keeping your hand in his. “You don’t need to do that. I’ve got you, okay?”

“Rafe, I—”

“I’m serious,” he interrupted, “You don’t have to worry about the prices. Just get what you want. We’re fine.”

You are grateful—God, you were always grateful—but there’s something else, something that has kept you up at night.

You hate relying on him. Not because you don’t trust him or appreciate everything he does for you, but because it reminds you of the whispers you’ve been hearing ever since you started dating.

You can almost hear the voices now, like a nagging reminder in the back of your mind. “Gold digger,” they’d hiss. “Dirty Pogue. Look at her, clinging to him for the money. She’s got him wrapped around her finger, totally pussy-whipped.”

The rumors had messed with your head the first time you’d heard them, and even now, they still hurt, despite knowing they weren’t true. The worst part of it all is that a small, insecure side of you hates there might be some truth to what they said. You didn’t want Rafe to feel like he had to take care of you, or that you were using him for his money. You love him too much to ever want him to think that.

You glance at him, watching as he tosses another item into the cart without checking the price, without a second thought. He’s so at ease, unbothered by the things that you had worried about during your entire lifetime.

You can’t help but feel guilty, like you’re dragging him down, making him take on responsibilities that should be yours alone.

A you walk down another aisle, keeping your eyes on the floor, as you force the words out.

“I know you’re just trying to help, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you fully. His brows knit together in concern like he genuinely can't grasp what you just said.

“I don’t feel like that,” he says,“I want to take care of you because I love you. It’s not about feeling like I have to—it’s because I want to.”

“But I hear what people say, Rafe—”

“They don’t know shit,” he scoffs, hand wrapping tightly around the cart, “They don’t know. Anyone who says otherwise can go fuck themselves.”

You sigh, your shoulders slumping as you lean into him, “It’s not that simple, baby. But I appreciate the thought.”

His other hand tilts your chin up so you’re looking directly at him, “It is that simple. I love you. You love me. That’s it.”

You know he means it, that he’s not just saying it to please you, but it doesn’t make the worries disappear. You nod, giving him a small smile, but he knows your brain is working double shifts, imagining all kinds of scenarios.

He sighs, knowing this conversation is far from over, and presses a gentle peck against your temple, all while murmuring, “Let’s finish up here and get out of this place.”

You agree, and the two of you continue down the aisle. Your hands are itching to take your phone out of his back pocket, and your brain scrambling to do simple math. You hate it. You automatically reach for the off-brand items, skip over the more expensive snacks, and choose the smaller sizes of products to stretch your budget.

Rafe is abnormally quiet and you know it’s taking every will power in his body not to pick you up and lock you in his truck while he finishes shopping for you.

He pauses in front of the snacks aisle, his eyes catching on your favorite candy. It’s something he knows you love but rarely allow yourself to buy. Without hesitation, he grabs a couple of bags and tosses them into the cart.

“Rafe, those are expensive—” you start to protest, but he cuts you off with a playful grin.

“They’re my favorite too.”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he looks at you, with so much affection, makes the words die on your lips. Instead, you shake your head huffing as he wraps his arm around your shoulders dragging you along.

“You’re so annoying.”

“Don’t be mean, baby.”

You squeeze his waist in retaliation.

When you finally reach the checkout line, he watches as you nervously glance at the total on the screen. It’s a small thing, for him, but it’s enough to make him realize just how much it affects you.

Without saying a word, he hands over his black card to the cashier, ignoring the way you try to protest.

“Rafe, you don’t have to—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“I know,” he says firmly, “I want to.”

You bite your lip, nodding reluctantly as he pays for the groceries. It’s a small gesture, but it means the world to him. He wants to take care of you, make sure you never have to worry about something as basic as food ever again. He wants to give you the life you deserve, the one you never experienced on The Cut.

He opens the trunk of his car, starting to load the groceries while you stand there, too quiet. He hates not hearing the sound of your voice.

“Hey,” he closes the trunk and turning to face you. “What is it?”

“Nothing.”

He steps closer, his hand finding a home in your neck, thumb caressing your pulsing point, “Forget about them okay?”

You sigh, forehead touching his chin, “I’m trying. I just don’t want to be a burden to you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

“You’re not a burden,” he says firmly, fingers pulling your head up, his blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that, no matter how often it happens, still takes your breath away. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Now get that fine ass inside the car.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he says it, so casually and with so much conviction that it leaves no room for you to second guess his thoughts. His confidence, his overwhelming trust in everything that he says, is one of the things you love most about him. He’s always been like that around you—bold, sure of himself, and unafraid to go after what he wants. And right now, what he wants is you.

“Why?” You tease, rolling your eyes but smiling as you let him guide you toward the car “You gonna make me if I don’t?”

You wish you could photograph the grin on his face, the way his beautiful eyes seem to drink you in like he’ll die if he doesn’t look at you all the time.

“Sweet girl, you know I will,” he says as he steps closer, his hand slipping down to give your ass a playful spank. The sound echoes through the quiet parking lot, and you gasp, more from surprise than anything else.

“Rafe!” you scold, though your laughter makes it known there’s no real annoyance. The smirk on his face only grows, pleased with himself.

“Consider that a warning,” he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’d hate to have to follow through.”

You try to hold back a grin, biting your lip as you tilt your head to look up at him.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” His tone is a challenge.

You consider pushing more just to see what he’d do, but the way he’s looking at you—ready to scoop you up and take you back to his bed right then and there—makes you rethink it. Instead, you play along, giving him a coy smile as you head for the door.

“That’s what I thought,” he calls after you, his deep voice filled with a smug satisfaction that makes you roll your eyes again.

Before you reach for the door handle, he gently pulls it open for you and you slide into the passenger seat. Before you touch the seatbelt, Rafe is leaning in, his hands brushing over yours as he clicks the belt into place.

“Safe and sound,” he murmurs, as he pulls back.

It’s something so simple, yet deeply endearing he has insisted on doing ever since the two of you started dating. You smile up at him, practically oozing in your love for him as your hand reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“Thank you."

His gaze softens as he leans down to press a tender kiss to your lips.

“Anything for you,” he whispers, his thumb brushing across your cheek before he finally steps back and closes the door.

As he rounds the front of the car to get in on his side, you can’t help but watch him. It still blows your mind that this is real. The way he looks at you, how he takes care of you without making you feel small—it’s everything you never knew you needed.

Som days, you still wonder how someone can love you like this, so openly. You never imagined Rafe Cameron would be that someone.

He starts the engine, and the radio automatically tunes to a indie station, one of your favorites (only because he showed it to you) and Rafe reaches over to lace his fingers with yours.

“I’m cooking tonight.”

You turn to him, even though you know his attention is on the road, “Really?”

Rafe’s thumb absentmindedly rubs circles on the back of your hand, “Hmmm.”

“So you can burn down the kitchen again?”

“Baby, that was one time.”

You snort, the image of Rafe with a fire extinguisher still fresh in your memory, “What’s on the menu?”

He grins, “I was thinking we could make that pasta you like, with the garlic bread.”

Your heart swells a little at the thoughtfulness behind his choice. He remembers all the little things—your favorite foods, how you like your coffee, the songs that make you smile.

“Are you trying to get laid?”

He laughs, loud and boisterous as he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a peck to your knuckles, “So you don’t want desert?”

You hit his shoulder gently, all too aware you’re still in a moving vehicle, “Don’t be nasty.”

His touch moves to your thighs, squeezing.

"Can't help it when I'm around you."

The smile tugging at your lips is impossible to hide. There's something so easy about being with Rafe, despite the whispers, the looks, the insecurities that sometimes creep in—he has a way of making you feel like none of it matters.

The city lights begin to twinkle on the horizon, it's peaceful. The idea of a cozy night in, just the two of you cooking dinner together, fills you with a warmth that has nothing to do with the summer heat outside.

Rafe glances over at you, a smile playing on his lips. "Penny for your thoughts?"

You shake your head, the smile widening on your face. "Just thinking about how lucky I am."

He quirks an eyebrow, "I think I'm the lucky one."

"Yeah, but you're also really annoying," you tease, earning a chuckle from him.

"Annoying but irresistible," he counters smoothly, pulling into the driveway of his house.

He parks the car and quickly rounds the front to open your door again, always the gentleman. As you step out, you look up at him, your heart swelling with a love so deep it almost overwhelms you.

It's not the grand gestures or the way he spoils you—it's the little things, he makes you feel cherished all the time, sees you for who you are and loves you anyway.

"Ready for our gourmet meal?" he asks as he takes your hand, leading you towards the front door.

You laugh as you walk. "If by gourmet you mean slightly burnt, then yes."

He chuckles, his arm slipping around your waist as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. "With you, it's always perfect."

Before you can walk through the front door, he stops all too suddenly, dragging you against him.

You’re confused for a second, looking up to see him ogle you.

“What?” You stutter out, “Something’s wrong?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips as he looks down at you, that same adoring expression that never fails to make your heart stop. "No, nothing’s wrong.”

You blink up at him, still confused, “Rafe...”

“I know you worry sometimes. About what people say, about what they think. But I don’t give a fuck about any of that. I only care about you, about us.” His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb moving along your cheekbone. “I love you, y’know that? Right? Aways.”

Your breath hitches at the sudden emotion in his voice. It’s random moments like this that remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place—Rafe Cameron has a heart that beats fiercely for the people he cares about, especially for you.

“I love you,” you whisper, feeling the words settle between you.

“I love you more,” he replies, raspy voice full of conviction. Then, with a small grin, he adds, “And I’m gonna marry you someday. We’re gonna have our own place, our own life. Just you and me.”

It’s not the first time you’ve talked about the future, but hearing him say it so plainly, confidently, sends a warmth through your whole body.

“Is that a proposal, Cameron?” you tease, though your voice wavers a little, eyes burning as you pathetically attempt not to cry.

“Not yet,” he smirks, leaning down to press a peck to the corner of your lips, “But when I do, you’ll know. It’s gonna be perfect. Just like you.”

You rest your forehead against his as you take a deep breath, trying to calm the stupid fluttering in your chest. “You mean it?”

“More than anything,” he replies without hesitation. “I want to build a life with you, baby. The kind of life where you never have to worry about anything, where you can just be happy.”

Tears form at the corners of your eyes, but they’re the good kind, they come from being overwhelmed with love, very different from the ones you’d experienced as a kid, growing up.

You nod, it's hard to explain how you’re feeling inside, so instead, you pull him down for another kiss, letting your lips show what your voice can’t. You kiss each other like you have all the time in the world, which you have, savoring the way your lips fit perfectly against his.

When you pull apart, both of you slightly breathless, Rafe gives you a lopsided smirk, his lips just barely grazing yours as he speaks.

“So, how about we start with dinner?”

#rafe cameron #requested #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe one shot #rafe fic #rafe #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #rafe obx #rafe cameron au

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p-seduonym · 2 months ago

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Switched At Birth (Part Four)

A/N: I lied. I'm posting cause I'm bored. Also, since I've been getting mixed reactions, I might make the relationship between Mel and Reader ambiguous. Melissa will love Reader, that's a fact. But you can decide if it's familial, platonic, or romantic.

Taglist (I'll add you if you ask)@luludeluluramblings, @von-jour, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @kenyummy, @bunniotomia

Yandere!Batfam X Switched! Fem! Reader X Yandere!Wayne!OC

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

You stood out, just outside the gates of Gotham Prep.

Baggy jeans, a sweatshirt repping some nondescript band, and a backpack slung over one shoulder.

You could feel the passing glances from the sea of uniformed students as they spilled through the gates. Some whispered. Others brushed past without a second thought. The security guard who’d been watching you from a distance finally approached, making idle chit-chat.

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Fine.”

“Waiting for someone?”

“Yeah.”

Just as he was about to ask you to move along, Melissa appeared. She looked flustered, hesitating a few feet away from the both of you. Before she could say anything, you called out.

“Hey, Mel!” Sauntering over, you threw an arm around her shoulder. She jumped slightly.

“W-Why are you….”

“C’mon.”

You flashed the security guard a smile like you belonged here, then steered Melissa away from the gawking crowd.

“Where are we going?” she hissed—wary, but not resisting.

“Somewhere fun,” you said. “C’mon, quit acting like I’m kidnapping you or something, Mel.”

“You ambushed me outside of school,” she pointed out flatly.

“That’s such an ugly way to put it. I told you I’d be around, didn’t I?”

“T-That was a week ago! I thought you were joking.”

In all seriousness, you lied: “I never joke.”

After a beat of silence, Melissa sighed.

“I haven’t even told anyone I left”

“Then text them? You aren’t flaking on me, are you?”

She looked confused, like the idea never crossed her mind.

“No…”

“Then let’s go”

And with that you were off.

Truth be told, Melissa rarely set foot in malls.

To her, they were nothing more than glittering temples of consumerism—designed to guide you from one impulse buy to the next, all while drowning your existential dread in a wash of piped-in pop.

But she kept that to herself. You looked like you were having fun.

“Forever 21’s on its way out, so let’s see if we can score some deals! There are also a couple thrift shops a block over—best prices, promise.”

Melissa blinked. It was like you were speaking another language. The overly peppy music thumping from the ceiling speakers didn’t help.

“Thrift store?” she echoed.

“You know? Secondhand clothes?”

“Oh.”

“Mel, you’re missing out, I swear.”

She fidgeted. “It’s not like I ever had a reason to go to places like that…”

It was true. Her father had handed her a black card, and that was the end of it. Luxury brands never interested her, but she didn’t know anything else.

“Well, now you do. I swear, Prada’s got nothing on a good thrift find—oh, look!”

You held up a gingham dress against her, tilting your head thoughtfully. She flushed under your gaze.

“Not the best color, but an A-line cut looks great on you. Let’s see if they have other colors. What do you like?”

“Any is fin—”

“If you say ‘any,’ I’m pinching you.”

Her mouth snapped shut, startled.

“C’mon. What colors do you like?”

She paused. What did she like?

Normally, she’d say something neutral. Tasteful. Nothing too loud—Waynes didn’t do loud. But she wasn’t a Wayne. Not really. Not ever.

“…Bright colors,” she said, almost to herself. “I like stuff that’s bright.”

Something to cut through the gray.

“I knew it! Something light would totally suit you. Hey, there’s a pink one—what do you think?”

You held it out to her. It looked mostly polyester and popped out against the darkness of her uniform.

“Some kitten heels and you’re golden.” You assured her, already scanning the shelves to find just that.

It was kind of embarrassing that she didn’t realize straight away. Of course, you’d go shopping. What other use did she have outside of her purse. Well, it wasn’t hers, per se, but that's besides the point.

It seems you just want to take advantage of the opportunity.

She couldn't fault you for that. Many people tried in the past, before they realized she didn’t have much worth outside of her wealth.

That’s what she thought as she approached the counter with her black card in hand. Until you stopped her.

“Hey, woah, what’s that for? I got it covered— don’t worry!”

Really, this fake courteousness was a little stale.

“It’s fine” She assured you, but you didn’t budge.

“I’m serious. I’ve been saving up anyway.”

Melissa paused. The cashier was looking between the two of you.

“Think of it as a gift, okay?”

She would have argued– maybe– but you had already pushed her aside gently and rung up the clothes.

It was such a simple gesture—one that shouldn’t have meant anything. A thrifted dress, a stubborn insistence to pay. But for Melissa, it lingered. The ease with which you offered kindness, the way you brushed off her protests like it was nothing—it all struck somewhere deep, somewhere soft she didn’t like to acknowledge. She told herself it didn’t matter. That you were just another person trying to be nice for the sake of appearances. But something about you felt different. And that terrified her more than she’d admit.

Because Melissa was used to pity.

She had seen it in the too-long glances of strangers, in the hushed whispers they thought she couldn’t hear. In the way people softened their words when breaking bad news—another broken promise, another inevitable disappointment.

Pity clung to her like a second skin. When it started, she couldn’t remember. Maybe when they said her mother had “passed”—such a gentle way to say she’d overdosed in some seedy club. The mourners at the funeral were nearly drowned out by the snapping shutters of paparazzi, lingering just far enough back to seem tactful. Still, their heavy gazes never wavered from her tiny shoulders.

That was the first time she realized she hated that feeling.

But it couldn’t be helped. She was just… a pitiful person.

Mournful eyes. Pathetic demeanor.

So she got used to it.

Used to her peers staring when her father missed another recital. Used to Alfred gently informing her she'd be dining alone again. Used to the sympathetic nods from teachers who knew better than to ask about her weekend.

Used to being passed over in favor of her siblings—until some throwaway tabloid decided to spotlight “The Forgotten Daughter of Gotham’s Billionaire.” Once in a while, they remembered her. They crafted stories about the sad little girl in the big empty mansion, as if they knew anything. As if they cared.

Melissa learned early: people loved tragedies. But they didn’t care.

Pity was worthless. But it was all she had.

And even now, she was sure you pitied her. How could you not? The poor little rich girl—born with a silver spoon, but not a drop of love.

Yes, you pitied her.

And yet… she couldn’t bring herself to hate you for it.

Why else would you offer her your whole world? Your family, your home—everything that was yours, you shared like it was nothing. Without even thinking.

Okay, maybe part of her did resent it. That you showed her—so casually—all the things she’d been robbed of. Family dinners. Petty arguments. Noise. Mess.

What gave you the right to pity her when you were the odd one out? The misfit. The one who didn’t belong.

And still… she couldn’t hate you.

Because you were different.

You were kind.

Even with the sharp eyes and polished exterior of a true Wayne, you chose to be kind.

Not performatively, not out of guilt. Just… because you could.

Melissa hadn’t known what to make of that at first. She kept waiting for the catch—for you to ask for something, for the mask to slip. But it never did. You tittered with a joy that could only be genuine as you observed her.

“C’mon, let’s get some BatBurger– it’s in the food court over there. Then I can do your colors– I’m betting you're a spring and–” As you chattered on, you laced your arm with hers and walked forward.

Melissa had been surrounded by ghosts her whole life. Ghosts of people who left, ghosts of promises never kept.

But you weren’t a ghost. You were real. Solid. Warm.

And for the first time in forever, she didn’t feel pitied. She felt seen.

Loved? No. Not yet.

But maybe… Maybe she was starting to understand what that could feel like.

@GothamGal96 Just saw Melissa Wayne at a thrift store?? With some girl in cat socks?? 2025 is wild already 😭🛍️ #GothamSightings 🕐 1:42 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Gotham Eastside

Reply to @GothamGal96 @mallratmayhem not cat socks 😭😭 she’s converting the billionaire one meme sock at a time 🕑 1:48 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@urbancryptid melissa wayne looked like a deer in headlights when that girl held up a pink dress to her. rich people rly don't know what polyester is huh 🕓 4:17 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Near Clocktower Market

Reply to @urbancryptid @fauxfurfemme melissa was probably like “what’s a price tag?” 🕓 4:23 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@CoffeeAndChaos ngl it was kinda cute watching that Wayne girl try to argue over who pays for a $12 dress. Money can’t buy stubborn friends I guess 😂💳💥 🕝 2:31 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Midtown Gotham

Reply to @CoffeeAndChaos @thriftybaddies this is what late-stage capitalism meant actually 🕜 2:35 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@batbratblog melissa wayne looked so awkward at the checkout… like she didn’t know what to do with her hands 😭 the other girl just smiled and paid like a pro. power move tbh. 🕖 7:03 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Gotham Mall District

Reply to @batbratblog @chaoscrochet she held her card like it was a weapon and the other girl just hit her with ✨emotion✨ 🕖 7:08 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@thegothamsocial Spotted: The Forgotten Wayne Daughter™ being human for once?? 👀 Thrift shopping with a girl who clearly gives no f’s about her last name. Friendship goals or PR stunt?? 🤔 🕘 9:14 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Gotham Heights

Reply to @thegothamsocial @gossipgargoyle i kinda hope it’s not PR. she looked… real? like, not camera-ready real. mascara smudge and everything. 🕘 9:21 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@pennyworthtruthers okay but the way that girl just knew melissa liked bright colors??? 👀👀 that’s not just friends behavior I fear 🕥 10:48 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Gotham Northside

Reply to @pennyworthtruthers @roomtempteablog this is the slowest burn enemies-to-besties arc i didn’t know i needed 🕚 10:53 PM · Apr 5, 2025

@chaoticneutralvibes melissa wayne walking out of a thrift store looking like she just survived emotional whiplash… girl. blink twice if you’re being socialized against your will 💀💅 🕤 3:09 PM · Apr 5, 2025 · Old Quarter

Reply to @chaoticneutralvibes @thisisfinebat melissa walking like her soul just updated its firmware. girl’s emotionally rebooting in public 🕤 3:15 PM · Apr 5, 2025

#yandere #yandere blog #yandere core #yandere batfam #yandere oc #just let me ramble #original character #switched at birth au

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anashins · 1 year ago

Text

Snow in London

Pairing: idol!Jaehyun x escort!reader

Genre: fluff, romance, smut

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Jaehyun has to spend Christmas alone in London and figures that with money, you can buy anything - even company to make him feel less alone.

