#made one moves and got traction for my business

[submattsmxmmy]

🥀🕊 dead dove: don't eat (this fic contains dark material - read at your own risk)

hiiii, it's @ariestrxsh (this is my backup account, and here is my contribution to kinktober 🖤 no taglist included on this account bc it would be really complicated)

🥀🕊 content warning: smut, prey/predator dynamic, primal kink, establishment of safeword, knifeplay, rough sex, degradation, daddy kink, roughdom!chris

🥀🕊 author's note: if the idea of being chased around in the forest at night and then being brutally fucked by chris sturniolo doesn't sound fun to you, don't read this!!! i don't ever want my writing to trigger, offend, or upset anyone, so please just skip this one if the material sounds unpleasant to you. this is just for those of us who have this little dark fantasy. 🖤

🥀🕊 summary: while housesitting for your boss, an unsuspecting visitor drops by, and the night takes a twist.

a forest

"I'll give you a two-minute headstart," he rasped into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You took off, sprinting into the vast forest that was lit up by the full moon. Your sneakers crushed twigs and dead leaves as you wandered deeper into the woods.

You stopped for a moment to take in the sound of your surroundings, but the silence was eerie and unnerving. So quiet you could hear your heart about to pound out of your chest, along with the sound of adrenaline pumping your blood through your veins.

The thick, grey clouds in the sky slowly moved into the way of the moon, obstructing the light it emmited momentarily. You were excited to be chased, but something about this situation still triggered a primal fear in you. You started to run again, trying not to lose your sense of direction along with all the other sensory deprivation you were experiencing.

Suddenly, your shoelace snagged on a branch that had fallen, launching you forward into the forest floor beneath you.

*flashback to several hours earlier*

Your car made its way down the winding dirt road as you navigated directions to your boss' house, the branches above creating a dense canopy above you while you meandered through the tunnel of trees.

She was a sweet lady who owned the dog grooming business you worked at, and she was offering you some extra money to house sit for her, feed her cats, and water her plants while she was away on vacation.

It was a nice way to make some extra cash, and a nice way for you to get away from your roommates for a little while and enjoy some peace and quiet in the little woodsy area she lived in. An even bigger plus, she told you to help yourself to any of the food in her fridge and pantry, so it wouldn't spoil or go stale in the time that she was gone.

You slammed on your brakes, nearly losing traction and kicking up dirt as a fawn leaped out of nowhere and into the path of your car and stopped a few feet in front of your headlights. Your heart raced, but you immediately let out a sigh of relief as it got away safely and trotted off in another direction.

You'd never been to your boss' place before, but it wasn't hard to find, considering it was the only house around, and the nearest neighbors were at least a couple of miles away. You located your destination, and as you slowly ascended the driveway and admired the wooden structure, the full clouds above you started to release a light drizzle of rain.

It was a big, gorgeous, and charming home. You could tell a lot of work and money had gone into it, and you were even more excited to see the inside. You slung your bag over your shoulder, stepped out into the rain, and found the creepy owl statue, which the house key was hidden under. You put the key in the lock, turned it until you heard the click, and let yourself in.

It had a very rustic vibe, which really fit your boss, and you were so lost in the decor and the architecture that you were startled when a sweet, long-haired, black cat appeared at your feet and started rubbing up against your bare leg. She placed her two front paws on your black Converse shoe and peered up at you. "Hi, sweetie," you whispered, squatting down to let her smell you.

After she sniffed you for a few seconds, she drove her sweet face into your hand, and you scratched her under the chin. She started walking off in the other direction, looking back at you as if she wanted you to follow her.

You walked through the hall, through the living room, and into the dining room where two empty food bowls sat on the ground next to the fridge. "Awh, are you hungry?" You asked the cat as if she could respond to you, and you emptied a bit of dry food into both of the bowls, and as the sound of kibble ricocheting off the metal containers filled the room, another cat came bounding into view.

He was a short-haired brown tabby with white paws and a bit of white at the tip of his tail, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he got a look at you and ran the other direction to find something to hide under. "Can't win them all over, huh?" You said, peering down at the black cat as she gobbled up her food. She glanced back up at you and let out a soft meow as if she understood and went back to snacking.

You slowly walked through the rest of the house, acquainting yourself with the layout. You found your way to the guest room, which was right where you were told it was. Two doors down on the left after you walked through the second hallway that connected the kitchen to the bedrooms.

You set your bag down on the bed you'd be sleeping in tonight and backtracked to the kitchen to check out the drink and snack selection. You found a bottle of bourbon stored in the pantry that looked pretty fancy. You were of age, and your boss did say you could have any food or beverages she had, so you poured yourself a glass of bourbon over ice after you'd found her stash of whiskey glasses.

You grabbed some garlic stuffed olives from the fridge along with some aged cheddar and crackers you found, and you made your way to the living room to check out the entertainment. While you were flipping through apps on the television, you noticed some pictures above the fireplace.

Your boss had mentioned she had a son your age, but you'd never seen him until your gaze landed on his senior photo. "Holy shit," you whispered, admiring his beautiful smile and his lovely, blue eyes. Why hadn't your boss told you her son was so hot?

You popped an olive into your mouth and washed it down with a small sip of bourbon as you studied the picture collection she had on the mantel above the fireplace. Your eyes were immediately drawn to all the pictures of her son, and you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander while you looked at his photos. You'd never seen a man so attractive before.

You picked up a photograph of him in which he was shirtless and carried it back over to the couch with you. After looking at his picture a bit longer and taking a few more sips of your alcoholic drink, you turned your attention back to the television.

The sun had set by now, and you'd settled on watching Jennifer's Body. You'd seen it a dozen times before, but it was the only movie that sparked your interest after looking through several films on several different streaming services. Plus, you thought the movie was fitting, given it was October.

You were drinking your second glass of bourbon while you snacked on cheese and crackers when the scene came on where Jennifer and Needy make out. You were so lost in the steamy kiss that you had no idea anyone was in the room with you.

"Whatcha watching?" A voice came out of nowhere. You snapped your neck around, nearly dropping your drink, paused the movie, and asked, "Who the fuck are you?" before you could take in any of the boy's features. "I'm Chris. Who the fuck are you?" He returned the question, snorting at you.

"Sorry, you must be my boss' son," you quickly apologized, realizing he was the same man in the pictures. He was even more attractive in person. You stood up, wiping your crumby hands off on your striped shirt and your cut-off jean shorts.

You introduced yourself and extended your hand to shake his, but his gorgeous blue eyes flicked to the photo you had of him on the coffee table in front of you. "Like that picture of me?" He flashed you his million-dollar smile.

You ignored his question that felt like more of an accusation. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be here. I was told I'd be staying here all alone," you responded, still caught off guard by his presence. "Well, I didn't know anyone would be here either. My mom told me someone was watching the cats, but I didn't know that meant you'd be here full time," Chris said, still caught off guard by your presence.

"Well, your mom told me I could sleep here and eat what you guys had in the fridge. I'm not doing anything weird," you replied. "Sure, you're not," Chris smirked, his gaze flicking back up at the frozen frame on the television of the girl-on-girl kiss scene you were watching. "It's not weird at all to watch porn on your boss' couch while you have a picture of her son next to you."

"Oh, my god, I'm not watching porn. This is just some horror movie on Hulu," you turned bright red, reaching for the remote and shutting off the film. "Well, either way, I won't tell my mom you're drinking her bourbon and watching softcore lesbian porn in her living room as long as you don't tell my mom I stop by here sometimes when she's out of town. I have a long weekend, and I just wanted to get away from my dormmates and come spend some time alone here," Chris told you.

"It's not porn.. whatever," you shook your head, giving up trying to defend yourself. "Your secret is safe with me," you said, taking in all his aesthetically pleasing features. "You don't mind if I hang out and stay the night here, do you? I just drove like two and a half hours, and I'm pretty tired," he bit his lip at you, and you nearly melted.

"No, I don't mind. After all, it is your house." Chris plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled out some rolling papers and a bag of weed. "You smoke?" He asked, looking up at you. "Yeah," you responded, sitting back down on the couch beside him.

"Smoke this joint with me on the deck?" He offered, while he packed the paper full of ground weed. "Sure," you accepted. He looked into your eyes while he licked and sealed the joint. "Follow me," he muttered as he stood up and started to make his way to the back door that led out to the wooden deck that wrapped around the back-half of the house.

The rain had let up by now, but the scent still lingered in the air. The two of your found yourselves leaning over the railing, staring up at the full moon and the few stars that were visible between the clouds while you passed the lit joint back and forth.

"Guess I should have asked this before I invited you to smoke with me, but how old are you?" He wondered. "Twenty-one. How about you?" You asked, giving him the joint back after blowing a puff of smoke into the air. "Same. You like working for my mom?" He wondered, glancing over at you.

"Yeah, actually. You know, everyone really respects her because she's a little bit of a hard ass, but she's really understanding. She doesn't treat us like cogs in her machine like some of my former employers. She treats us like we're actually human," you shrugged. "That's been my experience with her, too. She's a no-bullshit type of woman. Kind of hard on you when you need it. But a really caring and genuine person," Chris told you, taking another hit.

"What are you studying in school?" You asked him. "I've changed my major like a dozen times because I can't focus on any one thing, but right now, I'm leaning towards something in finance," he replied.

"I like the taste of these rolling papers," you told him. "Yeah? They're vanilla," he responded. "That's the best flavor. Except when it comes to sex," you mumbled under your breath and giggled. "Oh, yeah?" Chris raised his eyebrows and glanced at you, smiling and shocked to hear you say such a thing. "How freaky are you?" He asked, taking another puff off the joint.

"Well, freaky is subjective," you started off. "And that's how I know you're a freak," Chris glared in your direction, still smiling. "If you'd given me a definitive no, when then, that answers that question. If you'd given me a definitive yes, that could have meant that your definition of freaky is like getting your hair pulled while you're in doggy or something," he replied, passing you back the doobie. "Well, I do like that," you chuckled. "Yeah, but what other freaky shit are you into?" Chris' curiosity had been sparked.

"I'm not telling you. I just met you," You widened your eyes at Chris and shot him an embarrassed smile. "You're the one that brought it up. I'll tell you what I'm into if you tell me what you're into," Chris promised, dying to hear you confess all your naughty fantasies to him. You rolled your eyes at him while you heavily blushed.

"Okay, fine. I really like being tied up, spit on, choked, slapped around, having my hair pulled.." You started to say, but your voice trailed off. "What else, pretty girl? I can tell you're holding back with me," Chris lowered his gaze to your lips. "Well, you might judge me," you said, taking a puff of the joint and returning it to Chris. "I don't kink-shame," Chris chuckled in a low voice.

"Okay, well I like being degraded, humiliated, talked down to, that kind of thing," you responded, nibbling on your lip and looking for Chris' reaction. "Keep going," he encouraged you, intrigued to hear what else you were going to say. "I kind of get turned on by things that would scare the average person. Like knives, blood, and like being chased. Stuff like that," you admitted, gazing down at the ground, afraid of what he'd think of you.

"Such a little whore," he said in a seductive tone. Your heart raced, and you peered up at him. "What a coincidence, because I like degrading and humiliating girls like you, and I love to hunt my prey before I fuck it," Chris curled his lips into a menacing smile while his dark eyes piercing through you. He put out the joint and clenched his jaw at you waiting for you to say something, but the words were caught in your throat.

"I mean, I'm making assumptions here, but I think you're into me, and I think you want me to chase you," Chris sneered at you, tilting your chin up at him. You hesitantly nodded your head. "You can be my little fawn, and I'll be the hungry coyote," Chris cooed, running his thumb along your bottom lip that was pink with arousal. You nodded again. He took a few steps closer to you until you could feel the warmth coming off his body.

"Just remember. I know this forest better than you do, princess," his words triggered the hair on the back of your neck to stand up. "In honor of Halloween, your safeword is Beetlejuice."

You weren't sure how long you'd been running for. It could have been forty-five seconds, or it could have been ten minutes. You felt disoriented, your perception seemingly disconnected from reality as time seemed to fold in on itself. The smell of wet dirt filled your senses as you got a face full of it. You placed both of your hands on the soil and grass beneath you to prop yourself back up onto your feet, but your shoelace was still stuck.

Instead, you scooted yourself down towards your feet, frantically reaching around for the branch you were caught on. After fiddling around with it for a few seconds, you whispered to yourself, "Shit." You ultimately decided to pull your shoelace untied, and tried to knot it back up quickly before getting to your feet and bounding further into the woods.

You weren't sure if you were even running the right way or if you were tracing your footsteps back from where you just came. That's when you heard his footsteps, dead autumn leaves crushing under his weight, and you whipped around in the direction you heard the crunch.

You hoped it was the attractive boy you just met, stealthily setting his sights on you through the trees where he could see you but you couldn't see him, rather than an actual coyote, but you expected him to chase you and tackle you right away. Instead, he was behaving like a four-legged wild animal - stalking you. Hunting you.

You heard a few more brittle leaves and twigs crack as he slowly stepped closer to you. You took off, sprinting as fast as you could, still a bit unsure about what was chasing you. He was hot on your heels, and you made it only a few more feet before he lunged forward, grappling you to the forest floor.

You fell on your stomach, and the pressure knocked the air out of you. You were almost relieved when you felt human hands tearing at your clothes, and you heard Chris whisper, rasping in your ear from behind you, "Gotcha!" He ripped your shirt off of your torso in a swift motion, and you gasped as you tried to get away from him, but his hands were strong, and he had all his body weight on you, his erection stabbing you in the backside as you squirmed, digging your nails into the soil beneath you.

You grew increasingly wet as you heard him fiddle with his belt buckle and his zipper. Then he tugged your shorts down and took them off you. He didn't waste his time, pulling your panties to the side and lining his length up with your entrance.

He roughly pushed into you, causing you to sharply inhale and whimper as he started moving his hips back and forth, stretching you out. You'd been caught and defeated, but you loved every second of the way Chris took you. You began arching your back and leaning back into the boy while he fucked you senseless.

You could hear his deep, animalistic grunts in your ear and you could feel his hot, shallow breath on the back of your neck. You couldn't conceal how much you loved it. You threw your head back and let out a few loud, satisfied sounds.

Your hands and your knees dug into the soft ground beneath you while you graciously took Chris' rod. He pounded into you, the sound of his hips slamming into your ass echoed throughout the forest and reverberated through your body. Chris placed his hand on the back of your head and pressed the side of your face into the dirt while he began to fuck you harder.

"You fucking love it, don't you? Such a worthless little cunt," Chris grunted breathlessly. You responded by rolling your eyes back into your head and moaning at his words. "I'm gonna flip you around, slut, and if you try to run away from me, it's not gonna go well for you," he whispered in a raspy voice.

As soon as he pulled himself out of you and went to grab you and turn you onto your back, you jumped up and took off running in nothing but your thong and your sneakers. You couldn't wait to see what he had in mind.

"Bitch!" Chris growled as he pulled up his pants and started chasing after you again. You didn't get far before he tackled you to the ground again and flipped you onto your back. "What did I fucking tell you? Defiant little brat. You're gonna be sorry you ran from me," Chris chuckled under his breath as he nudged your legs open and pinned both your wrists above your head with one of his strong, veiny hands.

You watched Chris pull something out of his pocket, and you noticed the way the moonlight bounced off of it and made it glimmer. It was something long and metal. As well as sharp, you noted as Chris started teasing you with it. He took the blade and started running it along the center of your rib cage.

He brought the knife up to your chest and started grazing the curve of your breasts. Your breath quickened. You shuddered at the feeling of the cool metal as he subtly grazed your nipples with it. He did this over and over until adrenaline was flowing through you. You were both worried and excited that he may actually draw blood.

He dragged the cold, sharp edge down your stomach and replaced the tantalizing feeling of the blade against the sensitive buds on your chest with his soft, pouty lips. He engulfed each nipple, swirling his tongue around and eliciting sweet whines from you while the knife grazed the insides of your thighs. You felt it rest up against your vulva through your panties, and suddenly, Chris took the switchblade, hooked it into the strap of your underwear, and sliced them off of you.

You gasped and squirmed beneath him, fear and excitement flooding your system. The forest was so eerily quiet besides the sounds of your desperate mewls that Chris could hear your heartbeat. "Do you trust me?" Chris whispered in a creepy voice as he took the switchblade and held it up to your neck, nestling his cock back into your sweet, wet pussy.

You barely knew him, but you had to trust him. After all, he was weilding a weapon and holding it about an inch away from your carotid artery and one subtle move, purposeful or accidental, could end your life or at the very least, put you in critical condition. "Yes," you managed to choke out.

"Your pussy is all mine. You're nothing more than my little cock sleeve. Isn't that right?" Chris degraded you while he thrusted into you, still holding your wrists down overhead. It turned you on even more that you were letting a stranger fuck you, and not just any stranger - your boss' son.

"Fuck, you take daddy's cock so well," he chuckled, causing you to smile and letting your eyes roll back into your head once more. You hadn't even told Chris about your daddy kink, but it's like he could smell it on you. "Yes, daddy," you whined as he pounded deep into you, hitting the spot with every stroke. He knew just what to say and do and how to fuck you just right.

Chris loved the way your cunt swallowed his length perfectly and how warm and wet you were as he did what he pleased. He loved the way you were getting off on your own fear and adrenaline. He could feel you losing control, your body convulsing beneath him and your tight hole rhythmically clenching around him. Waves of euphoria traveled through your veins, filling every one of your senses with pleasure.

"You're so pathetic and needy to cum, aren't you?" Chris cooed in a condescending tone. "Yes, daddy," you whimpered. "I don't know if you deserve to. You've been such a naughty girl," he shot back. "Please, daddy," you whined, squirming around. He relished in the way you begged over and over, flirting with the idea of letting you cum with every desperate plea that escaped your lips.

"Beg harder for it, slut," Chris replied in a deep voice. "Daddy, please, I need it," you cried out. He delivered a few more hard thrusts before he gave in to your whining. "Okay, fine. Cum on my daddy's cock, slut," Chris huffed, pressing the knife to your neck with just a bit more pressure.

All you needed were those magic words, and you reached the point of no return. Your orgasm swept you under like a strong current you couldn't stop, carrying you in its flow, and you surrendered to the feeling. It ripped through you mercilessly, leaving you in a pool of your own drool and cum. You spasmed around Chris' cock while you finished onto him.

The way your body reacted tipped Chris over the edge as well, sending him through the same euphoric sensations. He loudly moaned, slammed his eyes shut, and slacked his jaw before he pulled out and finished all over your stomach. He admired the way the moonlight caught his load and made it glitter against your flesh. "Fuck, I needed that," Chris breathlessly mumbled, squeezing out every last drop.

He switched the blade shut, put it back into his pocket, and pulled up his pants while the two of you caught your breath. Your legs were numb, and you couldn't think straight, recovering from the thrilling experience. You laid still for a few moments, your gaze fixed on the stars that were scattered overheard and barely visible through the storm clouds.

Chris grabbed you, slung your naked and mud-covered body over his shoulder, and then climbed to his feet to carry you back to the house. "Don't worry. I know exactly where we are. I'm gonna get you back safe."

[ronwestbreeze]

live in gotham they say... | birdie goes to a wedding

summary: what idiot willingly moves to gotham city of all places? you, apparently. word count: 2.8k warning: none! just chaos hehe author's note: i really appreciate the love from my first post of this! so glad y'all are enjoying it! enjoy this next one I have for you!

AO3

It was a good thing you had a backup plan—at least, that’s what you hoped it would be. Back in high school, you started a small website for your photography business. You made some good money from it back then, so you decided to bring it back in hopes of starting a small business in Gotham.

So far, it’s sort of worked.

In a couple of weeks, you’ve had about three bookings, all for some yearbook photos at three different schools in the city. The money from it could only get you gas and maybe some dinner that could work as leftovers if you were smart and knew how to make it last.

Still living in your car though, but it could be worse!

Your photography bookings were slowly gaining traction and taking off. The next booking was for a birthday party. It was a frat boy scene, not too impressive but hey, you got some good money from it.

The next event that booked you was a wedding.

This, you were a bit more nervous for, mostly because you had nothing to wear that was close to being wedding ceremony material. So, out of desperation, you dug through your boxes of clothes until you finally found a black dress you wore to your grandmother’s funeral back in your junior year of high school. Hopefully, you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb.

Turns out, you didn’t.

The venue was a boat. Like a really nice boat. Which told you that whoever was getting married was loaded.

Everyone was dressed differently yet so rich it made you invisible—which helped with not sticking out like a sore thumb. Whatever country the groom and bride were from seemed like they knew how to dress and throw a wedding. Colors burst everywhere, the dresses were over the top yet beautiful and the decorations were bright and loud. Taking pictures was easy to do with so many sights for you to capture. 

This had to be the best booking you’ve ever gotten, especially if it seemed like an A-list kind of wedding with as much security around.

At some point, you were dragged away to the second floor of the ship to get pictures of the bride and the bridesmaids.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” A shriek came from the room the wedding planner was dragging you toward. 

After pushing the door open, inside there was a woman in a puffy wedding gown the color of scarlet with women surrounding her as they did her hair and makeup. Everyone here seemed to speak Spanish and caught up in their own little worlds—except for the bride of course.

The event planner guided you toward the bride, motioning for you to take pictures of her getting ready. You carefully made your way over—mindful not to get in the way of the makeup and hair crew—as you held your camera up, “Okay, can I get a nice smile from the bride—“

“How the fuck do you expect me to do a heist without a getaway driver?! What do you mean King Shark called in sick?!” You paused, the grip on your camera tightening. A heist? Did you hear that correctly? The bride to be planning a heist in the middle of her wedding? No, maybe you misunderstood…

The bride kept going, not noticing you yet. “This isn’t Big Belly Burger! He’s not gonna get fucking PTO…” The bride trailed off once she did finally notice you and your camera. She had a phone to her ear and her eyes were wide. Oh shit. “Aw, shit…”

Shit, she knows you overheard her. Why the hell was she planning a heist in the first place—not the point. But this made you a suspect, right? What if the police got involved—what if she’d have you killed for knowing about the heist? How did this already turn to shit? 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Waiting to see what the other would do first.

“Harls? You good?” A woman’s voice came from the bride’s—Harls—phone. The woman was probably her other crew for the heist—shit, she was going to send them after you, wasn’t she? 

Think, think!

“Yeah…” The bride sighed as she reached under her dress. You blanched when you saw it was a gun. “Montez might’ve sent a little birdie—yes, don’t worry, I’ll handle it! I haven’t screwed it up yet!”

“¡sonríe para la cámara!” You blurted before taking her picture with the flash on. 

She hissed, throwing her head back in surprise, “Ow!—The little birdie blinded me!—Yeah well, it hurt my eyes so shut up, will ya?”

Quickly, you moved to get pictures of the bridesmaid, repeating the same line in Spanish, hoping to show that you couldn’t speak English and totally didn’t hear or understand anything she had said about a heist or a getaway driver, before dashing out of the room to get back to the deck.

You blended in with the rest of the guests and photographers, making sure to keep your head low and unnoticeable. But of course, you just had to notice more strange things.

The security guards standing by were all holding guns, almost as if ready to shoot anyone who would step out of line. Then there were some of the guests. Most of the men were tatted and drenched in gold chains and expensive-looking watches. The gold didn’t stop at the men but even the women were decked out in more expensive-looking jewelry. Some were even smoking cigars as they stepped straight out of The Godfather.

First, the bride was planning a heist and now you felt as if you were in the middle of a mob boss movie. Just what kind of wedding was this?

“You’re living in your car. You’re living in your car.” You murmured to yourself, trying to calm your nerves.

Suddenly the groom came down the aisle and everyone gathered in place. The distant waves of the water and the organ playing set the mood of the wedding. You snapped pictures of the bridesmaids and groomsmen walking down the aisle and snapped a few more pictures of the guests before finally the bride came out.

You subtly hid yourself behind a nearby security guard, hoping to stay out of sight as she came down the aisle. She was very pretty, that much was clear. Some of her pale blonde hair was highlighted with blue and pink and her scarlet wedding gown trailed along the floor behind her as she walked. But she seemed quite distracted, her head snapping back and forth as if she were looking for something—or someone.

Shit, was she still hoping to take you out? Maybe you’re Spanish was a bit rusty after all.

Fortunately, you weren’t the one she was worried about.

By the time she got to the end of the aisle, the minister began the officiation—and yet you couldn’t stop noticing strange things as the ceremony went on.

Some of the security guards started blocking the entrances. Some of the guests began fiddling with their holsters that were conveniently hidden under their coats and dresses. Then there was the fact a few chairs were empty of a few guests a few thuds were coming from outside the double doors the security guards were standing in front of. 

You were suddenly all too aware of the way the boat was slightly rocking. All your life, you’ve never been one to be seasick but your stomach was twisting up into all sorts of knots at the moment. You could legitimately throw up from being so anxious.

God, you really hated being observant.

“Harley Quinn, do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The minister asked, snapping you back to the ceremony.

“Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” The bride—Harley—shrugged distractedly whilst her eyes kept dancing around the room.

“And Gabriel Montez, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

You furrowed your brows at that point. Why was the minister speaking English?

Harley seemed to notice this as well. “Aw, shit.”

The minister closed the bible, “Then I hereby pronounce you—UNDER ARREST!”

And just like that, the whole room broke into utter chaos. The minister removed his fake beard and robes to reveal he was a cop. A few of the security guards did the same. You ducked under a nearby table as soon as the guns were out, the cigars were put out, and bullets went flying.

The bride, Harley pulled out two guns and joined in the gunfight. “Secure the goods! Secure the goods! We’ll get our own fucking getaway driver!”

You had to get out of here fast. 

Taking a risk, you crawled from under the table and toward the double doors leading out of this chaotic room. A body had dropped next to you, causing you to yelp and look away before you could see the blood and the lifeless eyes from them. You just kept going, no point in stopping or looking back. Everyone was distracted, you wouldn’t waste your chance of escaping.

Once you got to the double doors, one of them slammed open—nearly smacking you in the face in the process—as a few more security guards rushed in to join the chaos. You took that chance to dive through the door right before it closed, muffling the shouts and the gunshots. Stumbling to your feet, you didn’t hesitate to run.

It took a moment for you to find the path leading down under the boat where are the escape baots were. That’s the one thing you remembered when you were given the tour. There were for emergencies and you were pretty sure this counted as one. But finding it was the biggest relief. They were all either lifeboats or motorboats. And wanting to get to land faster, you went for the motor boat.

Quickly, you searched for the emergency latch and pulled it down, creating an opening wide enough for you to take one of the boats and escape. You leaped onto one of the motorboats, making sure to untie it from the anchor.

“Freeze!”

You yelped and glanced over our shoulder, seeing a cop a few feet away, pointing a gun straight at you.

Fuck.

“H-Hey! I’m not a part of this! I’m just the photographer!” You tried while raising your hands as the cop drew closer, his gun never wavering.

“Slowly, get out of the boat.” The cop ordered making your heart drop.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Carefully and slowly, you got out of the motorboat, “There must be some mistake—I swear I have nothing to do with the heist, I swear!”

The cop then narrowed his eyes, “Oh yeah, then how did you know there was even a heist if you’re just a photographer?”

You paused and realized your mistake. Okay, that one was on you.

“Alright, that’s a fair point.” You grumbled, hands still raised.

The cop never lowered the gun, “Step away from the boat. You’re coming with me.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly stepped away from the boats. “Please—this is all just some misunderstanding—all I do is take pictures—um, do you have to point the gun at me? Uh…No hablo ingles?”

“Just shut up already and stand still!”

“…Que?”

Now he was pissed—which granted was your fault. “Alright, kid. One more word out that mouth of yours and I’ll—“

A gun went off and the cop fell forward. You screamed as his body fell into the water. Now a new gun was pointed at you, this time with the bride—Harley Quinn—on the other side of it.

She grinned at you, “I knew you could speak English, little birdie!”

Your hands were still raised while you trembled, “To be fair I panicked and I really didn’t mean to overhear your heist plans—I’m just a photographer here trying to make a living so, uh, please don’t kill me. I won’t tell anyone, seriously—“

Distant voices and footsteps drew near, causing Harley to groan and suddenly push you into one of the motorboats. “Enough yapping and more running!“ She dumped a duffel bag onto the boat which landed with a heavy thud with clinking sounds coming from inside it. No doubt that was the stolen goods.

“Wait, what are you—“ You furrowed your brows as she was tearing the skirts of her wedding dress.

Harley sent you a glare with wide eyes, “Whatcha waitin’ for? You wanna go to the slammer or do you wanna escape and be a free birdie, birdie?!” 

“Not with a criminal!” 

“Gasp! I’m hurt! And here I thought we bonded for a moment!”

The cops were drawing closer. You glanced toward the dead cop floating in the water, knowing that if they saw that and you were in the boat with Harley, then you were as sure as dead.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Tick-tock, little birdie!” Harley shouted as she loaded more bullets into her guns.

With that, you quickly adjusted your camera and quickly turned the engine on. The footsteps were getting closer and Harely clicked her guns into place. 

Shit, shit, shit.

The first few cops came down, guns pointed. “Stop right there—“

You slammed on the pedal and steered the motorboat out of the underboat just as Harely started blazing bullets toward the cops. 

“HAHA! Too slow!” Harley stuck her tongue out as she continued shooting at the cops the more they got further and further away from the boat.

Night had fallen and the air was cold despite the warm spring season. Gunshots echoed through the distance but you tried your best to drown it out while steering the boat away from the chaos. Though, of course, chaos itself was on the boat with you.

“Wow, you’re good at this! Have ya ever been a getaway driver before?” Harley asked once they were further away out of range of the cops and gunshots. 