A/N: Merry Christmas guys - this is my gift for you! Have happy holidays and enjoy! (You might get confused as the story unfolds, but keep reading, it will all make sense, trust me)

A bottle of wine and an escort.

If two weeks ago someone had told Jaehyun that this was how he was going to spend this year’s Christmas, he would have called that person a fool. Usually, he spent it among his family, friends and members, and everyone knew. Very cozy and comfortable, only with the people closest to him.

Now, Jaehyun himself was the person who looked like a fool.

It was Christmas Eve and he was sitting in a hotel room on the other side of the world - London, to be exact - far away from all the people dear to him. If only he hadn’t accepted this campaign shoot for this certain luxury brand, he would be home by now, fast asleep after having enjoyed good food with his family.

But fate had other things in store for him when it was announced this morning that all domestic and international flights were canceled due to the heavy snowstorm that would last a couple of days. Jaehyun knew it was his responsibility as a global ambassador, but he had really begged to not accept this job in case something like this would happen. It didn’t usually snow in the UK, so his team had just shrugged his concerns off.

But somehow, he had sensed it, and now he was locked up here with nowhere else to go.

When Jaehyun looked out of the window, he saw white everywhere with not a single vehicle passing by in the streets, and the snow wouldn’t stop falling. He doubted he could take a flight tomorrow or the day after that. Or the day after that even. It was frustrating.

With a ‘thud’, he let himself fall back onto the bed. At least he was in a high class hotel close to Hyde Park and the staff had invited him to go to the bar with them, but Jaehyun wasn’t in the mood for company now. Well, at least not the company of so many people he didn’t know well enough.

Why an escort then?

Jaehyun didn’t want to spend Christmas Eve entirely alone, but he also didn’t want the commitment of having the person around until the next morning with the obligation of getting something physical out of it. He would rather leave it open. Or even worse, he didn’t want to take the flight back with that person and work together again depending on how this night would end. So that was why the staff was ruled out and the hotel employees as well just because they were short handed during the holidays.

Jaehyun just didn’t want to be alone on Christmas Eve and he had the money for it.

The fact that he had indeed never done something like this before was mirrored in how his heart jumped the moment he heard a knock on the door. Luckily, it was just room service bringing the wine he had ordered shortly before, leaving him all alone again with a simple “Merry Christmas”.

If this Christmas Eve was going to turn merry for Jaehyun, he also didn’t know yet.

The second time he heard a knock, he opened the door even more nervous to find you standing in front of him whose picture he had only briefly seen on the website this morning.

The first thing he noticed about you was how much prettier you were in real life. If he were being honest, you didn’t look like your photos at all as in fact, he found you more beautiful in person and with your bright aura, his nervousness directly dropped a bit.

Perhaps, he had also not looked at the photos properly, because he wanted to leave it open whether there would be intimate contact at all, and there were not many working today. In the end, he preferred any company over none at all and this was a time where he couldn’t be picky much since he also didn’t want to reduce a person to their outward appearance only and wanted to talk to them too.

So Jaehyun was pleasantly surprised to see you, a pretty, young woman with a nice energy, standing in front of him.

The second thing he noticed was that you must be cold, because despite your body being covered in a thick black puffer jacket and a pair of black pants that ended in boots, there were remnants of snow everywhere on your body, and since the flakes were melting by room temperature, it looked like you had just run through the rain with your face uncovered also.

For a special day with special services, if Jaehyun were to be blunt, you were dressed and styled quite ordinary - which he didn’t mind at all though since you were only going to stay in the room anyway, he had dropped the fact beforehand! He just couldn’t help but to notice the great difference in the sexy clothings and heavy makeup you had worn on your online pis and the way you were styled now.

But he’d rather have you warm and cozy than sexy during such a weather, he wasn’t one to pay much attention to outer clothing anyway when most of the time he was wearing lounge pants himself. Actually Jaehyun felt really relieved since he also hadn’t dressed up much for this occasion, wearing his slacks and black shirt at most.

“Good evening. It’s cold outside, come in.”

Jaehyun opened the door widely, and the third thing he noticed about you was how good you smelled when you walked past him with a light,

“Good evening. Thank you.”

You opened your jacket and Jaehyun, like the gentleman he was, helped you get out of it and hung it up on the wardrobe. When he turned back around, he observed you standing in the room, wrapping your arms around yourself and trembling with your light clothes since your upper body was only covered in a blouse.

“Didn’t you use the shuttle I ordered?” he asked.

“You ordered a shuttle for me? Oh…” You shook your head. “I used the subway and walked all the way from Oxford Circus to here.”

That was why you looked like you had walked through the snowstorm - because you literally did. “I paid for a shuttle service straight to the hotel too, no?” Jaehyun was sure this had been listed on the bill as an extra service for which he had already paid.

“I didn’t get the notice, she didn’t tell me. Only the hotel, floor and room number. There are no cars or services running, so….”

Suddenly, Jaehyun felt bad. He assumed ‘she’ was the operator in the company, something like a manager. “Take off your clothes.”

“What?”

He was confused that you had turned confused, so you were looking at each other, equally puzzled. “I want to hang them up, so you don’t have to walk around with wet clothes and risk getting a cold. And I want you to take a shower please, to warm yourself up.”

You blinked a few times, but then replied, “Oh! No, I was only taken aback a bit…”

“Don’t worry.” Jaehyun finally realized what had run through your head. “I’m not like that.”

Even though you only nodded as a reply, he clearly saw how relieved you were, and he started questioning whether you knew what you were actually here for as you appeared a bit insecure about this entire situation. Even though it might not happen right away or at all, the job description was very clear and you weren’t a newbie if he had to believe the website. But Jaehyun shrugged it off as this was a special circumstance and day you might not get into often as well.

Jaehyun then sent you to the bathroom with information on where to find the towels and a bathrobe. He just couldn’t live with the thought of having a woman come over despite the weather and dealing with the consequences.

Rummaging through his luggage, he found a simple white long sleeve and checkered lounge pants that must be way too big for you, but he figured it was better than leaving you in a bathrobe or making you wear your own clothes again before they had fully dried.

When you walked out of the bathroom approximately half an hour later, with semi-dried hair, a bathrobe way too big for you and wearing no makeup at all anymore, the fourth thing Jaehyun noticed about you was that you were an ordinary young woman who he could have also met on the streets or in a club, not someone he paid to spend a few hours with.

And if he were to say it out loud, he wouldn’t want you to misunderstand this. There was no negative connotation with this thought, especially not in regard to your job which services he was making use of himself. It just dawned on him that you were two ordinary people in private, alone on Christmas Eve.

In the end, when it came down to loneliness, you were both the same.

“You’re so kind to me,” you stated when Jaehyun handed you his clothes.

“I figured someone who has to work on Christmas Eve deserves more kindness than usual.”

“It was okay,” you simply stated and returned to the bathroom while it echoed, “There weren’t too many rude customers today, thank god.”

Jaehyun tilted his head in question over this cryptic statement. Had you just used plural? Oh my, how many customers did you take in a day? Was Christmas Eve really that busy? But then he decided to brush it off. It was none of his business anyway, although it remained in the back of his head, itching him a bit.

While he walked over to the table where he had also already prepared two glasses and opened the wine, you left the bathroom again, now fully dressed in his clothes.

Jaehyun attempted really hard not to look up and to stare, so he tried to catch a glimpse or two from the corner of his eyes while filling the wine glasses. Under any other circumstances, this would have been an awkward first date, and even though it wasn’t since he paid for your company, pretending to have it be one made it a little bit easier for him, he had to admit.

“Wine?” he offered, and he perceived in the way the look in your eyes changed that you very much welcomed this ice breaker.

“Thank you.”

Alcohol was not only very popular for making your tongue loose, which was why, two glasses of wine for each of you later, your outer clothes had become very loose as well and eventually landed on the floor next to the bed.

“You know,” you murmured in between kisses before Jaehyun slid his tongue along your jaw and only came to a stop with it by the side of your neck, which made you giggle. “I usually don’t do this the first time I meet someone… At least not directly.”

Jaehyun pricked up his ears, but didn’t stop nibbling on the soft skin. “Oh? But then, what do you usually do upon first meeting someone?”

“Usually we go out, to a restaurant or something. And if the vibe is right, one thing leads to another…”

Of course he knew about the fact that high quality escort services didn’t come with short lived physical intimacy only. But there was only so much he was able to do in such a situation, and now he was truly wondering if he should have ordered a room service meal first since he hadn’t even been fixated on physical contact only. It was his first time too, so he still felt a bit lost - and guilty he wasn’t able to offer more.

But he was just so attracted to you which was even more fueled by the bit of alcohol in his system now, and upon the first time he had leaned in to kiss you only moments before this, he knew you felt the same about him. Which was good! After all, he couldn’t imagine getting intimate with someone who had to pretend to like him for his sake and for the money.

“I would have taken you out first too, but during this snowstorm…”

He didn’t come to end his sentence, because you cupped his face and pulled him up, so that you were facing each other again, and you reassured him with your thumb stroking tenderly over his warm cheek, “I don’t mind this time.”

“Good.”

And with that, the last word was spoken just as the last pieces of clothing, your underwear, found their way onto the floor too.

When Jaehyun was running his fingers through your hair, caressing the sensitive skin on your shoulder with his warm lips, he noticed that, even after showering, you still smelled as good as in the moment when you first had walked through the door. You weren’t wearing any heavy perfume or another scent. This was just you, the natural you. He liked it.

You were sitting on his lap and held onto his strong upper arms for support as he went lower with his lips to the area around your cleavage. Your teeth sank into the flesh of your bottom lip when he bit into your nipple, making you gasp eventually. You felt him smile against your breast, and, almost as if he wanted to apologize, he licked over the spot and then gently placed a kiss on it.

When he dedicated his mouth to your other mound though, he didn’t use his teeth anymore, but only his tongue. And a few moments later, you let your head roll back as he sucked on nibbled on that spot, causing sensations to run all through your body and your thighs to clasp around him even stronger as though you wanted more of him too. And you actually did, oh how much you did!

But a familiar tone made you both turn your head to the desk simultaneously where your phone was lightening up and vibrating. Who would interrupt you at such a time?

“Just ignore it,” you told him, and he nodded deliberately.

“Very well.”

He grabbed you by your bum and with a gasp, you then were flipped around and fell backwards onto the mattress with a giggle. When your phone had exactly stopped ringing, you couldn't tell in the end, because you long had Jaehyun’s fingers inside of you.

What he thought when he was pleasuring you with his hand, wasn’t only how hot you looked as a writhing and whiny mess under him from whom he couldn’t avert his eyes, but also how fun it was, because there was a smile showing on your face every now and then.

Jaehyun usually never did one night stands, though there had been a handful of ones throughout the years. But these girls, he had talked to before, even in a drunken state only. That he just requested the company of someone and they would actually match so well from the first moment on like with you, he hadn’t expected at all.

His fingers were drenched when he pulled them out of you after noticing how tight you had gotten around him due to your arousal, but he was determined to prolong the act. After all, you had the whole night and he could still sleep on the plane the next day - if they would run again - which he doubted. And a part of him already thought further and made plans to book you instead again.

“Look at me.”

Jaehyun didn’t know why exactly, but he just wanted that. It made him feel warm around his chest. And he could need a little warmth right now when it was so cold and lonely outside. He hoped you did too.

Your eyes were indeed warm when you looked at each other, so he couldn’t help but lift his free hand and brush some streaks of your hair out of your face. There were worse ways to spend Christmas, he had to admit. Actually, this Christmas had turned really nice at this point.

Jaehyun got pulled out of his thoughts though when he felt the palms of your hands in his nether regions, first stroking along his inner thighs, then wrapping around his full length. No way this was happening. The unexpected sensation made him fold, and he had a really hard time propping his weight up against his elbows to hold himself in position when it all felt so good.

“You like that?” you whispered into his ear with a low voice that turned him on so much.

“Just keep going and I won’t be able to guarantee anything.”

With a brush over his tip, you wiped away his droplet of precum. You then retracted your hand to lead your stained fingers to your mouth and slid them in without breaking eye contact with him. This way you let him know that he nevertheless would end up very lucky this christmas.

Even your phone vibrating again couldn’t interrupt the mood since you both quietly agreed to ignore it before he reached for a condom on the nightstand to prepare himself. There still were a few hours of Christmas Eve left, a few hours where you could still try out stuff. Right now, you both just needed to get it off.

Jaehyun wondered if there was something you absolutely wouldn’t do or liked to do, but there was no room to think about it much anyway when you were lying under him, completely naked, a light sheen of sweat covering most parts of your body, and your facial expression welcoming him with your lips slightly parted.

Could he imagine a better gift for his situation? Absolutely not.

He parted your thighs with his knees when he sat in front of you and guided himself in. It was easy with almost no strength required, that was how wet he had already gotten you through his fingerwork. Grabbing your thighs to your left and right, Jaehyun slid you along the mattress closer to him so that you were eventually fully sheathed inside and stuck skin on skin.

You spread out your hands when he started to pull out, then pushed in again, and with every time, he added a little more force. Your eyes rolled to the ceiling as your fingers entangled with the sheet to your left and right, and you suddenly weren’t mad at your parents anymore for leaving you alone on Christmas, so that you had decided to still work and practically spend it with a stranger. You could imagine having a worse celebration than this one right here.

It had been quite a while since you last had sex, and you weren’t sure it had ever been this good or if it were only the circumstances and you were just so into each other - which was so rare! But in the end, it didn’t really matter. If the first blind encounter was already this good, there for sure would be a second one!

You felt your climax nearing the moment he picked up his speed, and although you were able to cum like this, you still appreciated that he changed the position from kneeling in front of you to lying on top of you. It felt good to wrap your legs around his middle, and feel him, every stroke, no matter how hard or long, even more intense.

He was breathing into your ear, and at one point even kissed your earlobe, then your cheek. It was intimate and cute at the same time, and he eventually hovered over you with his face, so you spread out your arms to welcome him with a kiss on your mouth, and then hugged him close to your body.

His breathing turned irregular and it wasn’t in sync with his thrusts anymore, that was how you could foretell that at any second, he would cum. With your fingers grabbing into his hair, partly gently, partly determined, you signalized him that it was alright to let go, and that you would follow too.

As though he had been holding in until you gave such kind of approval, he came the moment he slid back inside you with a low groan right beside your ear. You witnessed his breathing turning regular and slower and him gaining back full control of his body, because he did not directly pull out of you after he was done.

Instead, he continued moving for as long as he was still able to and eventually got you off with his hands so that you shook in his arms and he was now the one having to hold you through your climax.

“Best Christmas Eve ever,” you eventually breathed when he let go of you and rolled to one side of the now messy bed. “That was a nice gift.”

“Right back at you,” Jaehyun said.

With a look at you, he observed how you tried to grab the blanket to wrap it around your naked body to keep yourself warm. He knew a better method though.

Jaehyun moved to your side of the bed and laid down, but making sure to have closed his arms around you before to pull you down with him right onto his chest. For a moment, he was worried that it was too much and you would free yourself again. But as he felt your muscles relaxing and you eventually put an arm around him too, he was very much relieved.

“Why are you spending Christmas alone?” you eventually asked him after a few moments of silence. “She didn’t tell me.”

Ah, so details truly weren’t passed on upon request. “My flight back home got canceled due to the snowstorm, but I didn’t want to be all alone.” Jaehyun didn’t know whether he could ask this question back, but he did nonetheless. He figured if you didn’t want to or weren’t allowed to share private info, you would tell him immediately.

“Oh, you wanted to spend it among your family too but they live abroad?” He wanted to explain that he lived abroad too, but your answer caught his attention more, “My parents suddenly decided they would rather spend two weeks on a cruise in the Caribbean sea instead of celebrating with me, so I was alone too.”

“I understand that.” If he would have been left alone on Christmas, since it was a holiday spent among the family in the UK, he would have rather worked too, Jaehyun thought to himself. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Yeah, that’s why.”

It was cold outside, but their bodies and hearts were warm, not only because of them sharing their physical warmth, but mostly because they were not alone anymore.

So it was an unspoken agreement that their encounter wouldn’t end here. Or at night. Probably only the next morning. And even then, you both wondered if it actually would when it felt this good.

“Should I order room service?” Jaehyun asked instead.

You nodded with excitement. “Actually, I’m quite hungry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He laughed and stretched out his arm to reach for the phone, but you both heard a knock on the door before he could call anyone.

“Did you already order something before?” you asked out of curiosity, but Jaehyun shook his head.

“Maybe someone from my team?”

You frowned. “Team…?”

But Jaehyun didn’t see it as he had already jumped out of bed to throw on some light clothes so that it wouldn’t get that embarrassing to open the door to one of the staff.

Standing in front of him was no familiar staff at all though.

“Good evening, here I am.”

Jaehyun was flabbergasted. Had it been a glass of wine too much? Because in front of him stood the woman whose exact pictures he had seen online this morning, he now remembered clearly. Not only was she wearing the exact same clothes, but also the same heavy makeup. No doubt, he wasn’t dreaming or imagining.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” she continued. “The shuttle you ordered couldn’t get through, I was waiting for so long. I ordered a taxi from Oxford Circus instead and that eventually got stuck. I had to walk the rest of the way, but now I’m here… What is it? Don’t you want to invite me in?”

“Pardon me… what?!”

On the other side of the room, you had finally picked up the phone call from your friend who had just called for the third time.

“Hey! You can’t imagi-... What do you mean? How can he still be waiting when I am currently with him? Yes, the guy you set me up on a blind date with, he’s here,” you defended yourself over the line, then paused. “What do you mean? I am in the room on the fifth floor, the exact room you told me.”

You looked over to the man who had just closed the door again and your eyes locked with undefinable gazes.

“This is the fourth floor.”

Then, you both asked the other as realization dawned at the same time,

“Who are you?”

#jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun fanfiction #nct #nct 127 #nct smut #nct x you #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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onlyangel4 · 1 month ago

Text

red, white and ruin. part five. cody rhodes.

dark!cody rhodes x make up artist!reader.

synopsis: on the surface, cody is everything clean-cut. honour, legacy, gold. but you saw the mask slip once, and now you can’t unsee it. he wants you because you see him, the ambition, the darkness, the violence under the white light. and when he decides you’re going to be his, he wraps you in red, white, and ruin.

warnings: 18+. cursing. smut. p in v. voyerism, window sex. ownership kink. filthy dirty talk. fingering.

part one // part two // part three // part four // part five // part six

you must've drifted off again at some point, because when you opened your eyes next, cody was gone.

the hotel room was empty, eerily still.

you sat up slowly, the bed a wreck around you, heart hammering strangely hard against your ribs.

something was wrong.

you could feel it, that crackling tension in the air, like a storm rolling in.

you swung your legs over the side of the bed and

your breath caught.

sitting at the foot of the bed, carefully arranged like some kind of altar, were boxes.

three of them.

big, glossy, expensive-looking.

each one wrapped in deep red ribbon, the kind you only saw in stupidly fancy jewellery stores or in those luxury brand ads that aired around christmas.

a single card was perched on top of the largest box.

your name, written in cody’s unmistakable, aggressive scrawl.

your hands shook a little as you picked it up.

inside, two words:

"mine. always."

your stomach dropped.

you opened the first box with trembling fingers.

a necklace.

diamond-studded, delicate, horrifyingly expensive.

the kind of thing that didn’t belong anywhere near you.

you didn’t dare put it on.

the second box, a pair of shoes.

custom.

designer.

the kind of shoes a woman wore when she was supposed to be owned, heels sharp enough to make your ankles bleed, black and brutal.

and the third box

you gasped.

it was a dress.

silk. blood-red.

cut low in the front made to cling to every inch of you like a second skin.

you sat back on the bed, dizzy.

what the hell was happening?

you then looked further, finding a small folded note

"wear these tonight, show everyone who you belong to."

you were so fucked.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you barely had time to shower, barely had time to put the red dress on. but you had time to stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder when exactly you'd lost your mind. before the knock came at the door.

three sharp raps. no hesitation. no courtesy.

your heart stuttered against your ribs.

you moved without thinking, opening the door with trembling fingers.

and there he was.

cody.

dressed ready to go out black suit , tie loose, shirt unbuttoned just enough to flash that strong column of his throat.

but it wasn’t his clothes that made your blood freeze, it was his face.

cold.

fierce.

hungry.

he didn’t say a word.

he just stepped forward, forcing you back into the room with nothing more than the weight of his body.

you stumbled once, caught yourself, and then his hand was around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, as he kicked the door shut behind him with a dull thud.