You swallowed, shivering slightly from the cold. “No—I mean, I’ve driven a boat before but I’ve never done this. Boat racing doesn’t count, does it? Then again, I’ve never helped a criminal escape from the police—am I going to be wanted now? Did they see my face? Oh great, not even a couple of weeks into here and I’m already being chased by police—there aren’t going to be flyers with my face around town are there? I just wanted to get a job and a little apartment, not go to jail—“

“Wow, you’re a yapper, huh?” Harley laughed as she leaned against your shoulder. “Well, welcome to Gotham, suga, it ain’t getting any prettier from here.”

You frowned and glanced toward her, “Uh…thanks?”

Eventually, a beach came into view as you steered the boat toward it. Once you had gotten to shore, Harley leaped out of the boat with the bag of stolen goods, “You should probably get running, birdie. Them coppers are persistent little fuckers.” 

Just as she said that you heard the distant sirens stirring you to quickly scramble away from the boat and rush along the beach. Harley ran in one direction while you ran in another. 

“See ya around, little birdie!” You heard her call and could practically hear the grin in her voice.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you found your parked car and let out a huge sigh of relief. Only to groan when you realized that you wouldn’t be paid after all of that bullcrap. So much for a guaranteed buck. Maybe no more weddings for now—especially ones on boats.

You took your camera and placed it safely back in its case when you suddenly felt something heavy in the pocket of your dress. Hesitatingly, you dug into your pocket and took out the heavy object—only to gasp.

In your hands was a gold watch—one of those watches you’d seen those older tattooed men wearing at the wedding. How it got in your possession you weren’t sure….

A flash of Harley’s grin was imprinted into your mind and you gripped the watch.

You could return it. That would be the right thing to do.

But then again, you went through hell just for a photography job. And you needed another meal to last you more than a couple of nights.

Technically…you didn’t steal it.

And technically, you could look at this as your paycheck.

In the corner of your eye, there was movement. You thought someone had caught you as you quickly pocketed the watch away and looked toward the movement. 

Only you saw a cat sitting on the hood of one of the nearby cars, its indigo eyes staring in your direction curiously. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

At some point, you pulled out of the parking lot. At some point, you drove past the police cruisers who didn’t spare you a second glance. At some point, the watch ended up back in your pocket and you didn’t think twice about it then.

[cyb-by-lang]

Cascade (part 7)

Wherein Kei contemplates punching people. Not even all of the same people as a second ago.

(a rather intense thing I've been saving up for, since my birthday was a bit busy.)

Across the way—and notably between Kei and the first guy who’d been stabbed—Stain chose this moment to break into the conversation. “So, you knew your friend might seek me out?” Stain asked, still leaning forward into a clearly aggressive stance. “And you showed up to save your friend’s life. You even made a big entrance. But I have a duty to kill him and this so-called pro. When your friend chose to fight me, it guaranteed that the weaker one would be culled.” 

Oh good, a zealot. 

“So, what will you do?” Stain growled.

While Midoriya reached back for his phone, Kei stepped up as a distraction and delivered the most carefully neutral sentence of her entire stay in Tokyo: “I’ll make you a better offer. If you back away now, we’ll let you go.” 

Iida couldn’t jolt and didn’t swear, but the next words out of his mouth were a betrayed, “Gekkō-san, no!” 

“Either he’ll leave and get caught by someone like Endeavor, or he won’t, and we’ll fight,” Kei said quietly, “and I’m not afraid to fight.” She sounded mostly like she was leaning on her nonexistent PR training, but with four witnesses, she couldn’t just grab the man and make him eat pavement without even a token attempt at negotiating. 

Sure, she hadn’t given that first Nōmu a chance, but he’d also been in the process of beating Aizawa to death at the time. Like with Midoriya’s opening punch tonight, stopping an ongoing attack mattered more than manners.  

And besides… “He’s human enough to have a choice.” 

Not a chance. Because he didn’t. But a choice. 

If the Hero Killer committed to attacking, then he earned the right to suffer consequences. 

And Stain pulled a knife in addition to his word, which was as good as proof that a) free will was wasted on him and b) he had no idea what Kei’s “Quirk” was. Kei doubted Midoriya or Iida could actually see the movement, between the darkness and the fact that Stain was generally pretty sneaky about it, but it did mean that she had little interest in negotiating further. 

“Listen to me!” Iida insisted. Agonized, angry, and unable to do anything about either. “Stand down and run away. I told you, this has nothing to do with you!” 

“If you really believe all of that, then why are you trying to become a hero in the first place!” Midoriya snapped at Iida, silencing him. As he raised his fists into a ready stance, he muttered, “There are plenty of things I have to say, but they’ll have to wait.” Then, louder: “All Might was right, though. Meddling where you don’t have to is the essence of being a hero!” 

Oddly, that appeared to strike more of a chord with the serial killer than the hero student still on the ground. Stain’s lack of a nose—seamlessly so—actually made his grin dominate his features more than anybody without a mutation Quirk. And Kei counted that skull-faced kid in 1-B when making that judgment.

Midoriya lit up in green sparks again. He could launch the second Stain blinked. 

Stain shifted to meet the inevitable charge, already swinging his katana.

Kei made the Dog hand seal and flooded the alleyway forward of her position half a meter deep, careful not to risk drowning Iida. And while both Midoriya and Stain paused to recalculate their traction, Kei flowed through four other hand seals and shoved her clasped hands forward with her chakra firmly behind the movement. Isobu’s strength backed her all the way.

Water Release: Water Wall. 

The entire alleyway was suddenly flooded. Kei kicked her way upright with the patience of an apex predator as her costume’s flowing bits trailed behind her. 

Suffice it to say that nobody got to move without her permission. 

While Kei took the time to form air bubbles around the heads of each participant in their backstreet brawl, her strength now ruled. If the USJ Nōmu wasn’t able to escape her grip despite being geared toward fighting All Might, nobody here had a shot. Especially not a pissy murderer who wore that much metal. With a wave of her hand, Kei yanked Native and his cloud of water-dispersed blood back toward safety, shoved Stain toward the other end of the street, and reeled Midoriya in all at once. Within thirty seconds, she’d entirely rearranged the battlefield so that her charges were behind her while the only legitimate target was in front. 

Though the water did represent a minor communication problem. 

It would not for you alone. 

Unfortunately, allies also make very good witnesses. 

Kei pushed forward until she could lock her hand around the immobile Hero Killer’s throat. She didn’t yank him out of the water, but instead formed a Water Prison around him and dismissed most of the excess from her direct control. With it mostly rushing downhill, the sudden wave would miss Iida and Native and likely end up somewhere more useful, such as within Manual’s range. 

“So,” Kei said, as mild as if they were talking about the weather. Drawing Stain’s face partially out of the Water Prison, she flicked water off her other hand. “How’s this working out for you, Hero Killer?”

Stain took a moment to cough. Sure, he spat water out so it almost reached her face, because Kei had been a little less careful with his breathing than the others’, but perhaps that was the cost of this restraint tactic. His lack of a nose did not help. Then: “If I die purging the world of the unworthy, then so be it. Nothing is more of a stain on this world than the festering corruption of a society that ruined the name ‘hero.’ It falls to me to teach you all a lesson.” 

Kei sighed. Half the reason she’d grabbed this big fish physically came down to the possibility he’d bite her, but she didn’t actually enjoy playing straitjacket for a murderous shithead. “Get a license and then we’ll talk.”

“How long can you hold him there, Gekkō-san?” Midoriya asked as he darted over to check on Native and on Iida. His entire hero outfit made squelching noises as he moved, but Kei didn’t have the time to fix that for him yet. 

“Long enough.” Which translated to “until she got interrupted,” which was standard for the Water Prison technique and a shinobi with Kei’s huge chakra reserves. “But if I do lose my grip, I’m probably going to punt him over a building,” Kei admitted, “just to get him out of our way.” 

“Okay. Then, when you drop it, can you grab Native? I can take Iida-kun.” 

Well, assuming the Hero Killer didn’t try to live up to his name… “Should be fine.” 

There was the occasional clanking sound as Midoriya got each of the others into a rescue position. Native tried to talk him into just calling for a pro to help, but knowing that the entirety of Hosu was already being attacked and the emergency responders were tied up put a mild hole in that plan. Midoriya even said so. For some reason, that worried Native a little less than the serial killer Kei had already subdued. Maybe that was proximity talking.

But more piercing than that was Iida’s protest. “Gekkō-san—if he’d hurt your brother, you can’t tell me you’d just walk away from this!” 

It rang through Kei’s skull for a moment. Like a flashbang. Her left hand twitched with the urge to make a fist. 

Fuck him for bringing up Hayate right now, was Kei’s initial thought once the ringing stopped, but she stomped it down as spiteful and unworthy. It wouldn’t be the first time someone in a crisis threw her weaknesses back in her face.

At least you know what they are, and that they are unreachable.

“Tensei didn’t deserve that,” Iida continued, still as angry, still as heartbroken. His voice cracked. “The—the only reason the Hero Killer lashed out at him was because he was a legacy hero! For wanting to make our family proud. All my brother ever did was help people!”

And the Hero-Killer scoffed, as though annoyed that Iida still had enough sense left after percolating in vengeance to call him on his bullshit. “From impure motives—”

Kei shoved Stain’s face back underwater rather than let him finish that sentence. He’d survive, but Iida didn’t need to hear his spewing hatred any longer. Then Kei glanced back over her shoulder toward her companions, while Midoriya got the other two into rescue positions for an easy grab-and-go option. Perfect for fleeing upset heroes and angry murderers as needed. 

[angelagiarratana]

Anon Writes 1

You’re at a Smosh meet and greet at a con and when you and Angela lock eyes there’s just something™️ there. Later you’re on the con floor and you’re not really paying attention to where you’re walking, too busy looking at all the cool merch in the booths. You walk right into Angela. You basically become a stuttering mess. She flirts and you walk away with her number (ooorrrrr you walk with her to the nearest bathroom 😉)

Vidcon was something you both loved 

Angela came into the living room carrying Spork wearing her Vidcon hoodie. You paused the show and looked at her in the kitchen cooing at Spork. “I like your hoodie.” She looked at you, “Hm I wonder why?”

Some people from Smosh were over for a game night and Angela insisted on bringing Spork to play. Courtney put her phone down, "Wait is Y/n the girl from vidcon you wouldn't shut up about all week?" Angela scoffed, "Why would you expose me like that!" Shayne laughed loudly. Keith demanded, "Okay now I need to hear this story."

 ------

“Have a good day!” You told the guy who just bought a t-shirt from you at Vidcon. The floor was packed with people from different fandoms trying to get to their creators before they sold out of what they wanted. A couple people who didn’t know of your work stopped by, the sticker table catching their attention. You weren’t paying any mind to it until you heard a laugh that was too familiar to you. You turned around to see Angela and a few of the others from Smosh at the table next to yours. The panic set in when she looked at you and you made eye contact. Her face lit up, “Oh my god! Y/n! I love your work!” Your face started burning, you knew you got some traction but Smosh knowing you existed? You were a fangirl at heart. “Hi! I also love your work. Huge Smosh fan.” She approached your table and set her full attention on you. Angela was transfixed by your features. The way your cheeks moved when you smile, how your eyes lit up when you talked about your upcoming projects. 

The 10 minute conversation felt like 10 seconds. Amanda walked over and grabbed her arm, “Hate to interrupt but we have a panel to get to.” Angela frowned, “Can I get your number or something so we can talk again this week?” Your heart stopped and you had to take a calming breath, “Of course, just text me!” She left you with the promise of getting drinks one night. The next night, your sitting at the hotel bar waiting for your friends to come down to walk to the party. Your phone buzzed on the bar and you set your glass down. 

Angela 

Going to the party?

Your cheeks lit up bright red. You picked up your phone and shot her back a text,

Yeah! I’m waiting for some friends to walk over together, be there soon

Angela

See you then pretty girl 

Time frozen, and before you could fully process it your friends came around the corner. You were pulled from your seat and dragged out the door, still speechless. It was a bold move from her end. Unless she saw right through you, she had no way of knowing what your feelings or intentions were. You mind raced as the elevator doors to the roof opened and flashing lights caught your attention. After a shot of liquid courage and a song belted with your friends, you opened your phone, 

Hey, I’m here. Are you here yet? 

Angela

One sec, I think I see you, don’t move

You looked around hoping to find her too. Faces you recognized, random influencer, DJ, Chanse, Angela, your friends, wait. You snapped your head back around to see her waving at you, dodging and weaving through the crowd. She was more dressed up than usual, but still in her dirty white shoes. When she reached you her mouth fell open, “You look amazing.” You smiled and thanked her, “You also look fantastic.” You didn’t hesitate to check her out, but regretted it when you met her eyes, a knowing look on her face. “Do you want another drink?” You simply nodded and grabbed her arm, making her slightly chuckle. 

A few more drinks in and the drinks have been long forgotten as you and Angela sat in a corner of the room on a couch, side by side, but face to face. Your legs thrown over hers. The corner was quiet enough to hear each other without others hearing. Angela swirled her glass of a watered-down vodka tonic, her attention fully on you, once again astonished at you. Angela could barely feel her legs but she wouldn’t dare say a word. “Actually moved to L.A. alone and just figured it out as I went. I had a plan but no real way to make it happen. I met a guy at a coffee shop because I complimented his mug and he gave me my first permanent job here.” Angela was awestruck, “That’s fucking awesome. That’s like the most Indie movie moment I have ever heard.” She put her hand on your knee, squeezing it. A jolt ran through you. Angela noticed how your breathing changed and you couldn’t look at her. “What’s so interesting over there beautiful?” She was laying it on THICK and you loved every second of it. 

“I really think that smaller theatre production companies make some of the best work and it rarely gets any recognition purely because of the lack of A-list cast members-“ “Hey Ang!” Chanse yelled as he jogged/drunkenly stumbled over, “We’re all heading out and you know the rules.” Angela sighed, “Come together, leave together.” She looked at you, a genuine pout on her face. “You’re so precious.” It came out so smooth and warm, you couldn’t believe it left YOUR mouth. Angela smiled and looked down at her lap. You put your hand on hers, “Go, I would do the same. I’ll text you tomorrow?” She nodded, “Let me know when you get back?” Your turn to nod. She lifted your hands pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You moved your legs as Chanse dramatically gagged. “You fucker,” Angela stood from the couch and smacked his arm, “I’ll see you Y/n.” You waved and watched them as they danced over to the rest of the group and Courtney hugged Angela. 

You then stood looking for your own friends only to never find them. You checked their location to see them at the hotel, leaving you to walk back alone. You sighed and started back. You turned the corner into the hotel lobby and shivered from the AC. The lobby was still bustling with people drinking, playing games, filming, and getting extra pillows. As the elevator doors closed, you thanked the universe for the silence. 

------

"And that's when I found her in the elevator, by herself, tipsy. I was absolutely gut-wrenched that they left her by herself four blocks from the hotel." Angela squeezed your hand. "I remember rambling about how much I wish I had just asked her to walk with us." Courtney immediately sat up, "That is the best YouTube love story I have ever heard." Amanda raised her hand, "Yeah I agree. That was straight romcom." Courtney hugged Amanda and they dramatically cried. You chuckled at them. "No that's just fanfiction." Spencer chimed in, "I would know, I did the research for fanfic theatre." The group chuckled and Angela looked at you. 3 months later and she can’t focus when she looks at you.

[solarwynd]

I don't know if you have heard of the popstar academy docuseries on netflix but it's about the group katseye and how they debuted and stuff but anyways. their main goal is for them to find a global group that will essentially carry the company from now on like they want this group to be their next BTS but mostly focusing for success in the US. theres this girl there that was a trainee and she was very talented and had star quality but they weren't as interested in her because they felt she was not "the cool rebellious girl" US fans will love and that got me to think about jungkook and jimin. the tattoos, piercings, muscles, the pr smoking incident, him drinking on lives deleting his instagram vs jimin who only does lives at the company, doesn't even like to talk about alcohol in fans vicinity, timid, tries to keep a clean image, the goody two shoes (said lovingly)

now it makes sense to me as to why they push jk so hard especially in the US. he is much more marketable and what supposedly US fans want in male pop artists. they know that the rugged bad boy sells and jimin isn't that

Yea I did. I’ve been in eyekon business for a day or two now lol. I even started watching the show but I haven’t made it past the first episode. I’m really just privy to the Manon drama, but I have seen screenshots of Bang and his foolishness.

“Cool & rebellious” are interesting buzzwords. Two that I can’t exactly say aren’t popular because it sounds like aespa and blackpink. And kpop stans do love that. But what’s really popular right now is the newjeans aesthetic. Which is exactly what Touch was in “sound” and also why I’m confused on what they’re going for in the group’s image. It sounds like they don’t even know. The only thing for certain is that they wanted a multi ethnic group. I listened to their EP and it doesn’t seem like they’re gonna have a set sound and I don’t think that’s an issue. Their music is nice, most of the songs give real summery coming of age vibes. (I liked tonight I might, im pretty and my way) kinda wish they would’ve stuck with that throughout the album cause debut and touch seem like the odd ones out.

Back to the actual topic, Yes I think that cool and rebellious image has more of an advantage for a male popstar for obvious reasons. Jimin not fitting Hybe’s image has been discussed as a possibility as to one of the reasons he’s not getting pushed before but to actually see they confirmed what their ideal is let’s me know how shallow their vision of a true artist is. You’d think they see the results, hype and intrigue Jimin pulls just being him and see that ideal doesn’t hold that much weight as a standard but w/e ig lmao. JK didn’t even fit that stereotypical ��bad boy” mold up until recently imo.

Anyway the way HYBE seems so intent on finding the next BTS and strictly speaking in business terms, I really do wonder how much longer BTS themselves are in this for cause to me, it seems like there’s a clock running and Katseye does not seem like the long term solution to me. I know it wouldn’t be smart to wait until BTS calls it quits to then try to build a new group, but they give new jeans. I believe that they’ll find success somewhere down the line, especially if HYBE starts pushing them. But might fizzle out after some time. Touch seems to be gaining some traction and they are building a fanbase. But if they want BTS level fame, it’s gonna have to be a devout one that actually moves for them and not one built of male gg stans that use them for a twitter layout and move out once they get bored. Fandom>>>GP

[nataliescatorccio]

hi becca! i hope you're doing okay! i've been thinking about fandoms and streaming a lot these days and how much more enjoyable watching TV shows was.

do you think streaming killed fandoms and the whole culture(? not sure what to call it) of watching shows? because we used to wait weeks for 1 episode and we could theorise and write fanfic and discuss things etc vs now we get a whole season in one day and if you don't watch it immediately, oh well, get ready to be spoiled. and honestly i hate the way it is now sometimes i just don't want to spend 12 hours straight watching a new season, but i can't possibly blacklist and avoid every single spoilers. i still want to be on the Internet and talk to my friends and not live in fear of when i'm getting spoiled (okay that's a bit of an exaggeration but you know). and of course there are still fanfictions and fanart and beautiful gifs, but everything comes at you all at once. you can't even digest anything. i'm forgetting new shows faster because i watch the whole thing in one sitting and i don't even process a lot of it and i just forget later on. maybe it's just a me thing though... but to me, even if i hated waiting because something ended in a cliffhanger, 1 episode per week was so much better. it kept me excited for next week, i could read theories, discussions, read fanfic about something that was completely different from what happened in the next episode. it was so fun. and i feel like fandoms who were getting their content 1 episode per week live(d) longer? everything is getting cancelled nowadays after like 1 day of streaming and it's hard to find people you can follow who still engage and are present in the fandom...

hi anon! had a busy few days but it's friday now and the weekend and that has definitely brightened my mood- i hope it has yours too!

i completely think that streaming has a lot to answer in the way our consumption of media has changed, and i really do believe that extends to fandom culture too for all the reasons you've highlighted. i made a mini rant on this a couple of years ago and it picked up traction and got a lot of interesting additions on this topic which i really wish i could find now, but to summarise there was a lot of talk about how bingeing and binge culture has been detrimental to fandom spaces because of the rush to consume media and move on to the next big thing. we don't have the time to appreciate media anymore, and most of us feel more dissatisfied with what's produced because we rush through to an ending that that doesn't feel fulfilling simply because we haven't had time to sit with the storyline. no one wants too get to attached to anything because the reign of fandom feels so short lived, either because it's cancelled or because the strains of producing quickly consumable storylines take its toll on everyone working to create the content that they can't sustain the standard expected.

i really miss weekly releases too and some of the most enjoyable series i've watched in the past year have included the last of us and house of the dragon which were released an episode by week, and it was just so nice to be within that fandom space. even though most people knew what was going to happen within these storylines because they're adaptations which meant little speculation, it still brought people together to discuss and digest what they'd watched and also create. creating takes time and often feels exhausting when everything is thrown at you all at once and you're not the fastest person to get your ideas out there, instead weekly releases allowed creators to notice details and curate art around that. i do wonder if in the future the pendulum is going to swing back towards weekly releases because of the level of engagement, and therefore profit that surrounds engagement, that surrounds it. i'd really like it to, because i do think binge culture comes with a lot of problems, and i don't just mean in an online world because the recent strikes have highlighted how the attitude of 'i can consume this and throw it away' is having huge impacts on people's livelihoods

[woodviewcottage]

Why I went from being a minimalist to a maximalist...

Before the Farmhouse look was gaining attention, I really loved the primitive decor. My house then got full sunlight, so it didn't really seem so dark to me and I do love some vintage and antique pieces. But as the Farmhouse look started gaining traction in a big way, I just fell in love with it. It was bright, open, and looked so crisp and clean. So, I did away with all my primitive stuff, all of my antiques (including the very first tv ever made) and I decluttered everything. Went very simplistic with my decor and furniture pieces. I had pops of color with pillows and curtains -- really loved the pop of the teal-ish blue that got so big. It was very easy to keep clean. It always looked clean. It always seemed so bright.

I still loved the vintage and antiques but I only looked at and admired them. Never bought them.

After almost 20 years of living in the same house ad raising my children there on the farm, we moved. We bought another house a few miles away on the top of the mountain, back in the woods.

I tried for 2-3 years to turn this cottage into the same look. Over the past year or so, I realized that I really didn't like the fact that I had to dig out anything I needed bc I kept the countertops so minimal and clean. I started not to like my coffee table and bedside tables and countertops and walls being so bare. It started feeling stale and uncomfortable.

I hadn't realized before but I was equating a clean and minimal look to comfort. And it's really not the same at all.

Listen, I am a clean freak. Everything has a place, an angle in which it sits, has to be were it goes, cannot be crooked on the walls, cannot be dirty or dusty. I cannot go more than a day without vacuuming, no more than 3 days without mopping. I'm super weird about it. It used to dive my husband crazy wen we were first married, but he's since gotten used to it and has now crossed over to my OCD side.

Anyway, I missed my old pieces that had so much character, had their own stories, had a long life before I found them. I started looking up cottage designs bc that's what we bought and I wanted it to be true to it's personality.

What I absolutely love about the cottage core aesthetic are the colors, the different textures, wallpapers(!) -- love some wallpaper, the charm, the mixed patterns, the character, the story it shares with people. It's almost fairytale - like to me. With cottage core, you can do bright, you can do dark, you can do both. You can have each room tell its own story. You can be moody and sexy in the bedroom but bright and light in the living room. You can do golds and florals and pinks in the kitchen. You can do PINK, period! I love a light pink and my husband doesn't mind my love for pink at all. (I think since I'm home all day, he just decided to let me run with whatever if it kept me busy and made me happy.)

I love the sunlight (when it finally reaches my windows in the late morning) but I also really love keeping the house's character and surroundings in tact and complimentary to each other.

I was about to give up on this house. I prayed and prayed and prayed for us to find something else. Until one day I realized God had answered my prayers...just not in the way I asked. He gave me a renewed vision, a new inspiration for what this house could be, how we could have the added square footage and bedrooms we needed. He told me: you need to learn to love and appreciate what you have instead of wanting what you can't have.

Bc of His plans for me, we decided to build onto the house in an unconventional way. We decided to use wall mounted solariums, greenhouses, and conservatories for a new master bedroom, a "parent cave" to watch what we want on tv or read or to have gatherings or whatever, and a breakfast room on the backside of the kitchen. The cost is much less than building on. It gives the house a unique aesthetic on the exterior, as well as the interior. It adds much needed light to come into the house. And it almost doubles our square footage. A cottage home is such a lovely home to own. There's so much you can do.

And since changing from minimalist farmhouse to a cottage core aesthetic, I am once again surrounded by the vintage and antique pieces I love so much and have them all out on display -- like my three beautiful complete sets of gold lined china.

What's your aesthetic? Why do you like it? What about it gives you comfort or makes it feel like home to you?

[fuxuannie]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ 𝐢'𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | kenji sato x gender neutral reader

love mail — reallllyy quick req from a friend (this took 20 mins pls bear w me) ヽ(o´3`o)ﾉ i love u all chu chu, this is an OVERLY done trope with this song but guys please let me 😞 be delulu

︰꒱꒱ YOU AND KENJI USED TO BE BEST FRIENDS. you met when he transferred to america, and it was mostly due to connections. it was around the time he had gotten popular, but not quiet there yet — and you had been part of an underground band that began gaining traction as well. you two got along well, late night banters, him listening to you sing while he would practice baseball.. you became each others routines. his practices would feel empty without your presence, and your singing wasn't as fun without him.

when he had to move back, you were devastated. you were both at the highest points of your careers, and you relied heavily on each other during an equally difficult time — so to hear him have to leave, and not even sure for how long.. it scared you. he'd likely be missing so many of your milestones, and it's not like you could beg him to stay either. you two were.. just friends. nothing more. even if your heart screamed at you to be something more, to tell him that as you dropped him off at the airport, — when he turned his back away from you and was about to enter.. when he actually looked back before going inside. regret finally settled in when he was no longer in view, and you crumbled, feeling lost as you realized you couldn't see him anymore.

years have passed since that day, and you eventually had to move on. life gets busy, after all. bu5 it wasn't like you weren't keeping tabs on him, though. you had his games livestreaming during rehearsals and you would even watch some of his interviews in japan. one of these days, however — you had accidentally kept a live interview running as you entered the room of your makeup department, preparing for your third live performance of your big tour. not getting to see the rest of the stream as the question for ken sato followed; "with the giants big comeback season coming to an end, do you ever plan to return to america?" the journalist asked curiously, and kenji only laughed — feeling rather excited to answer the question. "yes, actually. i'll be attending a concert with a few old friends, and i'm looking forward to that."

he looked straight to the camera, his smile soft, — he was hoping, praying that you were watching. "i'm coming back, sweetheart."

the fifth night was the biggest one the whole tour, it had completely sold out tickets — and that made you worry. not only that, but now the rumors of ken sato coming back to america were going around.. and the coincidences — they seemed to align a bit too well. but you shook your head, deciding something as trivial as someone from your past be a distraction was something you weren't about to let slide, so you close your laptop and meet your bandmates back stage, chatting away about how exciting tonight was going to be.

on the other hand, kenji arrived in america yesterday. missing just the fourth night of your tour. and decided to plan a little surprise for you, with the power of connections — he had gotten in touch with your manager and bandmates, and it was going to be the most memorable performance of your career.

"how about singing 'still into you' by paramore for our last song?" your drummer suggested, smiling cheekily. "a cover song? a strange suggestion," you respond, only for your guitarist to chime in with an equally endearing smirk. "not at all, we all know the song anyway. i used to play it for my gigs." he shrugged, and you eyed your amazing bandmates curiously. "are you all plotting something...?"

"absolutely not.."

"you're crazy!"

"we just want to play a good song to end the night."

despite their obviously suspicious responses, you shrugged it off. it was a pretty catchy song anyway, and who knows — maybe you'll get to let out those unsaid feelings for kenji through singing.. hoping he'd hear, even if it felt crazy to even imagine that he'll hear, or reciprocate.

the stadium had slowly filled up with people, and in only an hour there were now hundreds of people waiting for your band to show up on stage, — and you still didn't feel any less nervous even after four other shows prior to this. your manager noticed your nerves, and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "you'll kill it, (name)." she tells you, giving a big smile. "just perform the last song and you'll be able to head home, yeah?" and that helped you feel a little better.. only a few songs, and perform the cover song, and you will be able to rest again. yeah.. not so bad! you can do this. you will do this.

taking a deep breath — you're the first one to enter the spotlight; people cheered your name, and you relished in the feeling. god, you wouldn't trade performing for the world. as you introduced the rest of your bandmates, who received an equal amount of uproar and applause, you spoke into the mic. "thank you, everyone! we're excited to perform here tonight, — and we've got a special surprise for you at the end, so make sure to stick around for that!" you smiled, the crowd going insane with cheers. all your problems seemed to melt away when you were on stage and infront of an audience.

as you performed the last original song of your band, the applause seemed to only get louder after each ending. you had sat down on the stage, dangling your feet on the edge as you tried to get a little interactive with the audience. "tonight, we're going to be performing a.. cover song! a little unusual, but the band seemed insistent on it — and who am i to deny my family?" you stood up, laughing as the crowd began to once again lose their absolute minds as the instrumental of 'still into you' began.

"you know your cue?" kenji couldn't even focus as he hid backstage, his eyes didn't leave you the moment you went out there and started singing. my god, you were as breath—taking as he remembered, and he put no effort into hiding how he felt as your manager rolled her eyes. "wait till the last few lines, loverboy. don't disappoint."

"some things just, some things just make sense and one of those is you and i!"

okay, maybe you needed this. these lyrics almost resonated with you personally, — with the feelings you've held back for years. you sang for someone who will never get to hear these words from you, and you sang with your entire heart, hoping that by some chance — maybe he'd know. (which he definitely did)

"and even after all this time—"

you needed a breather, and thank goodness the crowd started singing the next bit for you. as you were focused on breathing, your bandmates looked at each other, and to kenji hiding backstage. signaling it was almost his time. taking one deep breath, you continued, your smile much brighter and determined as you kept a firm grip on the mic.