"you think you can ignore my gifts, sweetheart?" his voice was low and dangerous, soft the way a wolf’s growl is soft just before it tears your throat out.

"you think you can look at what I give you, touch it, breathe it in... and still act like you're not already fucking mine?"

you tried to speak, you really did, but nothing came out except a little gasp.

your hands flew up instinctively, grabbing at his wrist, but he didn’t tighten his grip.

he just kept you there, trembling under the weight of his stare.

"you wore the dress."

his thumb dragged slowly along your jaw, making you shiver.

"but not the jewellery"

he clicked his tongue, disappointed.

"and no heels. barefoot. like a little brat who doesn’t know what she’s worth."

you managed a broken whisper, "i was going to put them on"

wrong answer.

cody's hand slid from your throat to your hair, fisting it brutally and forcing your head back until you were looking up at him, helpless.

"you were going to" he repeated mockingly.

"you were going to obey me? after i spent all night making sure you couldn’t even fucking walk straight?"

the possessiveness in his voice wasn’t subtle.

it was a storm, a black tide rising up to swallow you whole.

"you think this is some little game?" he snarled.

"you think i don’t mean every fucking second i put my hands on you?"

he yanked you closer, your bodies colliding hard enough to knock the air from your lungs.

"you want to test me, baby?"

his mouth was right at your ear now, every word a burning brand on your skin.

"you want to see how far i'll go?"

you whimpered without meaning to, your knees already buckling, every instinct screaming at you to submit.

cody laughed, low and cruel.

"that’s what i thought."

and just like that, you were done.

melting into him.

breaking apart at the seams.

every shred of pride, every excuse, every half-formed protest crumbling to ash in his hands.

you didn’t remember how your back hit the bed.

you didn’t remember how he peeled the dress from your body like it was paper, discarded on the floor.

you didn’t remember breathing because you weren’t. not when Cody looked down at you like that.

like a man starved.

like you were the only thing he’d ever eat again.

"look at you" he growled, shedding his jacket, his shirt, undoing his belt with a snap that made you flinch.

"you let me touch you twice and now you can't even fucking think straight, can you?"

you shook your head helplessly.

you couldn’t think straight.

not when his body was laid bare for you, strong arms, broad chest, the tattoos across his pecs flexing with every furious breath.

not when he was already hard, heavy, dripping against his abdomen.

he grabbed your ankles, dragging you to the edge of the bed.

your bare skin burned against the sheets.

cody loomed over you, towering, unstoppable.

"you know how many men looked at you every day"

his voice was low, dangerous.

"you know how many of them want to fuck you?"

you opened your mouth, no idea what you were going to say but he was faster.

"but they won’t."

he shoved your knees apart, exposing everything, not giving you a second to hide.

"they can't."

he wrapped one big hand around his cock, stroking himself slowly, almost lazily, as he stared between your legs.

"you're mine now."

it wasn't a question.

it wasn't a demand.

it was a fact.

you whimpered, lifting your hips toward him without even meaning to.

"say it" he ordered.

"i'm yours", you gasped, voice breaking.

cody smiled, dark, wicked.

and then he wrecked you.

no teasing.

no slow build up.

he lined himself up and pushed inside in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt, making you sob out a broken, desperate sound.

he was thick, stretching you wide, splitting you open and he didn't stop, not even when your nails dug into his biceps, not even when your thighs shook against his ribs.

"you'll take it", he grunted, snapping his hips forward.

"you'll take all of it. every fucking inch."

you cried out, a sound too raw to be anything but real, and he shuddered above you, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck, forcing you to look up at him as he pounded into you.

"i want you to remember this", he growled.

"i want you to remember who fucks you like this."

your mind was blank, pure white noise, nothing existed except the wet slap of his hips against yours, the obscene stretch, the burn and bliss tangled so tightly you couldn't separate them anymore.

"mine" he snarled again, like he needed to hear it, needed to brand it into your fucking soul.

"yours", you sobbed, clinging to him, nails raking down his back.

and that did it.

cody slammed into you harder, faster, his rhythm brutal, relentless until the only thing you could do was break.

your orgasm tore through you without warning, without mercy, shattering you apart under him, through him.

he didn't stop.

he fucked you through it, kept you pinned and helpless as he chased his own end.

the dirty, broken sounds coming from you only pushed him higher.

"you feel that?" he growled against your throat.

"feel how you’re squeezing me? fuck, baby, you were made for this. made for me."

it was messy, desperate, violent, and when he finally came inside you, grinding deep and filling you up with a broken, guttural groan, it felt like the entire world tilted sideways.

he didn’t pull out.

he just stayed there, buried inside you, panting against your skin, his arms wrapped tight around your body like he was afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the room was spinning.

your body felt boneless, ruined, every inch of you tender, buzzing, alive.

cody hadn't moved far.

he pulled out slowly, hissing through his teeth at the mess he left between your thighs, then collapsed beside you, dragging you onto his chest without a word.

you lay there, still trembling, your ear pressed over his heart, listening to the wild, unsteady beat hammering beneath his ribs.

he smelled like sweat and sex and something deeper, yours.

"you alright, baby?" he murmured after a long moment, voice thick, raw with emotion.

you nodded against him, but he wasn't satisfied with that.

he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

they were soft now, so different from the way he looked when he was fucking the soul out of you but no less intense.

"talk to me," he said lowly.

"you good?"

you swallowed hard, nodding again, but this time you found your voice too.

"i’m good" you whispered.

"I’m better than good."

cody smiled, small, crooked, devastating.

"you wreck me" you breathed without thinking.

the smile dropped from his mouth, replaced with something dark and tender.

He leaned down and kissed you slow, deep, savouring you.

he kissed you like you were a prayer he hadn't realised he needed until you were already in his hands.

"that's the idea", he whispered against your lips.

he helped you sit up, even though your legs felt like jelly, his big hands steady at your waist.

you whined a little at the dull ache between your thighs, the soreness, the overwhelming stretch he left inside you.

cody's jaw tightened.

He brushed his thumb between your legs, where his cum was dripping down your thighs, and you jerked with a soft gasp.

"you’re fucking perfect," he muttered, mostly to himself.

and then, impossibly tender he cleaned you up, using a warm cloth from the bathroom, murmuring soothing nonsense against your temple as he worked.

every second felt like being stitched back together.

every touch said, you’re mine. i’ll take care of you. always.

once you were clean or as clean as you could be when your body was still singing from what he'd done to you he pulled you into his lap, cradling you against his chest like you weighed nothing at all.

you could've stayed there forever.

safe.

wanted.

claimed.

but cody had other plans.

"baby", he rumbled, nuzzling into your neck.

"we’ve got dinner."

you blinked at him in disbelief.

dinner?

after that?

he chuckled at the look on your face, pressing a kiss under your jaw.

"i made a reservation" he said casually.

"you're gonna put on that little dress i bought you, and i'm gonna take you out and show the world who you belong to."

something about the way he said it, not jealous, not insecure, but possessive in a way that made your toes curl, sent a thrill racing up your spine.

still you hesitated.

"what if people notice?"

cody pulled back to look at you, and grinned.

"that’s the point, sweetheart."

you stared at him.

and that's when he dropped the bomb.

"i might've made a few calls" he said

"press'll be there. couple of paparazzi too."

your jaw dropped.

"you... what?"

"you’re mine", cody said simply, his voice low and certain.

"time everybody else knew it too."

you should have been embarrassed.

you should have been furious.

but all you felt was heat, blooming hot and dangerous in your chest.

because when cody claimed something, he didn’t do it halfway.

he made damn sure the world understood.

you were about to be put on display, on his arm, in his world, and you’d never been more ready.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

cody watched you get dressed like a man on the edge of losing all self-control.

you barely made it into the tight little red dress he’d picked out short, sleeveless, clinging to every inch of your body like a second skin.

Ii wasn't even subtle, it screamed taken, touched, ruined.

your thighs still trembled when you stepped into your heels.

your lips were still kiss-swollen.

and between your legs you could still feel the faint, aching drip of him, a filthy reminder of what he'd done to you.

cody ate it up with his eyes, so possessive it almost knocked you off your feet.

he looked like trouble.

he was trouble.

and he was taking you out looking like this.

god help anyone who even looked at you wrong tonight.

the car ride to the restaurant was a slow burn.

cody’s hand never left your thigh, heavy, warm, fingers flexing just enough to remind you he was right there, in charge, in control.

when you pulled up, flashes started instantly, photographers camped outside the entrance, cameras raised like a goddamn army.

your heart kicked in your chest.

cody felt it.

he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear.

"smile, baby", he murmured.

"let 'em see who you belong to."

and then he climbed out, came around, and opened your door.

the second you stepped out, cody took your hand in his, large, firm, possessive and pulled you into his side like you were the most natural thing in the world.

he didn't rush.

he wanted the cameras to catch it.

his hand slid down your back, dangerously low, guiding you up the sidewalk.

flashes exploded around you, but you barely noticed, all you could feel was cody’s body heat, his steady grip, the tension rolling off him in waves.

inside, it wasn’t much better.

eyes followed you everywhere, whispers, stares, and cody welcomed it.

at your table, tucked into a private corner but not too private, cody sat close.

way too close.

his thigh pressed against yours under the table.

his hand casually rested on your knee and then, lower, sliding higher until your breath caught.

you shot him a warning look.

cody just grinned.

"relax," he said.

"nobody can see under the table."

and then, slowly, deliberately, he hooked two fingers under the hem of your dress and dragged it higher up your thighs.

you nearly choked on air.

"cody," you hissed.

he gave you a look that dared you to stop him.

"you’re dripping down your legs, sweetheart" he murmured low enough only you could hear.

"you think i don’t know what kind of mess i made?"

your whole body flushed hot.

"you’re mine", he said simply.

"you stay wet for me, you stay messy for me. that’s how it’s supposed to be."

you whimpered, actually whimpered and Cody smirked like he’d won a prize.

the waiter came over and somehow, somehow, you managed to order without falling apart, though cody's hand never moved, staying just under the table, warm against the bare skin at the top of your inner thigh, dangerously close to the place you wanted him most.

through appetizers and drinks, he kept you right there, trembling, needy, on edge while he stayed perfectly calm, like he wasn't slowly dismantling you in public.

he leaned close while you picked at your food, brushing your hair behind your ear so nobody could see his mouth move.

"after this," he murmured, voice like velvet, "i'm taking you upstairs."

you swallowed thickly.

"i'm gonna fuck you against the window", cody said, like he was promising you a damn gift.

"let 'em all look up if they want. let 'em see who owns you now."

your breath hitched.

he chuckled darkly.

"you like that, baby? you like bein’ my dirty little secret they can’t touch?"

you nodded helplessly, thighs clenching.

cody squeezed your leg, hard enough to make you whimper.

"good", he said, sitting back like nothing was wrong, like he wasn’t planning to ruin you again the second you were alone.

"you better finish your dessert" he added with a wink.

"you’re gonna need the energy."

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

cody threw some bills on the table, way more than needed and stood, towering over you with that dark, hungry look in his eye.

when he offered his hand, you didn't even think.

you took it.

the second your fingers slid into his, he pulled you in tight against his side, possessive as hell, like he dared anyone to even look at you the wrong way.

outside, the flashes were even worse, an ocean of lights and shouting voices, people calling his name, your name, snapping pictures like they couldn’t get enough.

cody didn’t rush.

he slowed down, made a show of it, his hand firmly on your ass now, fingers spreading possessively, dragging you close like you were his prize, his trophy, his property.

he tilted his head down, mouth brushing your temple, making sure the cameras caught every second.

"mine" he growled under his breath, low enough that only you could hear.

you shivered.

reporters yelled questions, are you together? who is she? are you serious, cody??

he didn’t answer a single one.

just kept walking, hand on you, body crowding you, claiming you in front of the whole damn world.

when you reached the black suv waiting at the curb, he opened the door and practically shoved you inside.

the second it slammed shut, the outside world disappeared, and cody’s hand was back between your thighs, rough and impatient.

"you’re fuckin’ soaked" he muttered, sounding almost angry about it.

"can’t believe you sat through dinner like this. all messy and needy for me."

you gasped when he pushed your legs apart, fingers teasing the inside of your thigh, so close to where you were throbbing for him.

"cody" you whimpered.

he leaned in, breathing hard, his mouth brushing your ear.

"you wanna be good for me, baby?" he murmured.

"yes" you gasped.

"good. then keep your fuckin’ legs open until we get upstairs."

you obeyed, cheeks flaming, heart pounding sitting there with your thighs spread, dress hiked up indecently, while the driver pulled out into traffic like nothing was happening.

cody sat back, legs wide, watching you, one hand lazily stroking his thigh, the other reaching over occasionally to trace your inner knee, your trembling skin, reminding you who you belonged to.

the ride felt endless.

you were dripping, aching, wrecked, and Cody looked like he was enjoying every second of your suffering.

when you finally pulled up to the hotel, he got out first, circling around fast, opening your door before the valet could even react.

again, cameras flashed, people definitely noticing now how flushed you were, how your dress was rumpled, how cody’s hand never left you.

he kept you tucked against his side the whole way through the lobby, straight to the elevator.

the second the doors closed behind you, cody snapped.

he spun you around, shoving you against the mirrored wall with a thud.

before you could even gasp, his mouth crashed onto yours, rough, bruising, hungry, his tongue pushing inside like he was staking a claim.

you whimpered against him, hands clutching his shirt, feeling the thick, hard line of him pressing against your stomach.

"you’ve been teasing me all fuckin’ night" cody growled between kisses, voice thick, ragged.

you shook your head, you hadn’t done anything, but he wasn’t listening.

"walkin’ around all sweet and messy" he said, kissing down your jaw, nipping your throat, dragging your dress higher and higher.

"drippin’ down your legs. thinkin’ you can look at me like that and get away with it?"

"cody, please" you gasped.

he ground against you hard enough to make you cry out.

"you want it that bad, baby? huh?"

"yes" you whimpered, thighs trembling.

"then you’ll take what i give you," he growled, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you, wild, possessive, desperate.

"and you’ll thank me when i’m done."

the elevator dinged for your floor.

without missing a beat, cody grabbed your hand and yanked you down the hall, practically dragging you to the room.

the door slammed shut behind you.

you barely had time to breathe before cody grabbed you again, spinning you to face the giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city below.

you could feel him behind you, big, solid, overwhelming.

he pressed up against your back, one hand curling around your throat, tilting your head back so you could see your reflection in the glass.

"you see that?" cody rasped.

"you see who you fuckin’ belong to?"

"yes," you whispered, dizzy, desperate.

"good", he said and then he shoved your dress up over your hips and yanked your panties down in one brutal move.

you gasped, naked, exposed, trembling.

"hands on the window, baby" cody ordered, voice rough and ragged.

you obeyed, palms flat against the cool glass, heart hammering.

behind you, you heard the clink of his belt, the rasp of his zipper.

and then, hot, hard, heavy he pressed into you in one slow, devastating thrust.

you cried out , more from feeling him, being filled, being claimed, than anything else.

cody groaned deep in his chest, grinding his hips against your ass.

"so fuckin’ good" he growled.

"so tight. so messy for me."

he pulled back and slammed in again, harder, deeper and you sobbed against the glass.

below you, the city lights twinkled.

above you, cody buried himself inside you like he was never letting you go.

every thrust was rough, punishing, possessive.

every sound he made, every groan, every growled curse, went straight to your core.

"you’re mine" cody panted against your ear.

"you fuckin’ understand me, baby?"

"yes" you cried out.

"say it."

"i’m yours," you sobbed.

"say it louder."

"i’m yours, cody, i’m yours!"

he groaned, grinding deep, holding you pinned between his body and the window, fucking you hard enough to shake the glass.

and when you came, shattering around him, screaming his name cody wrapped a hand around your throat, holding you tight, chasing his own release with a broken, desperate sound.

he finished deep inside you, grinding slow and possessive, filling you up so full you could feel it.

neither of you moved for a long moment, just breathing, clinging, wrecked.

then cody pressed a kiss to your temple, shockingly soft after everything he’d just done, and murmured, "good fuckin’ girl."

you whimpered, leaning back into him, feeling like you were falling apart in his arms.

and he caught you, just like he always would.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

the world stopped spinning eventually.

cody was the one who moved first, gently, slowly, pulling out with a low groan.

you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, at the loss of him, but he was right there, hands on your waist, steadying you, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck.

"come here, baby" he murmured, voice rough and low.

you let him turn you around.

your legs shook, too weak to hold you up, and cody just scooped you into his arms, carrying you like you weighed nothing, like you were something precious.

he walked you into the bathroom, setting you gently down on the edge of the wide marble tub.

kneeling in front of you, he wet a warm cloth and started cleaning you up, slow, careful, murmuring little apologies when you flinched from how sensitive you were.

the whole time, he stayed so close, hands gentle, touch reverent.

it was a different kind of intimacy.

no hunger, no roughness.

just care.

when he finished, he helped you into one of his soft black t-shirts, it hung off you, drowning you in the best way.

then he carried you again, back to the giant bed, settling you between the cool sheets, tucking you into his side like he never wanted to let go.

you buried your face against his chest, breathing him in, soap, sweat, cologne, cody.

for a long time, neither of you said anything.

you just laid there, tangled up together, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart against your ear.

it was cody who broke the silence.

"you good, baby?" he asked, voice so soft it barely broke the quiet.

you nodded against him. "yeah. i’m good. are you?"

he chuckled low in his chest, not cocky, not teasing. just tired, wrecked, a little amazed.

"better now" he said.

you smiled, fingers tracing lazy circles over the lines of his tattooed arm.

another long pause.

you didn’t even realise you were speaking until the words were already out.

"what are we doing, cody?"

his hand stilled on your back.

for a second, you thought he wasn’t going to answer, that maybe you shouldn't have asked but then he sighed, tugging you closer.

"i don’t know" he said honestly.

"but i know i'm not lettin’ you go."

your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

"you sure about that?" you whispered.

cody shifted, turning slightly so he could see your face, cupping your jaw with one big, calloused hand.

"you’re mine" he said fiercely.

"and i'm yours. that simple."

you blinked up at him, throat tight.

"but what about" you started to say, thinking about work, about cameras and contracts and fans and gossip.

cody shook his head, silencing you with a thumb brushing over your lips.

"i’ll handle it" he said firmly.

"all of it. you don’t worry about nothin’. just stay close to me."

you stared at him, breath caught in your lungs.

because for the first time in a long time, you believed someone when they said they’d protect you.

and you knew, deep down, that cody rhodes wasn’t the kind of man who broke his promises.

he saw the doubt flicker across your face, and his expression softened.

"hey" he said, voice low and steady. "i’m serious. you’re not a secret, baby. not to me. never were."

you swallowed hard.

"is that why you called the paparazzi tonight?" you whispered.

he grinned, no shame, no apology.

"yeah. needed everybody to see you with me," he said.

"needed ‘em to know."

you laughed, real, full bodied, tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

"you’re crazy" you said, voice thick.

Cody leaned in, kissing you slow, sweet, the kind of kiss that said I’m not goin’ anywhere.

"crazy for you" he murmured against your mouth.

you melted into him, into the kiss, into the feeling of being wanted, claimed, loved and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt safe.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

you were naive. you had assumed that following everything cody would act normal at work.

that he could act like nothing happened.

that was certainly not the case.

you tried to work on like any normal day.

but nothing felt routine when cody rhodes was in your orbit.

you stepped through the loading dock doors, your kit slung over your shoulder, trying to look calm, professional, like you had a job to do even though your skin still buzzed with the memory of him from last night.

you hadn't even made it ten steps into the building before you heard it the heavy, deliberate sound of boots.

you turned your head

and there he was.

hat pulled low, black hoodie unzipped just enough to flash the glint of his chain.

eyes locked on you with that same heated, dangerous look he’d worn when he’d had you pinned against the hotel bed.

your heart stuttered.

"hey" you said, trying for neutral, even as heat prickled up your neck.

he didn't answer.

just stalked toward you, slow, steady, like a predator who had all the time in the world.

you opened your mouth to say something, anything, but cody didn’t give you the chance.

he crowded into your space, caging you against the nearest wall, one hand braced beside your head.

"you really thought you were gonna just walk in here like that," he said low, voice rough with something dangerous, "act like you’re not mine?"

you blinked up at him, heart thundering.

"i'm working," you said, a little breathless. "i have to"

cody leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"don’t care."

you shivered.