"let em wonder how we got this far, cause i don't really need to wonder at all!" kenji felt a quick shove behind him, immediately rushing him to get on that stage behind you. he had a hoodie up and his head down so to the audience members who were far away — they didn't get a good look at the random hooded man on stage. but to the vip members? they were desperately trying to get a closer look, trying to make sense of who exactly the mysterious figure was. "yeah, after all this time—"

"i'm still into you,"

he'll start by lifting his head up as he walked towards you, and almost immediately, gasps erupt from the vip audience, making you a little confused. if only you saw the wide grinned kenji behind you, he looked like he was looking at an angel, and admittedly? you were one to him.

"i'm still into you,"

next to go was his hoodie, and that confirmed to everyone attending that night who exactly was on that stage with you. now the cheers were getting louder, a few audience members were even pointing behind you; did the visuals mess up? a few people seemed to notice your confusion, so the fans began to yell 'turn around!', so this had to be a visual issue. turning around, your heart drops.

"i'm still—" the sight of his smile, in person, after so long.. you felt your heart genuinely skip a beat as thousands of bottled up feelings suddenly came over you. and all you could do was clutch your microphone, needing to focus the song — with that being the very thin rope holding you back from erupting into tears.

"sweetheart." he calls for you, god, that nickname had you weak.

"—into you."

[sims3legacytypestuff]

Kenya Kordei, Deceased. 22 Years Old.

The eldest daughter of celebrity photographer and model 'Lola Kordei' and real estate agent 'Jaycen Hendrix' Kenya had the whole world as her oyster and a very large shadow to fill. 

Growing up Kenya never really heard the word "NO", since her mother was always so busy rebuilding her career Kenya spent most of her childhood almost raising herself. Unintentionally surrounded by a world that is 90% plastic and 100% fake Kenya always struggled with her appearance, from a very young age she'd see pictures of her mother and auntie 'Luna Kordei' and she couldn't understand why their faces looked the same but different at the same time. Not being able to understand her feelings and never feeling like she had anyone to turn to Kenya's emotions began to show as jealousy, this jealousy got worse and as a result she became quite mean spirited throughout her high school career. Kenya was very much known as the leader of the mean girls, a group of very popular, very attractive individuals that bullied everyone at some point. 

Being the known bitch in school wasn't necessarily something Kenya would say she's was proud of but it made her popular and growing up in her mothers shadow dealing with the environment that created being popular seemed like everything to a teenage Kenya.

Somehow graduating, Kenya is trying to leave home as soon as possible but she hasn't fully realised her insecurities, who she is or what she wants to do but she knows she wants to exist in a different environment to the one she grew up in. 

With access to her trust fund Kenya moved.

After moving out Kenya's life really got messy, she proposed to her short-time girlfriend Tasha after only living together for a week, her career as a sports star began gaining traction and one of the biggest topics during interviews was ' So Kenya, What's it like being the Daughter of Lola Kordei'. This never set the interview up for success because Kenya would always drop the 'My mother isn't that good bomb' this resulted in Lola cutting Kenya off from her trust fund and kicking her out of the vacation home in Starlight Shores. With surface level success in her career and a very small bank account Kenya had to find somewhere to live and fast, she ended up living with her best friend Kurtis in his little fixer upper home since her newly wed life was following the same path as her relationship with her mother.

After her divorce was finalized and her relationship with her mother worsened Kenya wanted to change the direction of her career, she wanted to use her early twenties to build her own image, a brand separate from the shadow of her mother. To start this transition she decided to change the name she would be known as and addressed her self during interviews as ‘Kenya K. Coleman’ began to focus on areas that she excelled at, things she could do that her mother wasn’t already known for, she began taking work modelling. Shortly into this transition Kenya realised one of things her mother was known for was the modelling industry however she usually managed models launching them into the spotlight, Kenya didn’t want to manage models below her she wanted to be the star but this wasn’t going to be enough to differentiate her from her mother, she had to do something else. This inspired her to conjure her own concept brand, something that she wanted to do but wouldn't be accessible to her for a few years as she needed to get herself into a financially stable situation first.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

The Way I Loved You [Part Three]

Fandom: American Actor, RPF, Elvis Movie, Elvis

Pairing:  Elvis Presley x Reader, Austin Butler x Reader

Characters:  Elvis Presley, Austin Butler, Reader, You, Sam Phillips, Marian Keisker, Red West, Vernon Presley, Colonel Tom Parker, Original Characters, Billy Smith, Gene Smith, Judy Spreckles

Word Count: 3563 // Rating: Teen & Up

Summary:  'Cause I'm not ready, To find out you know how to forget me

Tags/ Warnings: My Writing, Halloween Challenge, Writing Challenge, Songfics, Past Relationships, Established Relationships, Songfic, Taylor Swift Song, The Way I Loved You, Set in Memphis, Gigs, Set in the 50s, Mixed Timeline, Austin goes back in time, Romance, Arguing, Angst, Fluff, Moping, Heartache, Trigger Warning the Colonel’s in this, Hints at Gladys’ Illness, Graceland, Touring, Concerts, Movie Star Elvis, Song Fic

Part One // The Way I Loved You // Taylor Swift

Part Two // 7 Summers // Morgan Wallen

Part Three // Forget Me // Lewis Capaldi 

Notes:  This is part of my writing Challenge for Halloween 2022. All fics are based off of songs I love. The aim is to write one fic a day for 15 days straight. I’m doing a similar thing for Christmas but they will all be headcanons [requests welcome for that] Enjoy x  

I didn’t think that there would be a part three to this fic but writing this for Forget Me made me think so so much of it and who doesn’t want a Elvis & Austin fighting over them

15 DAYS OF SONGFICS FOR HALLOWEEN (OCT 15TH - OCT 31ST)

PART ONE // PART TWO // PART THREE

Elvis groaned as he was awoken by the bright light now streaming through the window as the Colonel pushed the curtains open. The older plump man was standing by the window, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he placed his hands on his hips watching the young boy wince and throw his head underneath a pillow.

‘Now come on my boy,’ the Colonel said, ‘we’ve got places to be.’ ‘Don’t wanna,’ he grumbled into the pillow. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to do much of anything. He’d been home from touring for the past week. And for that week he’d spent most of it confined to his room, moping. ‘Well we have a contract to fulfil and you’re back on stage tonight,’ the Colonel said grabbing the pillow off of Elvis’ head and launching it to where his feet were at the end of it, under the blanket. ‘Tell 'em I’m sick,’ he said as he pushed himself up so he was sitting up against the headboard, his arms now folded across his chest. The Colonel sighed and placed a hand on the boy's bare shoulder. ‘My boy, heartache can be the most incapacitating illness of all but it, unfortunately, doesn't qualify you to get out of a pre-existing arrangement. Now, I want you washed, dressed and downstairs in ten minutes,’ he offered Elvis a sympathetic smile and then walked out of the room leaving him watching the space where he went, a scowl on his face.

He sat there pouting for a moment before he decided there wasn’t much point in it and made his way to get showered. He turned on the shower and disrobed out of the pyjama pants and boxers he was wearing so he could step under the powerful stream of water. He shivered a little as it hit his skin, a little colder than he anticipated but enough to wake him up.

As he let the warming water fall down his body he let his mind wander. This first week had been his first full week back home in months. He’d been busy touring and out in Hollywood shooting a film. But now back in the confines of Graceland and without the constant distractions celebrity brought with it he found he was missing Y/N more than he had realised. He hadn’t wanted to break up with her. He probably wouldn’t have if the Colonel hadn’t insisted that this was the right move for his career. He needed to promote himself. He needed to appear open to all. The press liked to link him to his co-stars or to other celebrities. The hype that those news stories brought with them was not to be sniffed at but it lost all traction once people knew that it was all false. But that didn’t mean he didn’t love her. It didn’t mean that as he showered he wasn’t wondering where she was or what she was doing.

He supposed he could go and find out for himself. Her parent's house was mere miles away and he could be there in ten minutes. He could call her right now. But he couldn't. They couldn’t be together right now, he knew that. Maybe someday but not today.

After cleaning himself and running the water through his hair a couple of times he climbed out and wrapped himself in a towel. He shaved, brushed his teeth and then dressed so he could head downstairs and meet the Colonel. He was hanging around by the living room where his Mama, Daddy, and Dodger were sitting around.

‘Ah my boy,’ the Colonel said clapping Elvis on the shoulder, ‘are you ready for the off?’ ‘Yeah,’ Elvis said looking at his family. He could hear the boys in the front yard already waiting for him and his Daddy stood up as he came in. His Mama stayed put. ‘Aren’t you coming Satnin?’ he asked walking into the room and perching on the arm of the chair she was sitting in. He placed his arm around her and she leaned into him. ‘No Booby,’ she said looking up at him, ‘I’m not feeling too well tonight.’ ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked with worry, ‘need us to call a doctor?’ ‘No, no,’ Gladys said. ‘If you need me to stay I will,’ he said. His concern for his mother was real but the hope of getting out of performing tonight was also a key factor. He didn’t feel like doing much of anything. ‘Don’t be silly,’ Vernon said, ‘she’s fine right doll?’ ‘Yeah,’ Gladys said with a tired smile, ‘just all the excitement of having you home this week I think.’ ‘Well I’ll be back as soon as this things over,’ he said. ‘Not a moment too soon,’ she said. Elvis nodded and leaned down placing a kiss on her temple. Then with a sigh, he climbed up off of the chair and headed to the doorway.

‘Let’s get this show on the road then,’ he said heading outside his Daddy and the Colonel close behind him. Though he owned many cars there were only a couple waiting in his driveway and various men loitering by them. Scotty and Bill were by a big van where their instruments were stored whilst Billy, Red, Gene and his girlfriend, Judy, were waiting by his Eldorado.

‘Hey EP,’ Billy said, ‘we didn’t know which car you’d wanna take but I guessed the dorado.’ ‘Any’s fine,’ Elvis said moving around to climb in the passenger side. There was a glance shared between the boys and Vernon. Elvis liked to drive himself whoever else got a seat inside he didn’t care much about. He seemed to pick up on their hesitation and looked around to find everyone hovering. ‘Are y’all gonna git inside or am I going alone?’ Elvis asked his brows raised. ‘Of course ol’ boy,’ the Colonel said as he headed to the van. Vernon smiled at his son and followed the bigger gentlemen so they could sit in the back bench. Scotty and Bill climbed up front. ‘You want me to drive man?’ Red said. Elvis waved his hand in a sort of 'whatever' gesture and turned to look out over the fields of Graceland. Red grabbed the keys out of Billy’s hand and slid in beside his friend starting up the engine as Billy, Gene and Judy slid into the back seat.

Once everyone was inside Red set off down the drive with the van close behind. The screaming and excitement grew by the gate as it opened slowly. Elvis waved and smiled as banners, smiles and arms were thrown out at him. He shook a couple of hands, listening to the babble of teenage girls as it echoed around them. Then it broke away. Red had navigated his way safely and slowly through the mob until they were on the road headed to their gig. The car was quiet. Red had put the radio on but the DJ was the only one speaking for the first ten minutes of the journey.

They could have spoken. They had stuff they needed to run through about tonight’s show. But something was off with Elvis. And they were sure it was girl related. Elvis and his long-term beau had split for months now and until now he had seemed okay. Then he had come back home and he’d gone into one of his moods. One that seemed to be lasting into his performance tonight. It wasn’t a big thing. A little benefit gig with him and a couple of other artists, a favour to Sam Phillips. But it still deserved his attention. The people of Memphis weren’t going to take too kindly to being given a lacklustre performance, not when he’d been out there giving it his all in Hollywood.

‘So,’ Billy said after a beat, ‘have you and the boys figured out what you’re gonna do tonight?’ ‘Go out there, sing a couple of songs, what else is there to it,’ Elvis said sarcastically. ‘I was just wondering,’ Billy mumbled shrinking back into his seat. The conversation picked up a bit from there but Elvis didn’t participate much. He was too heartbroken. He missed her. How many times had they driven to shows around Memphis, hell, Tennessee? Laughin' and joking with the guys. Her quelling his pre-show jitters. Her falling asleep on him on the way back or the two of them taking the car home alone. Parking up somewhere secluded and hosting a little show of their own. Everything was hitting him that bit harder this week. It was the first of everything back home without her.

Elvis tried to tune them out. They had started talking about something or nothing, none of it really interested him until he heard Judy say something that caught his attention.

‘That’s what Darla said but Y/N said there wasn’t a chance-’ ‘You’ve seen her?’ Elvis said swivelling around. She looked at him wide-eyed and then at her boyfriend Gene whose expression matched hers. ‘W-w-what?’ Gene stammered. ‘Yes,’ Judy said overriding her boyfriend’s nervousness, ‘we went to Chrissy’s baby shower.’ ‘How was she?’ Elvis asked, hope in his voice. ‘Good,’ Judy said. ‘Oh,’ Elvis said his face falling into a frown. ‘I mean she seemed good,’ Judy said, ‘but I think it was just a front you know for Chrissy…’ ‘Yeah,’ Gene said, ‘can’t ruin someone else’s party.’ ‘You think?’ Elvis said looking at Judy with sad eyes. ‘I’ve not seen her much but Darla said she’s been pretty miserable…always moping about. Ducked out on a couple of parties which really stuck in Darla’s craw and,’ Judy said with a laugh though she stopped as her words must have come together in her head. ‘And?’ Elvis said. He needed to know whatever it was. Good or bad. ‘And apparently, this is all from Peg so god knows if it’s true but she was at the church bakesale and apparently threw the radio across the room when your song came on.' ‘Honey Peg talks a crock of shit,’ Gene said earning a glare from his friend. ‘I thought so too but Rhonda said the same thing. Well apparently it was more of a crying and running out situation but who knows? Apparently, her mom just carried on like nothing was wrong.’

Elvis nodded taking in all the information his friends had relayed to him. There seemed to be a little more discussion about the quality of Peg and her testimony before it devolved into church-based gossip and then into local news. But Elvis wasn’t paying any attention to that.

She was doing about as well as he was. She was miserable. And if she wasn’t miserable she hated him. Though it made him sad to think of the way they used to be Elvis smiled a little. At least if she was flying into rages or bursting into tears she was still thinking of him. Maybe there was still a chance.

They arrived at the venue in enough time for him and the boys to go over a few numbers. As they prepped themselves on stage he waited nervously in the wings trying to quell the nerves he was feeling. He could hear the compere riffing with the crowd trying to lift the lull of setting up for the next act. As he cursed the nervousness he always felt pre-show he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Sam Phillips smiling at him with his right-hand woman, Marian, next to him.

‘Hey Elvis,’ Sam said embracing the young man. ‘Heya Sam,’ Elvis said, ‘shouldn’t y’all be sat down? ‘Oh, we were. Just wanted to see you. Nervous?’ ‘A little,’ Elvis shrugged. ‘Oh well you’ll be fine,’ Marian said dusting a spec of dust off of his shirt as she looked up at him adoringly, ‘you always are.’ ‘Sure are,’ Sam said, ‘thanks for being part of this by the way. I know you’re a big name now but it really means a lot.’ ‘It’s no big deal,’ Elvis said a little bashful. ‘We mean it. With all the attention you got us we’ve managed to sign some pretty good new talent,’ Sam said earning himself a dig in the ribs from Marian. ‘Now’s not the time to talk shop,’ Marian said rolling her eyes, ‘but we’re thankful regardless.' ‘You guys are like family,’ Elvis said, ‘I’d do anything for you you know that.’ ‘Speaking of,’ Marian said, ‘your mama not here tonight? I don’t think I saw her in the crowd.’ ‘Not feeling too well,’ Elvis said. ‘Well I hope she’s better soon,’ Marian said with a kind smile. ‘Y/N not feeling too well either? Shame for both of them to miss a night like this,’ Sam said. Elvis’ smile disappeared at the same time Marian elbowed Sam again. ‘Ow,’ Sam grumbled, ‘I was just asking-’ ‘We broke up,’ Elvis said trying to ignore the lump in his throat as he did. ‘I did say but you know what he’s like he never listens to me,’ Marian said rubbing her hand on Elvis’ bicep. ‘Oh yeah,’ Sam said, ‘she’s getting married right? Shame. The pair of you were well suited.’

Before he could reply he was being introduced and the two of them were shooing him onto the stage unknowing they had just dropped a bombshell on him. He stumbled onto the stage and plastered a smile on his face. It was time to get on with the show.

It had passed in a blur. He’d been his upbeat usual self. The crowd had lapped it up. His voice was good, his dancing electric but to those who knew him, it was evident his heart wasn’t in it. As soon as he was off stage he was telling the boys to take the others home in the van and taking the keys out of Red’s hands. That was how he had ended up here. Outside Y/N’s parent's house sitting in his car.

He didn’t know what he wanted or what he expected. Did he think that when he pulled up she’d be sitting on her front porch thinking about him? That she’d rush into his arms and they’d be back together again? He knew he was probably being foolish. Selfish even. After all, he’d been the one to end things what right did he have to come back into her life all these months later just to see if she was still heartbroken? And if she was doing okay? If she had moved on or even thought about getting married so what? What control did he have over that?

If he was being honest to himself though. He didn’t know what he wanted more. At least if she was angry and heartbroken she was still his. There would still be a chance. But if she had moved on he couldn’t blame her. It had been a situation of his own making. But that second option was worse. He’d rather all the vitriol and hate than her not knowing he existed.

He was sitting in his car, his eye trained on the house. He could’ve gone up and knocked but given the earful her dad had given him when he rang Graceland the day after they’d split he figured it was probably better to loiter and see if she was home first. That and her bedroom light was out which meant she was probably out. He wondered where. With friends? With family? With him?

Eventually, Elvis was pulled out of his thoughts as the front door opened. As he looked up Y/N stepped out onto the front porch. She was lit only by the porchlight but Elvis could see she still looked radiant. Then as she moved out of the way someone else stepped through the door. A guy. She was laughing at something he had said and he was watching her with a smile. As the door closed behind them he pulled her into him, his hand moving a strand of hair out of her face. Elvis’ heart sank.

She looked up at this man adoringly the way she had used to look at him. Elvis watched as the man leant down and captured her lips with his. He watched them, unable to tear his gaze away until finally, they broke apart. They exchanged some pleasantries and then he was walking off the porch and down the drive, though their hands lingered touching for a moment before he went. He looked back a couple of times as he headed to his car and Y/N watched him go until finally, she slipped back inside, not knowing their goodbye had just been watched.

She hadn’t even been inside a minute before Elvis was grabbing his keys and climbing out of his car. He had parked across the street but he was across the road in no time walking down the sidewalk until he was on her drive heading up it quickly. As his foot hit the first step of the porch he heard a noise behind him and looked to find the man standing at the end of her drive.

‘I wouldn’t do that you know,’ he said. He was leaning against a fence post watching Elvis. ‘Oh yeah?’ Elvis said scrutinising the guy. He was as tall as Elvis, maybe an inch shorter at most, and they were built the same though Elvis was a tiny bit more filled out. He was tanned and he had blonde hair that Elvis doubted would be any different to his if he hadn’t started dying it. ‘She’s not in the mood to talk to you,’ he said simply walking away. Elvis looked between the house and the guy and then with a cuss word under his breath he followed him. The man was perching on the hood of his car now. It was a black Buick, nothing too showy but nevertheless a nice car.

‘How do you know what she is and isn’t? What are you her keeper?’ ‘Fiance,’ he corrected. Ice formed in Elvis’ stomach. It was true. The man continued, ‘I mean that’s why you’re here right?’ ‘How did you even know I was here?’ Elvis said. ‘Well, I figured it could just be a coincidence a car like the one my girl's ex drives was sitting on her street,’ he shrugged, ‘but then again I figure there aren’t too many custom-coloured Eldorados out there.’ ‘Look-’ Elvis said suddenly realising he didn’t know the man’s name. ‘Austin,’ he said gesturing for him to continue. ‘Look Austin,’ he said in a faux sweet tone, ‘I get you wanna warn me off your girl or whatever but I came to speak with her. And if I know her I’d bet she’d want to speak to me herself rather than her guard dog so…’

Elvis started to turn to walk towards the house but Austin spoke capturing his attention as he said, ‘I ain’t gonna stop you but I am gonna ask that you don’t speak to her.’ ‘And why shouldn't I?’ Elvis said. ‘Because she’s happy,’ Austin said simply, ‘or at least she’s seeing she can be. You broke her heart. When I met her she was a wreck. A wreck that was pretending she was okay. And now she’s not. She’s moved on and if you go in there and tell her whatever you’re going to it’ll only mess with her head.’ ‘But maybe I was wrong,’ Elvis said a twinge of sadness flooding him as he listened to the man's words. ‘Maybe,’ Austin said, ‘but maybe you did the right thing.’ ‘What by letting her meet you you mean?’ Elvis said with a scoff. ‘Yeah,’ Austin said, ‘because I never in a million years thought I’d land a girl as sweet, funny and beautiful as her. I mean I know I’m not the most handsome or the richest guy but she loves me. And I love her more than anything. And I plan on spending every single day of my life proving to her just how much I do love her. Just because you were too blind to see what you had doesn’t mean that she deserves to have her heart messed with.’

Elvis thought he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Austin was watching him with pleading eyes. Elvis glanced between him and the house. He could go up there now. Knock on the door and tell her how much he loves her. Hope that she’d pick him. But did he want that? Or did he just want her back because he was upset she’d managed to get over him?

‘I’m not gonna stop you,’ Austin said, ‘just think about it.’

And with that, he turned and got into his car and pulled away leaving Elvis standing on the sidewalk watching as his car disappeared down the end of the street. With one last look at the house, he sighed. And then he headed back to his car and climbed inside. As he looked at the house again he could see her through her bedroom window. She was in pyjamas now, backlit by the low lamplight, and stunningly beautiful. She was just getting ready for bed unknowing that she was being watched.

She seemed okay. Happy. Isn’t that what he wanted?

Elvis sighed. Maybe he liked it better when he thought she was miserable.

[sgcairo]

About 2th dottore.. I like to think that dottore fell first and HARDER. First time meeting pantalone didn’t waste a minute straight up flirting with him, of course failed because he’s just..not flirting like a normal guy and pantalone has high standards PLEASE TELL ME

This is where the timeline absolutely wrecks me because there's two ways this could've gone:

1. Dottore is a new recruit, and spots the ever lofty Pantalone within the palace. First thought: Hot damn. He proceeds to try and talk to Pantalone, only to be waved off as Pantalone "doesn't have time to discuss paltry business plans right now".

2. Dottore comes to request funding for the first time (because apparently you have to do that) and spends most of the time filling out papers and flirting with Pantalone at the same time, which goes straight over the Regrator's head.

But I'm going to go with the first one because it's a ride.

The first time Dottore sees him, he's still recently expelled from the academia and not at all used to having people look down on him. The Fatui are brutal in terms of rank, and if you're inferior in terms of status, you generally get ignored, brushed off, or shoved out of the way. Dottore didn't become the Second Harbinger in a day, no. He had to prove himself somewhat, and had to ascend the ranks by clawing himself up the Harbinger ladder.

He started at the bottom, looking up at those prized seats as the Tsaritsa's most trusted and with the most venerated power. At lot of his time was originally spent doing maddening amounts of research and experimentation, always dashing around the palace and frantically muttering his new theories. He wanted to get to the top. No, he needed to.

That's around the time that he encountered Pantalone for the first time.

It was, quite simply, humiliating. Dottore saw him, took a few moments to process his majesty, then just had to push through the crowd that surrounded the Ninth Harbinger, two measly spots above Dottore. Oh, but he was so much of a mess that as soon as the Regrator turned to look at him, the words flew out of his mouth in a horrible jumble.

"L-Lord Harbin-"

"I don't have time for pathetic half baked plans, I will not be giving grants without a proposal."

"I- Sir, that's not what-"

"Move along. If you want a grant, have the paper on my desk with an adequate proposal. Now leave, my patience grows thin."

And of course, Dottore was left red faced and with his mouth open, shot down before he could even say anything.

It was just a crush, at first. He occasionally saw Pantalone in the halls, but never engaged him after such a mortifying ordeal, more content to instead watch him from afar, hidden in the trickle of agents that were scattered through the halls of the palace.

In all honesty, he forgot about Pantalone for a while between that ignorant, pathetic stage and his ascent to being the Second Harbinger. His experiments were made in frenzies of madness, ultimately gaining traction and catching the Tsaritsa's eye. His talents boosted him up the ranks as he aged, segments joining him in his ambitions, his station quickly overcoming Pantalone's and heading straight for the top.

By the time he noticed Pantalone again, he had fully grown an ego and was not ashamed of it in thw slightest. Pantalone had changed somewhat, the man somehow got even more graceful with age. No longer soft around the corners with youth, but with hardened eyes and cruelty that only a bastard of many years could have.

And the Doctor professes that he'd cut out his heart and let Pantalone do some questionable things with it.

Let's just say that Dottore got the equivalent of blocked and reported for that one.

Pantalone has standards, and men proclaiming that they'd let him eat them like a gourmet dinner is not on the list. He always did desire a spouse of similar power and prowess, a good match for his business. They would have to be elegant, and match his tastes nicely. Good manners, no doubt a good manipulator, and not want anything outside of the mutual benefit the marriage gave them, Pantalone didn't have time for foolish things like romance.

And yet... seeing an upset and sniffling Doctor laying on the floor of his lab after having an experiment fail for the 54th time makes him change his mind a little, because he's just so pathetic. It's weirdly enticing, and Pantalone thought himself to be above that. But no, Dottore is loud, brash, and weirdly entertaining, especially in such a strange and amusing situation.

Pantalone has a thing for pathetic men. You heard it from here first.

Long story short, Pantalone has completely forgotten the pathetic mess that tried to approach him that day all those years ago, and when I'm he hears it from Dottore, he breaks down laughing.

"I always knew you were pathetic!"

"..."

"But that just means I get to pamper you to make you feel better, darling."

"...I hate you sometimes."

"I know."

[kaijurakunsobs]

Reactions from the Lords and Miranda. S/o has never laughed or smiled since the day she was with the Lords. NEVER. but one day it happens

this feels like a mood but also like unrelatable cuz I have a wheezy loud laughter

so let me think how this would play out

Mother Miranda

when she brought you with her, it was clear something horrible had happened to you, grief was clear in your face

even though you were hurting, your personality remained the same, but no smile ever appeared you face

happiness was expressed in small actions and low hums of songs you once heard

it's late, you are about to pass out and Miranda is quick to dismiss you, telling you to go to sleep

with a nod and a kiss, you make your way to your shared bedroom

the loud thud and what she thinks is you crying, make her bolt out of the room to find you completely hysterical, laughing loudly and attempting to talk between gasps for air

you tripped on the floorboard you said you would repair, for the last 2 months, cackling louder and louder and saying you are ok

she's not worried, Miranda is just happy to hear you laugh

Lady Dimitrescu

the favorite maid of the house, her perfect assistant who seems to know what Alcina needs before she even says it

you are beautiful in her eyes but sometimes she wishes she could see you smile, but your face is stern and cold, only your eyes tell what your face won't

that day you are helping her with her latest business with the Duke, passing her documents and lists for the next shipment of supplies she will need

the man noticed you eyeing a simple piece of porcelain, a ballerina posing with a serene expression on her face

Duke: I hope this doesn't offend you my Lady, but, would it be alright if I offer Y/N a small gift?

Lady D: I would usually refuse something like that, but coming from you Duke, I can only imagine what kind of treasure you will give her

he offers you the figurine revealing its a music box

with soft hands, you take it and smile coyly, turning the key in the base and listening to the tune

Alcina is amazed to see you smile oh so sweetly, slightly angered that it was the Duke who got you to do so, but overjoyed that she got to see it

Salvatore Moreau

3 times a week you visit him

sitting close to him and talking with a calm voice when you retell your latest adventures

he listens and nods, occasionally offering his opinion and sharing his thoughts

you said you hate your smile and that your siblings always made fun of your laughter, saying it was like heating a squealing pig

halfway through your talk, you see a varcolac running amok, doing harsh turns, the muddy terrain offer no traction, and the beast ends up tripping and falling in a mess of limbs and debris

it starts as a snort and develops into a loud howling that you try hard to keep down, Sal starts laughing with you, moved by the gleeful sound than the poor beast falling

he will make sure, to always remember this day

Donna Beneviento

you and Donna understand each other with actions more than words, a kiss can be "I love you" the same way a brush of your hands means "thank you"

for Angie is different, she's verbal and needs to hear your voice to know what you are thinking of everything

so she sets on a crusade to get the most reactions out of you, the hardest being, get you to laugh or smile

you are sitting in the kitchen, Donna is cooking and Angie is just there, starting at you

Angie: SAY, Y/N...do you know...why frogs love to eat bugs so much?

Y/N: well...im afraid I do not know Angie

Angie: It because bugs are CROAKchy!!

the pun is horrible and even Donna sighs at how bad it was

but Angie can see it, a small smile coming to your face followed by a series of giggles that leave both Donna and Angie perplexed

the doll laughs like a maniac and Donna smiles enjoying the sound

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is a patient man, if his years of planning a revolution are anything to go by

and it was that patience that made him with your heart, he courted you, showed you he would love you, your happiness appeared in other ways

in the way you blushed or grew flustered with his advances

he knows everyone is entitled to express themselves any way they see fit, which makes him the less bothered when never smile around him

that's why the first time hits him hard

you had told him many times to sleep well and stop pulling all-nighters to finish something, but he always promises to stop and keeps on doing it

that morning you are drinking coffee and waiting for him to come, the sound of his bare feet alert you that he finally woke up, a yawn can be heard at the end of the corridor

it's clear he's sleep-deprived with how sluggish he moves, he mumbles a good morning and does a quick turn to enter the kitchen, head butting the wall at full force

the hit is enough to wake him but your cackling is what really makes him aware of everything

your head is thrown back and your body is shaking hard with your kaughter

he loves the sound but he feels a bit offended that you are laughing at him

[yandere-sins]

The Carnival Collaboration

My first piece (1 of 3 lol) for The Carnival Collaboration by @demonlamb666​! I couldn’t fit my idea with any fandom character so I used my lovely boy Rhys for it and definitely had a lot of fun! ♥ I always forget how fun OCs are until I write for them! He got a bit of a development here to fit his role better, so I hope you guys will still like him! Please enjoy!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT/LEMON, Yandere (in the later parts), Reader has a midlife crisis, PDA, Lots of touching and body contact, Wordcount: 3428

Chapter I - Distraction

Carnival—a place to fulfill all your desires!