Somewhere in the distance, you heard footsteps, other crew members moving equipment, superstars getting mic’d up but cody didn’t seem to notice or care.

his hand came up, sliding over your waist, squeezing possessively.

"you see all these people?" he murmured. "they’re about to see."

"see what?" you asked, even though you already knew.

cody's mouth brushed your temple.

"that you’re fuckin’ spoken for" he growled.

before you could respond, he pulled back just enough to press a hot, claiming kiss to your lips. deep and public and absolutely reckless.

someone wolf-whistled from down the hall.

a door slammed.

laughter echoed somewhere nearby.

you gasped against him, trying to pull away, but cody just chased you, kissed you harder, like he could brand the truth onto your skin with his mouth.

when he finally let you breathe, you were dizzy, chest heaving, pulse pounding.

he grinned, wicked, satisfied thumb brushing your swollen bottom lip.

"now" he said, stepping back just enough to let you move, "go do your job, sweetheart."

you stared at him, stunned, trembling.

cody smirked, cocky as hell.

and then he winked, the bastard, and sauntered off toward gorilla, leaving you flushed and wrecked and so very, very his.

#wwe #wwe fic #wwe fandom #wwe fanfiction #wwe smackdown #cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes fanfiction #dark wwe #dark cody rhodes #cody rhodes smut

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blackhairedjjun · 1 year ago

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alright i have an imagine scenario right now:

you're an employee at a jewelry company, nowhere near rich enough to buy the products you market. you're at your company's flagship store for the launch of its new jewelry line, and you've got none other than famous model choi yeonjun as its brand ambassador. he arrives with his hair slicked back, wearing a pristine white suit and sporting a few key pieces from the line; though he gives the cameras his best smoldering looks, you aren't particularly impressed. you've met enough rich assholes at your job to last you a lifetime, and yeonjun doesn't seem much different. you watch him pose for the photographers and chat with other guests for a few moments, but shift your mind back to work.

he talks to you exactly once, to ask where the bathroom is. at least he was polite to you, unlike a lot of the VIPs you've met.

the next day is a weekend and you spent it at the plant market, looking at freshly potted flowers about to bloom and seedlings of vegetables ready to be cared for. you might not be able to afford the fancy necklaces and rings that you sell, but at least you have the luxury of growing your own veggies and flowers in your tiny apartment balcony.

you were not expecting it to rain that day, but it does. it's a downpour crashing down from the sky, and though you consider running for it, you're also weighed down by two bags of plants in both hands. so you stand under one of the market tents next to a row of tomato plants, waiting for the rain to stop. it doesn't.

just then you feel a tap on your shoulder and turn to see a young man in a hoodie and cap, sunglasses perched on top of his head. he's carrying an oversized umbrella, large enough for two. "um, hi, excuse me," he says, stumbling over his words, "you were the employee at the jewelry store yesterday, right? do you want help? we can share my umbrella..." he glances down at your bags of plants, then back at you.

it takes a while for you to recognize him until it hits you: choi yeonjun. three things run through your mind at once: first, you're impressed that he managed to remember you when all you did was tell him where the bathroom is. second, you feel a pang of shame for assuming he's a rich asshole when he's making such a kind offer to you. and third, even in a worn-out black hoodie, he's still ridiculously handsome.

you step into the umbrella with him; you feel his fingers brush against yours as he takes one of your bags to carry. "thank you," you tell him. he smiles at you and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

it doesn't feel so bad to be wrong about him this time.

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt drabbles #yeonjun drabbles #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun soft thoughts #yeonjun soft hours #bhj: violet's works

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princessmisery666 · 8 months ago

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Maverick's Annual Scavenger Hunt - Part 1 of 3

Series Summary: You and Jake have been dancing around each other for a while. The Dagger Squad set it up so that the dancing stops, but a case of miscommunication could ruin it all.

Summary: Everyone wants to win the scavenger hunt prize. Two heads are better than one, so teaming up with Jake should be fun. Right?

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: Fluff, flirting, teasing.

W/C: 2.5k

Characters: Unnamed female reader (you/she/her), Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin, Natasha ‘Phoenix’ Trace, Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado. Small Parts/Mentioned: The rest of Dagger Squad, Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell, Penny Benjamin.

Pairing: Hangman x Female Reader. Phoenix x Coyote. Mentioned: Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x Penny Benjamin.

Notes: Reader has a call sign.

Beta(s): @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes are mine. Special shoutout to @writercole

Graphics: made by me on Canva.

Master Lists: Series // Top Gun Maverick // Main

It was a silly game, and you felt ridiculous asking for “Sandals for Maverick.” without any concrete evidence that you were right.

But the Foot Locker sales assistant smirks, “I’ll go get them.”

You sigh happily at not having made a complete fool of yourself.

Each year, Mav invites a select group to participate in a scavenger hunt. He always makes it challenging. Three random objects are to be retrieved and brought to him to win the prize. The prizes vary each year: extra vacation time, an assignment of the winner’s choice, and one spectacular year, the use of Mav’s F50 for an entire weekend, was a reward.

This year, due to Maverick’s legendary and not generally sanctioned exploits landing him in hot water with Admiral Simpson, it is an all-expenses paid trip to the most highly acclaimed spa in the country. Technically, it had been a trip for him and Penny, but as always, trouble found him. He was lucky to have only his vacation canceled and not be court-martialed. Penny wasn’t happy, even less so when they couldn’t get a refund.

The Dagger Squad are this year’s lucky participants, and two winners will get to stay at the luxury resort for three nights. Mav had dropped hints for the month leading up to game day, and it was up to the squad to figure out what three items were to be found and where.

Sandals were your first thought, and as you rushed to the mall, you had enough time to figure out the other two items. Now that you know your first guess is correct and the sales assistant hands you a brand new pair of Havana’s, you feel a little more confident with the rest. But there is one hiccup to address.

“I know you’re there, Hangman,” you sigh, slipping the sandals into your backpack and zipping it up.

Jake saunters around the display of Air Jordans, arms folded, leaning against the metal shelving. “What gave me away?”

You aren't about to admit you've noticed the fawning collective trailing behind you as you made your way through the mall. It didn’t take long to realize it wasn’t because of you but the handsome pilot following you. Instead, you snark, “I’m pretty sure they can smell your cologne on the moon.”

He laughs, and as always, it annoys you to no end that your snide remarks never seem to bother him. It’s the school playground all over again. The more you try to discourage him, the more he digs his heels in.

“I like that you know what cologne I wear, Cosmo,” he grins.

You love your call sign - head in the clouds, always wondering how the universe works - but how does he make it sound so dirty?

His smile is dazzling and you know very few people who can resist it. It takes a lot of effort, but you manage it with a roll of your eyes.

Strolling out of the store, you sigh, “What’d you want, Hangman?”

“I thought we could team up,” he suggests, chasing after you. “After all, the trip is for two, and I already figured out one of the clues, and you just acquired the second.”

“What did you find?” you ask.

You don’t need to see the suggestive eyebrow wiggle. It's in his tone, “You show me yours, and I’ll show you mine.”

The eye roll produced by his comment gives you a headache. “Has that line ever worked for you?”

It's a rhetorical question, but he answers anyway. “You’d be surprised.”

You probably wouldn’t be. The company he keeps isn’t exactly looking for Mensa-level conversation. He zeroes in on the ones that, like him, are looking for a no-fuss hookup, and you assume the easiest and cheesiest pickup lines, accompanied by his Hollywood smile, work every time.

“Easy and cheesy,” you snicker to yourself.

“Huh, what?” he asks, jogging slightly to fall in line beside you.

“Nothing.”

“C’mon, what do you say? Teammates?”

“I have enough of you in the air as your WSO, Seresin, not sure I wanna spend a weekend in a spa with you.”

It’s partly a lie. Jake isn’t so bad when he’s in the air. He was born to fly, and he’s at his most comfortable when he’s doing what he loves. You’d never admit it, but that's when you like him the most. He’s tolerable when he’s in the cockpit, but maybe that has more to do with the fact you can’t see his face and be blinded by his pretty eyes, tanned skin, and perfect jawline.

He jogs ahead, blocking your path, and you have no choice but to stop. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior,” he pledges, crossing his heart. “You won’t even know I’m there. I have a book I want to read, two new albums I need to listen to without interruption, and a podcast to catch up on. I just wanna relax and eat chips.”

“You eat chips?” you ask and can’t stop your eyes from wandering down the tightly fitted black t-shirt.

“I do,” he chuckles, gently lifting your chin so you're looking at his face again.

Crap! Say something horrible to him before his ego gets too big.

Indelicately, you slap his hand away, snarking, “You read?”

“I do.” He nods, and you think he actually looks offended. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

He’s right, and that’s been a calculated decision on your part not to get to know him. You are already the outsider, arriving at Fighter Town after the Dagger Squad had become the infamous Dagger Squad. They invited you into the fray with open arms, and you never felt like a newbie, but you didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the dynamic. Being one of Jake’s conquests would put you firmly in the mission accomplished column, and you didn’t need nor want that kind of reputation.

You contemplate his proposal, astounded that you're even considering it. If you win, you’d decided to invite Phoenix as your plus one but hadn’t yet extended the invitation. If your suspicions about Phoenix and Coyote are correct, and Phoenix were to win, you would not be the Lieutenant’s first choice.

A weekend of peace and quiet sounds like bliss, and if Jake has all those things to keep him occupied, you’d only really need to see him while traveling to and from the place.

“Okay,” you say, finally. “We can team up, but I swear if you get in my way, I’ll…. I’ll….” You can’t think of a good enough threat, and he interrupts.

“You won’t need to do anything to me because I won’t get in your way.” He crosses his heart again, “scouts honor,” holding up his left hand.

“Wrong hand, dipshit.”

He laughs, digging in his bag and pulling out a carton of ice cream. It's a plain white tub, not branded, because it’s from Antonio’s, the hidden gem in town. But there’s a sticker on the lid with fancy cursive print that reads Maverick’s Scavenger Hunt 2024, the same sticker on the bottom of the box containing the sandals.

“Sandals for his first official date with Penny on the beach,” you grin, telling Jake the clue you’d figured out. “She got glass in your foot, and he had to carry her a half mile back to the car.”

“Ice cream for his apology to the lactose-intolerant Admiral after he took her on a joyride in his F18,” he explains the clue that led him to ice cream. “I’m not sure about the last one.”

“It’s perfume,” you told him. “After the F18 incident, they were banned from seeing each other. Obviously, they still snuck around, and she sprayed her perfume on his flight suit so she’d always be with him in the air.”

“That’s actually kind of adorable.”

“Come on, sappy pants,” you say, deliberately knocking into his shoulder as you walk by him. “We’re gonna win this thing.”

“Sappy pants?” he grumbles but willingly follows.

Winning was the easy part. Spending three nights at a luxury hotel with Jake will be harder than sustaining G-force. Though you are loath to admit it, he’s too easy on the eyes, too much of a flirt, and his unexpected gentlemanly behavior of holding doors, carrying your luggage, and buying your breakfast at the airport is melting your resolve to stay away from him.

The first sign that the weekend would become a catastrophe was when you checked in. Mav had requested that the booking be changed to a twin room, but the email must have gotten lost in the ether because the room is still a king, and no twins are available. You should have checked the finer details before agreeing to be partners.

It’s fine. You’ll deal with it and won’t let it ruin the rare weekend off.

Your first personal mistake was thinking you could survive a weekend with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin when he wasn’t required to be in uniform. He stripped down to his boxers a minute after entering the room - “wanna wash off the commercial flight smell.” He was less than ten minutes in the bathroom and exited with his hair wrapped in a fluffy white towel and another one snug and low on his hips.

This is going to be torture.

“Promise is a promise,” he says, walking to his bag on the table, “I’m taking my book, and you won’t see me again.”

Damn it. You wouldn’t mind having him as your view for the day.

“You can take the bed, by the way,” he says. “I’ll ask for more blankets and crash on the floor.”

You want to tell him he doesn’t need to do that, but what's the alternative? You can’t share a bed with him. It would be too close without being close enough.

You smile, grateful. “Well, in that case, dinner is on me.”

He matches your smile, and you think there’s a hint of a blush on his cheeks, or it could just be the heat from the shower. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Urgh. Why does he always have to ruin it? Implying that your intentions are more than a friendly gesture. “Not a date. Just dinner.”

“Shame,” he shrugs. “But yeah, okay, dinner.”

“I’ll make a reservation in the restaurant for seven.”

Jake heads directly to the pool, finds a sun lounger, and delves into his book. Within the first ten pages, the main protagonist is killed off, and his intrigue peaks. He’s happy to wile away the afternoon, topping off his tan and finishing the novel before dinner.

Another five pages in, he spies you exiting the hotel, book in hand, towel in the other, and oversized tee skimming the top of your thighs.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself.

You look around the pool, and while plenty of loungers are available, you make your way over when you see him. He sits up a little straighter, tensing his abs - giving you a show that he’s pretty confident you want.

“Hey,” you say, “sorry to interrupt.”

“I’ve had worse interruptions,” he smirks, eyes slipping down to your thighs and back up again.

You shake your head, smiling lightly. “I couldn’t get a reservation. There’s a wedding rehearsal dinner, so we can’t dine in the restaurant, but we can order room service.”

He nods, “I’m in.”

You look down at the title of his book, and your smile grows. “I’ve read that one,” you comment, “it’s a good one, enjoy.”

You don’t pause long enough for him to say more and take yourself to the other side of the pool, dropping the towel and book onto a free bed. He watches, unashamed that he’s staring, as you pull the t-shirt over your head and reveal a simple black bikini.

“Fuck,” he says, mentally telling himself to calm down.

You make yourself comfortable on the bed before opening your book.

He never should have asked to partner up. He’s a man with little willpower and knows he doesn’t have it in him to not hit on you. “Way to torture yourself, Seresin.”

You feel him staring from across the pool and hope your heavily shaded sunglasses hide that you're also stealing glances at him. You regret bringing a romance novel because, of course, the main character is a cocky, blond cowboy, and your brain immediately Jake codes him.

Your phone chimes, startling you as if someone physically scolded you for staring and fantasizing about your Lieutenant.

>Phoenix: How’s it going? Kissed him yet?

<Cosmo: What?! No.

>Phoenix: He kissed you yet?

<Cosmo: No, and he won’t. More importantly, I don’t want him to.

>Phoenix: 🙄please. You’ve been crushing on him since you arrived. Go for it. No one has to know.

<Cosmo: Why do I suddenly feel like this is a set-up?

>Phoenix: You have to know none of us even tried looking for the stuff because we wanted you to win. Who do you think told Jake the ice cream answer? Coyote. Who do you think told Jake where to find you at the mall? Me.

<Cosmo: What? Why?

>Phoenix: Baby, I love you, but you can be so blind sometimes. You like Jake. You can deny it all you want but I think you're being stubborn because you don’t want him to be able to say I told you so.

<Cosmo: Phoenix, honey, I love you too, but setting me and Jake up so you and Coyote have a couple to double date with is not going to happen.

>Phoenix: We’ll see. Love you. Have fun. 😜

“I need a drink,” you say, slamming your book closed.

Jake watches you typing away on your phone, a slight crease in your brow. It’s adorable, and while he daydreams about what he could do to smooth it out, he receives a text.

>Coyote: Proposed yet?

<Hangman: Screw you. I’m not that into her.

>Coyote: 🙄please. You’re so blinded by how much you’re into her you can’t see how much you’re into her.

He doesn’t have a witty retort because he’s confided, seemingly too much, in Coyote. Coyote’s encouragement won’t help matters, and he promised himself he’d behave. You have rejected his advances more than once, and he needs to accept that nothing is going to happen.

>Coyote: Seriously, dude, now is the perfect time to show her you’re more than your smart mouth and shiny abs.

Jake needs to shut this down before Coyote twists his arm just enough to convince him.

<Hangman: Hi Phoenix 🙄.

>Coyote: She says hi and go get your girl already.

Jake closes his book. He won’t be able to concentrate now. He sighs loudly, “I need a drink.” When he looks across the pool again, you’re pulling on your oversized tee and collecting your things.

Part 2 - The Full Seresin Service

Tags + Info

@alexxavicry / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @imjess-themess / @justagirlinafandomworld / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @shanimallina87 / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @xoxabs88xox / @dempy / @atarmychick007 / @genius2025 / @kmc1989 / @alipap3 / @emorychase

#hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #fic #tgm #fluff #tgm fic #top gun maverick fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #coyote #phoenix

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user211201 · 1 year ago

Text

Branded

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Originally posted on 2020-05-27 by dumb-and-jocked

Unfortunately dumb-and-jocked's account has been deactivated.

If the original author ever reads this: thank you for all your works!

---

Zane wasn’t particularly excited about going out to his uncle’s ranch. The two had never really known how to connect, with one being from the East Coast and the other in rural Wyoming. Zane had grown up privileged in the urban lifestyle, with many stores, jobs, and more progressive influences around every corner. His parents were also a little richer than most, so he was able to enjoy a luxurious apartment all to himself while he attended Yale. Well... not all to himself. His boyfriend Kaeden visited so often he was practically a second resident, but Zane didn’t mind--he loved the attention.

Zane practically adored his modern lifestyle, and made sure to show it by never leaving a five-mile radius. This caused his parents to worry, assuming if he didn’t start now he’d never know how to go out on his own. Trying to help (like all parents did), his father spoke with his brother and the two set up a little spring vacation for Zane. When Zane’s father had proposed the idea, Zane didn’t exactly jump in excitement. In fact, he didn’t seem excited at all.

“Really?” Zane asked coarsely. “Spring break is for beaches, coasts, actual fun!”

“Zane,” his father replied coolly. “I didn’t raise you to be a leech off of my own money. Go out to your uncle’s ranch and give him a hand; earn something for once. And anyway, Wyoming’s great this time of year--you might enjoy it!”

“Can I at least bring Kaeden with me?”

His father’s eyes went down for a moment. Zane always had a lurking feeling that his father wasn’t truly alright with his only son being gay, his Western Christian roots molding him that way, but his dad always acted like he was accepting. Proving Zane’s point, he swore he could’ve seen his dad’s ears perk up a second after the proposal was made.

“That’s a great idea!” his dad cheered, almost too enthusiastically. “Now someone can relish in the same pain you’ll be experiencing.” Zane rolled his eyes in response to the sarcasm before walking out to his car.

Reflecting back on that moment, his father did seem a little more eager than usual, but Zane didn’t care. It was too late now, as the old pickup truck was pulling into the driveway of the ranch. A huge arch loomed above them, displaying “WELCH” in iron letters across the top. Back when it used to be his grandparents’ ranch, Zane’s father loved this place. He used to thrive as a cowboy, but once he got a taste of the other side of the Mississippi, he left the lifestyle behind him. The rest of the family seemed alright with the transition, with Zane’s uncle being the older brother anyway, meaning he would be taking the ranch, so they decided to let him roam. His uncle had now been running the ranch for almost ten years, just him, his wife, and a small crew to help with the daily tasks.

“Alright, boys, enjoy the trip,” the man in the front grunted as he halted to a stop. Kaeden and Zane slowly jumped out of the truck, grabbing their bags as they looked at the massive farm. Zane swore it looked bigger than the last time he was here, but that was to be expected. The last time he was here was a decade ago for his grandparents’ funerals, so there was probably going to be change. While Kaedan gazed around in awe, Zane spotted what--or who--he was looking for. Leaning against one looming building was a tall man wearing a blue button-up and worn-out jeans. His large boots were placed firmly on the ground and a barn wall, while a beige hat rested proudly on top of his head. He looked like a more muscular, worn-out version of his father, his similar salt and pepper stubble pulling the whole look together.

“Zaney boy, is that yeu?” the man asked in astonishment, the southern accent as prominent as ever.

“Yeah, Uncle Treyton.”

Zane tried to sound enthusiastic, but he never felt like family with the redneck. Not only did the two have completely different perspectives, but they didn’t even look related. Zane didn’t share the same muscular body as the silver fox, but instead had a little too much meat on his bones. He also didn’t get the Welch height, with Zane’s lime-dyed hair barely even reaching his uncle’s neck.

“And this must be Kaeden Sargent, put it here!”

Zane’s uncle shoved a meaty hand in front of him and Kaeden quickly accepted. He was always more optimistic than Zane, putting his best foot forward into every situation. The tall, lanky man took the other’s hand and shook it vigorously, so much in fact that his ginger curls bounced in a rhythm. Fortunately, the baby fat surrounding his face allowed him to act a little childish.

“Firm, that’ll go a long ways here, son.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Ah, y’all can call me Treyton.”

Kaeden and Zane exchanged looks at each other. For a Christian cowboy, he was awfully accepting of their relationship. Neither of them expected Zane’s uncle to be so understanding.

“Where’s Aunt Joelene at?” Zane inquired as they hauled their bags inside.

“Her and the lady folk already had a vacation planned, so she ain’t gonna be here this week. Just some good ‘ol male bonding!”

He led them to two guest rooms on opposite sides of a hallway, telling them to toss their individual bags into one or the other. Zane and Kaeden exchanged looks again, although this time it was for a different reason. They both knew they might be staying in different rooms, but not sleeping.

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang from the front of the house. After dropping their things, Zane and Kaedan followed Treyton back out to the front door. The trio wandered out to the foyer to see another cowboy smugly standing on the porch.

“Harry!” Treyton shouted as he swung the door open. “‘Bout time ya got here--the nephew’s in town.”

Harry looked over at Zane, inspecting him and then Kaeden with hawk eyes. His tight black shirt didn’t hide the impressive muscles from years on the farm. The same could be said for his faded jeans and massive belt buckle, both of which did nothing to camouflage his gargantuan pouch.

“Is yers that paddy?” he remarked with a deep voice, his accent as thick as Treyton’s. “Or the fag.”

“They’re both fags,” Treyton corrected. “The paddy’s his ‘boyfriend’.”

Kaeden patted Zane’s shoulder in a comforting way. Treyton’s language had just confirmed that they had signed themselves up for a long vacation.

“I don’t mean to be abandonin’ y’all so quickly, but the town’s rodeo’s goin’ on tonight and I’m a volunteerin’,” Zane’s uncle began. “Everythin’ there is free, so I expect to see y’all out there. It’ll be a great time!”

The two hicks strutted over to Harry’s old pickup truck, the engine roaring mighty proud as it came to life. Zane and Kaedan wondered how they hadn’t heard it coming down the driveway.

“Keys are on the counter!” Treyton hollered as they drove off. Kaeden smirked lowering his hand from Zane’s shoulder to his butt as they watched the other pair leave.

“Might as well taint your uncle’s house before we go to the rodeo.”

“You really want to go to that thing?” Zane whined, missing the hint.

“No, but we should,” Kaeden replied. “Until then, let me keep you entertained.” He then started kissing Zane’s neck passionately, dragging him down a hallway.

“Alright!” Zane giggled, following along. He loved his boyfriend.

— —

Kaeden and Zane hesitantly pulled into the parking lot, the dirt flying into the air as they parked the rusty pickup near the back. The whole event took place in some kind of stadium, but instead of a neatly trimmed field with shiny seats, there were wooden bleachers and a dirt floor. They weren’t particularly excited, going from hardcore sex to this dump, but as long as they were at each other’s sides they’d make it through. At least, that’s what Zane kept telling himself.

The two cautiously jumped out, wearing sweatpants and matching concert tees from an event they went to on their fifth date. Zane had thought that if they wore their most casual clothes, they’d blend into the crowd, but it turned out this was truly his first rodeo. Walking up to the front gate, they saw a rainbow of button-ups scattered among the stretched and stained tees. Hicks and cowboys galore excitedly hollered as they entered the rodeo grounds. The strange thing was, it seemed like people were gathering by color. Zane and Kaeden watched the red button-ups slowly separate from the yellow tees, who themselves avoided the purple plaid-clad group. Even with the odd formation, the pair stuck out like two weeds in a freshly-planted garden.

“Alright next!”

Zane and Kaeden had been so perplexed by the entire situation that they hadn’t noticed they had crossed the parking lot, gotten in line, and made it to the front.

“Zaney boy, ya made it!”

Zane’s uncle proudly stood behind a booth, waving as the boyfriends walked up. Harry was placed on the other side, his look much more calculating than Treyton’s inviting smile.

“Are y’all excited?” Uncle Treyton asked, his accent coming out stronger with each syllable.

“Totally,” Kaeden answered, assuming his other half wouldn’t.

“Let us just stamp y’all and yeu’ll be on in.”

“Wait, why are we the only one’s getting stamped?” Kaedan observed. Zane hadn’t noticed, but all the other attendees had gotten in without a mark.

“Remember how I said y’all are gettin’ in free tonight,” Treyton explained. “This is yer free ticket.”

They nodded their heads as Kaeden extended the back of his hand out to Zane’s uncle. Treyton solidly pressed a stamp down on his hand, the blue color left behind sinking deep into his pale skin like a tattoo. Zane proceeded to do the same for Harry, who marked his hand with a black darker than the night itself.

“What do the colors mean?” Zane questioned.

“Whatever ink we’re usin’.” Harry snarked, sending him on his way. Zane sighed as he strolled through the gate.

“I’ll be at a food stand later tonight so make sure to come and visit me!” Treyton shouted as they disappeared into the crowd.

“We can do this,” Kaeden whispered, grabbing Zane’s hand and dragging him to the stands. He sounded reassuring, but Zane couldn’t tell if it was for him or Kaedan himself.

“It’s just for tonight,” Kaedan continued, “After that, we won’t have to deal with Harry, or anyone for that matter. Except for your uncle of course.”

Zane grinned--his boyfriend always knew how to cheer him up.

“And besides,” Kaeden continued. “Look at how much we have to explore!”

It might have been a bit exaggerated, but there was a some space to venture. Besides the stands, there were a few porta potties, some food stands, and a big tent filled with gear for the local country radio station. The tent was their first destination, looking through all the merchandise and advertisements. Although they both hated country music, they had fun exploring the booth, even signing up for a raffle to a Chase Rice concert. Did they know who he was? No--but they didn’t care. Even though they got a few sideways glances from passing families and couples, they were actually enjoying their time at the rodeo. Zane and Kaeden were there to have fun just like everyone else.

9.8 SECONDS! THAT WAS A GOOD TUSSLE, DAVE!

The pair watched on as the participant was whipped off the horse’s back. The first few rounds had looked painful, but Kaeden and Zane eventually stopped flinching after every contestant. It was the sport after all, so they shouldn’t be worried unless everyone else was worried. The uncomfortable thing was, everyone at the rodeo did seem slightly on edge, but it wasn’t over the participants. Unsurprisingly, it was over them.

“Hey,” Zane said, elbowing his partner to grab his attention. “Is it me or is there something strange about the crowd here?”

“You mean how they’re all looking at us like we’re sick?” Kaeden asked, not tearing his eyes away from the next contestant.

8.7 SECONDS! IMPRESSIVE GRIP FROM HANK!

“Well, yeah, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know, I mean…” Zane stumbled off, noticing Kaeden was still focused on the riders.

9.4 SECONDS! NICE JOB MARV!

“Earth to Kaedan!” Zane snapped, finally snatching the other’s attention. “For example, did we miss out on some color-coded theme? Why is everyone segregated?”

Kaeden glanced around the stands, noticing what his boyfriend was talking about. Although everyone was clumped together, there were noticeable separations. It seemed like groups of men, women, and children were organized by the shading of their clothes. It was peculiar, but so were most small, rural towns.

“Calm down, babe,” Kaeden replied nonchalantly. “It’s probably just some cheerleading thing, you know? Like someone’s family wears orange because their their fanclub.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Zane conceded.

10.1 SECONDS! I’D EXPECT NOTHING LESS FROM RYLAN!

“You’re probably just paranoid from all the homophobia around here,” Kaeden reasoned. “But luckily, I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“Oh really,” Zane responded coyly.

“Definitely, meet me at your uncle’s food stand and I’ll get us some snacks.”

“Alright, but I’m gonna head to a restroom first.”

“Miss me!” Kaeden exclaimed as he rushed down the risers. Zane grinned, knowing he was lucky to have snagged his boyfriend.

— —

“Ah! Sorry,” Zane grunted as he shimmied out of the porta potty door, noticing the growing line that had assembled outside. He thought he hadn’t taken too long, but when one’s bowels beg for release, one has to give in. Walking with a little pep in his step, he eagerly bounced his way around the rodeo grounds to find his uncle’s food stand. Kaeden knew Zane had a soft spot for food, which was pretty evident by the soft spots around his hips. He was excited to see what he had gotten for him. After wandering around for a minute, he finally spotted his uncle stepping outside an old trailer.

“Uncle Treyton!” Zane shouted as he approached.

“Eh, Zane! What’s up? Enjoyin’ the rodeo?”

“I guess?” Zane replied honestly. “Have you seen Kaeden?”

“Ah yeah, he was my last customer for the night. I saw him walkin’ over to the picnic area,” Treyton grunted, locking the door to the trailer as he closed up.

“Thanks!” Zane responded, beginning to walk off.

“Hold on there, cowboy!” Treyton demanded, chuckling at his own irony. “I’m gonna be headin’ back to the ranch, gotta long day of work tomorrow, so make sure y’all don’t stay out too late.”

“Sounds good, Uncle Treyton!” Zane started again, desperately wanting to get back to Kaeden.

“AND!” Treyton emphasized. “Harry wanted to see ya ‘bout somethin’ before ya left. He should be at the stables.”

“Great, thanks!” Zane tore off, almost kicking up the dirt behind him as he darted back towards the porta potties. He made it to the picnic area in record time, almost panting as he slowed down. The so-called “picnic area” was really just a group of tables resting behind the bleachers, with no real purpose besides having a surface to eat at. Zane searched for Kaeden, but it seemed like the place was totally empty. The only person he saw was a man sitting alone, ravenously scarfing down an order of nachos. He was wearing a blue plaid button-up and the same straight, overused jeans as every other man at the rodeo. He also adorned a cowboy hat, a quite brawny body, and a bulge much larger than both Kaedan and Zane’s combined. The cowboy looked to be in his late 20’s, but his brunette chin strap and mustache combo made him seem older. Zane approached the other man delicately, noticing the redneck’s very large boots tap eagerly as he chowed on his food.

“Um, excuse me…” Zane mumbled quietly. “I was wondering if-”

“Zane!” the man jumped up from his seat. “I was worryin’ ‘bout you! Thought you might’ve gotten stuck er somethin’.” Zane shook his head, confused at who the low-pitched, southern gent was exactly.

“I’m sorry, who are you?”

“Zane, it’s Clayton!” he paused, waiting for Zane to remember.

“Clayton Sherman?” Zane was still bewildered, until something clicked in his head.

“Wait, Kaedan?”

“No, Clayton. Didja hit yer head or somethin’?”

Zane felt a little crazy, but something supernatural was pulling him towards this stranger. He didn’t know what the force was, but his curiosity guided him.

“One sec, just let me check something.”

Zane grabbed Clayton’s right hand swiftly, finding the same blue stamp that his boyfriend had received earlier. Although it had faded dramatically, it was good enough proof for Zane.

“Kaedan, what happened to you? How did you become like this? What happened after you left the stand?” Zane must have been hallucinating. There was no way his long, slim, ginger lover had become some horse-kickin’, tobacco-spittin’ cowboy, right?

“First off, it’s Clayton,” Clayton responded calmly. “And I did exactly what I said I would. I went to yer uncle’s stand and got us some food. He told me he’d give us ‘somethin’ special’ and slapped my hand, saying it would be on the house. Can you believe it? These darn nachos were free!”

“Alright,” Zane quickly remarked. “Then what?”

“Well, I waited for ya, but the nachos kept lookin’ at me. So, I thought ya wouldn’t mind if I took a bite. One bite became two, then three, and now we’re here.” Clayton showed Zane the empty box, beaming a childish smile.

“Kaedan, I don’t under-”

Suddenly, Zane grabbed his head as he felt a shock go through his skull. He grimaced as it coursed through his brain, causing him to shake momentarily before regaining his thoughts. As fast as the pain had come, it had disappeared too.

“Y’all ok there?” Clayton asked, patting Zane’s shoulder in a brotherly way.

“Yeah, I think so,” Zane blinked. “What were we talking about again?”

“How I ate all the food!” Clayton hollered, laughing at himself in a low guffaw. “We oughta get back to the rodeo though, Little Petey’s going up soon.”

“Little Petey?” Zane mumbled to himself as the two hoisted themselves up. At first, he didn’t recognize the name, but the more he thought about it, the more memories that seemed to appear. Little Petey was Clayton’s little brother of course! Both Clayton and Pete Sherman were expert horse riders, having both broken records for steer wrestling and bull riding. They’d also been the star quarterbacks for the town back in their prime, but now with Pete turning 26 and Clayton having his second kid on the way, they were ready to settle down and start (or continue) their families.

“Yeah! I gotta run on back to Cassie and Trevor. Nice seein’ ya round these parts again!”

Clayton tossed the empty carton into the trash and ran off back to the stands. Zane watched the man dash up the wooden bleachers to his wife and first boy, embracing them as he sat down to continue watching the show. He sunk right back into the cluster of blue, completely camouflaged by the other people in the crowd. Zane didn’t really know Clayton, just remembered him as someone who worked at his uncle’s farm. He seemed nice, but definitely not friend-material. He had a little too much homophobia and country in him. Zane stopped for a moment to correct himself. Clayton didn’t have a little too much; he had a lot of too much.

8.3 SECONDS! LET’S HEAR IT FOR MIKE!

Deciding he had nothing else to do, Zane started heading back towards the parking lot. Although the event seemed kind of interesting, Zane was too lonesome to really find any joy in the situation. Even his uncle’s presence would’ve made him want to stay, but with no one there by his side, Zane decided to head out. Right as he stepped through the gate, he suddenly recalled his uncle saying something about Harry wanting to see him. He didn’t like Harry, and he assumed it worked the other way around too, but Zane knew he should respect his uncle’s wishes.

8.9 SECONDS! DANNY’S HERE TO STAY!

Zane stumbled into the area housing the horse stables, the place completely deserted besides the rolling tumbleweeds. Strolling past a few horse-buses, it didn’t take long to find Harry. He grinned as Zane approached, holding a lasso in one hand.

“‘Bout time you got here, thinkin’ you got lost er somethin’.”

“Wish I would have,” Zane mumbled to himself as Harry tossed an arm around his shoulder. Harry suddenly seemed more cheery than he had been before.

“Did yer uncle tell ya what yer doing here?”

“No, but I hope it’s not too long; I’m getting tired.” To emphasize his point, Zane faked a huge yawn.

“Not that, fag,” Harry chuckled, dropping down one end of the rope. “I mean this vacation.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Back in high school, yer pops, uncle, and I used to be the studs of the town. Valuable players, intimidatin’ cowboys, 100% corn-fed beef. But when yer pops was offered an education out east, the three of us fell apart.”

“Yeah, so what?”Zane was uninterested, finding the cowboy’s bulge as the only thing appealing about Harry. Zane had a bad habit of checking out other men when he was single.

“Well,” Harry continued, dragging Zane into a stable. “When yer pops saw how off-track he had raised ya, he called up Treyton and I to put a little country in ya. We knew we were gonna have fun, but when ya brought along that Irish laddy too, that was just a cherry for the top.”

Zane shook his head in bewilderment. Who was Harry talking about? He had obviously come here alone.

“See, originally Treyton wanted you as part of his ranch, but when yer boyfriend came he decided to pass the sweeter treat off to me. I think yeu’ll really-”

“Woah, slow down a moment,” Zane rubbed his temples, losing track of everything.

“Ah, I fergot about the mental stuff,” Harry contemplated, thinking about how to explain everything. He had to find a way to explain it all to the boy.

“Remember how everyone in the stands was segregated by their clothin’ color?”

“Yeah?” Zane clearly remembered, as he had stuck out like a sore thumb, but he didn’t understand why this was important now.

“Well, they’re all branded to some ranch, that’s why they stick to one color.”

Harry’s answer made sense to him, but Zane was still visibly perplexed.

“Look at Kae- I mean Clayton Sherman,” Harry started. “He works for yer uncle’s ranch. What color to they wear?”

“Blue?”

“Exactly!” Harry slapped Zane’s back, knocking the wind out of the other man.

“Every color here is for someone’s ranch. Blue is Welch, green is Smith, white for Johnson-”

“How... how many are there?” Zane stuttered, the pieces gradually coming together.

“10, ‘cluding myself,” Harry responded proudly.

“So what you’re saying,” Zane reasoned. “Is that these ranch owner’s ‘brand’ people to be part of their ‘ranch,’ claiming them as their property?”

“Eeyup.”

“And why are you telling me this?”

“Thought you oughta know beforehand.”Zane was about to ask what that meant, but before he could speak, something clicked together in his head.

“You own one of these ‘ranches’?”

“The stunnin’ Mueller Ranch.”

“And what color are you?”

Zane already knew the answer, hoping to distract the other man, but he wasn’t fast enough to dodge Harry’s launch. The older cowboy tackled Zane to the ground, the stench of hay and manure infiltrating Zane’s lungs as his face graced the dirt floor. Zane, not one to be athletic, surprisingly twisted himself out of Harry’s grasp, rolling sideways before getting up and escaping. He started running to his truck, desperately shuffling through his pockets to find the keys. Frantically scurrying away, he didn’t even notice his foot slip right out from beneath him.

“Gotcha!”

Harry cackled heartily as he looked upon his captured prey, who was clawing at the rope helplessly. It seemed like a scene from an old western cartoon: the fool stepping into the lasso and getting caught. Harry had already tied the other end of the rope to a stable post, approaching Zane with a face gleaming with malice. Zane trembled in fear, giving up hope on flight and nervously accepting the fight. As Harry took the final steps, Zane's cowered timidly as he gave up. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew something was going to be over. Then, to Zane’s pure surprise, a hand stretched out to help him up.

“Come on,” Harry welcomed warmly.

Zane’s heart stopped. Was Harry… serious? Was this all some prank just to scare him? Zane didn’t know what was going on, but he decided that once he got out of this mess he’d stay in the sweet shelter of his uncle’s ranch. After the week was over, he was never coming back to this pathetic town, or Wyoming for that sake.

“Are ya gonna take it or what?”

Zane sighed, clasping his hand into Harry’s. As soon as they connected, Harry’s flowery smile instantly twisted back into the thorny smirk.

“It’s just too easy.”

Before Zane could react, Harry flipped the other’s hand over and tapped the black stamp. Instantaneously, time stopped around them. The whole moment felt electric, almost as if everything in existence had shifted, but it was simply only a light touch. Zane gasped as he got up, struggling to speak.

“What… what did you do?”

“Eh, nothin’ yeu’ll remember,” Harry chimed. Zane investigated the back of his hand, noticing a slight pulse as the black stamp began to fade. He was shocked to see the color slowly draining from it into his veins, noticing the same inky shade pumping into his bloodstream.

“Oh no,” Zane cried as a small crackling came from his knuckles. It sounded similar to an orchestra of crickets, the hundreds of minuscule pops signifying the growth of his average hands. Zane’s palms grew thicker at a sluggish pace, bloating with meat as his fingers grew into calloused sausages. Zane groaned in pain while his hands became paws, now feeling like he was wearing bulky, leather mittens instead of skin.

The raven color flew through Zane’s arms, gliding across his chest before venturing vertically. To Zane’s dismay, his unused tendons stretched intensely, expanding as they made room for the arriving muscular tissue. Biceps proudly emerged as their brotherly triceps erupted from underneath Zane’s flesh, causing him to writhe. His forearms gained some meat too before a tan wave swept across the surface of his skin. The classic shade darkened Zane’s pale skin as a field of hair was planted on top. Before long, Zane’s arms looked like an avid gym-goer’s, yet for some reason his mind told him they were from the farm.

After improving the upper appendages, the ink moved downwards, cutting through Zane’s chest. His deltoids pushed outwards as his collarbone expanded, barely extending his traps as his torso began to shift into the shape of a “T”. His pectorals ballooned outwards, forming into meaty packages with two perky nipples, obviously erect underneath his shrinking tee. After the pecs squared out, Zane moaned as a sturdy six pack pounded in, each abdominal packing a punch as it pushed forward. A light covering of fur erupted from his chest while the tan wave made sure to paint itself once more. Zane began panting for air violently, each breath sucking in a little body fat. It didn’t remove all of his fat, but enough to maintain something barely below a body-builder’s standards. His shirt also stitched itself back together, having been torn apart seconds before. The cheap concert tee grew black as it painted itself back onto Zane’s torso, the dusky color hiding its overuse.

Following were Zane’s legs, as the black blood dove deeper. His juicy thighs began to tighten, retaining their above-average size, but now containing more muscle than meat. After his quadriceps had hardened, his knees cracked violently, stretching out Zane’s calves to max him out at 6’2. The bottom of his sweatpants violently tore to reveal two meaty forelegs, both veiny, firm, and covered in a lathering of hair. His pale skin darkened as his legs were covered in a loose denim, locking away his lower appendages.

With Zane’s lower body now covered in an old pair of Wranglers, the ink took hold of his feet, which were currently snug in a pair of Sperry’s boat shoes, the only shoes he had brought with him. In an instant, the leather and cloth tore apart in the middle, blossoming open like a flower to reveal gargantuan Size 15 feet. Zane was appalled to see the hairy, meaty, and awfully rank monsters attached below his ankles, but to his luck, the shredded shoes began to reform. The leather gracefully became cowhide as it expertly resowed itself around Zane’s feet, traveling up to his midcalves to create two authentic cowboy boots. Zane however didn’t feel relieved, in fact all he could feel was the sweat of his massive feet filling up the shoes. His socks hadn’t reformed, so it appeared he was going commando in his boots.

The ink swam up to the top, touching up on any missed spots. After filling in Zane’s pits with a hearty amount of hair, the black blood filled in his neck, adding girth to support the maturing Adam’s apple. Vocal chords stretched as the Zane’s register reached new depths, causing him to violently cough and sputter as he adjusted, allowing the ink to shoot upwards. Zane cried out in pain as the black blood clutched his skull, pulling apart at the bones to give him a thicker head. While the baby fat was removed, his jaw was stretched horizontally, giving him a prominent chin just large enough for a cleft. His lips shrunk while his nose expanded, filling in along with his expanding brows. Zane’s eyes shifted from a bland brown to easy-going blue as his hair shaved away, leaving a no-effort buzzcut where a manicured mane once laid. The vibrant green color rapidly faded, giving way to a light brown that easily shaded in Zane’s new haircut and thickening chinstrap. Across his body, his skin tightened barely as his body packed on a few extra years. It wasn’t a noticeable difference, but Zane no longer had the same glow of young adulthood.

“Ah Lordee,” Zane grumbled, getting up as his language center reorganized itself. “What’d y’all do to me?”

“Well, there’s still one more thing to go,” Harry replied, watching Zane shakily ascend. When the other man stood straight, he now faced eye to eye with the other cowboy.

“What in tarnation is left?”

“Just give it a sec-”

“I ain’t got no time for games, I’m gettin’-”

Suddenly, Zane felt an electrifying pulse throughout his groin, the rest of the ink finally reaching his reproductive center. The black blood infiltrated his testicles, killing off the weak sperm as it overtook his pouch. Zane’s balls bloated as they became heavy with cowboy sperm, dropping dramatically due to the increased weight. The ink traveled into his medium-sized penis, engorging it almost instantly. At first, Zane felt like he was having the most powerful boner of his life, but he began to realize his dick was in fact growing. His member began pulsating with the foreign blood, elongating as it grew to a mighty 10 inches. In the back end, his buttocks blew up into two massive, hardened globes, pushing against the confines of one end of the jeans while his pouch took the other.

Losing all sense of reality, Zane furiously palmed himself through his jeans, the feeling of his newly-materialized boxer shorts rubbing against his sensitive tip driving him crazy. Precumming in seconds due to the pent up stress, Zane was too horny to realize what he was doing, or what he was losing. His prized Yale education evaporated like powdered milk into his ballsack. Next went his East Coast upbringing, his progressive ideas and urban lifestyle disappearing into the void that was his semen. In tow was his homosexuality, which was thrown into the fire inside his testicles. Even a sizeable chunk of his IQ was tossed into the mixing pot. Everything about Zane was sucked down into his sperm, ready to be expelled permanently.

“C’mon boy,” Harry shouted eagerly. “Ya know what ya want to do!”

Zane grunted as he groped himself once more, feeling a burst of static electricity coarse across his body. Grabbing a nearby fence, Zane steadied himself against the stable wall as he felt the rush coming.

“Wow-ie!”

A huge load of sperm coated the front of the Wranglers, causing the area beneath the giant belt buckle to darken dramatically. Not bothering to clean himself up, the young cowboy basked in the afterglow of ejaculation, truly content with himself. He adjusted his pouch one last time, with his other hand still secured to the fence.

“There ya go, that felt better, didn’t it?” Harry slapped a hand around the other man, securing the black cowboy hat on top of the other’s head while doing so.

“Ah yeah, Sir, that one was a goodie,” the other replied, the two slowly making their way back to the main grounds.

“Tell me, Wayne, where the wife and kids at? Shouldn’t they be at the rodeo?”

“They are, Sir,” Wayne responded quickly. “They’re sittin’ near the back of the bleachers with the other ranch families.”

“Ah I see.”

10.5 SECONDS! PETE’S WOWED US AGAIN FOLKS!

Harry paused in front of the main gate, shuffling his hand through his pocket to find his keys and some Copenhagen chew.

“I best be headin’ out,” he stated. “We got a long day at the ranch tomorrow, lots of hay bale shipments to move out.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Wayne extended his hand out, “I’ll see y’all bright and early tomorrow mornin’.”

“See y’all then, Wayne.”

The two vigorously shook hands, with Harry delighted to see the disappearance of a certain black stamp. They waved each other off as Harry walked back to his truck. After watching his boss leave, Wayne was elated to go back to his family, with one beautiful wife and three handsome sons to entertain. Turning 29 in a matter of days (his birthday shared with Pete Sherman’s, or “Little Petey” as the town called him), Wayne had already accomplished his major goal in life, growing the Woods family. It only seemed like yesterday that he and his wife were high school sweethearts, but now they owned their own little home with three rowdy chaps running around everywhere. It was going to be Wayne’s job to teach them the right morals just like how his father taught him. Over the years, he’d teach them about Christianity, voting Red, being country men, and how to swoon ladies. But, with the oldest one only in first grade, he thought it might be best to wait a bit longer.

Inspecting the bleachers, it didn’t take Wayne long to find his family. He ran up to them and sat down immediately, ready to keep enjoying the show. He quickly explained to his wife what his boss had wanted him for, saying Harry had just wanted an update on the coming fourth child. Wayne then kissed his wife passionately before giving his attention back to the rodeo, applauding as the last participant finished off the night.

10.3 SECONDS! CHRIS ENDED THE NIGHT STRONG!

ANOTHER GREAT YEAR WITH A DARN GREAT CROWD! THANKS FOR COMIN’ OUT FOLKS, WE’LL SEE Y’ALL AGAIN NEXT YEAR!

#country #gay to stright #bottomtotop #age progression tf #nerdtojock #jock #Christian #dumber #political #lib to con

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littlemissmiller · 1 year ago

Text

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑟 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑠

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Pairing: drug dealer!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: (au) Graduation is here and Coriolanus is ready to just get the day over with. After the ceremony, The Plinth’s hold a lunch party at their house and you being there has Coriolanus’s mind in knots. All he can think about is what’s underneath your dress…

Warning: 21+ (smoking, drug uses/ mentions of drug use) eventually smut, mentions of masturbation (m receiving), semi-public, bathroom foreplay, slight dom!reader jealously, slight obsession, possession, toxic relationship, slight stalking

Word count: 5k

A/N: hi! sorry this second ch took so long. i promise the next one will be here quicker tho. this new ch tho really turns up the heat like 🥵 god coriolanus is such a horny little boy in this one and wants it sooooo bad….so enjoy ❣︎

Series Masterlist | Playlist

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

Coriolanus dresses himself for graduation. He buttons his crisp, white dress shirt. It had been neatly and freshly ironed that morning by his grandmother. The smell of eggs and bacon waft into his room and Tigris pops in with a plate.

“Hey cus, oh Coryo…” She starts then notices him now fully dressed in his white button up and slacks. She's holding a plate of breakfast and a cup of coffee, but sets it on his desk and rushes to him. She has the overwhelming urge to hug him, but doesn’t want to mess up his attire. Tigris dusts off the tops of his shoulders and grips him lightly.

“Oh look at you. Does it fit right?”

“Of course. Thanks again, now the sleeves fit perfectly.” He remarks, stretching out his arms to show off her own seamstress work to her.

Having Tigris away in New York these days at fashion school came with its own set of challenges. Which is why when she left for college in his sophomore year, he started dealing drugs. Coriolanus had always been pegged as mature and “wiser beyond his years'” by adults and teachers so aside from Sejanus, he really only had Tigris and her friends as company. And they were always around, until they weren’t and Coriolanus realized how empty he felt with no one to tag along with. Her room would sit empty until the summers, and when she returned she was like Persephone. It makes their grandma happier, more lively too, a trait Coriolanus wishes he could emulate. He wishes to have that effect on people, but it seems to fall flat. Usually people seem cautious and wary about him, like a powder keg ready to explode.

Coriolanus smiles back at his cousin, then looking over his shoulder and into his closet mirror. He admires himself, smiling for a moment then looking back at Tigris

“Thanks Ty,” he sighs , hugging her

“Oh! I have something for you. Consider it a pre-graduation gift” she pulls back, rushing into her room.

She scurry’s back and is carrying a small black box, tied together with a single black satin bow. He unties it, letting the ribbon fall to the floor. He opens the box and inside is a bottle of cologne. It was a square black bottle, a luxury brand that he had seen countless times in department stores at the mall.

He picks it up and immediately takes in the scent. It was musky, but fresh and slightly intoxicating. It was masculine, but still had a tinge of something sweet. He looks up at her in awe. The Snows hadn’t been able to afford much since both Coriolanus’ and Tigris' parents had been out of the picture.

Money was tight, and they had shared two cars between the three of them. Coriolanus would usually drive his late grandfather’s old white F250, which only he seems to be able to navigate, so his grandma and Tigris drove a navy 2008 Corellia. On top of that, Tigris always had a job from the moment she was sixteen and Coriolanus made sure to find ways to make money for his family. He would usually do house work for people in the neighborhood and landscaping in the summer. So to have an item of such luxury in his hands, from his cousin, means the world to him at this moment.

“Thank you. This is…you must have worked so hard for this…”

“It really didn’t put me out too much, especially with my intern this July. I have some connections now.” She smiles

“You’re truly a wonder.” Coriolanus admires

“As are you. I know you’ll continue to make this family proud.”

She hugs him one last time before leaving him alone with her gift in his hands. He smells it again, taking it out of the bottle and spraying his neck, and the inside of his wrists. Maybe you’ll come up to him and notice. Notice how good he smells, and want to talk to him. Touch him. He wonders how you’ll look today. What perfume you’ll choose since, he was aware you had many scents you liked to wear. He loved when you would spray yourself with your mini travel size bottle. It had a musky, vanilla scent, like a caramel. It would spin in his nostrils and make him hard. It made him want to taste you.

He shook himself from his thoughts, palming himself through his pants to relieve some tension. He takes the plate of breakfast from his desk and chews on a piece of bacon. He sits on his bed. He sits his plate down and bends down to pull out a small thick mesh bag. Inside was his lighter, grinder, a glass chillum pipe, a wooden dugout with a one hitter, a few pre rolls, and about an ounce of indica. He takes out some of the weed and the grinder. He places it in the teeth of the grinder, pushes down and turns. The smell of the flower wafts in the air and Coriolanus takes his lighter and leans over to light his bedside candle, an item he frequently restocks for this reason.

Tigris was aware that Coriolanus smoked, but unaware that he sold and his grandmother didn’t know either. Not that he dared smoke in his room without at least opening a window and blowing it out, but he didn’t want to have the scent waft and linger for his grandmother’s sake. He didn’t smoke in the house often, and usually sat outside on the back patio. When all the weed is ground up, he unscrews the bottom on the grinder and shakes it into his dugout. He clears out the one hitter and fills it up for a hit. Once it’s all packed, he puts it away, closing the top and sliding the dugout into his pocket for later. He knew that having to be at a school function for so long would mentally take it out of him, plus what would they do if he gets caught, he’ll already be graduated. Additionally, Sejanus was having a post-graduation lunch for the grade at his house and Coriolanus knew he wouldn’t be able to survive both consecutively with being high.

The nice thing about being friends with Sejanus was he lived in your neighborhood. You and him came from wealthy families, and those were the nicest houses in town, so whenever he would head over to Sejanus’s house he got to pass by your own. Sometimes he’d notice your bedroom light was on, and wondered if you were in your room. Your white Audi Q5 was usually parked outside, but if not, he knew where it and you were. Devon’s house. Which he suspected you would both be at the Plinth’s house after graduation. Even though you didn’t explicitly mention it last night, Coriolanus had a feeling you’d be there since your boyfriend was always cozying up to Mr. Plinth to get a job with his energy company, which the Plinths supply half of the county with. It was pathetic really, given how Sejanus was going to inherit the company when his father retires or dies, and then what. God Devon was such an annoying prick he couldn’t stand it.

Coriolanus finishes the rest of his breakfast. He checks himself one last time in the mirror, then grabs his phone, keys, a lighter, and wallet. He grabs his cap and gown and heads downstairs. He heads into the kitchen, placing his empty breakfast plate in the dishwasher and bidding his grandma and Tigris a goodbye until the ceremony. He had promised Sejanus last week to give him a ride to the ceremony to avoid “a headache from his parents.” Which Coriolanus gleefully accepted. Any excuse to pass by your house.

On his way there he turns up some music, enjoying the morning and glad to be done with high school. Lana del Ray’s song Diet Mountain Dew starts to play as he rolls into the nice, polished neighborhood of Governor’s Way. He draws closer to your house and sees your car still parked outside. He smiles to himself and keeps driving. He makes a left turn at the end of the street and Sejanus’s house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac, slightly off center to the right. He pulls up and sits in his car waiting for Sejanus. From his rear view mirror he can see your house and watches. Maybe you’ll come out. Maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of you. He watches and he sees something he detests. Your boyfriend pulls up, his country music roaring. He turns away and texts:

Here

Coming sorry!

Ma wanted pictures

Of course she did. Coriolanus sighs to himself and checks the time. The ceremony isn’t until 10 am, but seniors were expected to arrive at 9 am to ensure they were accounted for and not late. Sejanus comes out the front door, already in his cap and gown walking into Coriolanus’s truck and smiling.

“Are you nervous?” He asks, as they back out

“No” Coriolanus smirks

“I feel weird. I can’t believe it’s all over. And now we are off to college…”

“Hey man, let's enjoy our break, yeah?”

“I will. Oh Ma wants to take us out shopping for bedding and decor for our dorm. She thinks we should shop together so we can try to make our room look like it all flows…”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. Of course his mother wants matching bedsheets and decorations for them. Of course she’s thinking about it before her son has even received his diploma. It’s so infuriating, but at least he’ll get a free set of bed sheets. The Plinths were always generous with the Snow family. As he starts to pull by your house he sees you come out and greet your boyfriend. You’re in a white dress, your hair down and slightly curled. Even from here you’re stunning. Like a sweet dollop of whipped cream that Coriolanus wants to lick up.

You see his car go by and smile at him as you hug Devon. Coriolanus smiles and your boyfriend notices your attention has been drawn away from him. He looks behind and Coriolanus speeds up. He scowls at the white truck as it rides by and starts to shuffle you inside. Coriolanus turns up the music in frustration and Sejanus looks at him sympathetically. An old Billie Eilish song, my boy, plays and Coriolanus smirks at how fitting it is for the situation. Concerned, Sejanus turns it down to talk to him.

“Maybe they’ll break up before the summer is over…”

“Yeah and then what? She’s still going to Cali in August. I’m staying here. It’s whatever dude…”

“I’m just saying. I know how much you like her.”

“Ok well she doesn’t like me so it doesn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure.” Sejanus suggests

“Why?” Coriolanus asks

“Just something she asked me in Art History…”

“What did she say?”

“Just we were talking and she kinda subtly asked if you and I were staying close to home because of anybody. I said no and she asked about you. Wanted to know if there was some girl she didn’t know about…”

Coriolanus’s heart races. You’re asking his best friend about him. If he’s staying near home for a girl and wanting to know if he’s single or not. Why? Are you interested in him? Are you about to leave your boyfriend for him? He could hardly believe it and almost missed the turn.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” Sejanus remarks

“No. Thanks for telling me it’s just…fuck dude don’t get my fucking hopes up…”

“I’m not, just yeah, I thought you’d at least wanna know that…”

The two boys pull into the school, parking in the back. They walk inside, check in, and are instructed to head into the auditorium, where they would wait. The graduation would be taking place in the gymnasium, the only space big enough to host all the guests and 150 seniors. They walk to the auditorium Meanwhile, Coriolanus puts his gown on, but not fully zipped and he holds his cap to the side. They find a seat and Coriolanus pulls out his phone. He pulls up Snapchat and sees you’ve posted on your story. He taps on it. There you are. A cute mirror selfie, showcasing your makeup with a white cursive caption that said:

graduation look

He loved getting to see little glimpses of you like this. Over the last few years he’d gotten accustomed to these types of photos and to an extend the layout of your room. Sometimes it would fuel his imagination of you. He thought about just how precious you’d look spread out on your plush, pink sheets and comforter. About you laying against your fluffy white pillows, holding them in-between your legs as you playfully roll around your bed, showing off for him.

He closes out your story quickly and taps to show the next one and it’s Devon’s. It’s a picture of you and him. His arm around you in front of your house. His caption reads:

Grad time

Coriolanus swipes away and rolls his eyes. He scoffs and Sejanus looks at him, frowning. He wants to say something, but can’t think of anything to tell Coriolanus to make him feel better. Sejanus then looks around nervously and catches you walking in with Devon. He decides not to say anything and whips around quickly, which only draws Coriolanus’s attention in. He turns around and sees you walk towards the front, cap in hand, gown on. Now that you’re closer to him, he can see your tan heels to go with your dress. He likes how they look and desperately wants to tell you. You give him a small wave as you walk in, and before he can return it, your boyfriend comes into the auditorium. Boisterous and obnoxious, he chats it up with some buddies for a moment, then notices your attention toward Coriolanus. He strides toward you, taking your hand and walking you away from him. Coriolanus is left fuming and feeling embarrassed. Fuck Devon. He fucking hates that prick.

As the last of the students file in, the administrators instruct the seniors to line up in alphabetical order, which took less time than expected given it was a common ask for these types of school events. Coriolanus was in the back of the line, with Sejanus a few people ahead. He turns back, giving Coriolanus a nervous smile, eyes beginning to swell with tears. Coriolanus simply nods and the line moves into the gymnasium. Coriolanus doesn’t think of much as entering the gym, he’s just ready to get this over with. As he walks in, pomp and circumstance plays, and he looks around for his grandma and Tigris, spotting them on the left side of the bleachers in the middle. He waves and they wave back. Tigris holds a bouquet of white roses and their grandma is clearly struggling to take pictures on Tigris’s iPhone. He smiles and shakes his head. He turns back to look in front of him, following the line of students to his seat.

The ceremony goes as he expects. Long, cheesy, too many speeches, and most of all, boring. The only thing that captures his attention is you. Being valedictorian, you were asked to give a speech on the importance of academics and the hope for the future. Coriolanus is sure that the school gave you strict guidance on what to say since he knows that if you had spoken from the heart, it would have upstaged these sad high school admin clowns.

After the ceremony, Coriolanus finds his family. Tigris hands him a bouquet of white roses and the three of them take pictures together. Sejanus’s mom also insists on taking pictures of him and Coriolanus together. Coriolanus smiles and poses for as long as he can take it and thankfully the Plinth’s leave to get ready for the post-graduation lunch at their house. Coriolanus tells his grandma and cousin he’ll meet them at lunch and at the last minute Sejanus decides to ride with him back to his house.

“Sorr, just dad was starting to get annoyed with mom so I figured I’d let them work it out”

“It’s cool man.” Coriolanus nods, taking off his cap and gown. Sejanus follows his actions before getting in the truck.

“I’m glad the weather is nice. Ma spent all of yesterday morning on the phone with the catering company. I guess more people are coming last minute than expected.”

“Like who?” Coriolanus inquires

Sejanus rattles off a few names of classmates including you and Devon. Coriolanus hitches his breath and glances at his friend.

“Oh yeah?”

Sejanus nods

“Devon wants to suck up to your dad you know. Trying to get a nice cozy salary job doing nothing all day.”

“Yeah, dad doesn’t like him much anyways…”

Coriolanus scoffs in amusement and rolls his eyes. As they pull into the driveway, they realize they are the first to arrive, beating his parents home. They exit the car and head into the backyard. The Plinths had a pool, in addition to plenty of yard space. The space was currently occupied with tall cocktail tables, white tents, seats and tables for dining and plenty of waiters and waitresses running around looking busy, sweaty and stressed. Coriolanus nods around the side of the house, indicating he wants to smoke. Sejanus didn’t smoke often. He claims he didn’t like feeling “out of control and fuzzy.”

He still would hang around Coriolanus when he did, usually nervously looking over his shoulder. Coriolanus takes out his dugout as they head around the side of the house out of sight. He opens it, fills up his one-hitter and takes out a lighter. He holds the lighter and one-hitter to his lips, lighting and inhaling. Coriolanus was never one to make a full of himself when he wasn’t sober. Sometimes too much weed would make him tired or head feel foggy, but mainly he enjoyed the slightly disorienting feeling, the subtle euphoria that ran through his body, and the weightlessness.

He blows the smoke out, fanning Sejanus’s face and he turns away. Coriolanus lets out a few harsh coughs. He offers Sejanus a hit but he refuses. A few more hits and Coriolanus can feel the euphoria rush through his body. His head feels like it’s floating, mind clear. He cleans out his one-hitter, putting it back in the dugout, and into his pocket. Now he's got a good high, he can finally enjoy this day. The two boys walk back to the pool area, trying to stay out of the staff's way as they continue to scramble around. Soon enough, Senjanus’s parents pull up and Coriolanus asks to make sure he doesn’t smell like weed.

“You’re good” Sejanus reassures

As the lunch starts, more and more people pour in. Coriolanus’s family arrives, greets him and goes to find the Plinths. Coriolanus sticks close to Sejanus as the pair head over to get something to snack on. The main course wasn’t ready, but off to a side table was an extravagant charcuterie board, with a variety of different cheeses, meats, fruits and dips. Sejanus grabs a small plate and loads it with a bit of everything.

“Oh this tzatziki is good!” He remarks, dipping a pita chip into the serving on his plate. Coriolanus takes a few pieces of fruit and cheese, snacking on them. They find a cocktail table and stand around it. One of the waiters comes up and offers them water and they both take one.

“Is this like a substitute for your graduation party?”

“I wish, but she insists on having one. Oh that reminds me, she wanted to know if you wanted to do it with me. Like a double celebration?”

“We can’t afford that.” Coriolanus remarks dryly

“You wouldn’t have to pay for any of it.”

“I’ll think about it.” He murmurs

Then, Coriolanus spots you and Devon arrive and heart skips a beat. You flow in gracefully, so pure and perfect. Coriolanus tries to ignore the fact that you are clutching Devon’s arm and looks away. He turns back to Sejanus, who can’t get enough of the mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto.

“This is good with the pesto!”

Coriolanus excuses himself, taking his water with him. He wants to smoke again, the sight of you sobering him up, but makes him hate the way you look on Devon’s arm. He goes inside, sneaking past people and out through the front door. He looks out on the lineup of cars surrounding the driveway. He glances around to make sure no one is coming, then retrieves his dugout from his pocket. He packs and lights his one hitter again, taking a drink of water so he doesn’t cough so much. He takes one more hit before packing it tightly once again. As he blows the smoke out, he thinks about just how much not being able to see you at school is going to pain him. Maybe he can visit you over breaks and holidays? But how would he even pull that off? He curses himself. Why can’t he just be this emotionless asshole whose attention was captivated by more than just one woman. But it wasn’t. He loves you. He needs you more than anything in this life.

He takes one last hit, then packs his one-hitter away and returns back to lunch. He gets to the kitchen and pauses and stands in the doorway leading outside. He watches the crowd, looking for you. He spots you and Devon talking to the Plinths, Devon of course cozying up to Mr. Plinth as usual. Coriolanus simply rolls his eyes. He watches you from across the lawn, Devon’s arm firmly around your waist. As he leans up against the doorway, he sips his water and watches you as you turn your head in his direction. You notice his eyes on you and wave. He clumsily waves back, nearly choking on his water. Devon also notices and draws your attention back to the conversation with him and the Plinths.

God, Coriolanus wants you. So incredibly bad. And you look so beautiful in that white summer dress. He wishes he could take you around the front of Sejanus’s house, out of sight. He would push you up against the white wood, pull down the front of your dress and reveal your perfect tits to him. He bet they were soft, and could tell by your apparent lack of a bra that they would mold to his hand like you were made for him.

Then suddenly, you excuse yourself and begin to stride over to him. Coriolanus tries to casually straighten up, trying not to be so obvious about his excitement as you approach him.

“Hey!” You smile sweetly

“Well I guess you officially don’t ever need my help in an AP class ever again.”

“You said you’d still be available? Change your mind?”

“Not at all. Just feels nice to be done.” He smiles

“It does. I had to get away from all the talk. Devon is ambitious about trying to work for Mr. Plinth.”

“Plinth’s company would look great on any resumé” he remarks “But Sejanus will eventually own it no matter what”

“Yeah, Devon is…” you sigh, turning to look at him “a bit silly sometimes…so you want to keep taking science classes next year? “

“A few, but I really want to get more into politics and government when I get to college. Major in political science maybe…”

“Really? You find that all interesting?”

“I do. Don’t you?” He asks

“I find it all confusing really. And I guess those big ideas like that are a lot to understand sometimes, especially when people just yell their opinions at each other thinking they are the right one and are stubborn about their beliefs. “

“That’s the fun.” He smirks

From this distance he can finally see how well your body fills out the dress. Coriolanus tries to keep his eyes on his own. He can’t help that your breasts are so perky and round, that the material of your dress hugs your stomach just enough to barely show him the outline of your belly button.

“Did you check out the charcuterie board? It has some good things to snack on.”

“I got some fruit, yeah.” He remarks

“That’s all?” You chuckle

“And some cheese.” He smiles back

“Well if it's as good as what they are serving then I’m excited. It kinda makes me want to have a board for me and Devon’s graduation party. But if people are only interested in the fruit and cheese then I’m not sure” you tease

“You should. People like that stuff.”

“I guess so.” Then you pause and look at him curiously. “Umm…you smell nice by the way…”

“Thanks. My cousin got me a new fancy cologne for graduation.”

“She knows her stuff.”

“I guess that’s what being a big time New Yorker does to a person. She’s in fashion school.”

Fuck, you noticed his new cologne, just as he hoped for. He wonders if it makes you turn on. Does it make you wet? The new smell of him, so masculine and bold. He wonders.

Before you can remark on how cool and interesting Tigris is, your boyfriend comes marching over, a stern, stone cold expression on his face.

“Hey, they are starting to serve food. Let’s get in line before it’s too long.” He states, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away. You give Coriolanus a somber look before turning away with Devon. He whispers something in your ear and you look as if you’re trying to plea with him to not make a scene. Coriolanus rolls his eyes and walks over to Sejanus.

“Wanna get in line?” Sejanus asks

The lunch turns out to be exceptionally delicious. The buffet was full of summer foods too. A watermelon, feta salad, and an arugula based salad as starters. Then the main course includes a choice between “off-the-stick” chicken or steak kabob, with onions and peppers. For the sides, grilled corn, grilled zucchini with goat cheese and honey, with cut and seasoned cherry tomatoes. Coriolanus tried not to look greedy when filling up his plate, but he was hungry and didn’t get a chance to have such nice food. He put his pride aside and filled his plate up. Him and Sejanus find a seat with Coriolanus’s family and soon the Plinths join them.

The whole rest of the afternoon Coriolanus is enchanted by your compliment. It practically haunts him. It’s the only sound in his head at the moment, the sound of your sweet voice. He imagines other things you could say to him in that same pleasant voice.

“Mhmm you smell so good Coriolanus. So sexy. Why don’t we take this inside” he imagines you whispering to him, taking his hand and leading him away, inside the Plinth’s house. He thinks about you taking him into their guest bathroom, pushing him up against the white marble sink and unbuckling his belt. He was desperate to feel your soft touch, your small hands pushing on his hips, forcing him to take what you give him. Coriolanus would feel overwhelmed, as if the wind and life had been knocked out of him as you slowly touched his chest and pelvis. He would love it if you ripped his pants down, along with his boxers, exposing yourself to him while gently caressing his face.

“You’re such a smart boy Coriolanus Snow…so smart…” you’d whisper, kissing his neck slowly. “So handsome…”

He’d whimper and whine, softly as to not draw attention to any other guests. You’d take him in your small hands, taking his large length and stroking him. You’d stare directly into his pupils the entire time, whisper how big he was, how bad you want to taste it and have it inside you. You’d jerk him off until he came, quickly getting down on your knees to swallow as to leave no mess on the polished, porcelain tiles…

“Man Ma chose a good catering company this time. Much better than the one we used for New Years!” Sejanus speaks up, breaking Coriolanus’s vision of you.

He looks up and nods and he takes another bite of chicken. He tries to hide his discontent, not only at his friend for interrupting his thoughts, but also the way Sejanus talks about his lifestyle. As if it was normal to hire catering and throw a party for every holiday or important life event. It was something the Plints became known for in addition to their electrical empire. Especially Mrs. Plinth, who usually threw an end of the year pool party but felt as if a lunch was more fitting to “watch our children start the journey as adults.” Frankly, Coriolanus missed the pool party. Not only because it would give him an opportunity to look at you in a bikini, but he hated formal events.

He glances up and watches you take a seat next to Devon. He sighs and eats some more chicken, trying to savor the peppers and onions. Thankfully he was able to hide his slow growing erection under the table and as he finished his food, it died down. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly shameful. You had no idea though. No idea what the thought of you does to him. He knows there’s only one way to truly conquer his emotions, but knows that as long as Devon was around, it was a hopeless pursuit.

꧁🝮❤︎︎🝮꧂

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real-total-drama-takes · 4 months ago

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I don’t know how to start…

Had a really bad experience with that influencer Julia everyone’s so in love with on Instagram. I’ve been sitting on this experience for almost a year, trying to understand how someone could present themselves so differently from social media. Thought I should share my story here..

So I went to one of her meet-and-greet events at VidCon 2024. I was next in line and she had just gotten finished giving a fan her autograph. I walked up to her and said hi. She looked up at me and just snatched the makeup palette she collabed with KKW Beauty on. I started telling her how sorry I was that her liquid lipstick line plan had fallen through because she was in a scandal for using melted Crayola crayons as the pigment. She ignored me, and when I tried to break the ice by bringing up the Brandy Melville scandal (one of Julia’s former brand ambassadorships had a racism scandal with some influencers), she huffed. She started writing “Stay strong <3 love Julia. Buttknuckle.”

She handed it back to me and said “next” loudly. I wondered if I had done something wrong and said I didn’t want to take up too much of her time– “like you’re doing right now?” she said. I was a bit taken aback and said “huh?”

“Huh?” “Huh?” “Huh?” She repeated, then scrunched her face at me. I gulped and meekly thanked her for the autograph. I looked down at the autograph for a solid seven seconds trying to figure out if she actually did just write what I was seeing. When I tried to ask her what a “buttknuckle” was and why she called me it (it sounded derogatory. How else would you use buttknuckle if not as an insult?), she just snapped her fingers. The buff security guy guarding her stand started shooing me away. I could see her snicker to her influencer friends standing near her. I chalked it up to her just being tired. It was late in the afternoon, after all.

Later at the food court, I caught her behind a Tim Horton’s booth, shoving down a little kid and taking his lunch money. She then used said money to buy two large combo meals for herself. I watched her wolf it down, and as we passed each other, I smelt a terrible fart. I looked at her, and she immediately scrunched her nose and blamed it on a homeless old woman standing on the sidewalk. Everyone started laughing, and her fans crowded around her, asking if she was alright for having her “air” tainted and giving dirty looks at the old woman. I handed the poor old woman five cents to buy herself a hot meal, shower, car, and home and said “Peace be with you.”

My benevolence aside, I tried to catch a glimpse of her, but her fans swarmed her. I guess 30 million Instagram followers will do that for you. Her fan bubble hoisted her inside a luxury store. Louis Vuitton, I think it was. While inside, I saw a short girl with a beanie and a shifty gaze swiping priceless purses and stuffing them into her red overcoat. The thief never left Julia’s side. I saw them exit the store, but not before the thief pointed some electromagnetic disturbance gun (I’m a genius, so I knew exactly what device it was) at the alarm detector and disabled the stolen-goods alert. Julia, the thief, Julia’s bodyguard, and her swarm of fans exited the store without a trace,

Well, there must’ve been some malfunction on the thief’s alarm disabler gun, because the Louis Vuitton store’s alarms started blaring like crazy. The store manager, two clerks, and several local Anaheim policemen ran up to the door and confronted the crowd. The manager aggressively asked who stole it. Julia and the thief pointed at Julia’s bodyguard, who was quickly tackled and arrested.

Now without security, Julia and the thief ran to her hot-pink moped. The moped started sputtering tons of fossil fuels, which was weird to me, because Julia pledged on Instagram a few weeks earlier that she would go eco-friendly and only power her luxury vehicles with vegetable oil from now on. Tons of smoke from the moped engine blew into her fans’ faces. One of the fans was even a little girl who had listened to Julia’s suggestion to “start Retinol, Botox, and acid-peel treatments as early as possible for preventive aging. Dr. Oz approved!” The smoke must’ve reacted with the Retinol or acid-peel face treatments, because the girl, who couldn’t have been more than ten years old, screamed as skin disintegrated off her face. I’m talking Skeletor levels of facial disfigurement.

The moped finally shot off into the California sunset, swerving around cars. Two cars crashed from her erratic driving, and I heard Julia laugh that it “served them right for owning anything less than a Lamborghini, Ferrari, or Jaguar.”

The fans (most of whom were pre-teens and teenagers) started crying. Their parents came and got them, and eventually the day was over.

I returned to my hotel and considered writing this exposé but I knew how rabid her stans were. They had once gotten into a Twitter doxxing fight with Nicki Minaj’s Barbs and revealed the addresses of over 1,000 of them. It was funny, because I remember the profile picture of the main Twitter user who was doxxing the anti-Julia fans had a red overcoat just like the thief’s.

I also wondered if I had hallucinated the Buttknuckle thing or if Julia just had really bad handwriting, because she posted an Internet apology where she was sobbing and playing a ukulele about how the “Buttknuckle” signature lots of fans received that week at VidCon actually said “But never give up, ‘kay?” and that as a hand-impaired disabled victim and feminist woman, she was sad at the smear campaign when the only crime she committed was having poor penmanship (having been raised in an abusive household where her parents forced her to work part-time during the summer in their family bakery).

Anyways, I hope this doesn’t get me into too much online trouble. I know Julia has her online fans. We loved to hate her in Seasons 1 and 2, but I’m wondering if her personality on the show wasn’t just an act? Let me know what you guys think and please don’t spread hate, after all, I am just a completely reliable, noble, virtuous, whistleblower with a genius-level intellect and photographic memory.

#td Julia

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biteofcherry · 2 months ago

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Happy Wetnessday 💦

I hope you are doing well! I am luckily.

This Wetnessday you've scrunched up enough money to go shopping. You plan on getting yourself something extra nice. The first few stores were a bust. Either you didn't find anything or they refused to see you as a customer. You're close to giving up when a very handsome man, that you have a feeling you've seen before, approaches you. He's dressed very well and in those designer brands that couldn't care less about you. He's very nice when he explains to you that he noticed how they treated you and that he thinks you deserve better. He offers to accompany you to whatever store you're headed next so that you can buy that something extra nice you've wanted. After some hesitation you accept and wander into the next store besides him. Immediately everyone is fussing over you and you carefully choose a purse that would go nice with so many of your outfits. The man is very helpful, offering information to certain products you're looking at. When you head to the register to pay he stops you and pays for you. You're about to protest when he takes the paper bag and your hand and leads you outside. "Excellent first choice of your new wardrobe princess. The second choice will be mine. The ring on your finger will represent my empire after all." Before you can complain he swoops you away into your new luxury life as his wife.

Who's your new husband?

xoxo Wetnessday anon

I'm good overall, but tired after a double shift 🥱

A man who is patient when shopping, very much a gentleman and knows good quality, but then he's also unyielding when it comes to what he wants. He decided that you're his and while he can be gentle about it, he won't give you an option out.

And he's a gentleman, even when he's not 😏 🍑🖐🤭

#Wetnessday Anon #wetnessdayanon #reply

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 1 year ago

Text

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (part 37)

Tw: none 4 now , just a short chapter wirh Yves fluff

Part 38

"Yes dear, you may." Yves sat on the chair next to your bed, crossing his legs elegantly as he watches you open the pristine packaging.

You asked him for permission if you're allowed to eat the imported macarons he flew in all the way from France. You're nervous because the box itself looked extremely expensive, his gift looked too beautiful to eat.

You end up closing the box of delectable, colourful pastries. Some had gold leaf on them. They're definitely mouthwatering, especially after days of eating bland hospital food. You didn't touch any of Montgomery's takeaway.

You told him that you're going to save it for later. Yves didn't react to you, instead he pulled out another box with a black ribbon wrapped around it from his massive shopping bag that he no doubt retrieved from a luxury store. Yves kept the box of macarons from somewhere else, so that you had more space to work with. It was large, taking up the entire over-bed table.

You pulled on the neat ribbon before slowly taking the cover off.

Whatever it was, a sheet of black silk was wrapped around it with an envelope that has the brand logo resting atop. You opened it and pulled out a card with golden embossed letters. You had no idea what it says because you couldn't read it. So you set it aside and took out the main item.

You were baffled when you pulled out a large drawstring bag with a velvet interior. But that wasn't the final object, the thing inside it was. Yves second gift to you was a designer backpack, crafted to perfection and made up of only the highest quality materials. You can feel the lavishness through your fingertips rubbing against its fabric.

You opened it to see translucent packaging paper, protecting its form. This must have at least cost him a few grand, you're not accounting for the currency exchange rate. You turned your head to Yves, you looked uneasy. Do you really deserve this?

He simply tilted your head at your discomfort.

"It is time to retire your bag, (name)." He leaned forward, propping his head on his hand. "Unless this isn't to your liking?" You panicked at the sight of sadness in his green irises.

You said no, you love it. But you're scared to use it because it's priceless to you. It will hurt to even have a smidge of dirt on it!

"Then, this shall teach you to be mindful of your belongings." He smiled. "You should treat what you own with care and respect." Yves playfully tapped your nose with his pointer.

Your face heated up at the memory of him discovering the state of your old backpack, finding a dead lizard at the bottom and mold growing in your waterbottle.

"It's the least you could do for the items that uphold your day-to-day activities." Yves continued his lecture as he bent down again to take something else from his shopping bag.

You kept staring at the bag, cautiously packing it back into the drawstring and into the box. Treating it as if it will disintegrate if you handled it a bit too roughly.

"However." He gently guided your head to face him. Yves stroked his fingers under your chin. "I must remind you, they're merely objects. You shouldn't let them dictate your life. They're there to assist you."

He pushed a small box into your hands. It's a miniature version of whatever is on your table.

You untied its ribbon and opened it to reveal a small envelope and a smaller protective drawstring bag, which contained a velvet jewelry box.

You gasp upon opening it. A golden bracelet embellished with stunning pink diamonds. You took it out to inspect it and found that it doubles as a wonderful fidget toy! It has numerous moving parts and gears, providing that satisfaction of sliding and clicking.

You kept playing with it for a few minutes. Until Yves softly cleared his throat to get your attention.

He was smiling adoringly. "I'm happy that you're fond of my gifts, (name)."

You realized you haven't thanked him. Instead of verbally doing so, you decided to grow a pair and peck him on the lips.

You quickly retracted yourself and looked away, feeling shy from what you just did.

It took Yves a few seconds to register what you just did. His fingers ghosting over his mouth as his eyes were wide, staring at your bashful self.

The corners of his lips shakily curled upwards as he silently pushed your over-bed table away.

"Oh, (name)..." Purred Yves as he felt his heart beat so hard and fast against his ribcage, as if it was going to explode. He has no words to describe how adorable, how lovable and how delicious you are to him right now.

He tucked himself into the same bed, snaking his arms around your waist. Soon, you found yourself being cradled by Yves in his lap.

Your back is pressed against his chest as he buried his face into your hair. His own silky strands tickle you by your neck.

You giggled when he nipped at your cheek, he wrapped his lips around his teeth so it wouldn't tear into your skin no matter how hard he bites. It just felt like a firm yet harmless pinch between two knuckles.

He alternated between fluttery kisses and toothless nibbles. You squirmed and laughed hysterically when Yves utilized his nimble fingers to attack your ribs with tickles. It doesn't matter how you scrunch yourself, Yves will always get you to excite yourself.

"You charming little thief, how dare you steal my heart?" He hissed with mock anger before moving on to press his lips against yours.

You grinned and kissed back, loving how soft and supple they were, loving the taste of them. His hair shielded you from the harsh lighting of the room and his comforting smell made you forget the clinical stench of antiseptic in the air. The warmth he provides nullifies the cruel, artificial visual and physical coldness of the room.

He intertwined his fingers with yours, lightly squeezing them in his hold. But that is only with one hand.

The other is gripping so hard on your sheets that his nails started shredding holes into it. His thumb particularly pierced into the mattress. His veins were throbbing and raised, skin taut and digits suffering from tremors.

Yves occupied himself with your lips. Closing his eyes and enjoying the bliss he was handsomely rewarded with. He tries to ignore the fact that he failed to account for the deranged intensity of his cuteness aggression towards you.

Data be damned, he may have lost count of the number of touches he gave you today, but that one rare kiss from you was all worth it.

He lets go of you only to whisper three special words:

"I love you."

Before diving back in and showering you with tenderness as he fights the urge to painfully squash both of your face cheeks.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #oc yves #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader

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manic-maniac-man · 5 months ago

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HUgE Feb 2012

HOUSE in ORDER

CHROME HEARTS

The taste and precision that can only be achieved through handmade products, and the use of carefully selected luxurious materials.

The Chrome Hearts collection exudes a unique presence thanks to meticulous craftsmanship and backed by original ideas.

The deep love and knowledge that goes into creating these products continues to live on in our shop here in Japan, across the ocean.

Aoyama, Ginza, and our new shop in Kobe.

"We got a glimpse into the essence of the store, which is painstakingly crafted by LA master craftsmen who take "Made in Hollywood" to heart.

The cross section on the side of the staircase connecting the basement and ground levels of Chrome Hearts Tokyo in Aoyama was created by pouring concrete into a mold made in LA. When the concrete hardened and was removed, even the slightest chipping meant that the craftsmen had to start over from scratch, making this a part that would cause them tears.

The handrails surrounding the atrium on the second floor of the Ginza store. The ebony pillars were carved by hand, so if you look closely, you can see that each one has a slightly different finish. This is truly a one-off piece with a rich, tasteful finish.

A scene of the master craftsmen working at the Kobe store who came from LA. The tools they use on-site are transported from LA in a huge toolbox, complete with the tools they are used to using, every time they build a new store. All the craftsmen work in black Chrome Hearts staff T-shirts and denim pants.

The reason why we insist on creating a consistent store design, with everything made by LA craftsmen.

It has been 20 years since Chrome Hearts was founded in Hollywood, LA in 1988. It has brilliantly broken the stereotypes of accessories and leather items, and has continued to release collections that are artistic, delicate, and realistic. The designer who created it, Richard Stark, has a firm will to never compromise on his creations. His commitment to "Made in Hollywood," which is now rare, is not limited to his collections. This is clear at a glance at the Only Shop. His will is beautifully reflected in every corner of the store. The foundation of the store design that Chrome Hearts is proud of is actually based on the fact that Richard was originally a carpenter.

In 1995, as the brand's popularity soared, the brand finally decided to open its first store, an only shop. It was not in LA, where the brand is based, but in the Upper East Side of New York. At the time, Chrome Hearts had corners in select shops that were said to be the best in the city, such as Maxfield in LA and Bergdorf Goodman in NY. However, for the first store opening, they tried a surprising work process. It was an unusual process in which the materials needed for the store were brought from LA, processed in the store in NY, and each and every part and fixture was made on-site. Needless to say, the work was extremely difficult, and in the end, the staff who came from LA slept in the store where the materials and tools were scattered, and worked all night. Needless to say, the New York store, which was completed after much trial and error and exuded a handmade feel, became a case study for future Chrome Hearts stores.

When creating this first store, the material carefully selected to express the brand's worldview was ebony, the black wood that is symbolized in Chrome Hearts furniture and fixtures.

Ebony is a premium material used for crafting chopsticks, Buddhist altars, guitar necks, etc.

The store is generously using this material throughout the store. Moreover, the material is dense, heavy, and extremely hard, so it cannot be cut, let alone carved, without special tools. For craftsmen without experience, it is difficult to even process it. It is the skill of the skilled craftsmen working in the LA factory who are able to handle it with amazing ease and finish the delicate fixtures and interior parts of the store.

The company has a total of a dozen craftsmen who specialize in furniture and fixtures. Whenever they open a new store, they ship the fixtures and fixtures they have pre-made at their factory in LA, along with a huge amount of materials and a set of tools they use every day, and visit the property in its bare bones and handle almost the entire process from scratch. This work can sometimes continue for several weeks.

Chrome Hearts has never made the behind-the-scenes of this work public until now, but HUGE was finally able to cover the production site at its Kobe store, which opened on December 3rd.

One day in January, I visited a walled-off shop currently under construction in a corner of the former settlement, a fierce fashion battleground in Kobe's Motomachi district. There, 10 craftsmen who came from LA to build the shop were moving around the store. Some pre-cut the ebony, others nailed the pieces to the wall, and still others fitted the accessory cases that had been finished in LA into place. The division of roles was perfectly coordinated. The relaxed atmosphere that can only come from people who know each other well, and the sight of them working non-stop and skillfully and smoothly, was a true work of art.

The brand has a strong drive to pursue its worldview and create with overwhelming priority. This is due to Richard's extraordinary efforts for quality and deep love for his products, who has built close partnerships with the artisans. And above all, it is because of the playfulness that is unique to fashion. Chrome Hearts may teach us the essence of the shop that is often forgotten in this day and age.

These are portraits of the craftsmen who came from LA, whom I photographed in between the hectic work at the Kobe store. The strength that exudes from the real thing is indescribably cool. Right page, clockwise from the top right: Christopher Lippian, Oscar Sanchez, Manuel "Manny" Solano, Francisco Cruz Escobar, left page: Doug Rogel

Most of the metal parts in the store, such as the locks on the display cases, the handles on the fixtures, and the door hinges, are made of the same silver as Chrome Hearts jewelry and are intricately engraved.

The completed "Chrome Hearts Kobe" entrance is decorated with a flare, one of the symbolic motifs of Chrome Hearts. The contrast between the dark tones and the white sofa and ceiling is very fun.

#my scans #fashion #archive fashion #2010s fashion #chrome hearts #jewlery

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emberfrostlovesloki · 2 years ago

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Moschino and Muddy Water [Emily x Reader]

Prompt: You offer unsolicited fashion advice to a total stranger in the dressing room; aka when you meet Emily Prentiss in the Moschino dressing room and give her some much-needed confidence… and maybe something more.

Category: Fluff/Comfort

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: This is yet another @imagining-in-the-margins prompt from her Meet Cute writing challenge. Thank you for all the inspiration! Please know that I don’t have Moschino money, so if my writing about the brand or experience of shopping there is off, that’s why. I’m just giving my best guess as to what it’s like to shop at a luxury store like that. Also, I don’t love the current Moschino collection, but they seem like clothes Emily would wear to me. This is the first time that I’ve written a story in the second person. Please let me know if you like this formatting more than the third-person formatting I’ve done in the past. I hope you enjoy this story, and if you do - comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

P.S. The reader uses she/her pronouns

List with all stories

s/s = shoe size

d/s = dress size

f/c = favorite color

b/t = body type

f/j/c = favorite jewel color

f/m/s = favorite mall store

y/n = your name

f/s = favorite senator

f/a = favorite artist

You had spent the morning window shopping at the outdoor Historic Downton Shopping Mall. She was currently standing outside the Moschino storefront with its crisp glass exterior and metrosexual, jewel-toned fall collection on the mannequins. _y/n_ would never stop at such a high-end shop, but a pair of boots had caught your eye and you really, really like them. y/n thought, ‘Oh god, why do you have to torture yourself like this?’ As you walked into the store to take a closer look at those shoes. You justified the choice by thinking that she would take a closer look at the boots so you could try and find a convincing and far cheaper dupe online. As soon as you walked into the store a sharply dressed sales assistant approached her and said, “Good morning, Miss. Can I grab you a glass of champagne while you are looking around?” You smiled and said, “Yes, please.”

The assistant nodded and moved into a back room for a moment. You heard the pop of a cork. While the woman was away, you looked over the dresses and jackets in the women’s section. You like this season’s collection and found a dress that you thought you had seen one of her coworkers wearing. The sales assistant came back and handed you a champagne flute and asked, “Is there anything particular you’re looking for today? Any style or event you’d like to help you with?” Now that you had committed to the bit by accepting the champagne you realized you were going to have to play that you were going to buy something, even though you knew you weren't. You turned to the assistant and said, “Well the black boots in the window caught my eye. I’m also looking for a new jacket; something that can transition from day to night.” The woman nodded and said, “Great. What’s your shoe and dress size?” You replied, “I’m a _s/s_ and a _d/s_.” The woman nodded and said, “I’ll go in the back to get those shoes. Feel free to look around the jacket sections -- it’s on the far wall.”

You did go look at the jackets, but not before looking at the price of the dress you had seen her co-worker in. The number on the label took your breath away and you wondered how your co-worker could possibly afford something so expensive? ‘Maybe she’s loaded?’ you thought. You stepped toward the jackets and pulled one from the rack. The quality of stitching and the material used was impeccable. You placed the piece back on the rack as a _f/c_ dress nearby caught your eye. It would be perfect for work. You looked at it longingly and hadn’t noticed the sales assistant had come back. You nearly jumped out of your skin when the woman said, “Ma’am.” You caught your breath and turned, trying to look composed. The assistant motioned for one of the plush chairs on the floor. As you sat, she took out the shoes. You tried them on; you were happy they weren’t that comfortable, because with how good they looked on you, you might be tempted to waste two months' salary and eat ramen for two weeks straight to get them. The sales assistant said, “Why don’t you walk around a bit and see if you like them. There’s a mirror on the other side of the wall so you can properly see them. I also saw you looking at that dress and jacket. I’ll grab them in your size and put them in a changing room for you.” You smiled and thanked her. As the woman moved to the racks, you did a few circuits of the store and looked at the shoes in the mirror. When you finished trying on the boots, you moved back to your old shoes and put them back on. You moved to the dressing room. It was lush and as a grandiose, over-the-top addition the hallway that was lined with changing rooms was essentially lit like a runway with two towering mirrors on either end of the hallway. Just before the changing rooms, there’s a seating area full of neutral-color plush sofas and chairs similar to those in the showroom. For a moment you thought they might be for the poor husbands who were dragged out shopping with their wives. However, after a second look, the space was far too feminine; you ascertained that this was for mothers and girlfriends to coo and make recommendations on the fit and look of the clothes to be soon bought and stuck in a closet somewhere potentially to be forgotten. A shot of jealousy shot up you for a moment before you took a breath and let it out. You may not have come from money, but you were happy. You had a job that fulfilled you and that’s all that mattered.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the sales assistant called for you. You moved to the dressing room she had picked out for you. As you peered into the large space you noticed two things. The first was that the woman had brought your champagne glass into the changing room and topped it up. Secondly, she had brought more than the two pieces into the dressing room. From your count, there were at least ten items on the small personal rack in the ostentatious room. The saleswoman said, “I took the liberty to pull a few more pieces in your sizes that matched the description of day to night that you mentioned. I’m going to let you try these items on. If you need anything like a different size or a top-up for your champagne, just let me know. My name is Kirsten, so please let me know if you need anything.” Kirsten graciously moved out of the dressing room and closed the door behind her. There was a satisfying click as the door automatically locked behind her. You relaxed after letting out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding. The fact that Kristen hadn’t realized that you didn’t have any money to buy anything she had pulled for you was shocking, or maybe she was just taking pity on her and not making this a humiliating experience. Whatever the cause was, you took off your pants and shirt and tried on the first dress, the original one you had been eyeing. When you looked in the mirror it really wasn’t as pretty on you as you had anticipated. It looked great on the rack, but on your _b/t_ it wasn’t flattering. With that disappointment swept under the rug, you took off the dress and grabbed for the next garment because surely they couldn’t all look as bad as the first.

As you slipped the second dress off the hanger you heard Kisten’s voice and a new voice a few feet from your dressing room. From what you could hear Kristen was talking to a regular. The jealousy swelled again, but you pushed it down again. The next two dresses were also flops and you started to try on the jackets Kirsten had picked for you, the new voice spoke. Whoever was in the changing room with you caught your interest. It was clear to you that whoever was speaking was on the phone. If you listened with concentration, you could hear some of the words being exchanged. Given this was such a stupid and surreal experience, why not listen to how ‘the other half lived?’ As you eavesdropped these were the snippets of conversation you heard: “Listen J.J. I’ve shopped here for years, but I don’t know about the Fall 23’ collection. If I buy these dresses and pants they will have to function for work and this date I’ve got coming up on Saturday… I can’t decide if this dress is tacky or chic” There was a long pause before the woman who was speaking said, “Okay, okay, fine, I’ll look in the big mirror if you insist.” You couldn’t help but leave your lush cubicle to see who this woman was and what someone who sounded like they had been a consistent customer for years looked like. You zipped up the hidden zipper of the _f/j/c/_ dress you were pretending to be trying on. After the zipper was up, you peeked out of the door to see the woman. She was still on the phone and hadn’t noticed you standing there yet. Your jaw almost dropped when you saw the woman. She was beautiful; the most attractive person she had seen in months. The maroon dress she wore hugged her body in the best possible way. Its plunging neckline showed her cleavage in a way that highlighted her form. Seeing her in that dress she realized who these clothes were made for. You could help yourself and you said aloud, “You look amazing.” At your comment the woman finally realized that she wasn’t alone and her eyes looked up to the mirror, locking onto yours. She turned and said, “Thank you. Do you really think so? I think the neckline might be a bit much” You smiled and nodded saying, “I think that dress was made for you. I couldn't help but overhear your comment on the phone and I don’t think it’s tacky at all. I would probably wear a cami under it at work, but other than that I don’t see any downsides.” The woman smiled and said, “Thank you. I needed to hear that. It’s been a rough week.” The woman took a moment to look you over, and you flushed as you felt her eyes quickly rake over you. She said, “You look great as well. That dress really suits you.” You beamed replying, “Thank you.” With slight hesitation and a bit of awkwardness, the conversation stopped and both women went back to their own stalls.

You took off the dress and put it back on the hanger. As silly as it was, you didn’t want the woman she had complimented to see her walk out of the store empty-handed. You exited the dressing room and told the sales associate that none of the dresses or jackets had worked out, and she thanked her for her time and help. Outside the weather had turned cloudy and grey. It had been raining a lot that fall and it looked like the trend was going to continue today. You decided to go to a store you could afford. You looked around the racks of _f/m/s_ and picked out a suad purse. You moved to the front of the store and checked out. You spent some time just walking around appreciating the cool weather and people-watching. You remembered that you had a Starbucks gift card and decided to treat yourself. As you walked toward the coffee shop you heard a noise on the opposite side of the road in front of her. You looked over in that direction and found the woman from the dressing room. It seems that she had fallen for some reason. You became increasingly annoyed as a group of guys and a few women walked by and didn’t help her up. More infuriating was the fact that you could hear one of the men laugh, and you knew that if she could hear his nasal laugh the woman most certainly could. You quickly moved across the road, avoiding a slow-moving car, and knelt down near the woman offering her a hand. The woman took it with surprising strength and you leaned back to help her up. Not only had she fallen, but she had fallen in a puddle of muddy water, staining her crisp white shirt. As she helped the woman up, she said, “Thank you so much! You’re my savior.” You smiled and said, “I’m happy to help.” Once she was back on the sidewalk, you leaned down and got to her dropped shopping bag and purse from the puddle. You made sure the bag labeled Moschino didn’t have any water damage to the package. Thankfully whatever clothing the woman had bought was put in another box due to the quality of the product. You shook the bag slightly to remove any excess water.

You noticed the reason for the woman’s fall was due to the fact that her right high heel had broken off. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity for this woman; she had said she had had a bad week, she had fallen and no one had helped her up, and now even her shoes were betraying her. Without even really thinking you said, “I was going to go grab a coffee and Starbucks, could I treat you to a drink? I’m_y/n_, by the way.” The woman looked at you and replied, “That sounds really nice actually. I’m Emily, Pretiss. It’s nice to meet you _y/n_.” You handed the Mischino bag back to Emily and you both moved down the street toward the Starbucks. As you were walking, Emily said, “You didn’t buy the dress from the dressing room? It looked so good on you?” You flushed but responded truthfully with, “I couldn’t afford the dress. I can barely afford Guess which is just a knock-off Prada.” Emily laughed at the last comment and you thought the sound of her laughing was the most beautiful thing you had heard all week. She replied, “Tell me about it. Why does shopping have to be so humiliating? First, you have to try on clothes and be disappointed when they don’t fit, and second, if they do fit, you can’t afford them! Certainly, men don’t have this type of problem while shopping.” You chuckled and said, “They most certainly don’t, but most men are wearing cargo shorts and Polo’s. A two-year-old could make the outfit.” You both burst into another fit of laughter. As you got to the Starbucks Emily opened the door for you. You both waited in line and as you got to the front you ordered your usual creme brulee latte with a shot of espresso and a pump of vanilla. You turned to Emily and asked, “What would you like?” She thought for a second before saying, “I’ll have a cold brew with sweet cream foam.” After you had paid you both found a quiet table in the corner of the store.

As you sat across from each other you appreciated Emily’s face. You couldn’t stop thinking about how pretty she was. You were pulled from your thoughts when Emily said, “So, where do you work?” You replied I’m an intern for _f/s_ currently. How about you, Emily?” Emily replied, “I work for the F.B.I. actually. I’m a profiler?” At this, your eyes widened and you said, “Really? What’s that like; it must be dangerous I assume?” Emily nodded. She was looking at you and the way you were looking at her ignited a small warmth in the pit of her stomach. _y/n_ was looking at her with a kind and attentive gaze. Emily had been struggling with dating since she had joined the BAU and now, by fate or fortune, she was someone who seemed lovely. She was actually dreading her upcoming date, but didn’t want to cancel on the guy and have to explain that she wasn’t into him anymore. So she was going to savor this moment with _y/n_. She responded to the question saying, “It is. It is dangerous most of the time. But it has to be done you know. People deserve to live in a safe world. And that’s what I do.” There was a moment of silence after this before Emily continued, “So what’s an average weekend like for you apart from boosting my confidence by fifty percent?” As both Emily and you recognized how this feels like a first date this all felt. However, neither one minded, and you replied, “I like to sleep in if I can. Then get a workout in and answer some emails and after that, I’ll grab a coffee and do something fun if I have the energy. I have a penchant for used bookstores and vintage copies of Virginia Wolfe. In the evenings I like to listen to _f/a_ on vinyl while I unwind with a glass of wine. How about you?” Emily liked what had said and replied, “Oh my god, I love _f/a_! I was them in concert last year. I think I changed my life.” You smiled and said, “Lucky.” After finishing a sip of her cold brew, Emily said, “Well it depends if my team is on a case then I’m working, obviously, but if I’m free I like to get in a workout like Yoga or pilates. I cuddle my cat and spend time making a nice meal. I’m trying to see every art museum in the city, so if I can fit that in then I will. My job is pretty stressful, so relaxing stuff mostly.” You couldn’t help but think about Emily cuddling her cat, or maybe you were thinking of her cuddling you instead. Your face visibly reddened and you had to look away for a moment. You and Emily continued to chat as you finished your drinks and before you got up to go Emily went out on a limb and said, “Hey, _y/n_, would you like to do this for real sometime soon?” At hearing this the butterflies in your stomach fluttered up into your chest and you thought you might float up to the ceiling. You wanted to be sure you heard correctly and said, “This?” Now Emily flushed and she replied, “Would you go on a date with me? You seem really kind and I’d like to get to know you better.” You wanted to nod or scream with excitement, but something stopped you for a moment and asked, “What about your date on Thursday?” Emily shook her head and said, “I’ll cancel. He was rude in his messages with me and I was having doubts already.” You took in the information and nodded replying, “Then yes. I’d love to go on a date with you, Emily.” Emily’s face broke into a radiant smile and she said, “Great. What day works for you?”

As you planned the day and time for the date the chemistry was palpable between them. As they both walked to the door to go their separate ways, Emily held the door for you. Feel blossoming feelings Emily felt toward you surged as you turned away from her and she couldn’t stop herself from saying your name. You turned and there was a look of desire on Emily’s face. You stepped forward and whispered her name. Emily closed the gap between you. She took one of your hands and leaned down slowly. Slowly enough for you to say no if you wanted. But you didn’t want to say no. Instead, you raised up on your toes to meet her lips. They were as warm and soft as you had imagined. The scent of her light perfume overwhelmed you and you felt dizzy in an intoxicating sort of way. Emily was similarly reveling in your closeness. She lifted her hand and ran her thumb down your jawline. The kiss lingered, but it was polite and respectful and left room for more when the time was right for them both. As you parted for real this time as you walked toward the train you had never been so happy to have gone into that Moschino to look at shoes you couldn't buy in your life.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #emily prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #emily x reader #Emily fluff #moschino #criminal minds x reader #reader one shot #reader insert #Reader x Emily #emily prentiss one shot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fluff

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