Well, most of them at least. As you made your way through the stands left and right, you took in the sweet smell of candied nuts, churros, and cotton candy hanging in the air. The excitement of the kids screaming and running from one attraction to the next was prickling on your skin as the memories of your childhood spent at this carnival warmed your heart.

It wasn’t every day you got to go home to your parents and relive something you’ve been enjoying a lot as a child. Now an adult, you moved away, started your own life, studied, got a job. You moved on from naive pleasures, as were these events. Friends would invite you out to have fun every now and then, but it rarely was something as exciting as the carnival you still remembered from the past.

Booming voices welcomed you closer to their games, which - at your age - you knew were rigged and barely winnable. Still, you looked at the operators of the stands, smiling from ear to ear in their fun getups as they reeled in paying customers. Most of the time, it were the parents of the excited children who spent money, but you also saw couples trying their best to win prizes for each other and teenage friend groups discussing what to do next. It seemed like every kind of person was hanging out here, making you feel less awkward, alone, and seemingly out of place as you were.

Truth be told, when you heard the carnival was back in town, you laughed about it, thinking it was just a silly kid’s thing. Still, the longer the evening at your parent’s house went on, sitting on the couch and watching boring television shows together, the more you felt the urge to do something. Get out, be on your feet, explore. Really get your mind off things.

After all these years since you last visited the carnival, it was pretty impressive to see they were still doing well. A circus had joined them, as well as many other new attractions. They even had a small Ferris wheel now and bumper cars. Nothing that was drawing you in, but people were queuing up in front of the rides, and you felt happy for the carnival people to have a lot of traction.

With a heavy sigh, you reminded yourself not to think so transactionally. Your mind immediately slipped into dangerous territory as you tried to hypothetically figure out how well business was going for them. Your job was one of the reasons that you decided to come visit your family, rarely ever getting the chance to these days. You knew it was normal for children to leave home, move away, start their own families and work, but just last week, you sat in your office, looking at your work computer, when you realized you hadn’t even called home in months. These days, everything was only about numbers and profit, and you were sick and tired of it.

Life had become a drag, you couldn’t deny it. Get up, brush your teeth, drink coffee, work, come home, have dinner, sleep. All the hobbies you once had, passions and dreams, were neatly packed up in your moving boxes still. You never even opened them since you moved to the big city. Back then, you had become incredibly busy trying to build your life. You imagined that things would change once you settled, opened yourself up to new job opportunities, and organized your free time. But instead of the bright, sparkling future, you envisioned, you felt trapped between responsibilities and your job. You hadn’t met new people in years! And the old ones were slowly forgetting about you since you never had time to go out with them.

Before you knew it, you were burned out, craving things you couldn’t have and pitying yourself for it.

Even when you came home, one of the first things you heard was how proud everyone was of you for making it. For getting a good job and working hard so you could afford a - small, and a little moldy - apartment in the city. How could you break the news to them that your visit wasn’t a planned family reunion, but you, trying to flee from your depressing life for a while? That you were, in fact, not happy at all about the measly salary you had to live off on and that you’ve been eating the same kind of recipe for weeks to no end?

No, you couldn’t do it.

Admitting that what you chose to do wasn’t fulfilling or exciting you as much as you always thought it would was hard, no question. Almost as hard as sitting next to your dad on the couch, watching boring ass shows, and having him point out that the people depicted on the television weren’t as much of a big deal as they thought. Actors - or creative jobs in general - had no worth in your small-town, hands-on kind of family. They weren’t too happy when you decided to leave the town to pursue greater things, preferring if you had stayed and taken over the family’s craft store. But here you were, back in town after finding nothing but disappointment in the city, unwilling to admit that maybe they had been right.

Taking a deep breath, you held back some tears as you stood in the middle of the long pathway between the stands, leading up to the circus and around the carnival site. People were walking by, laughing, enjoying themselves. And then, there was you: a complete downer. You came out here to have fun and get your mind off things, not to be more miserable than you were in the city or at your parents’ place!

Surprisingly, the only sound that could break through to you in the cacophony of voices and jingles was a whistle. Not the shouting of the stand owners around you. Not the squeals of delight and screams of the children who had too much sugar. No, it was a simple whistle calling for your attention, short and directed at you, that made you lift your chin, looking around you.

“Hey there, Cutie,” someone called out to you, and your eyes locked on the face behind the voice, your body twisting into the direction. A young man who couldn’t be older than you waved at you, his lips turning into a grin as your eyes finally met. Brown curls framed a pretty face, a red, round clown’s nose glued to his real one. He was standing behind the counter of one of those throw-a-ball-at-cans stalls, inviting you closer. You had already passed by it while in thought, but now you noticed the stand was barely visited by other people. That, and the random person calling out from it, intrigued you. Not least because his gentle, yellow eyes were beckoning you closer as if he was just as captivated by you.

Looking side to side before turning, partly checking no one was planning on going to the stand, or you’d run into anyone, you stepped closer, curious. Watching you approach with a sense of satisfaction, the man ducked down briefly, pulling up three heavy balls used for the game and placing them on the counter before you. He presented them to you with an inviting gesture, still smiling from ear to ear now that he had your attention.

“It’s bad manners to whistle at people,” you reminded him, glancing behind him at the rows of cans neatly stacked. No doubt the bottommost ones were drilled into the board underneath them to make it impossible to win big prizes from this stall, even though they tried to hide the scam. Not that you wanted to win anything. You didn’t even want to play. But you also didn’t know what exactly the man wanted from you, other than play his game.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, but…” Taking a seat on the counter next to you, the operator leaned towards you, and the smell of cologne wafted from him, earthy and warm. Like wood and spices. You couldn’t help taking a deep breath, the scent enveloping you gently, drawing you towards him, as the guy continued. “You looked a bit upset standing there. I thought you could need some distraction.”

Giving him a half-hearted smile, you looked between him, the balls, and the cans as he invited you with a broad gesture of his hand to throw one. He didn’t even ask you to pay up, but perhaps this was just a way to draw in more customers if they saw you play or kill the boredom of not having any customers otherwise.

“And you think hitting tin cans will help make aaaaaaall my worries go away?” you questioned sarcastically.

The man’s lips parted, showing his teeth as he grinned, hearing your reply, seemingly amused by your feistiness. Picking up one of the balls, he threw it in the air a couple of times, catching it in the same hand before holding it out to you. “Did for me. My tin cans solved all my problems. They might do the same for you?”

Even though this was definitely a strange situation, you took the ball he gave you. By all means, you appreciated the distraction, even if it was some stranger and you, playfully bickering and throwing balls at tin cans. Aiming at the center of the cans, you focused your throw, hoping to perform well despite it being just a kids’ game. It was good to know you hadn’t lost your bite yet when it came to challenges. You sure loved the tin toss when you were a kid, always wanting to win the biggest stuffed animal possible. But now, believing in the reality of never being able to win since it was rigged, it was kind of silly how easily excitable you still were.

There was just something about this stand that really got to you.

Just as you expected, you were able to knock off the top one and one can in the second row. But while the pyramid tumbled a little, nothing more happened. It was silly. Silly enough to get a little upset about it. Looking back at the guy, you noticed his eyes never moved from you, even when you were focused on the game, the corners of his lips curling higher as you looked back at him, now a little flustered that he was watching your fail so intently.

“I actually feel worse now,” you admitted, trying to laugh off the embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t,” he purred somewhat comfortingly. It felt like he was absolving you of your embarrassment, reminding you it was not that big of a deal. All of a sudden, the man lifted his legs over the counter, letting them hang down next to you before jumping to the ground. Standing on your level now, you noticed how tall he was, looking down at you with a mix of gentleness and… something you couldn’t determine yet. He was much more handsome than you had noticed at first glance, strong arms with defined muscles, giving his body a tender but muscular look. Wearing only a vest instead of a proper shirt, you could see the outlines on his chest before he suddenly disappeared behind you. Those big, strong arms wrapped around you just a second later, and you tensed in surprise, unsure what to make of the situation.

“See, there’s a trick to it, Sweetheart.”

Before you knew what he was doing, he pressed another ball back into your hand, guiding that hand upwards with his own. His chest pressed up to your back, your hips snuggly sitting against his. With the other hand, he pinned your free hand to the counter, urging you to lean forward a little as he lifted your throwing arm into the air and in position.

Not only were you completely enveloped by his body, but the scent of his cologne was also stronger now, tickling your senses again. It was hard to breathe in anything but this man, alongside the warmth of his body against yours, making you melt. His touch was gentle but no less assertive than the rest of his body, sending goosebumps over your skin, all while you felt his muscles move with your body as he directed your throw. This was more contact than you had with anyone in a long time, the years of not dating since college now showing you exactly how needy you were for this. You felt incredibly greedy for wanting more from this stranger, but he probably wasn’t aware of how strongly you missed being so close to someone. It was weird that you were so willing to get riled up by this stranger, but at the same time, it was exactly the distraction you had wanted. What was life without a bit of fun, right? Nonetheless because his scent was slowly turning you on with just how tempting it was.

When he said, “Now!” your body didn’t question his instruction, reacting instinctively to him, letting go of the ball in your hand, and… hitting all of the cans. The crashing sound of the tin cans falling to the ground while you stared in disbelief was only drowned out by the chuckle in your ear as the operator closed the distance to praise you, “Now that was an excellent throw, Darling.”

You instantly felt weak in the knees, hoping he couldn’t feel your body relying on him for support. Thankfully, your ears were covered by hair as you felt them grow hot after he whispered the sweet praise for the throw into them, rendering you flustered. It made you feel like a teenager again, flirting with the cute upperclassman. “Feeling better already?” His voice - a honeyed mumble - was still coming from right beside your ear. But you could hear the grin on his face all while you felt his body grind against yours from behind as he waited for your reply.

Taking a barely hideable deep breath, you hoped you wouldn’t stutter as you turned your head in his direction, glancing at him from over your shoulder. It had become quite obvious that he was enjoying this, so it was only fair if you teased him right back. He watched you squirm in his hold, feeling it as you pressed your buttcheeks against his crotch challengingly, first surprised that you’d play along, then grinning knowingly.

“That went really fast. I think I need another demonstration?” you purred innocently, all while brushing up against him with obvious intention.

“Of course, Sugar,” he agreed, wasting no time pressing you against the stall’s counter, making sure there was not an inch of space between your bodies. While you took a sharp breath, he ran his fingertips along your arm and down to your hands, both of his hands gripping yours from above suddenly, lacing your fingers. “Pay attention now,” he ordered assertively, teasing you with his voice ringing through your skull.

“Lift.” He stretched your arm high in the air, bringing it up and behind his own head, your shoulder close enough to his lips that you thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, you felt the vibration of his voice against your skin, making you tense as budding arousal made itself known between your legs. For a moment, he remained in this position, feeling your bodies breathe against each other, you so perfectly pinned between him and the counter.

“Focus on where you want to throw.” How? you wondered, his voice being the only thing that was captivating you right now, stealing all the focus as you wished he’d murmur it more into your ear. All you wanted was to lean in further to him, a complete stranger, and feel more of his body all over yours. This was less of a demonstration of how to throw balls than it was a demonstration of how good his body fit against yours.

“And throw!” Saying that, he directed you to lower yourself into your knees, ground his hips against yours, and jolted your bodies upwards until you were standing on your tiptoes, leaning over the counter. The bulge in his pants fit right in between your ass cheeks, letting you feel the delicious length you were dealing with as you let go of the ball at his command.

Unsurprisingly for you - even after the thorough instructions - you didn’t hit the cans as planned, the ball bouncing off the back of the stall, while the man let out a teasing, “Oh… That’s too bad,” clearly still smiling as he said that. Placing his hands on your hips for a moment, he pulled you back against him while your breath hitched. You felt like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions, pressing your legs together tightly to somewhat get a hold on yourself. “I’d have loved to reward you for that throw, Buttercup.”

Letting go of you, you whipped around, holding on to the counter behind you as the guy laughed, putting his hands in the air innocently as he walked to the side of the stall, letting himself in through the door again. “But alas,” he sighed, leaning down to collect the balls you threw and putting them away.

“All I have for you is this rose.” Pulling forth one of the cheapest prizes, a plastic flower, he slipped it behind your ear, leaning on the counter, supported by his arms. “But I’m sure I at least got your mind off things, right?”

With your heart still racing, you tried to keep the eye contact, the brilliant, citrine glow of his not being subtle about how much he enjoyed this too, as it drilled into you. You could tell he was a terrible tease, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. At least for a little bit, he made you forget about your worries, even if you found it hard to admit. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Tin Toss Boy?” you challenged him, keeping your chin high and proud, his smile growing wider with excitement.

“It’s Rhys. But if my little demonstration wasn’t enough to help you with your worries, feel free to drop by again tomorrow. I’ll be here aaaall weekend, happy to help.”

Winking at you, you couldn’t help but laugh for the first time since the exchange started. When you told your parents you’d be going to the carnival, this wasn’t what they thought you were doing. In fact, it wasn’t what you thought you’d do that day either. Chuckling, you took the rose from behind your ear, twirling the plastic stem between your fingers.

“Maybe I will, Rhys,” you made an open promise to him, turning to walk away as you heard him take a sharp breath before letting out a small, pleasurable grumble. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe, and it made you feel even hotter, hearing and feeling that he liked what he saw.

Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes met as you heard him say, “God, I hope.”

When you returned home, your parents had already gone to sleep, the house quiet and dark. You were still holding the rose in your hands, twirling it before your nose again, still faintly smelling his cologne on it. A draft of the scent and your body instantly remembered how his chest felt against your back, the vibrations of his voice in your ear teasing long-forgotten desires inside of you, and most of all, the hard resistance in his pants as you pressed against his crotch.

No matter how strange and intrusive this stranger had been, you couldn’t help that he set off a lot of neediness inside you, making you ache for him between your legs and even deep inside your core. You had never clicked with someone like Rhys before. Someone confident, eager, and dominant with what he wanted. It flattered you beyond imagination that he wanted you of all people; certainly, he’d have enough options with his dashing looks. But you remembered the hunger festering in his eyes as he looked after you, the thought better than sex itself. Maybe he was bored, perhaps just a little weird, but you’d be damned if you didn’t return for another taste of adventure you had with him the next day.

However, that night, you could only dream about what he’d demonstrate to you next.

[myherowritings]

PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

© myherowritings — all rights reserved. reposting, modifying, copying, or translating of any kind is not allowed. do not read my writing as asmr. do not plagiarize.

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month. 

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place. 

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of. 

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista. 

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores. 

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do. 

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour. 

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack. 

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming. 

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?” 

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!” 

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.” 

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot. 

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.) 

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.” 

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?” 

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now. 

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?” 

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.” 

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.” 

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded. 

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.” 

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either. 

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit. 

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.” 

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.” 

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.” 

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility. 

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter. 

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through. 

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?” 

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron. 

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!” 

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?” 

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.” 

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning. 

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.” 

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude. 

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh. 

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows 

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice 

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

[samsurfgreenbass]

The Mechanic

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Summary: Jake is a mechanic (that’s literally it)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, language, penetrative sex, oral (fem. & male receiving), unprotected sex (don't be one of those people, wrap it up), etc.

Word count: 3,418

🔴 ⚪ 🔴 ⚪ 🔴

"How is a car like a human body anyway?" You asked sitting on a bar stool by his workbench.

"It's easy. Think of it like this: The Vehicle Software is the brain, the ADAS Sensors are the eyes, Head unit is the ears, Intake manifold is the mouth, CAN bus is the neck, the Engine is the heart, ECU are the organs, Steering is the hands, the U-Joint is the legs, and Traction control are the feet. See, easy." Jake smiled while pointing to all his body parts to make the emphasis more clear.

"Right, so what is ECU again?" You asked with a quizzical look.

"Electronic Control Unit" he said with a smirk

Jake's eyes went back to the transmission he was working on. His car had been acting funny so he decided to work on it, and you popped on over to see what he was up to. As usual he was wearing black jeans, a black shirt, and his work shoes. He usually wore his Chelsea boots but not when he was working on his car. He couldn't bear the thought of getting oil and grease on them.

You quietly sat on the stool watching him fiddle with the tools and hearing the clinking and clanking of him, along with the radio playing some old rock n roll. You didn't get dressed up to see Jake, so you wore jean shorts, a purple Guns n Roses shirt, and black Converse, with your hair in a messy bun. Nothing special. But to Jake, you looked like a 5 star meal.

"Hey can you hand me that ¾ socket wrench" Jake motioned towards the bench

"Uhhh, what's that?" You got up and looked around

Jake immediately halted all action and turned around, "tell me you're joking"

You busted out laughing and handed him the tool, "duh stupid, of course I knew what a socket wrench is, my dad didn't raise a dummy"

Jake smiled and took the tool and went back to working.

Jake and you had been friends for a few years now, you had moved into town and met in high school, you both liked the same music and had the same interest in cars. So you got along fine. You never told anyone though that you secretly had a crush on Jake. It wasn't a big deal but once you two graduated, you noticed how when he hugged you or let you borrow his clothes, you would get a heat rising to your cheeks and when girls would hang around him, you would get a little jealous. You didn't want to face the fear of rejection so you never told him how you felt, but you were happy to be his friend. As long as he was in your life, you were content. But today...you were going to change that.

"Hey Jake" you said standing and walking towards where he was

"Hmm" he replied too busy to notice you standing behind him

"Hacome you never tried to make a move on me before?" You asked

"I-wait, wha-come again?" He asked in a shocked tone

He put down his tool and wiped his hands on his rag and looked at you in the face

"Hacome you never made a move on me?" You said again slowly

Jake looked at you with concern and longing in his eyes. He'd always liked you, since the first day he actually saw you. You were wearing dark blue jeans, a Ramones shirt, and your Converse with your hair in a ponytail. He was captivated by you. Once you two became friends, he noticed that you two had a lot in common but was afraid that you wouldn't feel the same way, plus he had a reputation for being a flirt and didn't want to hurt you. He was waiting for the right time to tell you how he felt and to make your friendship more than what it was. He wanted to make you His Girl.

"I guess because I was waiting for the right time…" he began

"The right time to what?" You asked

"To do this" he said before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

You were stunned for a moment but immediately got over it and reciprocated his action. You pressed your lips to his.

Once he broke the kiss, he looked at you and said, "I wanted to do this right and wait for you to make sure you felt the same way, I've always liked you and want to make you mine but only if you're ready and if not, I get it"

"Jake, shut up and kiss me" you smiled

He kissed you with more passion than you'd ever imagined in your life. You looped your arms around his neck and ran your hands through his hair, and when you heard him groan, you pressed your bodies closer. His hands gripped your hips, then lowered and held the back of your thighs in his hands and sat you down on the workbench. His hands roamed over your shorts, up your shirt, and into your hair, which he unleashed from your bun.

You could feel how excited he was for you against your lower stomach, so you did what anyone would do in this predicament. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

He moaned into your mouth, "not that this isn't fun and all, but I'm sure you can feel how excited I am, and I don't want to start something that you're not ready for" he said with sincerity in his eyes.

You didn't have to think about it long, you were ready. You wanted this.

"I want you. All of you, in every humanly way possible. I want to feel this with you, and only you Jake" you leaned your forehead to his and looked deep into his eyes.

"Where?" He asked

It had been a fantasy of yours to have you two make love in the back of his car. So you said "your car?"

He looked at you with utter fascination in his eyes, "that is so sexy" he grabbed your face and kisses you one last time before picking you up from the workbench and setting you on the ground.

He grabbed your hand, led you to the back car door, opened it for you and motioned for you to get in first.

Once you both were in, you grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes, and whispered "this is my first time"

His eyes widened and he softly kissed your cheek, "you wanted me to be your first...I promise to make it good, and I'll be gentle"

You blushed and said "just let me get use to you first, I want you to enjoy yourself too"

"Baby, just being with you is all the enjoyment I need" he whispered

You smiled and let your hands travel down his shirt to the hem and slowly pushed up the fabric and tossed it to the car floor. You admired his tanned torso for a few while your fingers traced over every crevasse and freckle on him, before moving to his belt, you looked at him for confirmation to go ahead and continue, he simply nodded, you undid his belt, then went for his zipper until he grabbed your hands and stilled them.

"Let me make you feel good first, m'kay?"

"Ok" you said, he motioned for you to scoot down so you could be laying down on the seat, his hands traced your body over your shirt until he got to the hem and pushed it up. He gasped when he saw the light blue bra you had chosen to wear with black lace on the edges and a black bow in the middle, "damn baby, you look like a present, this is all for me?" He leaned down to your sternum and kissed you, then you felt his teeth graze your skin and you saw white flashes behind your closed eyes, you moaned and pulled your lower lip into your mouth.

Once your shirt was discarded, he moved onto your shorts, with a firm tug, he pulled them off and stared at the muse layed out in front of him. You had never been so exposed so you involuntarily started to cover yourself. Jake shook his head, "not uh, none of that shit. I want to see you, all of you. You're fuckin perfect, made just for me, and if it takes me all my life to tell you just how special and wonderfully made you are then I will, but don't feel the need to cover up in front of me"

You couldn't help it, you let a tear fall from your eye, and Jake kissed it away. He kissed your cheek, your jaw, down your throat, across your collarbone, on top of your breasts, down your stomach, across your hip bone, then finally looked up at you through his lashes, you gave him a nod to let him know to proceed.

With a smirk on his lips, he grabbed the top of your panties with his teeth and pulled them down all the way to your ankles until they were off and you stared at him, sitting there with your matching light blue and black lace panties in-between his teeth. You laughed and went to grab them, but he lightly smacked your hand away and stuffed your panties in his back pocket.

You then leaned on your elbows and eyed the bulge in his pants, and you licked your lips and saw that Jake had begun to undo his pants. He shed his boxers and pants with a swift tug and soon, you both had your clothes on the floor of his car. He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him and hugged you, "are you sure, cause it's ok if you're not. I can wait. As much as I want to, I'll wait, until you're ready"

"No Jake, I want to. I want to be yours."

That was all Jake needed to hear before he lightly pushed you back until you were flush with the seat, and traveled down to your core and blew on it.

You had never experienced pleasure like this, and were nervous, Jake could tell and simply told you, "I need to get you ready for me, so it doesn't hurt as much ok love? Just relax, breathe, remember to breathe"

You nodded and didn't expect him to kiss your inner thighs, that caused you to clench your legs together, which made Jake laugh and say "ticklish are we?" You moaned "Please"

Next thing you know, Jake's tongue is making a slow strip up your core, and then begins to make figure eights with his tongue against your sensitive bud. Your back arches off the seat, his hand goes up to your sternum and presses you down, he grabs your legs to open them a bit wider for more access. You couldn't get over the sounds he was making, and how good he was with his mouth. When he would come up for air, he would say, "Oh my god, you taste so good baby, I could eat you all day and never go hungry again" then proceed to start his ravishing ordeal all over again. You could feel a knot forming in your lower stomach, you had heard from your friends that this indicated an orgasm. Jake could feel you clench around his tongue, he looked at you and said "I'm going to put my fingers in, it'll make it feel better" you thought it gets better!?

Sure enough, once Jake inserted two fingers into you, along with his tongue, you were seeing stars and galaxies collide and swirl together within a matter of seconds. He made sure to help you ride your orgasm out before he did anything else. When he came up to kiss you, you blushed at the sight of your juice across his lips and chin, you went to go grab his shirt to wipe it off, but he shook his head and said the one of many things you'll never forget, "you don't wipe off the best meal you've ever had", when he leaned down to kiss you, you tasted yourself on his lips and a thought popped into your head.

"Can I taste you, it doesn't have to be long, but I want to at least try" you said with doe like eyes and your lips pouting

Jake had sworn he had died and went to hell where there was an angel that literally did not just ask him to go down on him, right?

"I-i um, if y-you want, you don't have to" he was nervous, he had never been nervous before, but this was you. You made him feel emotions on a whole other plane.

You pushed him back so he was flush against the seat, and kissed his jaw, down his chest, down his stomach, making sure to leave dark purple bruises along the way, until you got to his hips. You had guessed it was big, but you weren't expecting it to be THAT BIG.

You weren't sure it was going to fit all the way inside you, not your mouth, but YOU.

Jake sensing your apprehension, said "it'll fit, that's why I did what I did before, to get you ready for it"

You smiled and licked a line up his shaft. This made him buck his hips and you giggled, "easy there buddy, not yet" you grabbed his hand and put it on the back of your head, he grabbed your hair out of your face and prepared for you.

What he wasn't prepared for, was how determined you were to have him go down your throat. You found it easy for you to put him in and down, if you relaxed your jaw and breathed through your nose. You looked up at him when you felt him hit the back of your throat. He moaned and pushed his head back into the seat and groaned out "fuck baby, your mouth is going to be the death of me, don't stop, please God don't stop" you weren't planning on it.

You bobbed your head up and down, and made a circular motion with your hand, for never having done this before, you were doing a hell of a great job from what Jake was saying. He was praising you like you were his own personal goddess.

You let him pop out of your mouth with a lewd sound, you looked up at him and smiled. He wanted you to continue your amazing assault on him, but was more desperate to be inside you than anything. Jake sat up and grabbed your hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead, "did you want to use a condom?" He looked at you and waited for your answer. You thought about it, you knew he would be clean and your mom had always stressed to you about being safe, but this was Jake. You were the safest person in the universe while being with him. So the answer was simple, "No, I want to feel you, all of you".

A sound that you've never heard from Jake that started in his throat surfaced to his lips. It was like an animalistic growl. He pushed you against the door with a force that made all the air gush out of your lungs, "I'm going to make love to you so hard that this moment will be burned into your soul, forever" he kissed you feverishly. Then, that's when your body took over.

Your hands had a mind of their own, you grabbed at his back, your nails dug into his skin leaving crescent marks. Your teeth lightly bit down into his shoulder, he groaned and pulled you down so he was hovering over you. He made direct eye contact with you as he put his hand between your legs. He made sure that you were well prepared for him, he smiled widely when he felt your wetness. You moaned when his fingers came in contact with you, involuntarily your hips bucked up to him, and he smirked. "Ok ok baby, I get it, here you can put me in" he grabbed your hand and covered his length with your hand, then guided it to your entrance. He looked down at you, "Hey, this might hurt a little bit ok, but I need you to take a deep breath, can you do that for me love?" You nodded, took a deep breath and put him to your entrance, you removed your hand from him and held onto his lower back, bracing yourself for the sharp pain. Jake began to push into you, "deep breath"

1...2...3-OW!!

He was quick to push in all the way, "Ahhh!" You covered your mouth, you hadn't expected it to hurt that much. "Shit...fuck, ok" you spoke breathlessly. Jake stilled immediately. "Baby, look at me, are you ok?" You looked at him and nodded, he breathed in and you both stayed still so you could get used to him being inside. "Just give me a moment, then you can move'' he nodded, he had a strained look on his face, "Jake- a-are you ok, you look in pain" you questioned, he giggled, "I'm fine, perfect actually, just you're so tight. It's like a hot glove that is squeezing me just right, fuck it's amazing, God" you nudged your hips a little and felt the pain subside and the pleasure begin.

"You can move now Jake" you told him. He started off slow and each thrust was calculated and perfect. Everytime he drew back was ecstasy, then when he drove back in, you were left calling him God. The next thing Jake didn't expect was for you to utter the following words, he began to increase his pace, "Fuck, harder Daddy!" This caused something in Jake to turn primal. You both knew the car was moving with such force that if anyone came into the garage would know EXACTLY what you two were doing.. He knew he wasn't going to last long and could feel that you were close, you kissed him one last time before feeling yourself clench around him, throwing your head back you screamed his name. He rode you out, then seconds later, he was spilling his seed into you, pushing it in deeper so as to not let any seep out. When his orgasm subsided, he carried his weight on his elbows, you put your hands around his neck and pulled him to your chest, "Baby lay on me" he collapsed with a grunt and you both relaxed into each other's bodies.

You were ONE. Finally.

Jake was the first to speak, "Was I too rough with you?" He asked while stroking up your torso. "No, I'm fine, but I'm definitely going to be sore tomorrow, and I think you have a lot of scratch marks down your back, along with love bites, wear a shirt for a while". Jake smiled, then nuzzled into your chest, and left a few love bites of his own. He knew that no one would be able to see them, but it excited him to know that only you and him would know that they were there.

You both got dressed and exited the car with shit eating grins plastered onto your faces.

When you looked at Jake, he laughed and grabbed a clean rag from his workbench, You looked at him with a puzzled look, "you have grease on your cheek", you allowed him to wipe it off then placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

"Oh yeah, you're definitely going to want that off. My boyfriend is a mechanic and will kick your ass if he sees that" you winked at him.

"Oh, really? You got a boyfriend?" He poked you in the rib

"Yeah, and he's a total badass" you looped your arms around his neck

"Well I don't know about your boyfriend but my girlfriend is gonna have a problem with all these love bites on me" he grabbed your waist

"Oh yeah?" You smirked

"Yeah" he said before dipping his head down to kiss your neck

You both laughed. Nothing was going to top this feeling of being with your absolute best friend in the entire world. You knew this was the beginning of something INCREDIBLE.

Taglist: @ageoftambourine @gretavanwinkle @tlexx @ghostly-luck @garbagevanfleet @kayys-corner @jakekiszska @dharma-divine

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith