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wh0re43van · 3 months

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Jealousy- (Dom!Peter Maximoff X Reader)

Summary: You and Peter are having a nice day at the river when you run into an old ‘friend’.

(This was a request, but I lost it. I believe the request said something like: “Dom Peter Maximoff. That’s the request”)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: smut, throat fucking, slight choking, gagging

A/N- y’all I’ve been having such bad writers block and I just started college again so please bare with me 😭🙏🏻

My body buzzes with warmth as the mid summer sun beams down on me. In the distance there’s a group of young teens giggling and splashing as they take turns jumping off the rope swing into the river, but their joys are muffled by the newest Pink Floyd cassette playing in Peters boombox.

Suddenly, I feel a cold blob of something plop onto my stomach. I gasp, quickly sitting up in confusion. My questions are answered when I see a chuckling Peter standing above me with two overfilled ice cream cones in his hands.

“Oops,” he grins as he sits down on his towel beside me, placing the cone in my hand. Peters solution to the mess on my stomach is to lean down and lick it off. I laugh, attempting to shove him away from me.

“Ew Peter,” I chuckle as he licks up the last of the ice cream.

“Tastes like tanning oil,” he smiles while licking his lips. I just shake my head, looking at my dork of a boyfriend with pure adoration.

The soft breeze blows Peters silver locks around on his head as he lap at his sweet treat. The melted desert drips from his hand onto his toned chest and blue swim trunks.

“Babe, you’re a mess,” I laugh as I try to eat mine as neatly as possible, but the frozen delicacy is no match for the summer heat.

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to clean off in the river,” he smirks as he finishes the last of his cone. With a fwip he’s in the water.

“Hey!” I holler after him with a giggle. I set the ice cream down before standing to my feet.

“Come on y/n you’re so Slow!” Peter shouts over the sound of the rushing water. I wipe my sticky hands on his towel then grab a scrunchie to pull my hair back before our swim.

“Y/n?” I hear an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turn with a puzzled look, my hands behind my head as I braid my hair back. I’m shocked by who I see.

“Oh my god! Elijah? I don’t believe it,” I say in disbelief, staring at the boy I haven’t seen since freshman year. He smiles, seemingly pleased that I take the time glance over his now muscular body.

“I look pretty good, huh?” He laughs confidently. His red swim trunks don’t leave much to the imagination as he does a spin, allowing me to see how mature he’s become. He flexes his dark umber toned arms as he holds his head up with pride. The sun shines down on his hair, each tight raven curl lays neatly beside the other as they hang down in his face.

I gulp, feeling a bit guilty for staring.

“Uh, yeah! You look great, dude,” I laugh awkwardly as I look around for Peter.

“You here by yourself? That’s awfully dang-“ Elijah begins but is quickly cut off by Peter who seems to appear out of thin air.

“Nope,” my boyfriend says with a smug grin as he flings his arm around me, much tighter than normal. If I didn’t know better, id think Peter was jealous. I’ve been dating Peter for almost six years and I’ve never seen him so much as look twice at any guy who flirts with me.

‘Let ‘em,’ he always scoffs. ‘I’m the one who gets to undress you,’ Peter knows that no other guy has a chance with me; he actually finds it quite amusing to see guys get horribly rejected by me. Peter is a very confident guy, but right now his jaw is tensed out of annoyance and he’s gripping onto me as if Elijah might tear me from his grasp at any moment.

“Peter, long time no see,” Elija smiles at an unamused Peter.

“Yeah, last time I saw you, you were trying to sabotage my relationship with Y/n,” Peter says flatly, shrugging his shoulders with his lips pulled into a sarcastic grin.

‘Awkward,’ I cringe internally as I remember the last week we spent with Elijah before he moved away.

The two boys and I were best friends since 6th grade, so when Peter decided he wanted to confess his feeling for me, he spoke about it to Elijah- the best friend who he wasn’t in love with. Elijah came to me the next day, telling me that Peter was going to ask me out as a prank, so I should say no- which made me extremely angry since I’d had a crush on Peter for years.

Long story short: Peter was not going to ask me out as a joke, he was completely serious and Elijah almost ruined his chance with me because he wanted me to himself.

“Oh come on peter, that was like four years ago,” Elijah scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s right. That was teenage drama that I’ve long forgotten about, however this seems to still be a sore spot for Peter who is now scowling at our old friend.

“whatever man just get lost,” Peters voice drops, his tight grip on my shoulder never faltering as his eyes shoot bullets into Elijah. This is a side to peter that I rarely see, and I cant help but notice the butterflies that are starting to flutter in my stomach.

“Woah quicksilver takes an awfully long time to get over his hurt feelings,” Elijah laughs as he keeps his confident stature. Peters eyes narrow and his face becomes flushed with anger. I open my mouth in attempt so deescalate the situation, but I don’t have time. “y/n is over it,” he smirks, winking in my direction. Before I can defend myself, the wind is knocked out of me.

With a fwip, we’re in the shower cabin. The hot damp air in invades my lungs as I try to catch my breath.

“Peter!” I groan as I pull myself out of his arms. He knows I hate when he does that. “What the hell has gotten into you? I’ve never seen you so-“ my complaint is cut short as Peter smashes his lips to mine. His hand grips the back of my head, keeping me as close to him as possible. His other hand trails up my back.

“You’re mine,” Peter growls against my lips as he backs me against the wall. My stomach drops at the possessive tone coming from my boyfriend. I wrap my arms around his neck and manage to pull my lips away from him enough to catch my breath.

“Of course Peter,” I pant as he trails wet kisses up my jawline and down my neck. I sigh in content, leaning my head to give him more access. I want to pull away, but I cant bring myself to do it.

“All of you,” he says in a low tone, his dominant eyes locking with mine as he removes my bikini top in one quick flash. I gasp as his mouth instantly goes to work on my breast.

“Peter not here! What if someone comes in? Or hears us!” I resist verbally but do very little to actually push him off. Instead, I entangle my fingers into his silver hair.

“Good,” is all he mumbles against my breast as he leaves dark hickies on the soft skin. I know this is wrong. I know we shouldn’t be doing this in such a public place, but I’ve never seen this look in Peters eyes before. It’s not often that he takes charge, and the way that he has me pinned against the wall leaves my knees weak in anticipation.

Peters mouth switches to my other breast as he uses his knees to spread my legs. His skilled fingers pull my bikini bottoms to the side and he immediately dips into my heat, moaning at how wet I already am.

“That bastard wishes he could see you like this,” Peter mumbles under his breath as he watches his finger slide in and out of me. I let out a small whimper, biting my lip to stifle the sound as much as possible.

With his other hand, he grabs my face squeezing my cheeks so hard that my lips pucker, before he leans down almost touching his nose to mine.

“I want to hear every sound that comes out of this pretty little mouth,” he growls lowly as he runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “Do you understand?” He pants as he stares in my eyes with an animalistic glint, his fingers still pumping into me.

“Y-yes,” I gulp, letting out a loud moan when his thumb brushes my clit.

“Atta Girl,” Peter smirks before he moves his hands to my thighs, picking me up so I can straddle him with my back against the wall.

After I wrap my legs around his waist, he begins to grind against my bare core. The friction sends a surge of pleasure through my body.

“What Are You waiting for?” I ask breathlessly as Peters eyes scan my body.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands lowly as his hand gently grips my throat. My heart flutters at my boyfriends unusual- and extremely hot- dominant demeaner

“I-I want you to fuck me,” I stutter as I stare down his arm into his dark eyes. The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk before he drops his swimming shorts.

Peter removes his hand from my throat to bring his fingers up to his mouth, wetting them before grazing over my heat. I tense at the contact, letting out a small whimper. My heart pounds in anticipation as he lines himself up with my entrance.

“I want him to hear,” peter growls before he buries himself inside of me in one swift thrust. I cry out at the sudden feeling of him filling me up. Peter moves hips slowly, allowing me to adjust. Soon enough, his hips are rocking against me in a steady motion as his fingers dig into the soft skin on my hips.

“fuck peter,” I whimper out as he grazes my gspot with every stroke. Everything about this situation- the risk of getting caught, peter completely dominating me, the way hes hitting right where I need him- has me more aroused than I’ve ever been.

“Louder,” Peter grunts, staring at me with stern eyes as he brings a thumb to my clit.

“Fuck Peter!” I let out a pathetic shriek as he begins to vibrate his thumb against my sensitive bud. I throw my head back, squeezing my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the immense pleasure flooding through my body.

“Much better,” peter chuckles as he speeds up his hips. Peter looks down at me, biting his bottom lip so hard that I fear he may draw blood. Small grunts and low groans mange to slip out as he pounds into me.

“Im so close baby please don’t stop,” I whine as my fingers grip his hair so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Say my fucking name and cum for me,” he growls into my ear before biting on my neck, sucking hickies onto the sensitive skin. I cant think well enough to form a response as I clench around him, feeling pure euphoria flood my body.

“Fuck! Yes! Peter oh my god!” I moan loudly, I don’t even know what I’m saying. At this point, Peter has literally fucked me senseless. I’m putty in his hands for him to use in any way he’d like. I lay against the wall, Peter now solely holding me up as I attempt to collect myself. I open my eyes as he slowly pulls out of me, chuckling as he sets me down onto my shaky legs.

“Peter… I-“ I just stare at my boyfriend as my release starts to drip down my thigh. Peter smirks as he pumps his still rock hard cock, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“Get down and open up baby,” he says gently with a kiss to my forehead as he pushes on my shoulder. I obey, meeting his gaze as I get to my knees. I know that I’m drunk off lust because any other time I would not have my bare ass so close to the floor of a public showering cabin but with the way Peter’s looking at me, the thought of resisting doesn’t even cross my mind.

With my chest still heaving a bit, I take his length into my hand, stroking it slowly before kitten licking the tip. Peter throws his head back with a grunt as I slide him into my mouth, my tongue tracing up the bottom of him. I wrap my arms around his thighs as I begin to move my head back and forth. Peter smirks, gently pushing some loose strands of hair out of my face.

“That’s it baby. You’re doing so good,” he hums as he begins to move his hips in rhythm to my face. Peter looks angelic as the sheen of sweat across his forehead glistens in the single beam of sun cutting through dimness of the cement room. His toned chest heaves as his dark eyes watch his cock violate my mouth, slipping deeper into my throat with each thrust. Tears begin to form in eyes as he slams into my throat, continuously slipping past my gag reflex

“I’m the only one who gets to use you like this,” Peter growls as his hands grip onto the back of my head. I do my best to nod and mumble a ‘mhm’ as drool begins to escape the corners of my mouth, dripping down my chest as he fucks my throat. My core still aches for him. I’ve had my release already, but the way that he’s speaking to me and using me is something far out of the ordinary for him- I cant get enough. I manage to pull away to gasp for breath as I begin to get light headed.

“Please,” I pant out hoarsely, tears and spit streaming down my face as I desperately kiss all over peters length between breaths. “Cum on my face baby please. Im yours. Please peter,” I beg breathlessly as I massage his balls. Peter lets out a whimper, seemingly more than excited to hear my pleads. His hand grabs onto his length, stroking himself closer to his climax. I sit back on my heels, opening my mouth, holding my tits- now covered in my own saliva from his ruthless face fucking- up, wanting nothing more than for him to cover me in his cum.

“God you’re so fucking sexy,” Peter groans as his hand moves in a blur along his length. He throws his head back and lets out a stream of profanities and groans as he shoots his hot seed allover my face and tits. “Jesus Christ,”’ Peter groans when he looks down to see the mess he’s made of me. I giggle, leaning forward, licking up his cock one last time to make sure I’ve gotten every drop. Peter watches me in awe as he attempts to catch his breath, grabbing my shoulders and gently pulling me to my feet.

“Do you feel better now?” I tease as I scoop some off his cum off my breast, bringing the salty liquid to my mouth. Peter groans at the sight.

“Much better,” he laughs as he reaches for his swim trunks. “You wouldn’t mind walking past Elijah like that would you?” he laughs as he grabs a paper towel by the sink.

“What? Half naked and covered in your cum?” I raise an eyebrow at him as he picks up my bikini top.

“Well, maybe put this on first,” he smirks, handing me the thin material. I laugh as he wipes me off so I can get dressed. The mood is back to its usual easy-going vibe and my calm and collected Peter has returned- but I can assure you that we will be revisiting this side of him quite often

Tags: @pretzel-bunnie @slvt4jamesmarch

#evan peters #evan peters smut #ahs cult #ahs hotel #jimmy darling smut #kai anderson #kit walker smut #ahs asylum #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #quicksilver smut #quicksilver #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff #tate langdon smut #tate langdon #kai anderson smut

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familyvideostevie · 7 months

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october sixth

day six: james potter james brings you to a campfire with his friends | fluff! james being flirty | 1.1k

It’s a bit of strange magic that you haven’t met James’s friends yet. Not officially, anyway. In passing, sure, and James has told you all about them. He talks about the boys and their antics constantly and assures you that the girls will adore you. It’s only a matter of time before you all get together.

Not for lack of trying, of course. But Remus was out of town and then Sirius had the flu which he gave to Marlene and then everyone was busy with an old schoolmate’s wedding and you were swamped with work and it’s been almost three months since your first date and you still haven’t been properly introduced.

It doesn’t bother you that much. In fact, you’re pretty sure it bothers James much more. “I just don’t want you to think I’m hiding you,” he says. “It’s bloody weird that it’s worked out like this.”

The fix comes with the change of the seasons. Lily’s parents have a country house and invite everyone for a weekend of bonfires and warm drinks and general lazing about.

“A country house, James? Really?” you say when he tells you. He shrugs.

“We go every year. You’ll love it.”

So you agree. It’s not until you’re literally about to turn into the drive that the nerves hit you all at once. Your leg bounces in the passenger seat of James’s car and he puts his palm on your knee to still it.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “No harm, no foul.”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “We’re almost there, anyway.”

James grabs your hand and brings it to his lips. “I’d turn around right now if you asked,” he says. “Seriously.” His dark gaze is steady and warm.

“I will not ask that,” you say. “I want to meet them. I just —”

“They’ll love you,” James says firmly. “They know all about you and they are just as offended that this hasn’t happened sooner. They all blame me, actually.”

He turns off of the long road and the house emerges in front of you like a fairy tale. It’s a country house, sure, but it’s clearly large and nicer than anything you’ve ever seen.

“I hope you’ve only told them good things,” you say. James turns off the car and allows you to stall for a few moments.

“No, I’ve told them how you snore and leave your kitchen cabinets open all the time,” he deadpans. You laugh and he grins. “Have you got your silly bag?”

The tote at your feet is full of things you’ve brought with, despite James’s protests. Licorice for Sirius, cider for Remus, Lily’s favorite biscuits from town. You made sure to have a little something for everyone even though your boyfriend assured you that buying their loyalty wasn’t necessary.

“They’re already on your side since you put up with me,” he’d said.

But now you just nod. James gives your hand one last squeeze. “They’re going to love you,” he says. You let yourself look at him, really look at him in the way you know he enjoys. He looks excited, almost boyish. Fall suits him with his sweater and waxed jacket, a hat tucked into his pocket. His hair is a mess and his glasses need to be cleaned.

You adore him.

“Let’s do it.”

You arrive at the front door to a flurry of activity. Everyone spills out and there are cries of your name and hugs and you hand off your items, feeling a bit shy.

“My god,” Sirius says, looking at his licorice. “She’s perfect, Jamie.”

Remus thanks you with an easy smile for the cider and Lily actually screams when you pull out the biscuits.

“She’s a keeper, Potter,” she shouts. “If you ever want to ditch him,” she says to you, “you’re welcome to. You can hang out with the girls.”

You get pulled from James and meet Dorcus and Marlene and they take you up to your room. The sun has almost set so they tell you to put some more layers on and come down to the bonfire when you’re ready.

“See?” James says as he spills into the room. He tosses your bags on the bed. “They love you more than they love me.”

“I am rather charming,” you say. He laughs and kisses you once, twice, three times. He backs you up against the door and you have to push him away. “They’re expecting us at the bonfire, James.”

He pouts. “Fine,” he says. “If you insist.”

The evening is a fun one. There are jokes and stories and games, everyone drinking to stay warm and snacking on junk food.

You wander back from a trip to the bathroom to find that the seats have reshuffled, the conversations moved. James waves you over.

He’s bathed in the light of the fire, the flames making the lenses of his glasses shine in the dark. The bench he’s on has no more room but he grins and pats his thigh.

You raise your eyebrows. Really? He winks.

You do as he asks and perch on his thigh, knees smushed into his other leg. He wraps his arm around your back to keep you from falling if you lean too far. Dorcus is telling a story about some adventure she and Marlene went on last week, so no one really looks at you.

James tugs on your ear. You lean down and his lips brush against your skin. “This is nice. Are you having fun?”

You nod. “I am,” you say into his hair. “They’re lovely.”

“Thank you for coming.” You know James is mostly happy-go-lucky, pleased as punch to do anything, a real sunshine boy. But you also know it has bothered him immensely that two important parts of his life have been separate until now. He’s worried endlessly that you think he’s not keen on your relationship despite your assurances otherwise. So you are glad that you’re here, even if you were nervous at the start. You just want him to be happy.

He kisses your cheek until you turn your head enough for him to capture your lips. You can’t wait to be in his arms in bed tonight.

“Oi!” Sirius yells. “Stop canoodling. It’s obscene.” He’s teasing, obviously, but you tuck your face into James’s neck anyway.

“Aw, let them,” Lily says. “You’re just bitter you’re single as fuck.”

“Hey!” Everyone laughs. You feel James’s chuckle more than hear it and you put your palm on his chest. His heart is beating steadily. You can hardly believe he’s given it to you.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fluff #marauders fanfiction

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whatsfourteenupto · 4 months

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It’s over bloody football that she finally breaks.

She’d gotten Shaun a new one for Christmas, just because. Lord knows he loves the game enough, even if he hasn’t had as much time for the local rec league these last few years. Late in the afternoon, she takes a cuppa out onto the porch for the first moment alone she’s found all day, and finds him and the Doctor playing a pickup game in the yard.

Shaun’s been pretty skilled with a football for as long as she’s known him. He toes it into the air, juggles it about on his feet for a few moments, then passes it off to the Doctor with his heel.

"Alright, just like that. Top of your foot," he says.

The Doctor manages to catch the ball, grinning from ear to ear as he taps it up into the air again. "Here we go! Think I’ve got it!”

"That’s it, Mate!"

They manage to juggle once, twice, before clumsily tossing it back toward Shaun. He receives the pass effortlessly. In a move that would be impressive if she hadn’t seen him fall on his ass a near hundred times trying to learn it, he throws his leg over and twists around, taps the ball into the ground, and kicks it back up.

The Doctor lets out a whoop, mouth wide open in an awed smile. “Blimey! That’s brilliant!”

And suddenly, Donna’s eyes are burning.

After fifteen years of missing something she couldn’t even remember, and even longer wondering if she’d ever have this many people to love her, she’s got her entire family in one place for Christmas. Her best friend and the love of her life are goofing around in the yard as though they’ve known each other for years, not mere months. They don’t have to do that. There’s nothing forcing them to be anything more than cordial, but they’ve begun a great friendship in their own right and she’s so damn grateful for it. For them.

From down on the lawn, Shaun looks up to throw her a dazzling smile. It falters into confusion, and then concern, and then the sort of fond teasing look that she knows means she’s been caught. He nudges the Doctor and nods in her direction. They share a look, and then the Doctor throws an arm around Shaun’s shoulders as they make their way back toward the house.

“All right, Love?” Shaun calls.

She waves her hand at him, trying to blink her eyes dry before they reach her. “Fine, fine,” she says, taking a rushed sip of her tea.

“You know, Shaun, I think we may have made her emotional,” the Doctor says, feigning shock. “I think she may be crying!”

“Oh shut up!” She tries to glare at them, but she can’t keep it up for long. “I’m just happy. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you two are getting along.”

The Doctor grins and Shaun reaches out to take her hand. “Well, we’ve got a pretty strong cause uniting us,” he points out. “Can’t very well not get on with a bloke who’d do anything for my wife. They’re family!”

Donna laughs again, watery. “Damn right they are.” When she looks back at the Doctor, he’s still smiling goofily. “Oh, stop looking at me like that.” Their only response is to grin even wider, a gleam in their eye that could be mischief, or could very well be tears of their own. She smacks them on the arm. “Stop it!”

But it’s too late.

Instinctively, she tries to reach up and brush away the rogue tears, but Shaun is still holding her free hand. Before she can try another way to hide the evidence, she’s swallowed up in a hug from either side. “Hang on, hang on!” She shouts, turning to quickly set her tea on the patio table. That done, she throws her arms around them both and holds on as tight as she can.

They stay that way until Rose sticks her head out the back door and shouts that dinner is nearly ready. Once they’ve all stepped back again, Donna wipes at her eyes and tries to blink herself back into control. “Idiots.”

“True,” Shaun agrees.

“But you still love us,” the Doctor finishes. She can’t help but laugh as they each press a quick kiss on her cheek before rushing inside to follow the smell Christmas dinner.

“I do,” she sighs after them, shaking her head. “No idea why, but I do.”

#doctor who #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #shaun temple #what’s fourteen up to #Donna loves her idiots #I should have edited this but #I’m tired #I just wanted to get the last of my Christmas with the Nobles thoughts out #merry Christmas to all #and to all a good night

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jeon-ify · 3 months

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that night- j. yunho : pt. 3

a/n: heyyyy girl did you miss me 😋 i know i know. after i reread the first 2 parts of this fic, im starting to feel like its already going NOWHERE. but!! i hope this part makes up for all the weirdness in the first couple of parts.

this chapter is a little short

warnings: mentions of self harm, mentions of sex (if you squint), drug use, swearing, use of the word ‘pookie’ only once, reader starts to second guess if she’s at fault

enjoy!

🤍🪩☁️

you watch your phone ding twice after you wipe your tears, processing the fact that yunho just walked into your apartment for the first time ever. you felt like none of it was real, that it was simply a blur that he came to your home, cried to you, kissed your forehead and promised he’d change.

yunho often kept his promise, thus leaving a feeling of confusion on your heart. you decide to ignore what your heart is telling you to do, and instead, listening to your brain:

you trusted him once before, and he fucked it up. don’t do that to yourself again, y/n

no matter how hard you try to ignore the messages on your phone from yunho’s support buddy, you can’t. what could mingi want at this hour?

y/n: hi, whats up?

*seen just now*

mingi.?: can i call you? i wanna talk to u ab smth rq

mingi.?: i stole ur number from yun

y/n: sure.?

as you respond to mingi, you wait a few seconds before mingi’s called ID pops up on your phone. the last thing you need right now is to talk about yunho— and if he calls for just that, you’d rather hang up and sit in silence as you literally haven’t even recovered from that entire show that just took place not even an hour ago.

“hello?” he speaks.

“hey, m-ming…mingi?” you try to pronounce his name, thinking you forgot his name, but he’s quick to confirm that you’d pronounced it right.

“yeah you said it right. how are you, y/n? how’s everything going?” you think he’s only starting small talk just to get to the topic of yunho.

“i could be better but for now i’m okay. how are you, mingi? what makes you call me at this hour?”

“if i’m being honest, i was going to ask you how you and yunho were putting up since i know he just got home from your place. he looked pretty fucked up, y/n.” you feel like he’s guilt tripping you, but you also feel like he’s part of the reason you got to see yunho tonight.

“we didn’t really talk much, he explained what happened that night and i know he regrets it— well, i like to believe he regrets it. plus, i really don’t know why it took him so long to reach out to me through san. because if he really wanted to reach out to me, he wouldn’t just send me pathetic ass texts and not have san call me.”

you and mingi both know that yunho’s texts were not pathetic. they— in fact— made your heart sink, and got you to seeing yunho, even though you didn’t want to be reminded of him, those texts are the reason you still saw him.

“i talked to him a couple years ago and we found each other at our lowest. we met at rehab— he was very much into popping pills and inflicting pain onto himself so i decided to help him out since we were going through the same thing. he had no place to stay, he sold his apartment because he owed that fucker san drug money. i took him into my apartment and i helped him build his credit score and save up to get his own place. he ended up buying a house bigger than mine. no matter what he does, he’s never really happy. i’ve known yunho long enough to know that he is not himself. listen, y/n. i’m not trying guilt trip you, but yunho really did love you. a lot of us do things we shouldn’t but that’s not an excuse. people fuck up, and you don’t have to forgive him, but give him the room to change in a way that shows how much he regrets doing that to you. i’m not saying you need to forgive him now or anything, but let your logic do it’s thing. goodnight, y/n. call me if anything changes.”

mingi hangs up the phone, leaving your head empty and full at the same time. so much happened today, and the last thing you needed was mingi unpacking everything to you.

yunho never mentioned that in his texts. since the both of you were together, yunho was too scared to touch a drug— that being part of the reason he never got along with san.

your pink nail polish is laid out on the floor in crumbles as you’ve picked it all off your nails. you think twice or three times over about how yunho was so broken over what he did to you. he’s the victim in his own story.

you are broken, but you didn’t feel like you were allowed to be hurt— though you have every right to be.

while you and yunho were together, you often refused sex when you got back from work, claiming that you were ‘too tired’ or ‘too busy’ to pay yunho any attention. you can’t remember the last date you had with yunho.

your thoughts cloud your brain as you slowly start to feel like you’re part of the reason he’d cheated on you.

“we hadn’t had sex in like 4 months so i started to believe it.”

“they said you don’t deserve someone like me.”

“they said you can’t handle me”

you walk over to your kitchen, grabbing your lighter and heading back to your balcony. as the night sky hugs your home, you start to mentally prepare yourself for the next few months. you’ve cancelled every lash booking you had for the next week and a half, not being in the right headspace for anything.

you pick up your phone, calling wooyoung.

“it’s 3 in the morning go back to sleep.” he groans. you caught him at the wrong time, hearing a female voice in the back moaning and breathing heavy.

“can you come over? i need you here.” you light your cigarette, the smoke clouding the air in front of you.

“i’m on my way.”

in almost 7 minutes, your best friend is sitting right by you, throwing the cigarette off the balcony. he notices how your nose and eyes are puffy from crying, how your gaze is absent. he puts his lazy hand around your shoulders, pulling you to lean on his own.

“i’m guessing it didn’t go well?” he asks, his baggy flannel smells like comfort, making your eyes well up in tears, in appreciation for your best friend.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung. i keep crying to you. i’m just so overwhelmed and so much shit is unfolding tonight, i just wanna run away from everything bro.” you sniffle into his chest, his hand rubbing on the small of your back.

“hey, it’s okay. it’s okay to cry. talk to me when you’re ready. i’m here to listen, babes.” he rubs and shushes you, as you relax against his hands.

“we talked about what happened that night and how it happened. he said he just didn’t feel like i wanted him anymore and because we didn’t have sex in like 4 months he started to believe what sara and maya were saying.”

“what were they saying?”

“they were saying shit like i didn’t deserve someone like him and that i was stupid to believe i could have someone like him. then when he left he kissed my forehead and walked out and that just was the cherry on top.”

“shit, y/n. i’m sorry.” he stops rubbing your back as you sit up facing him. he brings his hand up to wipe your tears and fix your hair.

“what else, babe?”

“then like an hour after he left, mingi texted me and when i saw it he asked to call. then i said yeah and called me and he told me how yunho was coping when we split. he said he got into drugs and started doing self harm and shit, he sold his apartment cus he owed san money for drugs and he had to get into rehab for it all. he told me how yunho regrets everything but i don’t know, woo. what do i do?” you breathe. you don’t wanna keep crying, but it’s all you can do.

“how’d you feel after the talk with yunho?” he questions.

“i don’t know. i just feel like i wanna give him room to change cus i feel like he would. but then again, he cheated once and he literally said he wanted to leave but i was holding him back from doing what he wanted. i feel like a burden on him even when we’re not together anymore. and i don’t wanna have to go through that again.”

“first of all, you’re the victim. i don’t know why mingi is making it seem like you’re to blame. second of all, i’m not gonna tell you what you should do. all i will say, is that you need hella time to figure it out. listen to your brain, y/n. not your heart. your heart will tell you to do things impulsively, it’s why your brain is up here, and your heart is right under it. your brain will lead you to do the most logical thing and what’s best for you. ’ll support you, no matter what choice you make. but please make the right one.” he kisses your temple, bringing you back to lean on him again.

“woo,”

“yes, y/n.”

“i don’t know what the fuck i’d do if i lost you.”

“you interrupted the best fuck of my life, but i forgive you. don’t let it happen again.”

you laugh, following wooyoung’s giggle.

“i love you pookie”

“i love you, y/n. do you want me to stay the night?” he watches the stars twinkle and dance, taking in the feeling of his best friend in need, and him being the only person who could make you feel at ease— something he would never take for granted.

“please.”

wooyoung giggles lightly as the both of you stand up to head to bed, falling asleep much easier than the night before.

—————————————————————————————

hello!! wooyoung is so cute ☹️

taglist: @bbae98 @haohaoshoe @k-hotchoisan @stolasisyourparent @atinytiny @isiloiale @kpophosblog @nakiiko @certifiedmoa @aaniag @yunnieo @chosoteta @xuchiya 🤍

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lowkeychenle · 9 months

Text

The Last Straw [ZCL] (M)

Description: Chenle has been your best friend for as long as you can remember. Being in love with him isn't easy, until you find out he reciprocates those feelings (thanks to Cockblocker!Jaemin).

(This was requested!! Thank you for the request and I'll respond to the ask with this link <3)

Genre: Fluff/Smut

Content Warnings: Explicit (protected) sex, I have a thing for Chenle saying pretty girl so excuse that in almost all of my Chenle fics rip me, Chenle is just perfect okay but also sassy

Word Count: 3,742

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader (feat. Cockblocker!Jaemin because he's a mess)

Juliet's Masterlist

(also I made a moodboard for this one instead of using gif and i think the moodboards are so much more fun so I'll prolly make these from now on! Disclaimer: I don't own any of these photos!)

“Respectfully, if you don’t knock that off, I’m gonna swat you upside the head.” You give Jaemin a pointed look from your spot on Chenle’s couch. “You’re just mad that he beat you again.”

“He cheated.” Jaemin crosses his arms over his chest, returning your glare with ease. “No way he’s actually that good at this shit.”

“I think I’m pretty good at everything, honestly.” Chenle shrugs, leaning back against the cushion and resting his arms along the top, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

You and Chenle have been best friends for years. Longer than he’s known Jaemin, that’s for sure. No way would you take Jaemin’s side over Chenle’s, even if he so happened to be in the wrong.

You look at him with a smile, which he returns, brow quirking in response. Jaemin grimaces at the two of you.

“At least let me leave before you start making out.” He scrunches up his nose. “Disgusting.”

The tips of your ears burn as your attention shoots over to Jaemin. At the same time, Chenle launches a throw pillow in his direction, leaning forward as if he’s about to stand up. Jaemin holds his hands up in mock surrender as he swats it away.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, running his fingers through his faded pink hair. “And don’t have too much fun by yourselves.”

When the door closes behind him, it leaves you and Chenle in awkward silence. You can’t lie and say you’d never thought about kissing him, but not recently. If ‘recently’ is only the past few days. There’s something about the general confidence Chenle has that makes you curious.

“Um.” Chenle clears his throat, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Wanna pick something to watch? I’ll make popcorn.”

“Absolutely.” You give an exaggerated nod, lunging forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

You think everything will go back to normal after he returns with a bowl. He sits next to you, putting his arm over your shoulders again and shifting until he’s pressed comfortably against you. This isn’t abnormal, but for some reason, it has your heart racing much faster than it should.

The show plays for maybe two minutes before he clears his throat. You think nothing of it until he does it again, pulling your attention to his face. The lights inside the house are off, but the sun is resting just above the horizon, painting an orange glow on his skin.

“What’s wrong with you?” you ask. “Do you need some water? You haven’t even had any popcorn yet.”

He blinks. Once. Twice. His eyes even flutter across your face.

“This is weird. What’s going on?” You frown at him.

“Have you ever thought about it?” He quirks an eyebrow.

You chuckle. “Thought about what?”

“Nevermind. Forget it.” He shakes his head, leaning back with a slight pout to his lips.

“No, tell me.” You gently smack his chest. “Don’t do that.”

“Fine. Just remember you made me say this,” he grumbles, sitting up again. He’s only inches away from you like this. “Have you ever thought about kissing me?”

“I mean…yeah.” You shrug. “We’re around each other all the time. I’ve literally seen you kiss people before. Nothing wrong with a little curiosity, you know?”

“Why haven’t you asked?”

“Asked what?” You laugh before you stop yourself. “To kiss you? Are you insane?”

“You just said you wanted to,” he points out, shifting closer. “Why wonder when you can know for real?”

“You want to?” Your eyes widen as they dart down to his lips unintentionally.

You watch his pupils dilate, his eyelids threatening to flutter shut as he nods. He’s so close to you, you feel his short, choppy breaths. What the hell are you doing? This is the last thing that should happen—in no world is Chenle kissing you a good idea. You’ll fall into a rabbit hole and probably accidentally admit how you want more than that.

No way in hell you’re going to stop him when he’s looking at you like that, though. He hesitates, meeting your gaze one last time, a thousand questions moving from his mind to yours. There’s only one you need to answer, and you do. Slowly, you nod.

The initial brush has sparks igniting along your skin, and you instinctively grip onto the sleeve of his T-shirt. Usually, he’d tease you for something like that. He’d say something about how you’re trying to strip him down, but he doesn’t seem to have any other thought besides kissing you right now. This is the most attractive you’ve ever seen him.

When he really kisses you, his full lips pressing gently against yours, you swear electricity courses through the two of you, the sparks enough to make you gasp. You’d imagined this plenty of times, but never did you think it could be like this.

He sighs, bringing his hand up to weave it through your hair. You push yourself closer to him and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

The second his tongue runs across your bottom lip, you let out a short, quiet moan. Instead of taking a moment to tease you about it, he uses the opening. The two of you battle for dominance, but when his thumb rubs against your scalp, you know you’re no match for him.

Everything around you heats up, and as much as you hate to deny it, you feel your panties dampen. Your body tingles with excitement as he guides your back down against the couch, finding the spot between your legs he fits in perfectly. No matter what, you don’t dare open your eyes or pull away right now. If this is a dream, you sure as hell don’t want to wake from it.

As he settles on top of you, you gasp when you feel him semi-hard through his shorts. Before you can psych yourself out of it, you reach for the hem of his shirt and start sliding it up. He takes the hint, pulling away to tug the fabric over his head. Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to admire him before his lips are on yours again.

“I was almost all the way home when I—what the fuck?” A familiar voice from the doorway has Chenle launching away from you.

The trance is broken, the moment is gone, and all you’re left with is burning cheeks and instant shame under Jaemin’s scrutiny.

Chenle scrambles for his shirt, and instead of putting it back on, he puts it over his lap in a poor attempt to hide his arousal. You can’t bring yourself to sit up, your palms still flat on your face.

“I didn’t know you guys actually did that.” Jaemin grins, placing his hands on his hips and smiling widely. “Good job, buddy.”

“We don’t.” Chenle rolls his eyes. “What did you even need?’

“I left my jacket here.” Jaemin points over to the kitchen, where it’s draped over one of the dining room chairs.

“Okay…so how about you grab it…and you go?” Chenle glances up to the ceiling, as if he’s asking for strength, and then blinks rapidly at Jaemin. “Like, now.”

You still haven’t moved, only spreading your fingers apart to look at Chenle.

“Right. Yeah, duh.” Jaemin rushes to get it, not acknowledging either of you again until he’s at the door. He stops, reaching into his pocket for his wallet before he tosses something at Chenle. “Make sure you’re safe! Bye!”

He leaves, and when you finally get the courage to look up, Chenle has his head in his palm. A condom is about a foot in front of him, sending another wave of embarrassment to your face.

“So…” Chenle trails off. “Maybe we should rewind the show.”

Disappointment flutters around your heart. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” You gulp and grab the remote. Regardless of how much you wish you could yell at Jaemin for interrupting, the urge to continue doesn’t subside.

“(Y/N).” He sighs, brows furrowing. “I need to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to do that again.” He leans his head back on the couch, and this time, you pay close attention to the expanse of his neck. The two of you don’t hide things from each other, so nothing is off limits—you’ve heard all about the things he likes, and neck kisses are one of his weaknesses. Your mouth waters at the thought of it.

“Me too.”

“But I need you to know it’s not just…it’s not all I want.” He closes his eyes, cringing at his own words.

Your brain doesn’t compute what he means at first—you assume something completely different. “Are you saying you want to have sex?”

His attention shoots to you. “No! Well, yeah, but that’s not what I meant by that. I have feelings for you, dumbass."

“For me?” You snort, half-choking on a laugh until you realize he’s serious. “Why?”

“You’re an idiot.” He rolls his eyes and groans. “Why wouldn’t I? Have you seen yourself? Met yourself? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, but if you even try to repeat that to anyone I will vehemently deny it until the day I die.”

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?” Your brain whirls at the sight of him, and your entire body yearns to be close to his again.

“It’s the truth. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I’ve never had the courage to say anything.” Chenle chews the inside of his cheek, pondering. The thought of Chenle’s confidence wavering when it comes to you has your heart tumbling in your chest.

“You know what this means?” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?”

“Your mom is going to be so excited.” You bite back a smile, but it breaks through anyway when you see him glare at you, narrowing his eyes.

“Why would you bring my mom up right now? Are you trying to make me go soft?” His words send heat to your cheeks, and it takes everything in you not to tap them to snap yourself out of it.

“You’re still hard after Jaemin came in here like that?” You push his shoulder.

“I was on top of you, dude. There’s only one way I’ll be able to get this thing down, and hopefully, it’ll be with you and not my hand.” He takes a deep breath. “Whatever you decide is good with me.”

Leaving Chenle to his hand is the last thing you’d even think about doing right now. You don’t want to move too quickly, but when he looks away from you briefly, you use that as an opportunity to straddle his lap. He gulps and shifts beneath you, immediately gripping your waist.

“And now you’re on top of me,” he mutters. “I’m gonna have so many dreams about this.”

Before your nerves can overtake you, you dip your head down until you're mere centimeters from him. He wasn’t lying about how hard he is, his bulge pressing beautifully against you. At this point, you curse yourself for wearing denim shorts. You’d be feeling it so much more if you were in something softer.

“You should know,” he says, right hand trailing up to cup your cheek. “We can take this slow if you want. I don’t want to rush you. Everything needs to be done right.”

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He grins softly, only for a moment before his beautiful mouth is on yours again, working magic you’re sure only he’s capable of. You live for the sounds the two of you make, your lips moving together in harmony as if you’re made for each other.

At this point, you think you just may be.

You sit still on top of him, not quite wanting to elevate things yet, and he doesn’t push you. He lets you take everything at your own pace. Eventually, your tongues meet again, but you don’t fight him this time. You allow him to explore your mouth, sighing at how skilled he is at it. When he pulls away, his teeth gently digging into your bottom lip to tug it, you groan, your hips finally moving on their own accord. His smug look quickly fades as his breath shudders. You grind down on him, his hardness gliding along your clit through way too many sets of fabric.

“Chenle,” you groan. “I need you.”

“Patience, pretty girl,” he hums, moving along to your rhythm. “Need you to keep going, okay? Don’t stop.”

You didn’t intend to. Instead of waiting for his next move, your lips connect with his neck, nipping and licking along the skin you know is sensitive. You feel his soft moan before you hear it, and something inside of you snaps.

“Damn it, Chenle, I need more.”

“Do you?” His gaze darkens when he meets yours, fingers still weaved in your hair.

“I need you.”

He wets his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he nods. “We should go to my room.”

Doing your best to keep grinding down on him, you reach down to the bottom of your T-shirt, making quick work of it so it can join Chenle’s on the couch. He stares at you, attention everywhere.

“I lied,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “I don’t like you. I’m in love with you. Let me take you to my room.”

The confession sends you reeling for half a second, and then you’re sliding off his lap to allow him to get up. You’re already weak at the knees thinking of all the things about to happen between the two of you, but you don’t dare say anything else as he bends to grab Jaemin’s condom from the ground, intertwines your fingers, and practically drags you toward his bedroom.

Right when you step foot through the threshold, he closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. His lips work harshly on yours, leaving you to whine into him. Without wasting another second, his fingers pop the button on your shorts, and he pushes them down your thighs. They slide to the floor, leaving you in your bra and panties. You almost get self-conscious at the way he’s looking at you, but his hand starts ghosting along your inner thighs.

“I wonder how wet you are.” His voice is dangerously low, sending all sorts of shivers up your spine.

“Why don’t you feel and find out?” you taunt him, rocking your hips toward him.

With one quick movement, he unclasps your bra, leaving your top half bare as his head dips down. He nips at the flesh, and you swear you feel your heart pounding in your throat. Taking your nipple into his mouth, he swirls along it. He tweaks the other, and a moan escapes you before you can even try to hold it back.

“How about I make you cum on my face?” he mumbles, nipping as his mouth trails downward.

Then he’s on his knees in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a man like Chenle on his knees for you. His fingers hook in the hem of your panties, and he glances up at you.

“Are you sure this is okay?”

You nod, but it’s not enough for him.

“Say it out loud,” he commands. “I need to hear you say it.”

“It’s more than okay. Please do something.” Your head thuds against the wood of the door.

He smirks, tugging your panties down to the floor. Hoisting your leg up on his shoulder, he leans forward to lick a broad stripe up your core. You’re not sure where to grab, but you can’t find anything to hold onto except for the door handle.

Pausing, he reaches upward, guiding one of your hands to his hair. You take the hint, grasping onto him for support. Your one leg keeping you standing is already shaking, and when his tongue prods at your slit, you shudder.

His nose nudges your clit, and you push him further between your legs.

He pulls away, mouth shining with your arousal. “My pretty girl has such a pretty pussy. I could fucking eat you forever.” And just like that, he returns to his ministrations, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bud and flicking it with his tongue.

You cry out his name like a mantra, grinding into his face while he doesn’t dare let up for even a moment. Knots form in your stomach—the kind that have your hips bucking wildly—and suddenly, the repeated ‘Chenle’s escaping your mouth start to taste so, so sweet.

And then you crumble, hardly able to stay afloat. He slows down, helping you ride out your high before placing one last kiss on your clit and standing up.

His lips meet yours, and the taste of you doesn’t do a thing to bother you when you’re so dazed from your orgasm. He moves down to the sensitive spot by your ear, and you gasp, tightening your grip on him.

“Chenle.” You pull him up to look at you. “I love you, too.”

His breathing shutters as he spins you around, mouths connected harshly, and walks you back toward his bed. The glow of the sun has faded, the night sky surrounding the two of you in delicate, gentle silver light as he lowers you onto his mattress.

He pauses, eyes trailing over your body slowly, as if in appreciation. Neither of you moves until his hands move down to his sweatpants. You’re barely able to see him as he grabs the condom from his pocket and before pushing them and his underwear to the floor. He steps closer to you, gripping your thighs and tugging you to the edge.

“Are you sure?” he whispers. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You sit up and take the condom from him. Once you rip the wrapper open, he gulps, watching as you reach down. A small sound escapes him when you wrap your fingers around his cock and stroke it a few times.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m sure.”

You roll it on him. He barely gives you enough time to finish with it before he crushes his mouth to yours with every ounce of feeling he has.

Scooting back on his bed, he climbs on to join you, stopping only when he hovers over you. His face is so close to yours, you almost moan at how swollen his lips are. He lines himself up with your entrance, making sure to brush against your clit a couple times.

And then he’s pushing inside you, stretching you slowly while he waits for your reaction. Your eyes roll and you lift your hips to get him deeper. He pauses, nuzzling against your shoulder, shuddering breaths fanning across your skin.

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back against the mattress as you adjust to the way he fits. He starts slow, pulling out only a bit to push back in. You weave your fingers through his hair, stroking his scalp in encouragement as he picks up his pace. His hips roll against yours, each thrust pulling sounds from you.

“God,” he mumbles, running his tongue along your collarbone.

“Kiss me,” you say, tugging at him. “Please.”

His lips are on your seconds later, surprisingly gentle. Your heart thuds in your chest. He swallows every moan, reaching up to intertwine intertwine your fingers together. With your hand pinned next to your head, you get lost in his rhythm. Everything around you is unbearably hot, skin sticking to skin while sounds of your wetness fills the room with each of his movements. Your brain whirls and you swear you’re going crazy the longer he’s inside you.

The pleasure is so intense, you doubt you’ve ever felt this way before. Your body shakes from his movements, and you do your best to match him. You feel knots forming in your stomach, but you don’t want it to be over yet, you want to be in this bed with him forever while he makes love to you.

He shifts closer, and you cry out when he slides right into your spot. His mouth rests against yours, gazes locked as he repeats the action over and over.

Releasing your hand, he reaches between the two of you, fingers connecting with your clit. You’re unashamed of your loud moan, especially as your orgasm hits like a tidal wave. Arching into him, you grip his shoulders.

He curses, face contorting in ecstasy as you clench around him like a vice. With a low groan, he snaps his hips into yours, sucking in a breath as he reaches his climax. He pants, setting his forehead on yours with his eyes closed.

“Good fucking God,” he mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Your mind is so shattered and overwhelmed, you can’t do anything but giggle. He’s shocked for a moment, but he joins you, kissing you once more before gently pulling out of you. You slump into his mattress, staring up at the ceiling fan.

“I’ll be right back,” Chenle tells you, rolling off of the bed to dispose of the condom.

Sweat sticks uncomfortably to your skin, but not even that can wipe the smile off your face. When he returns, he finds his place next to you, and regardless of the heat, he pulls you to his chest.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod slowly, eyes fluttering shut. “Mm.”

“Holy shit, I fucked you dumb.” He laughs, squeezing you.

You give him the best glare you’re able to muster, but it must not be that great, because his smile doesn’t fade.

“So.” Brushing your hair behind your ear, he raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we should go out on a date. Or something.”

“Right now?” You stare at him, dumbfounded.

“No, not right now.” He shakes his head. “Soon, though. Like tomorrow.”

You grin, nodding. “I want that.”

“Good. Me too.” Chenle cradles you closer to him.

Grabbing the small blanket folded at the foot of his bed, he brings it up to cover both of you and hums when you throw your arm around him.

“I love you,” he says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the night.

“I love you, too,” you reply with ease.

With his steady heartbeat as your lullaby, you have no problem falling asleep in his grasp.

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #chenle #zhong chenle #chenle imagine #nct chenle #nct dream chenle #chenle fluff #chenle smut #chenle x reader #chenle scenarios

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thatgoblin · 6 months

Text

New Witch in Town Part 1

Summary: Things were going great till you received a promotion at work. Then everything went downhill. Your long-term boyfriend cheates on you, your job had to close down for a week, and you have to look for a new place while sleeping on your Ex's couch and listening to him boink his new girlfriend. At least you didn't have to sleep on his (your) couch too long. You didn't look too close at the house, where it was, or how you'd get there, but you'd have four new roommates that were gone a lot for work. It couldn't get any worse, could it? Right?

Warnings: cheating (not by our heroes, narcissistic ex, not really anything big happens this part. Will update with more as they come.

Moving sucks. I have always been of that opinion and are still. Especially since I was looking for a place after my boyfriend of 5 years and I split. I thought marriage was on the horizon, especially with my promotion at work and with how things were going so smoothly, but instead he wanted to get to know the yoga instructor that had moved in across the street. It was almost comical to think that I made up every excuse in the book for him when my friends and family all called him out on being narcissistic and manipulative, but the moment I saw my new neighbor in the downward dog in MY bed with my boyfriend one afternoon, that was it. The satisfaction of kicking him out would have helped me heal, but I had been the one that moved in with him and so I was the one that had to find a new place.

After looking for a week while sleeping on the couch, I thought I got a break. A large six bedroom house with a finished basement, a garden in the backyard, and four roommates in need of a fifth as they worked a lot and wanted someone home to take care of it when they had to leave for work. It seemed too good to be true. I knew it was four men living there as well, but that didn’t deter me. In fact I thought it was perfect. Roommates meant no feelings. I thought that when they were home they would be too busy going out and seeing girls or guys or whoever to even bother trying to sleep with me or date me. The last thing I wanted or needed (mostly needed) was to have a rebound or get in a relationship with a roommate.

Sending a message to the person who posted the ad in the paper, I arranged to get moved in quickly. There was no talk of rent or contracts or anything other than my move in date. It should have been a red flag, but I was desperate enough to get out of my Ex’s place that I didn’t think twice. Getting a moving van and packing up all my things, which was actually not that much since I wanted to just get out of there, I was quick to leave. The new place was gorgeous and I instantly fell in love with it when I pulled up. Yes, I also had not seen the place. My judgment was clouded because I needed to leave my Ex’s place quickly or end up in jail for murder.

Parked, I hopped out to knock on the door. Before I could rap my knuckles on the massive, dark stained door set, one opened to reveal a built man with a mohawk. We stared at each other for a moment, caught off guard by the timing before I shook myself. “Hi, I’m the new roommate,” I said, smiling as I held out my hand.

“Hello,” the man said, smiling back as he shook my hand. He was incredibly warm, literally. It felt like I was shaking hands with a heating pad on full power. “I’m Johnny, but everyone calls me Soap,” he said, pulling me in for a quick, bone crushing hug.

“Nice to meet you,” I grunted before he let go.

“Here, let’s get you moved in, yeah?” He said, walking over to the moving van.

“Here, I’ve got the key for the lock,” I said, digging it out of my purse. But Soap already had the back open with a small grunt and a quick lift of his arm. I was pretty sure I had locked it, but he was already in there and moving things to bring in.

“Hi, you must be the new Roommate, I’m Kyle,” a voice said, catching my attention from Johnny, who had started to unload what looked like four large boxes at a time.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, turning to look at him and smile. The man was leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. His eyes scanned over my body as I stood there in worn out clothes I didn’t mind ruining. A brow raised as we locked eyes, followed by a smile. The scent of rain in the forest floated from him to envelop me and coax me closer. Stepping towards him, I looked to the sky to see the gray clouds getting dark and moving faster. “It looks like it might rain, so if you can help unload-”

“Almost done!” Johnny called as he suddenly ran out of the house. Wait, when did he get inside? Also, why was he saying he was almost done?

“Johnny is enthusiastic about moving as well as helping people, eating, sticks, chasing cars-”

“No! You said you’d stop that joke!” Johnny yelled, stopping Kyle as he walked by with the last of my stuff.

“Wow, that was fast. Are you sure you got everything?” I asked, moving to look at the back of the van. “Holy crap, you just moved like twenty boxes from my van to the house in just a few minutes? What?” I must have been really distracted or Johnny was really strong and fast. Maybe both.

“So, a few things to go over,” Kyle said, putting an arm around my shoulders to guide me away as Johnny shut the back of the van. “Rent is due on the first of the month, so Price likes to have it at least a week before then. No parties, if you want friends over, make sure it’s when we’re not home, don’t go into our rooms, and don’t go into the basement.”

“Okay, your rooms I get, but the basement?” I asked, frowning as we stepped inside. The house was gorgeous, Victorian style with dark colors. It made me think of a less gothic Addams family home. The first floor was open with hardwood floors and gorgeous crown moldings in black, but the furniture didn’t match. It looked very worn and used, almost as if it was all on its last leg, and all the curtains were drawn everywhere. There was no sunlight to be seen, but that didn’t mean that the room was dark. There were lamps and overhead lights that lit up the place, making it easy to see around in the warm lighting.

“So, the basement is storage and with how Price likes his order, it’s best to just stay out of it so you don’t accidentally touch something he might pitch a fit over,” Kyle said, keeping us moving to the stairs. The same dark wood carried us up a story as he kept a firm hold on me to keep me from wandering. Which was odd given I was living there and I would need to know where things were. “Here are our rooms. The one at the very end is Price’s, mine is right here, next to yours and on the other side is Simon’s and Johnny’s.” Each door was painted black and had an emblem engraved. Johnny’s had a crescent moon, Simon’s had an Ankh, Kyle’s had a star with seven points, Price’s had a ram’s skull with big horns, and mine. . .

“So, since I live here now, can I carve something fun into my door?” I asked, looking at the blank space and trying to think of something cool to put there. Everyone else had one and I wanted one too.

“That is not up to me,” Kyle said, brushing it off. “Now, if you want to, you can meet Simon and Price. We actually leave in the morning for work and will be gone for a few weeks because of work.”

“Okay,” I said, following him without a second thought. “So, what do you guys do for work?” I asked, following him like a happy puppy with no fear in their heart.

“We’re in the military and go on work trips a lot. We figured that if we had someone here, then at least we would be less likely to be burgled or gone up in flames.”

“Well, I am pretty hyper aware of my surroundings when I’m alone and constantly check candles even if I’ve never lit any, so it should be good,” I said as he showed me back down the stairs to the living room where three men were waiting. One was Johnny who was nudging a man in a skull mask and giggling, the man in said skull mask who looked like a teen who found Hot Topic and bought every skeleton piece of clothing they had as well as eyeliner that was messily applied and smeared, and a man who looked like he knew the most and had the most authority of the group. Dressed in a long sleeve shirt and cargo pants, similar to Kyle’s, he also had trimmed mutton chops and mustache as a cigar burning between his thumb and forefinger. “Hi!” I said, waving with a grin and trying to put as much friendliness into my voice as possible.

“Right,” Kyle said, turning away before gesturing to me. “This is our new roommate. I gave all the rules and such as well as letting her know we’ll be gone soon.”

“Kyle said you guys were in the military and would be gone, so no worries on anything. I already promised no parties and no snooping,” I said, rocking on my feet as I put my hands on my hips. “So, who are these guys?” I asked Kyle, pointing to Skull man and Cigar man.

“I’m John Price,” the man with the cigar said as he stood up. A plume of smoke billowed out from his nostrils, his blue eyes were bright to the point I swear they were glowing. “Pleasure to meet you. We’ll be out of your hair in the early morning.” He held out his hand for me to shake with a soft smile. I probably came on a bit strong, but that was okay. Grabbing his hand, I shook it firmly. He, like Johnny, was incredibly warm to the touch, but there was something else. Like an electricity to him that had my hand twitching to grip his hand harder.

“That’s Simon,” Kyle said, pointing to the other man who waved from the sofa as Johnny poked at his face.

“Hi!” I said, marching over to take his hand that was not offered in any way to shake it. He tensed when I touched him, going still and flexing so I couldn’t actually move our hands. “Oh wow, strong,” I said, giggling nervously before letting go. “Well, I guess this is it. Thanks for the bed and furniture by the way. I didn’t really have anything when I moved out of my last place.”

“Furniture?” Price asked, raising a brow at me. “I thought you were bringing everything.”

“There’s not a bed?” I asked, suddenly feeling my mood take a dip. “I thought I saw in the ad that there was a fully furnished room.”

“No, I didn’t put that,” Kyle said, shaking his head.

“Right, sorry, that was probably something else. It’s okay. I can just sleep on the floor,” I said, forcing a smile to smooth things over. I needed this place even if I didn’t have a bed yet and I didn’t want to upset my new housemates.

“Don’t be daft,” Kyle snorted. “You can have the sofa.”

Better than the floor.

“I’ll be real quiet, I promise,” I said as John sighed and Ghost chuckled.

“No, no. We probably have something for you to use so you’re not on the sofa,” Price said.

“She can share my bed!” Johnny chimed in. My eyes went wide as Kyle groaned and Simon slapped the man on the back of the head. “What!? Nothing weird! Besides, I have the most normal room and it’s really fucking comfy.”

“Then you’ll have no problem taking the sofa for the night while our new friend takes your bed,” John said, smirking at him. Johnny began to protest when Simon covered his mouth.

“You can sleep in my room, Soap,” the man said, his voice gruff and low. “There, we’re situated.”

“I’ll show you where everything is,” Johnny said as he got up. I followed him, feeling an unfamiliar heat drop in my belly when I passed John. I glanced back to see him tip his head with a wink before I was led upstairs. Shaking myself to keep from thinking about it too much, I watched as Johnny opened the door with the crescent moon to let us in. While in my mind I had built it up to be this amazing, whimsical thing, it was very much a regular bedroom.

The boxspring and mattress were on the floor with fluffy pillows and blankets and sheets that were twisted into a nest of sorts in the middle of it while a dresser sat off to the side with knick knacks on it. The walls were a warm creamy color with posters of movies and football teams, as well as a few framed pictures of what looked like family. A writing desk was on the corner, holding a PC and two monitors as well as a small rack of gaming controls. A headset hung on one of the monitors while an en suite bathroom already had the light on. It had a toilet, a sink, and an old clawed bathtub that held a shower head. I was starting to wish I had checked my room to see my tub situation.

“Feel free to use the room while we’re gone till you get your bed in. Price has a bunch of stuff in the basement he’ll probably lend you when we get back, but I know a bed isn’t down there,” Johnny chuckled. “Shower works like a shower and hot water is plenty. All I ask is that you clean up and don’t leave things lying around.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate this. I swore that I saw there was furniture listed on the ad, but my head’s been so muddled lately that I probably combined two posts into one,” I said with a chuckle. “Oh well, at least there’s a back up plan. I promise I’ll make sure nothing gets messed up while you’re gone and it’ll be spick and span when you guys get home.”

“You’re not our house maid, just clean up after yourself,” Johnny snickered, ruffling my hair. It was an odd feeling, something someone would do with a person they were familiar with and while I had only met Johnny that day, I was pretty sure he would become a very important person in my life. All four of them really.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. The rest of the evening was calm, everyone gathering for dinner at the big dining table by the kitchen. Kyle ordered take out from a local Chinese place for everyone so dishes weren’t needed. Simon skipped dinner, opting to watch a footie game that was on. Conversation was good, they learned more about me, that I was a librarian at a local college and was on vacation that week because renovations were being done, that I liked animals, and as Kyle put it, always seemed to be a ray of sunshine.

“Simon doesn’t like the sun,” Kyle teased. “He’d melt like the Wicked Witch if he went outside during the day.”

“Shut it,” Simon growled, flipping him off from the living room as we ate at the table.

“Behave. I don’t want to sit on the plane tomorrow with you two bickering like children,” John said with a grumble.

“So where are you guys going?” I asked, getting more noodles on my plate.

“Classified,” Johnny said between mouthfuls of food.

“Well, do you know what you’ll be doing?”

“Classified,” Kyle said, snatching the last egg roll.

“Okay, do you know if-”

“Sorry, Love, classified,” John said, giving me an apologetic smile. At least he was nice about it.

“Alright, well, I hope it goes smoothly and quickly and safely,” I said. “Whatever it is you do.”

Despite trying to help, I wasn’t allowed to clean up after dinner. None of them would let me. Each of us went to our rooms after a quick ‘good night’ and it was starting to feel like home. Even if I wasn’t in my own room, I was in a clean bed (that had the very distinct smell of a dog despite there not being any evidence of the animal being there) with comfortable pillows and blankets, making it better than when I was at my Ex’s on the couch. In bed with my eyes closed, I found that I couldn’t fall asleep. I’d be on the cusp and then my body would jolt me awake as if some unseen threat had nearly grabbed me. The whole night was like that. It was when the guys left that I finally passed out from exhaustion. I had no idea what it was or why it was happening, but I at least was on vacation.

There was no return date for them that I was given, so I tried to keep busy with getting things I needed. Like the bed. It was hard to pick one and each salesperson I worked with seemed just as pushy as the last one. If I didn’t say no to all of them, then I would end up with ten beds. At least Johnny said I could use his. By the end of the week, I was finding myself feeling worse than when I was at my Ex’s on the couch. I was lonely and tired and emotional and just wanted someone to hug me and pet my head. Neither of those things were going to happen, so I tried to march on. At the mattress store, trying one last time, I was laying on a rather comfortable one when I heard a familiar voice.

Sitting up, I saw my Ex with the girl he left me for. They were hugging and touching foreheads and smiling while picking out furniture. He and I were supposed to renovate a room to make it into a library, but there he was with someone else and I was bedless. Worse, I didn’t have anything I wanted. I had unpacked my clothes into a closet, but all my pictures and decorations and bigger stuff were still at his place and I couldn’t bring myself to ask for them back. The tidal wave of emotions hit me, making me apologize as I speed walked out of the store before he could see me.

Back home, I changed into comfortable clothes and grabbed cold pizza to eat before turning on Titanic in the living room. I needed to cry and get it out before I turned into a hysterical nut job over a mattress. There I stayed for the weekend, crying over 1998 Leo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet because while their love was brief, it was intense and lasting despite the years of separation. That was how the others found me Monday afternoon. I was given a half day as a water pipe burst, kicking me out of my building again, so back to Titanic with tears and pasta.

“I’m flying, Jack. I’m flying,” I ugly sobbed as I held my arms out with Kate and Leo. The others were damn near silent as they stood by and watched my misery.

“Should we do something, Cap?” Kyle asked. They were in ear shot, but I ignored them as I ‘doo doo doo’d along to the score.

“I don’t know if we can,” John said.

“I’ll talk to her,” Johnny said, dropping his bag before coming over to me. “Hey there, what’re you watching, hen?” He asked, his voice soft and gentle as if he were speaking to a scared animal.

“Titanic,” I whimpered.

“How many times have you watched it?”

“It’s almost four hours long because it’s the extended edition,” I said. “I’ve had it on repeat since Friday.” Johnny was quiet, looking at me wide eyed before looking back to the group. That was clearly too many times.

“How about we turn this off for a bit, yeah?” John said, coming over to pick up the remote.

“No, don't touch it!” I shrieked, grabbing the remote from him. John jumped back like a wild animal snapped their jaws at him. “I’ve had a bad week and I'm still out of work because the building is old and hasn’t been kept properly for so long and they’re finding more things to fix. . .”

“You’re sad about work?” Kyle asked, coming closer, putting his arm around me. His rainy, earthy scent swirled around me, calming my tense muscles. John shot him a dirty look, but didn’t say anything.

“Not really. I mean, I haven’t taken a vacation in nearly 6 years because I love it. So a break is nice, but I tried to go mattress shopping this week and I felt weird every time I tried one and the last store I was at had my ex-boyfriend, Dirk, with his new girlfriend buying a writing desk,” I said, getting choked up. “We were making a library in our house and that was the last piece. Then I caught him in bed with his new girlfriend and now I’m just a loser in a big, empty house with no mattress who watched Titanic over 15 times!”

“It’s okay. We all go through bouts of bad luck,” Kyle said, rubbing my arms.

“But this isn’t bad luck!” I cried, pulling away to look at them. “I’m cursed! It has to be it! I was with Dirk for nearly 5 years and we didn’t canoodle once! We were planning on starting a radish farm in the countryside and raise sheep as a side project! Then right after I got my promotion, my boss gave me a whole gift basket of knick knacks, because she knows I love knick knacks, the same day I came home to find Dirk in bed with our neighbor! Then I had to sleep on the couch and listen to them boink till I moved in here, leaving behind so much stuff because I just wanted out of there, and then he finishes our projects with HER!? That’s being cursed.”

“How much stuff?” Simon asked, breaking the awkward/stunned silence.

“Like, I sold a lot when I moved in, but the bigger stuff was mine. The TV, the sectional, the bar cart, all the plants-”

“Suffice to say, you still have a lot over there, yeah?” John said, cutting me off. I nodded with a sigh, wiping my face with the sleeve of my fuzzy bathrobe that probably needed to be washed. I hadn’t showered or changed all weekend, having doused myself in deodorant and dry shampoo to make it through the day only to have it backfire when the pipe burst and drenched my clothes. So back into depression pants it was.

“Right then, looks like we have a mission, boys,” John said. “Gaz, get us a decent sized moving truck, Soap and Ghost, move all our shite out and clear the areas.”

“What about me?” I asked, looking at him with big eyes, full of confusion.

“You have the most important job of all, Love,” he said, resting a hand on my shoulder. Warmth bloomed in my chest as he looked at me with a soft smile. “Go take a shower.”

Well then.

“Are we not going to touch that she said ‘boink’ and ‘canoodle’?” Simon asked.

~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~

After a shower, with Soap coming in to make sure I didn’t still smell sad several times, I was deemed fit to join the mission of getting my stuff back. Kyle had found a moving truck easily with the day going late, so he and Simon rode together while John, Soap, and I rode in Soap’s jeep. “Is this the place?” Soap asked as we pulled up in front of the cottage like home that used to be mine.

“Yeah,” I said with a soft whine. “I mean, maybe we should come back tomorrow. He might not be home and I don’t want to walk in on him and her doing the horizontal tango again.”

“Listen,” John said, turning in the front seat to look at me. “You can’t just ignore things and let people walk all over you. You need to stand up to him and take back what’s yours. It isn’t right that he keeps so much while you just accept the bare minimum. Especially if it was yours to begin with.”

“It’s okay to take up space and speak up to keep that space,” Soap said, turning to look at me as well. “You’ve got back up in this, too. We won’t let him walk over you.”

“Really?” I asked, looking at them.

“Really,” Soap said with a nod.

“Okay, let’s do this,” I said, letting out a big breath. Stepping out of the jeep, I led the two men to the front door. Knocking quietly, I waited only a second before turning around. “Okay, he’s not home, let’s go.”

“No, you are going to stand your ground, Lass,” Soap said, catching me before I could even walk away. “You’ve got this.”

“And we’ve got you,” John said with a firm nod.

After nodding and taking another deep breath, I turned back around to knock louder on the door.

“Maybe a bit more ‘umph’ if ya could,” Soap said. Raising my hand, I slammed it down on the door as hard as I could three times. “Jesus, taking the door off its hinges,” he snickered.

It did the trick though, Dirk opened the door with a very bewildered look on his face to see me and two men of different heights, but equally big muscles. Dirk himself was tall, almost 6’7”, and had shoulder length brown hair that he kept up in a bun. He had recently shaved off the beard he’d been growing since we started dating as well, giving his once round face a more sharp angle.

“Peaches?” He said, looking at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I want my stuff back, Dirk,” I said, but my tone made it a request rather than a statement. “All of it.”

“What do you mean? You took all your stuff with you,” he said. In true Dirk fashion, he was trying to gaslight me and the others. I knew that most of the stuff in the house was mine and so did he, but he had made sure everyone knew it was ‘ours’ when they came to visit.

“No, I still have stuff here. My pictures, my decorations, my sectional and tv and appliances-”

“Look, I know you think you need that stuff, but you don’t. You’re good without it. Otherwise you would have taken it with you from the start,” Dirk said, giving me a soft smile. One that used to make me melt as he pulled so much nonsense right in front of me.

“Or, she didn’t have help to move it, so that’s why we’re here,” Soap said. “So, if you’d let us in to grab her stuff and go, that would be grand.”

“Whoa, whoa. I can’t just let you in here to take what you want,” Dirk said, holding up his hands. “I’ve got my stuff too and for all I know she could say it’s hers when it’s not. Obviously you’d believe her over me, so I can’t risk that. Look, Peaches, you can come back without these guys and I’ll help you get your stuff tomorrow, okay? I’m kind of busy and can’t stop what I’m doing.”

“Dirk, what’s going on?” A voice called. Walking out from the old office, the yoga teacher looked confused. She was in leggings and a sports bra, covered in paint.

“Nothing, Darling, go back to painting,” Dirk said with a dismissive chuckle. “So, how about after 3PM, hmm?”

Seeing the Yoga Teacher in her outfit, covered in pea green paint, and knowing she was painting over the Italian Vista Yellow of the Library that I had done triggered me. Dirk had clearly replaced me with ease and he was replacing everything I had done without a second thought.

“Dirk, give me back my stuff,” I snapped, looking up at him with a fury.

“Look, Peaches-”

“Shut up! I’m taking my stuff back and if you try to stop me I will bite you!” I growled. “Now move your stupid lanky, Jack Skellington body before I make good on my promise.”

“Whoa! Pe-”

“Stop calling me Peaches! That’s not my name and I don’t even like the fruit that much!” I snapped, pushing him aside. “Come on in guys. I don’t want to stay too long and get the smell of lies on everything.”

“I don’t know about that, but okay,” Soap snorted as he and John came in. Everytime Dirk tried to interrupt, I’d snap at him about how I kept all the receipts for everything big I bought and I did indeed own it. Yoga Teacher had left promptly, telling Dirk she’d be back later. Simon and Kyle were quick to help as well, Dirk giving Simon a weird look after telling him to go ahead and come in. Simon had cracked his neck and while I couldn’t see it behind his mask, I could tell he had a wide grin underneath.

It took maybe an hour to get everything from the sofa to the tv to the dining room table and all my small stuff. Once it was packed up, Dirk stood at the threshold of his home with his arms crossed while glaring at me. Soap just flipped him off while blowing a raspberry as we drove home.

Unloading was just as easy, the guys carrying everything inside quickly without even breaking a sweat. I knew active military people kept fit, but this was even a feat for them.

“Looks good,” Kyle said, seeing how everything seemed to magically match the house. Gone were the torn and taped furniture and in was the almost new items that really spruced up the home.

“Thanks,” I said, looking at them. “All of you for everything. I thought that I would be miserable for a much longer time than I was.”

“You’re welcome,” Soap said, ruffling my hair again. I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped at the display of affection. It felt nice.

“One problem,” Simon said from the sofa, having turned on the TV. “You still don’t have a bed.”

“Damn it.”

~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~::~

“Are you sure you’re okay with sharing your bed with me?” I asked John after grabbing some of my own blankets.

“Of course,” he said, opening the door to his room. Like Soap’s, it was clean and orderly. Everything in its place. He had bookshelves full of paperbacks and hardbacks that lined one wall, a desk that looked like it belonged to a lord or duke that was huge and had intricate carvings on it, and his bed was huge. I figured it would be a queen like Soaps, but it was a king with the softest, silkiest sheets I’d ever felt. The blankets were light and the pillows fluffy. It was going to be a dream come true to sleep there. “Make yourself comfortable on the bed. I’m going to take a quick shower then join you,” he said, giving me a smile before disappearing into his bathroom.

Soap wanted his own bed and while I would have been fine sharing with him, the look Simon gave me was warning enough. Kyle made an excuse that he was cleaning his room and didn’t want guests over, so that left me with Price. I didn’t mind so long as he didn’t. Pulling back the covers of his bed, I made a small nest to give us a barrier of sorts. It felt polite to designate our spaces given we barely knew each other.

Comfortable and laying in bed, I closed my eyes as the sounds of John’s shower lulled me to sleep. But like last time I tried to sleep when the boys were home, I jerked awake like I was either going to be grabbed or about to fall. Sucking in a breath through my nose, I looked around to find it had only been about 10 minutes since I laid down. John was coming out of the bathroom in just a towel to see me sitting in bed, looking around in a slight panic.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, coming over to my side of the bed.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “I was asleep and then I just. . . I don’t know. I woke up suddenly. . .”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, sitting next to me. Looking at him, it didn’t even occur to me that he had just a towel on. I was distracted. His body was built and toned, but nothing like a body builder. Short curls covered his chest and trailed down his belly, his legs and arms having a generous amount as well. While I got that with a glance, it was two large, dark scars that ran down either side of his spine from the middle of his shoulders to the middle of his back that drew my attention.

“Had surgery on my back,” he said, pulling my attention from the marks. “I fell out of a helicopter about 5 years ago and broke my back as well as my pelvis. It took nearly 15 hours of surgery to put me back together after getting med-evaced out of there.”

“Wow,” I said softly, worrying my blankets between my fingers. “It doesn’t hurt at all now?”

“No, not really. I forget they’re there since I never see them,” he said with a soft chuckle. “There’s much smaller ones too, we all have them.”

“Is that why Simon wears a mask?”

“Mmm,” he hummed, nodding. “Poor guy would get more stares if he didn’t wear it and he hates attention as is.”

“I’m sorry you were put in a position to get them. I know it’s naive and childish, but if only we could all get along,” I said.

“The world would be much better off,” he nodded. “I’m really proud of you today. That took a lot of guts. From just the small interaction we had with that prick, I understand why you wouldn’t want to confront him.”

“Thanks,” I said, chuckling. “I had help, but I’m glad I did it too. Not sure what I would have done without you guys.”

“Still be watching Titanic, I’d say,” John snorted. Scoffing, I nudged him with my foot as I rolled my eyes.

“It’s a good movie and pretty stinkin’ accurate,” I said.

“Eh, it has its moments. I don’t remember the third class passengers being locked behind doors, but Guggenheim was pretty spot on,” John said, holding my foot to absentmindedly rub it.

“You think? I mean, no one can say for sure about the doors or Guggenheim, but they tried to stay true to it and made it a lot more. . . Real, ya know?” I said, relaxing as he worked his way up my ankle with warm fingers pushing and working my tired muscles.

“No one ever thought it had really split besides a few of the survivors that said so, but then again, who listens to us?” He said.

“‘Us?’ Look, I know you’re in your late 30’s but you’re nowhere near old enough to have been on the Titanic. My great-grandmother, maybe, but you’re not even regular old,” I said. “You’re barely middle-aged. Then again, I heard we’re getting quarter life crises now.”

“Thank you,” John laughed. “For not calling me old. But you don’t know. I could be an immortal demon that just likes to spend time with humans because they’re so fascinating.”

“Well, you’re an especially nice demon, if I say so myself,” I said, smiling as he switched feet.

“Don’t tell the others, they’ll start using it against me,” he said with a wink.

“Oh, I think they know already,” I giggled.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. They know how to twist my arm to get what they want,” he said. “Okay, lay on your front.” Setting my leg down, he patted my thigh to encourage me to listen. I didn’t ask or bother trying to. Doing as I was told, I moved to lay on my belly with a pillow tucked under my head with my arms curled around it.

John moved, straddling my rear before pushing my sleep shirt up. Before I could protest, his fingers were digging and rubbing into my tense back. My words died on my lips as a moan came out instead.

“Looks like I found the right spot,” John hummed as he kept working that spot, earning more noises between whines and hisses and grunts till the knot was gone and he moved on to the next. It felt amazing and painful as he worked my body into submission. By the time he was done, I was goo beneath him.

“That felt good,” I mumbled into the pillow, feeling like I was in no way going to be able to move. John must have known his powers as he moved me over a bit and tucked me in. He left me for a few moments before coming back in pajama pants and a tee. “Were you just naked on top of me?” I asked.

“Is that a problem?” He asked, climbing into bed next to me.

“No, just an observation,” I said, finally falling asleep and staying asleep.

Instead of jerking awake, I had dreams filled with debauchery that would make Benjamin Franklin blush. All of it was with John, too, which made waking up to find a mess of arousal in my pants all the more embarrassing. John was already up and out of bed by the time I was sitting up, luckily, so I went ahead to shower then get breakfast. By the time I came back with a coffee and bagel, John was busy in my room.

He had found a bed frame in the basement that he said was perfect for me. It was a canopy bed made from wood with a dark finish and gauzy lavender curtains.

“I didn’t even know that I had this,” he said, showing me after setting it up. “It’s a king size, but I’m sure you’ll appreciate the space.” John had also pulled up a matching dresser and side tables as well. “It doesn’t go with the paint job, but you could do that in your own time.”

“It’s wonderful, thank you,” I said, turning to hug him tightly. He tensed for a moment before relaxing. That heat I had felt before came back, settling heavily as he held me.

“You’re welcome,” he said softly into my hair. Pulling away, feeling drawn to him still, I had to look away or I’d stay there longer. Soap and Kyle were waiting on me and I couldn’t put it off any longer. “You better go before they start hunting for you. I’ll unpack these few boxes for you and set them on your dresser and nightstand for you to place where you want later.”

“Thanks, again, John,” I said with a nod. “I really do appreciate this.” He turned to give me a smile before waving. Waving back slightly, I hurried down the stairs to where the two men were waiting on me.

“Someone looks flushed,” Kyle purred with a smirk.

“What? No, I just ran down stairs, shut up weirdo, let’s go get me a mattress,” I said, waving him off before walking outside. Were my cheeks red? I didn’t think there was much to it. It was just a HUG for crying out loud. I didn’t need or want to like my roommates like that. Eugh.

“So what size of mattress do you need for your new bed frame?” Soap asked as he drove.

“John said it was a king size,” I said, looking at my bank account. Which did not look good. I was paid for the first week off, but the second week was going to be paid as if I worked half days. “Which I’m now regretting that I said yes to. I was ready to buy a full size mattress. It’s just me in it so it didn’t need to be big. Heck, I was going to go for a twin.”

“You are not getting a twin bed,” Kyle said. “They are for children and grannies, of which you are neither. A full size is okay under circumstance, but you need at least a queen bed. Also, because Price put together the bed frame already, you have to get a king size. He won’t take it down and won’t let any of us touch it.”

“I know, I feel bad, but a king size is going to be over a thousand pounds and I don’t have that kind of money,” I said with a sigh. I hated letting people know that I didn’t have much. It felt weird and embarrassing.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll buy it for you,” Soap said.

“Wait, what? No, you can’t. I won’t let you?” I said, confused because he was so calm about it.

“Think of it as payment for your stuff replacing our old stuff,” Soap said with a shrug. That made sense. Pulling into the parking lot, it wasn’t long before we were looking at a sea of mattresses and all of them looked the same.

“Okay, so where should we start?” Kyle asked. I sighed and shrugged, but then Soap took the lead. Pulling me over by the arm, he picked me up like a doll and tossed me onto the bed as I yelped. “Not what I meant, but that works.”

“What the heck, Soap!?” I cried, bouncing on the bed.

“Is it comfortable?” He asked, hopping onto next to me.

“I mean, yeah, but-”

“Then on to the next one,” he said, dragging me off the mattress. Each mattress I tried, I was thrown on by Soap like a dog tossing his toy in the air to catch.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I said, clawing myself away from Soap. “If you throw me again, I will barf on you.”

“Duly noted,” he said as he sat up. “So, did you really spend 5 years with your ex and not have sex?”

“Why? Why are you bringing this up?” I asked, looking at him wide eyed.

“Well, it’s curious, is all,” he said with a shrug. “You slept in the same bed, but never did anything? Not even hands?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” I said, standing up to go to another mattress.

“Hen, wait,” he called, hopping up to follow me. “It’s just. . . He slept with your neighbor, but never with you and he lived with you. That’s odd.”

“Okay, I get it, I’m weird for not sleeping with my live-in boyfriend,” I huffed at him.

“No, I meant that was odd for him,” Soap said. “You didn’t suddenly find yourself wanting to fuck someone after years of celibacy. It’s weird for him.”

“Okay, so you think something else happened?” I asked, unsure of where he was going with this.

“Well, you said your boss gave you knick knacks and then everything went to shite,” Soap said. “It sounds like a curse to me.”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you there. Curses aren’t real, I was being dramatic,” I said. “My ex just decided he was over manipulating me and doing what he wanted while using me.”

“Did he ever do anything like that before?” Soap asked. “I mean, anything out of character that suddenly?”

“I don’t know,” I groaned. “I don’t think so. Johnny, what’s the deal with this line of questioning? It’s not a mystery to be solved. Dirk was a narcissist that was using me and made it so I didn’t see his intentions. That’s it.”

“I don’t think it is,” he said, shaking his head. “You said you went back to work and had to leave the same day? What are they renovating?”

“This is getting a bit weird for my taste, so let’s get back to mattress shopping,” I said, turning away quickly. The way he was pushing for something made my stomach twist. There wasn’t a grand conspiracy going on. It was just stupid things happening at the worst times.

It was another half hour before I found the bed I wanted. It was comfy and cozy and until I broke it in, I could put a pillow topper on it. With the purchase made then loaded up, we went home. Soap and Kyle were quick to move the pieces in before we realized I didn’t have any sheets. Of course.

“I’m just going to run down to the shops and grab some. I really want to sleep in my own bed tonight with my own pillows and covers,” I said.

“Here, take the jeep,” Soap said, tossing me the keys.

“Thanks,” I said, catching them. 15 minutes later I was browsing through the home goods store, trying to decide what colors I wanted. While browsing, my mind began to wander as Soap’s words came back to me. Curses weren’t real. They were just made up like fairy tales to keep people from messing around with dead things and not to be awful to each other. But he was right. Dirk had changed that day I got my promotion. We hadn’t been intimate because he wanted to have a slightly old fashioned relationship. I didn’t mind because I didn’t really think about that stuff because I was usually so busy with work.

He was still the bad guy, his gaslighting had been happening since we met and it wasn’t like his cheating was out of the blue. I had thought he’d been seeing someone else before, catching him kissing a girl from his work. He explained it away as they were in a play, which made no sense as he worked as a salesperson for compost. Soap’s words shouldn’t have been eating at me so much, but maybe he was right. Maybe I was cursed and I needed true love’s kiss or something to break it. Except, no one loved me and I didn’t love anyone. Not like that at least. That connection with someone where you can almost read their thoughts, that you can feel what they feel, and while sometimes you fight, it doesn’t tear you apart. It brings you closer.

No. I didn’t have that and I was starting to think I never would.

Just as I was about to grab the purple jersey sheets, lost in my thoughts, my hand landed on someone else’s.

“Oh, sorry,” I said as I pulled away. Looking to the right, a man with sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes had reached for the same set of sheets.

“Oh, no, go right ahead,” he said, his voice dripping with a Southern American accent. Chuckling, he stepped back to wave me on. “Sorry about that, I didn't realize someone else was grabbing for the same set.”

“Sorry, I was in my own little world, but thanks,” I said, taking the sheets to put in my trolley. “You don’t really strike me as a purple guy.”

“I’m usually not, but I was wanting to branch out a bit and, well, I need some new sheets anyways,” he said. “I’m Phillip, by the way.”

“Hi,” I said, giving him my name. “You don’t really get many Americans around here.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do,” he said, nodding. “Are you a local?”

“I moved here a while ago, so I’m basically a local now,” I said. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long. A few months really,” he said, leaning against his trolly. “I’m with the military and so I’m used to moving every few years.”

“Oh? My roommates are military too,” I said. “I have no idea what they do or what their ranks are, but they’re in the British military.”

“You don’t say? You wouldn’t happen to at least know their names, do you?” He asked with a chuckle.

“Uh, John, Kyle, Johnny, and Simon,” I said, a little perplexed. Maybe Phillip worked with them recently or they worked together in the past.

“That wouldn’t be John Price, Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish, and Simon Riley, would it?” He asked, coming closer as he kept his eyes locked with mine.

“Wait, yeah. Do you know them?” I asked. My stomach began to twist again, like it did with Soap before. Something in my brain was telling me to run away, throw things at him and get out of there as quickly as possible. The air around us didn’t feel right, It was suddenly stagnant and warm versus the cool and moving with the fans on.

“I sure do,” he said before my phone went off. It was John. Phillip’s eyes finally left mine to look at my phone in my hand with a smirk. “You should probably answer that.” Frowning, I answered it as I stood there with Phillip.

“John?” I answered, my voice shaking as I looked back up at the blond. Phillip stepped closer, cornering me to keep me from slipping past him.

“You need to get home, NOW,” John said. “I pulled out all your things and set them up like I said, but there’s something wrong. Something is very wrong.” He sounded agitated, almost out of breath like something had chased him.

“John, I think you’re right,” I said. He paused, hearing the tremble in my voice

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, the call getting staticy.

“I don’t know,” I said. Phillip sighed, holding his hand out for my phone, gesturing for me to give it to him. “John.” My back hit the wall of items, a few of them fell, but that was the least of my problems.

“What’s wrong?” He asked again, firmer.

“Do you know Phillip Graves?” I asked. John cursed as Phillip rolled his eyes, yanking my phone away. “John!”

“Hello, John, it’s been a while,” the man cooed. I stared at him with my mouth hanging open, turning to look for help. It hadn’t been that long since I was in the store and it wasn’t nearly closing time, but the entire store was empty save for me and Phillip. Even the employees were gone. “You know what we want. It’s an easy decision to make and I’ll make it even easier on you.”

“What?” I said, looking around again, seeing the windows blacked out. It had been bright with sunlight not five minutes ago. “John!” I cried, getting scared. Turning back to Phillip, he didn’t look the same. His eyes glowed red as black smoke rippled off of him. Screaming, I tried to rush past him, but he easily tripped me to send me to the ground. I didn’t have time to scramble as strong, smoking hands pulled me to my feet.

“Don’t hurt her,” Phillip said, his skin turning a pale, purple color. “Not yet at least. The ball’s in your court, John. I just hope your new roommate doesn’t mind being killed over a rock. I mean, you’ve let dozens of other people die over this, so what’s one more, hmm? You know where to find me when you’re ready to hand it over. Buh-bye,” he said in a sing-song voice before hanging up. “Now, let’s go have some fun.”

Masterlist

New Witch in Town Masterlist

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Taglist: @birdstoprey @sebbytheraccoon @pricescigar @alwaysshallow @sae1kie @sleepydang @lexi-zsy09 @ghostlywhiskey @ghosts-cyphera

#captain price #captain john price #captain price/reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #soapghost #simon riley x reader #johnny mactavish/reader #kyle garrick/reader #gaz/reader #soap/reader #ghost/reader

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anemoiashifts · 12 days

Text

permashifting & sv!c!dal ideation & early shiftok.

im so fucking scared to post this. tw.

ive been in the shifting community for four/five years now & most of my time was watching quietly from the sidelines up until last july when i made my shiftok account. i want to preface this by saying these are my experiences & observations & ive always been pretty firm on my stance. ive spoke about this (i think) twice on tiktok & will now give some updated insight. i don’t expect everything to agree with me but please don’t jump down my throat for saying what im going to. i respect you, please respect me. cool? yes? okay !!

there are similarities between sv!c!dal ideation & permashifting & im so so sick of people hardly taking about it. what re-sparked this interest in the topic was i saw someone make a video on their views towards the topic & i do resonate with their points heavily. this was the only video ive ever seen of anyone making a video like this minus myself & it’s been long overdue.

to clarify, im not against permashifting completely im against how permashifting is spoken about & how it’s promoted. it’s wayyy too casual & ive seen a lot of triggering things in my comment sections / confession submissions. i used to get about five of these or so (ppl saying they wanted to unalive themselves) a week when i was actively doing them but they’ve since kinda died down. if, me, an account with (at the time) ~15,000 tiktok followers were seeing this, i cannot imagine the kind of messages those 100,000 followers shiftokers were getting.

another thing that i haven’t spoke about too much is the sv!c!de notes id receive. i got about two or three of them. ignoring the overstepping of boundaries & oversharing, my heart goes out to those who submitted those. i think shifting came at a time when everyone was bored & cooped up inside & shiftokers could’ve unknowingly preyed upon people’s loneliness & vulnerability. i remember people could say things like “im k!11!ng myself tonight so I’ll wake up in my dr” & the fact that was even a thing is so beyond horrific. im gonna put some confessions ive gotten in the past just to show you what i was seeing daily at one point. scroll a ways down if you don’t want to to see. sorry ! idk how to blur it but would if i found out how to.

i wanta take a sec to call out all the adult shifters who neglected to speak about this.

i hear people say “but if they didn’t discover shifting they wouldn’t still be here” or “it buys people more time”. i get it. really, i do & i don’t think that’s a bad thing. what i do think the bad thing really is, is the adult shifting creators who enable the kind of talk & push that shifting is this other option without telling people to take care of themselves in this reality. the mental well-being & safety of people should always be put first, especially with spaces involving a lot of children when most of the information comes from the mouths of adults. shifting was popularized by tiktok at the height of c0v!d & everyone was arguably at their lowest. i think the timing in which shifting was introduced helped shiftok get popular at the time (along with harry potter trending, of course) & a lot of ppl saw it as a trend to latch onto & leech off of to grow a platform. i think some people totally — probably unintentionally — took advantage of peoples desperation for an escape for profit. that’s what I’ve felt with some former / earlier shifting creators, anyways. that’s why shiftokers are seen as these figures that were/are looked up to so heavily because they’ve gotten something that people with destructive situations are so desperate for & i think that’s really diabolical & sad.

this post isn’t to shit on shiftokers completely, not the modern shiftokers anyway. i have some really cool mutuals who genuinely post insightful content. i think tiktok has gotten a little better with some bumps every now & then but it’s not as bad as 2020.

i don’t think shiftokers are doing this intentionally. & who knows ? maybe they’re are afraid their audience will get upset or off put or they’ll lose support but the longer we put the conversation off the more people’s mental health will worsen. whatever the reason may be, keeping numbers up or getting “canceled” isn’t worth it at the risk of lives of children. it’s long overdue.

then the idea of escapism comes in. escapism isn’t bad. arguably, most things we do are escapism; reading, scrolling on tumblr. its how we look & obsess & look at that escapism. that’s when it becomes unhealthy. the consept of shifting as an escape from something like depression can exacerbate those feelings of because people do struggle to actually shift. that state of “waiting” to shift can be extremely difficult if you’re not struggling mentally, so if you’re struggling mentally on top of trying to shift without success? also throwing being a minor onto that.

anyways this post was all over the place because i could talk about this for hours. i have no idea if this will ever have a place on tiktok or if I’ll even end up posting this to tumblr. this was very ramble-y but a very important ramble imo. i tried to organize & keep this short to the best of my ability. feel free to agree, disagree but these are my poorly organized thoughts.

a little reminder to enjoy the journey & process of shifting rather then hyper focusing on “the end” of it. take a break if you find you self only thinking about shifting and not doing stuff you gotta do here or if your making yourself sick over it. it isn’t the end of the world if you don’t shift. i believe everyone is here for a reason & i can promise you everything will work out in the end.

to those who resonate with mental health struggles & shifting, my heart goes out to you & only with you the best. be gentle with yourself — that goes for all of you.

#reality shifting #desired reality #shifting #shiftblr #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter

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callsign-rogueone · 23 days

Text

the dress - i.c.

Imogen Cardulo x reader Imogen finds you getting ready for a night on the town, and makes it clear what she thinks of that idea. part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 #9: love confession words: 980 🏷: no book spoilers. reader wears makeup and a dress, but no pronouns used. very mild argument, talk of drinking and hookups, it's mentioned that reader had one (1) shot (I may be sober, but I can still write about drinking!), Imogen calls you sweetheart twice. I cannot believe it took me this long to post something for her! I just wanna be her cute little femme girlfriend so bad bro 😭

You shut the eyeshadow compact, satisfied with your work. It’s been a long time since you’ve bothered to do yourself up like this, and you almost don’t recognize your reflection, but it looks nice.

You hear the door unlock, straightening up.

“Oh, hi Im,” you greet, your cheeks warming. You weren’t expecting to run into her, but you suppose it was inevitable; you do share a bathroom, after all.

She stares at you blankly for a moment, taking you in -- she’s never seen you like this, ever. “What are you wearing?”

“A dress,” you answer, moving in a small circle to show her the full extent of the outfit. “I bought it first year, but I’ve never had a chance to wear it. Do you like it?”

It’s cute, a pretty shade of light blue patterned with tiny white flowers, cap sleeves and a short skirt that flutters as you move, but it's definitely not seasonally appropriate -- it’s very likely going to pour rain tonight, and that thin cotton isn’t going to keep you warm at all, especially when it only extends to your knees. She doesn’t see your flight jacket anywhere, either.

“I do like it. But why are you wearing it?“

You gather up the makeup back into the little bag you keep it in, pulling the drawstring tightly. “Me and the infantry girls I met last week are gonna go into town to hook us some civilians. Wanna come with?”

You stumble a bit as you turn, still unused to the heeled shoes you’d borrowed from your new friend.

Imogen reaches out to steady you, setting a hand on your back. She sniffs the air twice, undoubtedly smelling the shot of whiskey you’d taken earlier -- you hate the stuff, but it does the job, and you can’t really complain about the taste when there’s nothing else available; cadets aren’t supposed to have any alcohol in their rooms.

“I only had one shot,” you defend, seeing the unamused look on her face, “and I’m gonna need one or two to convince myself to go through with this.”

“To go through with what?”

“Y’know…” you gesture aimlessly, embarrassed.

She raises an eyebrow. “No, sweetheart, I don’t. Care to enlighten me?”

“To go out to a tavern and take somebody home. Or to be taken home, I guess, since we can’t have visitors. I’ve never done anything like this before, but there’s a first time for everything, right?” You manage a smile and a nervous laugh.

The anxiety radiating from you is her last straw, but she treads carefully, knowing you’re a little fragile right now. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” you ask, looking genuinely confused.

She can’t take it anymore. “Gods, how naive are you? Do you have any idea how dangerous this plan is? Walking half a mile to town at night in the cold with a group of girls you hardly know, dressed like that, just so you can get drunk and hook up with some stranger who you’ll never see again?”

You take a step back, grateful you don’t stumble again, and cross your arms over your chest in a show of intimidation that doesn’t work at all. “I can protect myself. And you don’t get to tell me what to do, or who to hang out with, and you certainly don’t get to tell me who to fuck. Why do you even care?”

“Because I want you to be safe, and because you’re worth so much more than just a drunk hookup. You deserve someone who actually cares about who you are inside, about your feelings. You’re a good person, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You deflate, looking down at the floor in shame. “You’re right, it was a dumb idea,” you mumble, rubbing your hands over your arms in an attempt to warm yourself up.

“C’mere,” she coaxes.

You step out of the shoes, taking a few steps across the cold tile toward her and letting her wrap her arms around you.

She smells nice.

There’s a moment of still quiet, just the distant sounds of water moving through the pipes.

She rubs a hand over your back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says quietly. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you.”

“S’okay,” you mumble, but she isn’t entirely convinced.

“Hey,” she says softly, “you know I love you, right?”

You blink. “What?”

She stiffens and pulls away, realizing what she’s admitted, but it’s too late to take it back. “I’m in love with you,” she repeats. “But if you don’t feel the same, I— mph!”

She squeaks in surprise as you tug her back to you by the collar of her flight jacket, connecting your lips.

You taste like malt liquor and strawberry lip gloss, and it’s intoxicating; she can’t get enough of the thing she’s wanted so badly for the last year.

You pull away for air after a moment, resting your forehead against hers. “I do feel the same, for the record. I’ve been in love with you for months. Tonight was going to be a desperate attempt to get over you, but that’s clearly never gonna happen.”

She smiles. “I’m glad I found you here, then.”

Rain splatters against the frosted window, a downpour starting outside, and you can’t help but laugh -- there’s no way you would have made it all the way to town and back like this; you’d be soaked before you got past the front gates.

“How about I go change into something warmer, and then we can start making up for all that lost time,” you suggest, picking up the shoes and your makeup bag.

“That sounds perfect,” she agrees, giving you another soft kiss. “See you in five minutes?”

You grin at her over your shoulder as you push open the door. “I’ll make it three.”

#imogen cardulo #fourth wing #imogen cardulo x reader #fourth wing x reader #mine #valentine's day celly #not in love with the beginning of this one but meh #it eez what it eez

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sapphoslastsong · 1 year

Text

Dear Professor,

Chapter One

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Yelena Belova x Fem!Reader (platonic)

No warnings for this chapter

Summary: You are in college and everything seems fine. Will it be the same when you’ll see your new Literature Professor?

Age Gap: Reader, 21 - Wanda, 34.

A/N: Hey guys! I’m back! I’ve been thinking of making a series for quite a long time, and well now the first chapter is here! It’s pretty short, since it’s a sort of introduction. It will be a challenge, because I’ve never written anything like this before, but I really hope you will like it! Always remember that English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!

General Masterlist Series Masterlist

I remember when I started college, I was so scared of the future, of life. I have never travelled much, and this is one of my greatest regrets, but I am just 21, and people constantly tell me that I have my whole life to live any experience I want. I’ve always been quite shy and introverted as a kid, people barely talked to me, but I didn’t care. When I was 8 I found my best friend, Yelena is her name. She’s Russian and at first communication was hard, but I taught her English and she taught me Russian, and now I can’t imagine my life without her in it. That little girl who sat next to me, I’ve been friends ever since.

Now I am in college, I started two years ago, and well it’s not easy, it’s actually a pure nightmare, but Yelena always tries to see things on the bright side, she told me that her sister taught her that, Natasha. I haven’t created a great bond with her, probably because she’s a lot older than me, but she’s a good person, one of the kindest I’ve ever met.

Well today I’m particularly nervous, I’ll start my new year. I gave my best in these last two years, but they say third year is the hardest and well, I have a lot of pressure, and I just hope to not ruin everything. I found out few weeks ago that I’ll have a new Literature professor this year, Wanda Maximoff is her name, and I wish she’ll be as great as Mrs. Harkness, hopefully I won’t miss her much.

When I arrived in class, Yelena was already there, waiting for me. “Hey good morning, wow I don’t even have to ask you how you’re feeling I can already see it” she starts, “well good morning to you and well, I’m so nervous…and the first two hours will be with Professor Maximoff, I hope I won’t fall asleep” “you fall asleep? Are you kidding? You’ve always been the nerd between the two of us, I’m sure you’ll be great” “Oh shut up Belova, and for the record, literature can be very boring sometimes” “Shut up the Professor is coming” whispers the blonde.

There she arrives, “Good Morning class, I am Professor Maximoff and I will be your Literature professor this year…” I would have never thought she would look like this, and actually I would have never thought she would be this beautiful. Is it love at first sight? Well, I needed a lot of things in my life, but having a crush on my professor was not in my plans. I couldn’t stop but look at her, her voice sounded like the most beautiful symphony, and I started living in wonderland, until… “Wait, I know her” “What do you mean you know her?” “I know her, she’s Wanda, a friend of my sister, I’ve seen her once or twice.” “Oh god”.

Yes, this will be a year I will never forget.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #yelena belova x you #wanda maximoff x you #yelena belova x reader

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beneathashadytree · 2 years

Note

Hey! I’m new to your page but I love it so much and your writing is literally amazing!! I don’t want to say you have talent because that under mines all the hard work you’ve put into writing but you are amazing :< My request is a one piece fluff with Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Kid, Law, Robin, Nami, Killer and and any of your favorite characters too ^ I don’t know if this is considered modern or not but basically them asking you to go grab their wallet and you see their drivers license or ID picture and it’s such an old crusty caught off guard picture like (sanji’s wanted poster bad) and they get embarrassed about it once they see you start laughing 😭. It can be modern or even within the one piece realm I just thought this would be so funny since this just happened to me 💔 Have a good day!!!

-aif

TEENAGE DIRTBAG - SANJI, ZORO, LUFFY, KID, LAW, ROBIN, NAMI, & KILLER X READER

Warnings : modern AU, cursing, lighthearted teasing from the reader, Kid always has a couple of empty threats at hand, they are all disasters, this is not proofread, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : fluff, crack

Word count : 2.4K words (oh shit)

Additional notes : Ahhh, you’re being so unbelievably sweet! I’m so so glad you enjoy my writing. I loved this idea so much because it’s the perfect mix of playful and cute. Sadly, I’ve only ever seen Killer like twice and he’s barely said anything, and I haven’t really graspd his personality yet, so please excuse me if he’s OOC🥲 I just wanted to give you a heads up that I only write for a maximum of 6 characters per post, and in headcanon form. If fluff pieces were what you wanted, then I only take single characters per post🫣 I did them all anyways and as fluff pieces because I’m sure you didn’t know this, given that you’re new to my blog. I hope you enjoy this, nonnie! Let me know what you think💗

Requests : Are open! Check the rules over here.

Want to support me financially? Here’s my CashApp!

Masterlist

“Could you grab me my wallet from my bedside table, sweetheart?” Sanji called from the kitchen, “I’m a little busy at the stove right now, and the set of knives I ordered last week should be here in a few minutes. They’ll need my identification.”

“Sure thing.” Getting up from the living room couch, they went to snatch his wallet off his table. It was a little messy, filled with tiny coupons and various credit cards (yes, including the ones he froze years ago after his estranged biological father had practically forced them upon him). Struggling to pull out his ID amidst all this jumble, they said, “You really should sort out the stuff you don’t use anymore. I’m pretty sure at least half of these coupons have—“

They paused, their fingers finally picking at his ID. “Oh my fucking God,” they choked out, before a wheezing laugh escaped them, “Sanji, what on earth is this?”

“Hey!” he cried out, thumping sounds coming from the stove as he no doubt was switching the knobs off, “Stop looking at that!”

“It looks nothing like you,” they laughed, as he ran to their side. “What’s with the terrible frown? And why did they edit your face to look so… boxy? And—“

“Yes, yes, very funny dear,” he scowled even deeper than in the picture, cheeks burning red with embarrassment. He snatched it from their fingers, as they continued to shake with laughter. “Stupid shitty photographer didn’t even give me a chance to blink before he took it.”

“You do look like you had your eyes open for hours,” they chuckled behind their hand, trying to stifle the sound as he stuffed it back into the wallet, preferably for burial. Shaking their head, they sweetly kissed his cheek, enjoying his raging flush.

“Oh well, might as well keep your handsomeness for my eyes only.”

“Zoro, did you pay our taxes?” they asked, frowning as they stared at the letter that had been sent to their mailbox.

“…No, I forgot,” their boyfriend grunted from the next room, continuing to deadlift in his little private gym, “Just use my phone and do it online.”

“Fine,” the sighed, making to get up, “Where do you keep your wallet? I’m gonna need your ID.”

“Probably on the coffee table.”

Humming in response, they followed his instructions and began to take out what looked like his ID, before they loudly cursed bloody murder.

“What’s wrong?” Zoro’s voice was worried, and he soon appeared in front of them with a concerned look on his face, drenched in sweat and a little flushed with the exertion of effort.

“This fucking jumpscare,” they managed to cry out, choking on a laugh as they thrust the ID in his direction, “You look like you’ve been convincted of twenty cases of homicide. What are you glaring so hard for?”

“Shut up. It’s only cause I couldn’t see well,” he grumbled, blushing furiously as he stomped over to reach for it.

Swooping out of his way, they snickered at him, “Was your “not seeing well” also the reason behind the tongue in your cheek and hardened jaw? Or is your face just programmed to permanently look like you want to deck someone?”

“Should’ve done these taxes myself if you were gonna be a little shit about it,” Zoro swore, his entire face blooming red down to his neck. The mortification won over, and he grabbed his ID.

“You probably should’ve, yeah,” they giggled, leaning over to kiss his jaw, much to his chagrin, “Guess you’re not photogenic. Doesn’t matter, you’re the best looking man to me.”

When Luffy asked them to go for a trip of snack scourging at the supermarket, the implication that they would buy booze was very clearly there. His hands busy with all the bags of food they’d bought, he’d pointed out the bottles of sake and beer he’d wanted, but hadn’t been able to pull out his wallet with his hands full.

“My hands are full, can you get that for me?” Luffy begged, after having huffed and puffed for a few minutes trying to pull it out of his pocket with only his pinky finger.

Chuckling, they nodded and did as their boyfriend asked, before glancing at his ID photo and choking on their spit.

“Holy shit, babe,” they wheezed out, body trembling with their laughter as they handed it over to the cashier, “What’s with that face? Constipated much?”

“Listen, I was hungry,” he moaned pathetically, one of his busy hands pressing onto his stomach as he pouted at them, “Like right now. And the man kept stalling for no good reason. I thought I was going to pass out.”

“So you somehow ended up looking like a wilted flower?” they arched their brow at him as they carried their drinks and tugged him by the arm. “Should I worry about you dying out on me now?”

“Yes, if you don’t hurry and drive us back quickly.” Luffy looked dead-serious as he started moving so fast that it turned into him pulling them along and not the opposite. “Unless you want me to eat the snacks right now—“

“Coming, coming!”

As per their almost-monthly usual, they got pulled over by the police in the middle of the road, and Kid could only grit his teeth and hiss out a “Fine” when asked for his driver’s license (because past experience taught him that calling an officer bringing him in for speeding a “cunt” was a sure fire way to end up in jail).

He fumbled with his pockets, before realizing that his wallet wasn’t there as it usually was. Before he could ask for it, they found it in the space between the driver’s seat and the gearstick. They quickly pulled out his driver’s license, briefly glancing at it once before their eyes blew comically wide and they slapped a hand on their face, trying to muffle their laughter.

Kid murderously glared at them, before finishing the routine up with the officer. As soon as they drove past him, they let their hand fall and howled with laughter.

“The fuck do you find so amusing?” he growled after they grew increasingly more hysterical.

“Your-your face!” they cried out, tears now falling down their face, “You never told me you had an emo phase! The black bangs, piercings, smokey eye…” they trailed off, interrupted by their loud laughter.

“I think I’m going to actually fucking kill you,” he hissed, despite the light dusting of red on his cheeks, which only fueled their amusement even further.

“Was this another one of your catchphrases in your teenage years?” they chortled, wiping away their tears and very clearly enjoying this.

“I’m parking right fucking now and kicking you out of the car.”

“Got everything?” they asked Law at the doorstep, pulling their suitcases along behind them.

He nodded, but still went on to flit through his waistbag, checking the stuff along as he did. Their flight was still in a bit, but he didn’t want to turn around halfway through the drive to the airport. “Passport, visa, cash, credit cards, ID… wait. The driver’s license.”

Cocking their head to the side, they looked a little confused. “What do you need that for? We’re vacationing abroad.”

He gave his partner a very pointed look, and they shrugged and went to get his license nonetheless. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on visiting every single monument around the city? We’ll need a rental car for that, and I’m the one that has an international driver’s license.”

Before he could say anything else, a howl of laughter erupted from the bedroom, growing louder as they came up to him. Exasperation in his eyes, he turned to them, already knowing the reason behind their extreme amusement.

“Yes, haha, very funny, Law’s squinting at the camera,” he drawled, holding his hand out, “Now could we get this over with? We’ll run late.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this,” they smirked, clutching the license close to their chest and taking another peek. “The squint’s not so bad, honestly. I can tell you just weren’t wearing your lenses. My problem’s with the god-awful hair.”

“Mullets were a thing when I was 18,” he snapped, trying to come up with an excuse—and clearly failing, if their peels of laughter were any proof. “And most teenagers don’t have much of a sense of style.” Law finally snatched the driver’s license from them, and took his suitcase rolling behind him on the way to where their Uber would pick them up.

Locking up behind him, they grinned, shaking their head. “Not much of a sense of style now either, love…”

“Robin, darling, I love you, and I would buy you anything you ask for, but we’re going to find ourselves broke by the end of the month if you keep spending ludicrous amounts of cash on book shipments,” they sighed, hurrying over to the bedroom where their girlfriend sat perched on her armchair, book in hand, “I think you need an intervention.”

The girlfriend in question chuckled, setting her reading glasses down, “Oh dear, that must’ve been last month’s ARC package. Let me get my wallet.”

“I already paid for it, but they asked for your ID for confirmation of the delivery. Is it in your wallet?”

Robin looked thoughtful for a moment. “No, I think I left it out on the coffee table when I came back from buying wine for our date night.”

They nodded and made their way out. It was silent for a few moments, before they snorted with laughter. “Oh God,” they choked out, before muffling the sound and opening the door once again. Moments later, it shut behind them, and they exploded into a fit of laughter, bursting into their bedroom.

“What’s so funny?” Robin smiled patiently, watching them fail to catch their breath.

Patting their chest, they finally managed to speak. “Y-your-your face! Why do you look so murderous?”

The woman chuckled, closing her book and walking up to them to glance at the ID. “I think I’d been woken up pretty early that day to take this picture, so I was rather grumpy. The photographer had made an inappropriate comment, and this was the only way I could express my displeasure.”

Their laughter quieted for a moment as they mumbled, “Fucking bastard,” before they glanced at the picture again and giggled, “And what’s with the half-shaved head?”

Robin shook her head, swiftly taking the ID from their fingers and pocketing it stealthily. “Let it be a reminder to not let teenage bullies stick gum in your hair.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in that statement…”

“I’m telling you, sir, I’m definitely old enough to be driving this.” Nami gritted her teeth, trying her best to smile sweetly at the police officer. “As a matter of fact, I’m old enough to carry out every single legal procedure in this country.”

“No driver’s license, no passage,” he firmly said, though he did hesitate for a second afterwards, probably after noticing just how stunning she was as she fluttered her eyelashes like that.

They placed a hand on her arm. “It’s alright, Nami. I’ve got your wallet in the drawer. Brought it just in case.” Pulling it out, they began to rifle through her numerous cards, before blurting out, “Holy fuck,” and bursting into laughter that they desperately tried to muffle behind their hand, their other hand giving their girlfriend her license.

With a look that could kill, she snatched it and gave it to the waiting officer, who soon sent them on their way. Revving the car back up, Nami glared at them.

“What, you didn’t expect me to comment on that picture?”

“What do you say we forget about that and turn on the radio?” Nami forced a big grin on her face, though the vein in her forehead remained prominent.

“Aw, it’s not that bad,” they cooed, before cracking up, “I mean, of course there’s the outdated perm, and the garish blue glitter eyeshadow, and the very obvious fact that these are not the eyes of anyone even remotely sober…”

“You’re paying for today’s date and next week’s one too,” Nami snapped, before exhaling loudly and slumping in her seat. “God, why’d you have to see the worst photo I’ve ever taken? I’d even had a terrible acne breakout then, so my face was in pain the entire time.”

“It’s alright, love. I still think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world,” they said as they leaned across to kiss her cheek.

Tension left her body, but she still managed to say, “You’re still paying for the next two dates.”

“Fuck, I’d been hoping you’d let that go.”

Killer had been stopped at the entrance of the concert arena as usual. With his mask almost always on, the security guards always needed to check he was of age by asking for his ID. He didn’t say much, knowing that this was a routine procedure, but he did tense a little with annoyance at having to take time out and possibly miss out on the best seats up front.

“I’ve got both of ours’ here,” they nodded from beside him, taking out both their wallets from their pockets and pulling each of their IDs. When it came to their boyfriend’s, however, they couldn’t help the snicker that left them at the sight of his picture.

“You’re having too much fun with this,” he grumbled, before taking it and handing it over to the man, briefly lifting his mask for a second for him to confirm his identity.

As they began to walk in, they took his hand in theirs, still laughing a bit. “Not my fault you never told me you used to imitate Kid’s punk style.”

“He was the only friend I had, of course I’d want to look like him,” Killer shrugged, “No one told me that straightening hair like mine does that much heat damage though…”

“Can’t believe you had a side part, Jesus,” they chuckled, shaking their head, “Not to mention the patchy beard. And what’s with the panda makeup?”

“Again, Kid’s idea,” he sounded a little annoyed, a light dusting of pink climbing down his neck, “He was all for the kohl-rimmed eyes, but neither of us knew how to apply it—hence why it got all smudged.”

They hummed, squeezing his arm lovingly. “Love the bright red lipstick-hair combo, by the way, but I still prefer the light purple lipstick on you. It’s very… you.”

Killer cocked his head curiously in their direction, wondering what they meant by that. With one last chuckle, they said, “As… interesting as other colors look on you, purple suits you best because it goes well with your pretty blue eyes.” Before he could get flustered and grunt that they were being foolish, they began to drag him by the arm. “We gotta hurry, there’s only 2 front row seats left.”

Taglist: @stories-that-shaped-me @wifeofkyojuro @finch-ya @livwritesfics

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rbbrbikerthorp · 1 year

Text

Kidnapped Pt. 7 (Fully Transformed Into A Gay Skin - Mature)

[This is the final part of the story of how I was kidnapped and turned into a skinhead - something I’d wanted since I was a teen. There is skinhead sex appear in latter part of this chapter].

In the next door room my wife could see a naked man, with a shaved head, tattoos, piercings and a chastity cage...

In walked a big, burly, hunk of a man, maybe two or three years older than myself. If I had to conjure up my fantasy skinhead, he’d look a lot like this alpha-male. He was a good six inches taller than me and weighed in at least 14 stone. That said, he was in great shape. His head was shaved, one arm was completely covered in tattoos, but the other only had ink on his bicep. He was wearing a white t-shirt, on top of which were red braces clipped onto a pair of tight bleachers. He wore the shiniest black boots, with steel toe-caps and white laces.

He gazed at me with his commanding blue-grey eyes; I could see something, long and heavy was already swelling in his bleachers. The skinhead extended his hand. I took it and he continued to hold it as our eyes met. “I’m Dom, It’s a pleasure to finally have you, boi, a pleasure,” he grinned. “Ever since BoSS told me he’d captured an office drone, I’ve been following your progress over the last few weeks. Now we get to meet. Now you become mine."

His grip sent a bolt of sexual electricity through me. I realised my mouth had gone dry and my heart was suddenly pounding. At that moment this brute of a skinhead could do anything he wants to me. He reached out with his other arm and pulled me into an embrace. Then, as though they had a will of their own, my hands began to run up his thighs, squeezing his ass cheeks and around his back.

I turned my face toward Dom and his lips brushed mine, once, twice, then our mouths locked together. He grabbed hold of me so I could not retreat – not that I wanted to - this was the best thing that had happened to me. I parted my lips and his tongue thrust between my teeth and explored my tongue. I could taste traces of cigarettes and beer. I loved it.

“Get on your knees boi.” I did as I was told. I hadn’t noticed that other people had entered the room.

“Have you ever licked a skinhead’s boots?

I shook my head from side-to-side.

Well, there’s a first time for everything. Now lick my boots”.

I’d seen videos and looked at pictures online, so I had a vague idea of what I had to do. I’d always dreamed of being on my knees licking a powerful skinhead worshiping his boots. Here I was about to do just that. I looked up at Dom, he nodded.

“Go ahead boi. I wanna be able to feel your pierced tongue.”

A shiver went down my spine the moment my tongue came into contact with the leather. Next thing I know I hear a screeching voice I recognised only too well.

“What have you done to yourself? What the effin’ hell are you doing? This is so effin’ humiliating!"

I paused what I was doing and turned my head, and confirmed that my soon-to-be ex-wife was now in the room.

“Ignore her boi! Get back to my boots.”

The taste of the leather on Dom’s boots was having an effect on my imprisoned manhood. I carried on worshipping this brute of a skinhead’s boots.

Once I’d got to the top of the first boot, Dom spoke, “Not bad for a first time boi” Dom smiled and nudged my head over to the other one. Straight away I began licking as hard as I could. I was pretty sure the snivelling i could hear was my wife, but I didn’t care. In that moment all I wanted to do was please Dom by showing how much I worshipped his boots. Only when he was satisfied with my efforts, did he speak again.

“Good. But for a newbie you’ve done well. You’ll get better. Now, stay on your knees boi.” I did as I was told. “Have you ever sucked a man off?”

“No sir,” I replied.

"I think this really is going to be a day of ‘firsts’ for you. I want you to suck me.”

I unbuttoned Dom’s bleachers and realised he wasn’t wearing any underwear. I grabbed Dom’s swollen meat in my hand but hesitated for a moment. Bootlicking was one thing, but this would be crossing a line that once traversed I couldn’t come back from. I now realised the videos shown to me had included clear instructions on how to give a man pleasure but this would be the first time I put my training into practice. I could sense a tension in the air, which I presumed was my wife. I didn’t look up, I stayed focussed on the task ahead of me.

“You know you want it, go on, suck it boi,” Dom was ordering me to suck him, off.

I moved forward until my lips touched the mushroom-shaped head. I opened my mouth so that my tongue could show its appreciation for Dom’s man-meat. It was smooth and was already glistening. The first taste this beast of a man sent another shiver down my spine, and once again I could sense my own manhood’s confinement. I understood the cage was there to keep me focussed on what I was doing and my place as a skinhead apprentice. I opened my mouth and slowly drew in as much of Dom as I could.

“God, that’s gross,” I heard my wife shriek across the room. “I’ve never seen anything so disgusting. You’re such a queer. No real man would suck another man off.”

I didn’t care what she had to say, she was irrelevant. As long as Dom approved, that’s all that mattered to me. I felt his body tense and a deep grunt escaped his throat. His pleasure thrilled me. I began to move my head up and down, sometimes pulling off him to swirl my tongue around the outside.

“Hold it there. You’re... a natural, skinboi...keep going” Dom gasped. His words filled me with a new kind of joy, the joy a man feels when he discovers he can please another man. This confirmed what I’d secretly known for years: I'm gay, and at that moment I couldn’t have been happier.

My wife cut in, “what have you done? You look like some freak show, shaved, a ring in your nose, covered in tattoos. I’ve been crying myself to sleep at night, sick with worry. Here you are sucking another man off. You bastard,” she cried.

I could sense she was trembling, full of anger. I simply had nothing to say, the little voice in my head was telling me how I’d screwed up but Dom broke into my thoughts. “Don’t worry. You’re a gay skinhead. Ignore her boi. Women do nothing for you anymore. Those last six words were a game changer. And at moment I was praying that would come next would be intimate with this man - my imagination was going wild.

And I knew was right - all the time I’d been sucking him off, I’d felt increased pressure in my cage, but when my wife spoke I’d gone limp as a shrimp. Turning to my wife, Dom continued, “now over the last few weeks my new boi or your former husband (if you prefer) has been transformed into the skinhead he always wanted to be. I’ve been looking for a skin boi for a few months, since my last relationship ended. I fancied your husband the moment I found out he’d been taken.”

I smiled at Dom, this skinhead wanted me. This is what I’d wanted all my life.

“We’re twenty years married”, she yelped, sobbing away.

Before I could speak, Dom interjected, “you were married, but he’s divorcing you. Don’t worry your ex-husband will see you right. Boi, get over there and lie down.” He pointed over to a bed covered in rubber sheets.

I obeyed. Dom straddled my chest and his bulk trapped me as his huge member waved in front of my eyes. I could not have moved him off me if I had tried.

I looked over to see my wife walking towards the door.

“You’re not going anywhere sweetheart. You’re going to see Dom turn out your husband,” the skinhead captor said, sniggering.

The skinhead then threw something over to Dom. It was a key. Dom then opened the padlock on my cage and removed it. He touched my pole for the first time; holding it gently. Dom then did something I’d begged my wife to do. Despite dozens of requests, she simply refused every time. I could hear my wife sobbing again, as I looked over I could see she had her head in her hands. My skinhead captor, spoke to her again, “you’re going to watch this.”

Dom grabbed a tube that was at the side of the bed, I knew what was coming next. “Relax boi,” Dom instructed, “you’re going to want me to do this to you over and over again. I willed myself to relax. I felt my muscles relax. He started a gentle motion, slowly stretching me. I’d never felt like this with my wife or any woman for that matter. I looked at Dom and said, “please – give me what I need.”

He moved between my legs and lifted them onto his broad shoulders. Our eyes met and he smiled At first I could feel a burning sensation and I winced from the sharp pain. After a while I began to relax. Slowly, very slowly he pushed deeper and deeper. The pain dissipated to be replaced by the most exquisite sense of fullness, completeness and pleasure that I had ever experienced.

Dom is actually doing me and my wife is watching him do it. Oh my God! I can’t believe this is finally happening. This is what I was born to be; a skinhead to be filled with this alpha skin’s seed. A wide smile of contentment crossed my face, and I uttered cries of pleasure, “Ahhhh! Mmmmm!” each time Dom thrust into me. Everyone in the room could hear the soft, squishy sound a man’s tool makes when it plunges in and out of a tight, wet hole. Our eyes met and he leaned forward to kiss me. Our tongues met and his tongue-f*****d my willing mouth.

My wife, her eyes wide at the sight of her husband’s intimacy with another man, could not contain herself. “This is so effin’ humiliating! I’m married to a bender, a homo, a gay-boy. You’re not a real man. There’s no way a real man would allow himself to be f****d like you are!” I was looking over to her. New tears streamed down her face; her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

“Here it comes, boi. Take it! Take it like a man!”

My straight life was over. From this point forward I would live my true identity, as a gay skinhead. Dom’s bulk pinned me to the bed. We continued to kiss but this time softer, more tenderly.

My skinhead captor spoke up, “right boi, you’re ready for the final stage of your transformation. First, I need you to sign a few papers. You’re filing for divorce and you’re giving her everything you jointly own.”

Naked, and with Dom’s cum dripping from my arse, I got up, walked over to a table and signed all the papers that were presented to me. I handed them to my ex-wife, who snatched them off me.

“I hope you enjoy your new lover. No woman will want you now. It’s sick. It’s revolting.” With that my skinhead captor grabbed my ex-wife by the arm, opened the door and led her out of the room. I never saw her again.

My life had been changed forever, as Dom and I both knew. We were smiling at one another, as the skinhead captor came back into the room. Handing me a couple of bags, “here you are. Now you get your skinhead gear.”

I emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor. There were black 20-hole boots - partly laces with white laces, bleachers, white footie socks and a black Fred Perry. At last, I was ready. I had finally earned the right to wear skinhead gear all the time. I looked up at Dom, “go ahead.” I didn’t need any more encouragement.

Like Dom, I’d not wear any underwear, so I put my bleachers on first. They felt like they were a size too small, and they’d been cut so they barely covered my knees. Then I pulled on the socks. After that I slipped the Fred Perry shirt over my head ready for the finale; lacing up my boots. Dom had left the room, but my skinhead captor was watching me.

My training paid off as I correctly ladder laced both boots. My captor was happy. He had done a good job and the BoSS would reward him well. Dom returned to the room with what i knew were a pair of braces in his hand. “Stand up boi.”

I did as I was told. He fitted them to my bleachers but let them hang down. He then went over to the other side of the room, where there a clothes rail full of jackets. “Put this on, we’re getting out of here.”

I did as instructed and followed Dom. “Here,” he handed me a pack of cigarettes and lighter. “Light up, and let’s go home.”

It was the start my new life that involved finishing my tattoos, getting more skin gear, starting a new job - a proper one getting my hands dirty, making new m8s and doing stuff with Dom that I’d never, ever envisaged. We became inseparable.

I might tell you more about my new life with Dom, one day.

#skinhead #ranger boots #bleachers

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stevenbasic · 1 year

Text

GITJ Post 309: Back to the Study Clinics, p1

That was one of the hardest things I’ve done in a while, just a few minutes ago, leave that beautiful, perfectly built woman alone, asleep in my apartment. There’s nothing I’d rather have done than snuck back under the sheets with Melissa and spend the rest of the morning - even after my pretty embarrassing loss of control against her as she slept. But, duty called and here I am - in the office. I had taken the chance to clean off what I could from Melissa’s remarkable behind, shower quick, and get dressed. Through the whole thing she basically slept, though she did give me a drowsy little kissy-face when I told her ‘bye, I’ve gotta go to work.’

“Yeah there are nights she barely sleeps at all,” Josie was explaining to me, as I readied myself in the hallway to go in to see our first study clinic patient for the morning, waiting in an exam room a few doors down. If you remember, our office had become an external study site for testing Evolution Pharmaceuticals new OTC dietary supplement for women as they looked for FDA approval. “And then there are times,” Josie finished, “where she’s, like, comatoast.”

“Comatose,” I corrected h-

“Yeah whatever,” she continued, pressing on. Josie, one of my new, poorly-trained medical assistants, had known Melissa a long time. Though younger than my new Office Manager by five years or so, I think, she understood her friend well and somehow in fact knew she was upstairs in my apartment sleeping off a night of vodka. That my staff knew my Office Manager had spent the night with me was a little embarrassing, a lot unprofessional, but just another small chip out of the armor of my professional dignity and male pride. “She can sometimes sleep for, like, two days straight,” Josie continued, readjusting her long, medium-brown hair in its ponytail, “especially if she gets really excited.”

At that, I tried not to blush, or notice how - with her hands behind her head - Josie’s breasts seemed quite big today.

“Anything really exciting happen last night? This morning? Hm?” Josie then giggled, taking a second to adjust the strap of her bra through her thin blue scrubs. The ‘wink wink’ in her voice was plain to hear, and it brought flashes of memories, Melissa’s and my time together on the couch, and in bed. Josie seemed to know more than she should.

“Well, I think all you girls got a little excited at the bar last night, by the election results,” I began, loathe to start recounting the more lurid details of the evening to my young employee, “but, let’s get to work. Now, why are we doing this on a Wednesday, seeing study patients? Tell me again what that email said?”

“They said they’re fast-tracking everything, ‘cuz of the election results,” Josie explained, reaching out to readjust the two pens in the chest pocket of my new lab coat. The girls had ordered a few in smaller sizes for me. “Evolution needs us to see at least twenty a week now th-"

“Twenty? For real?” I remarked, the idea of it boggling my mind, which was already reeling after the election results, “that’s more than twice as many as we said would be doable when we started..!”

“Yeah I dunno…” Josie agreed, with a noncommittal shrug.

I huffed in my indignity, knowing I really had very little say in the matter at this point. Olivia, Sheryl, Gianna…they were the real decision makers with this thing; as much as I hated to admit it I was more a worker-bee at this point, a drone. The women who ran things at Evolution controlled the money, and - acutely aware of how my geriatric practice was suffering, how anemic it’d become under recent mismanagement - I knew we needed the cash.

“Anyway, who’s supposed to see this patient with me?” I began again, knowing that Josie was scheduled to assist my APRN Vida with Mr. Kowalski’s procedure down the hall, “And what’s this first patient’s name?”

“Her name’s Thalia, Thalia Bates. I don’t think you’ve seen her before. She started on treatment at Evolution. She’s the daughter of some politician guy, a senator from like Minnesota or Canada or something,” Josie answered, handing me a chart, “and it’s Karen, the new nurse, who’ll be coming in with you. She’s worked with the patient before but I don’t think she’s here yet so-”

I opened the manila folder but just then both Josie and I turned our heads to see Angie, one of the girls from accounting, step out of one of the study exam rooms down the hall, the one where my patient awaited, and scoot quickly away in the opposite direction. She was shoving something into her purse.

I saw Josie’s eyes narrow. She pulled out her phone, started a text.

“Anyway, I really have to get started so if you’ll excuse me…” I announced, snapping the patient’s chart closed and moving towards the room. I was a little confused why an accountant would be in a room with a patient but whatever.

“Wait wait,” Josie stopped me, actually stepping towards me as I approached the room, “I didn’t think you were supposed to see these patients alone, by yourself? Karen’s not here yet?””

“It’s fine,” I replied, entering the room. With my first breath my vision began to swim. Spots, patterns appeared on the walls, straight lines and vines warped and everything in my world suddenly became focused on one thing…

“Hi doctor,” the hyper-developed teen seated in a chair across the small room from me chirped, “I’m Thalia…”

==========================================

More GITJ at my Patreon

#growing into the job

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sassy-ahsoka-tano · 2 years

Text

My Personal Bodyguard

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: No

Prompt: You're a server at the International Hotel when Elvis arrives as the big entertainment act. While serving his manager, you notice something fishy going on. Can you change things for Elvis? Or will you run out of time?

TW: Swearing (a ton lmao), mention of drugs + violence

Rating: Pg-13 || Word Count: 5793

A/N: Fix-it fic #1 is complete. this was therapeutic for me to have the reader absolutely wreck the colonel lol

🦋 mila

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

“Bet you didn’t think we’d be this busy when you took this job did you?” Nathan, your coworker asks, and you shake your head with a breathless laugh.

“Absolutely not,” you reply. “I’ve worked at hotel restaurants my whole life, and I figured this would just be like everything else, but I guess not. People really go nuts over that Elvis guy, don’t they.”

“I guess so, yeah,” Nathan replies. “My sister won’t shut up about him, and I’m pretty sure my mother would divorce my entire family if Elvis asked her to.”

You’ve taken a job at the new International Hotel, which just opened about a week ago in Las Vegas. It’s one of those old sorts of hotels, with a casino and a stage for shows to entertain the guests. Or to keep them inside the building longer, whichever happens to come first. Anyway, you and Nathan have both been in charge of setting the tables for the first show this evening. The famous Elvis Presley is going to perform for the first time, and as far as you understand, he’ll be performing twice a night every night for the next six weeks.

You’ve heard his songs on the radio, of course, and you like them. But you don’t really know anything about him. You’re busy and don’t have a lot of time to freak out over men ten years your senior. Anyway you’re just a server at the hotel. It’s not like you have any business interacting with Elvis anyway.

“We’d better pick it up,” Nathan says, unfolding the last tablecloth and throwing it across the bare table toward you. You catch it, helping him fluff it out to drop onto the table. “We only have about five minutes to finish this before the King of rock’n’roll will be here to warm up. Can you grab some more silverware, I think we’re short a few.”

You nod, jogging over to the cart parked by the side of the stage. You dig around for a few seconds, not finding anything. Hearing a familiar voice in the distance, you hop up onto the stage and sneak into the back to find your manager. Wading through a sea of people running here and there, you finally see her and tap her shoulder.

“Hey, Katie, we can’t find the-”

Your voice stops abruptly when you see him. Elvis Presley in the flesh. He’s strutting in your direction in the most outlandishly beautiful costume you’ve ever seen. It’s a white jumpsuit, half unfastened to show off his chest, with a popped collar and studs all around. Your eyes can’t help but fall to his open chest before they flick back up to his face. He’s incredibly handsome, so much so that you actually feel your mouth pop open. His hair is incredibly dark and long, laying softly on his forehead. Everything about him screams sex, and you start to maybe understand why everyone is obsessed with him.

You and Katie step out of the way as he and his posse pass, and you feel totally worthless. Like a peasant in the street as the king passes along. Just when you think you’re in the clear, you accidentally look him straight in the eye. He winks and smiles at you without missing a beat, and you nervously smile back, dropping your eyes to the ground.

“Hello?”

You snap out of your daze with the literal snapping of Katie’s fingers in your face.

“We can’t find the…” she gestures for you to continue.

“Silverware. We’re short a few,” you respond. She nods, helping you find them.

By the time you’re running down the steps of the stage to place the silverware in the correct spots, people are starting to file in. Hundreds of them, all around, of all ages, genders, and social classes. You quickly make your exit toward the kitchen to alert them that everyone is starting to file in. You hide there for a while, chatting with the cooks and staff before your manager rounds all of the servers up to assign tables. She pulls you aside for a minute.

“Y/N, you have more experience than our entire waitstaff combined. You get the special task of serving the hotel owner, Mr. Kohn. And Mr. Presley’s manager, Colonel Tom Parker, will also be at your table. Prompt and attentive service, yes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you respond with a smile. It isn’t a question, but you want to reassure her that everything will be fine.

You grab onto three menus from the stand next to you and take a deep breath before heading out into the crowd. In the fifteen or twenty minutes you’d spent getting ready in the kitchen, the entire place has packed in. It’s a full house without a doubt.

“Hi gentleman, good evening and welcome to the International Hotel, Mr. Kohn and Colonel Parker,” you say with a grin, passing the menus out and hoping you’ve remembered their names correctly. “Can I get you gentleman started with any beverages this evening?”

“Red wine. Whatever you have that’s the best,” Mr. Kohn responds.

“I’ll have the same,” Colonel Parker adds.

You have to sustain your grin even though it falters when you look at the tubby man sitting in front of you. Something about his energy is off. You can’t explain it, but you don’t trust him for some reason. His accent is impossible to place and the way he leans on his cane is too comfortable. Too in control, or something. Nevertheless, you push the thoughts away, reserving to do your job and nothing else.

As you start to walk back toward the kitchen, the band starts up an upbeat tune. Your head snaps to the side, and you figure you can stay for a quick moment to see what all the fuss is about. You step down and back into the shadows below your table. You’ve heard Elvis practicing a time or two in passing as you go from one wing of the hotel to the other, but you’ve never stopped to listen. You don’t have that kind of time.

The lights shine bluish purple on the stage, and you hide in the shadows, crossing your arms over your chest. He emerges in that glorious white outfit, waltzing onto the stage. He takes his guitar from a bandmate and approaches the microphone. The voice that comes out is even more amazing than on the radio. Your eyebrows actually shoot up in surprise at how lovely it is; low, smooth, and velvety. It’s like a blessing to your ears.

You can’t help but smile when he uses his hands to enthusiastically direct the backup singers behind him and his right leg bounces frantically up and down as he strums his guitar furiously. He’s incredibly engaging, just the perfect mixture of wild and charming. Enough to make the audience feel like they’re getting value for what they paid for.

“Ain’t nobody gonna be a better show than that!” you hear that familiar unplaceable accent from above you. “I’ll tell ya, if I was you, I would book for him for a hundred years.”

“Well, no better time than the present, but I hear Schilling has him doing a world tour,” Mr. Kohn responded.

“I think that Mr. Presley could be persuaded to make the international his home, provided he was paid pretty well.”

“What did you have in mind?”

Elvis’ strong voice interrupts your eavesdropping, and you realize that you should get the mens’ drinks before they get upst. The last thing you need is to be fired from your job by the owner of the hotel. You run into the back kitchen and pop out the red wine, grabbing a few glasses as well. You shove everything onto a tray and, by the time you’re walking out of the kitchen toward the table, the band has started another song. One that you haven’t heard before.

“Your drinks, gentleman,” you say, noticing the sly movements both men take to cover up writing on the lace tablecloth. You set the drinks down and get out your notepad. “Can I get you any appetizers or food? Or would you like me to come back?”

“We’re fine for now, honey, thanks,” Mr. Kohn says roughly, shooing you away.

You smile tight-lipped and leave the table, but press yourself back into the shadows below. You’re hoping to overhear something, but with the music blaring it’s difficult. You’re dying of curiosity to know what they’re guarding so secretly.

“What are you going to pay me?” the Colonel asks with a laugh.

You walk up the stairs to the upper level with your tray to start loading empty dishes and cups onto it from the tables above. It isn’t your job, but you need to know. As you pass by your table, you shift the heavy tray to the other side of your body, making sure to use the momentum of the shift to glance down at the tablecloth. Luckily, just as you peer over their shoulders, Elvis’ performance heats up, dragging everyone’s attention to it. You watch as Elvis drops down to his knees on stage, belting out a beautiful note. You take the opportunity to glance down at the tablecloth. Although you can’t see very well, you manage to catch the words “5 million” and “International Hotel” before you have to sneak back to the kitchen.

Even as you put the dishes into the sink, something feels wrong to you. You lean over the sink taking a deep breath and trying to put things together.

5 million…international hotel…better show…book for a hundred years?

You don’t understand completely, but the whole conversation feels wrong. As you think for a moment, you reach up for the wine and trot back out to the table. You’d sworn to yourself not to do this, but you can’t stop yourself from meddling. On your way back to the table, you get momentarily distracted by Elvis’ lewd movements in stage, watching as he drops into a half-squat. He’s giving his absolute everything to the performance, and it’s paying off without a doubt. Something about the words of the song almost feel hollow to you, as if it’s speaking to something other than the performance itself.

You take a deep breath and approach the table with the wine bottle, watching as Mr. Kohn scribbles on a napkin with a hotel pen. Just as the Colonel’s grimy fat fingers reach for the napkin, you ‘accidentally’ nudge his elbow into a nearby glass of wine, spelling the red liquid everywhere. As it began to drip slowly off the sides of the table and seep into the white fabric, you throw a hand over your mouth.

“I am so sorry!” you yell, reaching into the pocket of your apron to grab napkins. You expertly swirl them around the one with the writing on it and then shove it into your pocket.

“That was completely my fault! I will absolutely rectify this situation,” you say, as a brief moment of panic settles in when you realize the man sitting in front of you can literally fire you at any second. To your surprise, he’s fairly calm.

“Not your fault, dear,” Mr. Kohn replies. “The Colonel needs to learn some etiquette, apparently.”

You smile, feeling heat flood into your face with embarrassment and fear. You quickly retreat back into the shadows, clutching at your chest.

“You do whatever you want, Colonel. As long as that boy stays on that stage,” Mr. Kohn says in a low tone.

You’re about to rush back into the safety of the kitchen, when you see large white figure coming toward you out of the corner of your eye. Elvis has left the stage and waded into the crowd and he’s…he’s kissing a bunch of the audience members? You watch from the shadows as the crowd grows around you, and you can’t help but widen your eyes as you watch his plump lips close passionately around a woman’s. He’s sweating in a way that makes everything he does that much more attractive. He smiles handsomely as he gets taken away by the crowd. You’re literally turning to go back to the kitchen when you feel a hand on your wrist. You whirl around in shock to see Elvis standing right in front of you.

“Come on, lil darlin, I need a favor from ya,” he shouts over the crowd.

Fans start pressing into you. Even though you murmur some no’s and try to pull away from him, his strong grip persists and drags you up onto the stage with him. You awkwardly clench your fingers, turning to stare like a deer in the headlights at the crowd before you.

“Sorry, I couldn’t make it up there, man,” Elvis says, gesturing to the upper seating sections.

He releases your wrist, and you bring it over to cover up a wine stain on your white employee t-shirt that you’ve just noticed.

“Now, I just wanna take a quick second here to say thank ya and acknowledge all the people behind the scenes that make this thing go round,” he says, smiling at you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you look at him for the first time. He’s incredibly handsome, so much so that it almost physically hurts to be near him.

“What’s your name, darlin?”

“Y/N,” you lean awkwardly in to say it over the microphone.

“And what do ya do here, Y/N?”

Hearing your name come out of his lips in that deep southern drawl makes your heart flutter.

“I’m a server,” you respond. “I serve tables.”

“A server, perfect. It’s the people like Y/N over ‘ere who keep things runnin round here, and they’re gonna make sure yall’s nights are as special as possible. So don’t worry bout nothin but enjoyin the show,” he says, winking at you.

He reaches out to grab your hand, pulling you closer to him. You allow it, but avoid eye contact with him and the crowd. The napkin feels like it’s burning a hole through your pocket, and you momentarily think about shoving it into his pocket. You’re close enough to him. So close, in fact, that you can smell the scent of his cologne and sweat mixing under the bright hot white stage lights. But with his jerky movements and everyone watching, it feels too dangerous to try.

“Well, Y/N, I know I can never really pay ya back, but I wanna do a lil song for ya. For all the lovely people up in this place who take care of us,” he continues and then begins to sing.

You recognize the song, and your stomach does flips as he sings it looking directly at you. He releases you to do a big finale for the crowd, but not before he grabs your face by the jaw, pressing a hot wet kiss straight to your lips. You freeze as the curtain begin the drop, not sure how to act. He releases you, laughs, and faces the crowd again to say his thanks before the golden curtains begin to drop and separate you from the eyes of the wild crowd.

You stand, still frozen, even when it’s just you and him. You think quickly about kneeling down to give him the napkin, but before you have a chance to do so, you remember the tablecloth. You need to get it before they dispose of it.

Before he can even say anything, you dash out the side door and back down the stairs toward the table. A few people wave to you, acting like they know you now that they’ve seen you onstage. You nervously smile back and can’t believe your luck when you get to the table and see it empty. They’d left but the tablecloth is still there. You quickly remove the dishes, placing them out of the way to yank the tablecloth off. You can barely read it in the dark and parts of it are stained a deep wine red, but some of the puzzle pieces start to come together as you read the scratched words.

…previous debts cancelled….line of credit…

Your eyes widen with the realization of what’s going on. They’re forcing him to stay there. To play there…until his dies probably. You run back to the kitchen with the tablecloth in tow. You spread out in the back corner behind a rack of drying dishes and pull the napkin from your pocket. Reading them together, you shake your head, feeling anger crash over you like a wave.

They’re forcing Elvis to stay at the International so his manager can pay for gambling debts. It’s pretty clear from the writing what’s going on, and it infuriates you. You fold the napkin carefully and stuff it back into your pocket before folding the tablecloth over your arms. You have to get back to Elvis before his manager does. You’re a second too late. When you return to the stage, you see Elvis tightly hugging his manager. You peer out from the shadows to watch as the Colonel begins to dig around in his pockets, clearly looking for something. His face screws up in frantic conern, and you clutch the napkin in your pocket with white knuckles.

“I, eh, I must go back to the table,” the Colonel says in a panicked tone. “I…I believe I have fohgotten something theh…”

He stumbles off through the side door, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Do ya need help, Colonel?” Elvis shouts after him, but the old man hurriedly waves him off.

Your eyebrow quirks knowingly. When Elvis turns back to start upstairs, you step out of the shadows.

“Mr. Presley, could I…talk to you for a minute?” you ask in a timid voice.

“Sure thing,” he says, squinting to see you in the shadows. “Ah, you’re that lil server I pulled up on stage ain’t ya? Listen, I didn’t mean to embarrass ya none or anythin like that. If you want an autograph, I can-”

“No, thank you,” you reply shaking your head. “I mean…it’s not that I don’t want an autograph, that’s just not why I wanted to talk to you. I actually, well…”

“What’s wrong, honey? Y’aright?” he asks, concern crossing over his features as he steps closer. Your yes flutter for a moment as you breathe in his utterly manly smell.

“Yes…I’m just not sure that you’ll be,” you say, pulling out the napkin from your pocket to hand it to him. “I was Colonel Parker, your manager’s, server tonight. And well…I found this.”

You watch as his face contorts while he reads the scribbled writing and tries to understand its meaning. His expression cycles through several different emotions and finally settles on a look with furrowed eyebrows. You feel guilty, being attracted to him in that moment considering what he’s probably going through. But you can’t help it. Raw sexuality oozes from every inch of his body.

“There’s also this,” you suddenly speak, remembering the tablecloth.

You unfold it to show it to him. He runs a hand over his face and turns to see the writing on the tablecloth. He stands, motionless, before slowly dropping into a crouched position. The corner of his mouth turns up in to a wicked smile. He laughs, deep and throaty, before nodding and clenching his jaw.

“Mm…mhm,” he hums to himself. “Well, thank ya for bringin this to my attention, darlin.”

He glances up at you with pained eyes.

“Goddamn bloodsucker…fuckin jackass,” he murmurs to himself, and you start to back away before you hear him sniff hard. You peer closer to his face to see him angrily pushing a few tears from his cheeks.

“Are you alright, Mr. Presley?”

He doesn’t respond, massaging his temples with his fingers. You hesitantly drop to your knees, placing a hand onto his back and gently rubbing circles on the white jumpsuit. He glances up at you, and you suddenly understand. Your mother is always going on about how it feels like you’re the only person in the world who matters when Elvis Presley looks at you. You’ve always thought she was full of it, but now that you’re here, everything makes sense.

“Everything’s gonna be alright, Mr. Presley,” you say softly.

“Just Elvis,” he says, reaching out to touch your face. “Please.”

He sniffs with a small nod and his blue eyes shine brightly even in the dim lights behind the stage. You feel your chest heaving, and you gulp. You shouldn’t allow a married man to touch you so tenderly, but you can’t stop yourself.

Suddenly, his lips are crashing onto yours, and his fingers are on either side of your face, pulling your lips taut against him. You don’t kiss him back at first, too shocked to move. But when his lips curl around yours again, you can’t help yourself. You give in. After a minute or two, he pulls back abruptly and immediately apologizes.

“Damn, I’m sorry,” he says, avoiding your eyes. You shake your head and gulp.

“That’s alright,” you say quietly. “I just hate to see you suffer.”

“Thank you, Y/N, right?”

You nod with a tiny smile and he stands before holding out his hand to help you to your feet. Once you’re standing, he presses a chaste kiss to your palm.

“Thank you,” he repeats. “I’ll see ya round, baby.”

He turns to leave, and his face has an unplaceable emotion. He almost looks as if he’s just floating through the world. You stand there for a moment in the stark silence on stage by yourself, not knowing what to do with yourself

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

Yousaw Elvis every so often over the next few years. Sometimes he invited you up to his room after the shows, and most of the time you just talked and listened to music. Your presence seemed to relax him, although you couldn’t explain why. Your relationship was purely friendly, until one day you were listening to a particularly intimate song. It had been late at night, and you were both so lonely. It was an accident, you both knew it, and it cast a shadow over your relationship.

After that, Elvis began to tour around the U.S. You barely saw him. You sometimes wonder if your efforts to help him have made any difference because it sure doesn't seem like it. You still work in the kitchen, but you're manager now. You direct more than you serve tables. You're also a few years older and wiser. You never stick your nose into other people’s business again, and you wonder if you ever should have in the first place. You know he never thinks about you, even though you think about him almost every day. You’ve almost convinced yourself that he doesn’t even remember you.

Until that day.

You’re on serving duty today, with one of your servers out for personal reasons. As you walk to the front of the room by the stage to replace the drinks for your table, you glance up at Elvis on stage. He’s sweaty, as usual, but the way he moves around is off.

“I’d like to turn the house lights up, ladies and gentleman,” Elvis slurs onstage. “Cause now that you’ve seen me, I’d like to take a look at you. Oh ya beautiful, thank ya! Ohh, we got some high rollers in ‘ere tonight. Mr. International Hotel himself. And right next to ‘im is my so-called manager, Colonel Tom Parker. But I hear rumors that Colonel is an alien.”

The crowd laughs, but your heart sinks uneasily as you watch Elvis pick up a martini glass from the table closest, getting ready to down it. You move quickly, reaching up to lift it out of his fingers.

“Mr. Presley, please don’t do that” you hiss. You’ve never seen him act like this before. You’ve known about his addiction to drugs, but you’ve always thought he could handle it. Perhaps you don’t realize how dire his siutation is.

“Somebody call the FBI and tell ‘em that he has abducted me,” Elvis continues. “That he has locked me in this golden cage to keep me here forever with you, ladies and gentlemen.”

He starts to sing the lyrics of suspicious minds, the same lyrics you’d heard the first time you ever saw him perform. But the way he sways back and forth makes you incredibly nervous.

“I can’t get out…cause Colonel’s got some big debts, baby.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You don’t know whether it’s because of the awkward tension or the fact that he is finally confronting the Colonel after all this time. You stare up at him, clutching hard onto the martini glass.

“This is the last show I am ever playing here,” he says. “I’m gonna get on my jet plane, the Lisa Marie…it’s named after my, uh…”

That’s the last straw for you. You set the glass down and rush around to the side door of the stage, running up the stairs as he babbles on. You stop at the edge of the curtain, not sure whether to rush onto the stage or just watch.

“Hey, you’re that server right? The one who gave him the napkin?”

You whirl around to see Elvis’ producer, Jerry Schilling.

“Yeah, that’s me,” you reply.

A fat lumbering man waddles through the shadows up to you and Jerry.

“Stop the show,” the Colonel says. “Stop the show!”

“Fuck the international,” you hear Elvis say, and you glance back at him up on the stage.

“What the devil is happening here?” the Colonel hisses.

“That’s what he wants to know,” Jerry answers.

“Oh…security,” Elvis slurs, gesturing to where you’re all standing. Your palms begin to sweat. “Securityyyyy…securityyy blah blah blah…”

This is getting embarrassing, and the Colonel begins to walk toward Elvis.

“800 shows?” Elvis shouts as the curtains begin to descend onto the stage. “You don’t have a goddamn passport, you son of a bitch! You are fired! You are fired!”

The Colonel increases his speed, as much as he can. And you would laugh if the whole situation isn’t as bad as it is. You feel an odd sense of relief knowing that what you’ve done has helped.

“You’re fireddddd! Elvis screams into the microphone.

Silence descends on the entire space before Elvis repeats himself in a quiet voice. He drops the microphone and begins to walk off. One of the band members speaks up, pleading to go after Elvis, but you step out of the shadows.

“No, I will,” you say sharply.

As you pass the Colonel, you begin to see realization dawning on his face. You stare him down as you pass, refusing to look away. He knows what you’ve done, and you couldn’t be happier. You chase after Elvis and grasp onto the cape of his blue jumpsuit.

“Elvis, please wait! Let me help. What can I do?” you ask.

He turns with a massive smile on his face. His hands find their way to your cheeks, grasping at your face.

“Baby, you’ve helped me more than you realize,” he says. “You freed me. For the first time in so many goddamn years, I feel free as a bird.”

You smile, feeling your skin grow hot at his touch.

“I’m really glad to hear that. What will you do now?”

“Get the fuck outta here,” he replies, shaking his head.

His eyes search your face for a moment before he clicks his tongue.

“You wouldn’t wanna come with me, would ya? I know we barely know each other, but…I dunno somethin about ya makes me feel safer. And I owe ya for savin my ass, anyways. Maybe I can help pay ya or somethin. Find somethin for you to do.”

You are completely taken aback, and you don’t know what to say. One the one hand, you could really use the cash. And you can keep am eye on him, too. On the other hand, it would be a lot of changes all at once. Your apartment, your job, your family. You’d have to leave it all.

“Could you give me some time…just to think about it? I want to, god do I want to. I just don’t know if its practical.”

He nods, taking your fingers into his hands and pressing a kiss to them.

“Of course, baby. I tell ya what, I’m gonna leave tomorrow cause the sooner I’m outta this dump, the better,” he says. “If you wanna come, you meet me in the parkin garage tomorrow mornin.”

“I will.”

“Aright,” he says, smiling handsomely as he tucks some hair behind his ear. “I hope I’ll see ya tomorrow.”

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

You clutch onto the strap of your bag as the elevator bings. Taking a deep breath, you step out into the parking garage.

You’d spent the entire night making list after list of pros and cons. Your list of pros continued to grow and grow, while the con side became shorter and shorter. You’d been up until three in the morning before you finally decided to pack what you could and meet him in the morning.

“Where is he?” you ask as you step toward Jerry.

“Went up to get his daddy,” Jerry responds. “But hopefully we’ll be outta here in a minute or two. Hey, thanks for everything you’re doing for him.”

“He’s a very special person,” you reply. “I’m just trying to help.”

“We all appreciate it. After everything that happened with Priscilla, he needs another strong woman in his life. He’s lost all the other ones,” Jerry says quietly.

“Thanks, Jerry.”

Just as you move to sit down in the open car, you see Elvis stalking out of the elevator. He stops in stride, looking to the left.

“You bloodsucking old vampire. You bled me dry, and you still want more?”

You’re too far away to see who he’s talking to and what they’re saying, but you still rise from your seat.

“Don’t you Mr. Presley me, you toad.”

“If you are so determined to get out of our contract-”

“You’re goddamn right I want out!” Elvis is yelling.

“You still got your claws in me! You’ll still have me workin here like some goddamn slave in a salt mine! You phony no good piece uh trash! I should shoot you in your fat goddamn face!”

He turns to walk out, but then his eyes soften when they land on you. He turns back.

“Who are you?”

“I am you and you are me.”

Your feet start moving you forward before you can do anything to stop yourself.

“Cut the horseshit! Everythin I’ve ever known about ya’s been a lie!”

“EP, you good?” Jerry shouts. Elvis holds a hand up, shaking his head, to ward you off.

You ignore his warning sign and stop in your tracks when you see the Colonel walk toward the elevator. You take Elvis’ hands in yours and hold onto them tightly. He looks down at you with hopeless eyes, tears staining his cheeks. You reach up to wipe one way as the Colonel continues to talk.

“...away from all of this,” he’s saying. “But if you choose to leave, I for one would be very lonely. So would your father. But I think you may be lonely, too. For you see, my boy, the truth about the rock of eternity, it is forever just beyond our reach.”

The anger bubbles up inside of you, and your heart slams harshly against your chest.

You rip your hands away from Elvis and slam the door open button as the elevator doors start to close. The open and you slide your palms agains the doors to keep them open. The Colonel’s eyebrows are raised.

“Shut the fuck up,” you say harshly. “You don’t talk to him like that, you sick manipulative little bastard. I don’t know why you’re doing this, and frankly, I don’t give a damn. But you are not gonna ruin his life because you have some kinda gambling addiction, you lying piece of shit. So listen up and listen good, Humpty Dumpty. You can sue Mr. Presley if you want, but it won’t made a damn difference. With all the massive fraud and mismanagement that I’ve witnessed over the past four years, and Dr. What’s-His-Fuck shoving addictive medications up Mr. Presley’s veins? If you think any court in the United States won’t convict your fat ass, you got another thing coming. The Presleys will sue you for every single fucking penny you own, since they all belong to him anyway. Mr. Presley is leaving the Internatoinal Hotel for good. His contract is hereby terminated. Permanently.”

“Strong words from a hotel server,” he shoots back, and you quirk an eyebrow.

“Listen, asshole, I’m not afraid of you or whatever little pathetic power you hold. Mr. Presley is leaving, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop him. Stay away from Elvis. If you even attempt to contact the family again, I will personally fly up here and stick that cane so far up your fucking ass, it will come out of your brain. Do you understand me?”

He says nothing, just stuffs his cigar between his fat lips with a wicked smile on his face. You remove your hand and turn around to leave, but you aren’t satisfied enough. As soon as you make eye contact with Elvis’ glassy eyes, the anger takes you over. You spin around with a flying fist and clock the Colonel straight in the face, between the eyes, as hard as you possibly can. He doubles over immediately, his hands flying onto his nose.

“Rot in hell, you fuckhead,” you spit sharply as the elevator doors close.

You turn to see all of the band members and hotel staff staring at you with wide eyes. You glance at Elvis and shrug.

“What? The bastard had it coming.”

“Maybe I should hire ya as my personal bodyguard,” Elvis says, laughing. “That was sexy as hell.”

You just smile and shrug.

“It was nothing. Let’s get going before he calls security or something.”

You climb into the car, sitting next to Elvis. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers. You sit together as his thumb rubs circles into your skin.

“You came,” he says quietly. You squeeze his fingers.

“Of course I came,” you smile. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Plus, you offered me a job.”

Confusion flashes across his face.

“I would like to officially accept your offer for the personal bodyguard position. I can start immediately.”

He laughs, raising your fingers to his lips to kiss them. You settle into the car. Things are looking up.

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

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apocalypticavolition · 4 days

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Let's (re)Read The Dragon Reborn! Prologue: Fortress of the Light

Well I took a much longer break than I expected and now winter's over (hopefully; I do live in Alaska) so it's time to get into the book with a longer break than expected between it and its prequel, but that gets going now that winter's over. Everything else is of course spoilers, and this post is going to have spoilers for the whole damn series so... don't keep reading if that's a problem.

Pedron Niall’s aged gaze wandered about his private audience chamber, but dark eyes hazed with thought saw nothing.

We start out this book with the Whitecloak icon because we're in Whitecloak town. And as is usual in Whitecloak town, every person in the place is looking around wildly and still completely blind to what's in front of them.

Still, he was suddenly aware of the tendon-ridged back of the hand holding the drawing, aware of the need for haste. Time was growing short. His time was growing short. It had to be enough. He had to make it enough.

We do see evidence here and there that despite being a Whitecloak, Niall isn't a completely contemptible person but... He is of course still completely wrong. He's not going to make it to the Last Battl and it won't be old age that takes him. He's in audience with a guy who could be warning him about the threat that will destroy his country but is focused on something else entirely.

It is a worse madness than any false Dragon I’ve ever heard of. Thousands have declared for him already. Tarabon and Arad Doman are in civil war, as well as at war with each other. There is fighting all across Almoth Plain and Toman Head, Taraboner against Domani against Darkfriends crying for the Dragon—or there was fighting until winter chilled most of it. I’ve never seen it spread so quickly, my Lord Captain Commander. Like throwing a lantern into a hay barn.

Considering how in-depth the series gets later on, it's a bit surprising we don't get much of a taste of this initial conflict. This all-consuming war, IIRC, continues to run on and off for pretty much the rest of the series, though the Seanchan do quiet it down and reframe it a great deal in the latter half.

“Lord Captain Bornhald said they called themselves Seanchan, my Lord Captain Commander,” Byar said stolidly. “He said they were Darkfriends. And his charge broke them, even if they killed him.”

Even when Byar touches on the Seanchan it's only in ways that actually misinform Niall. No wonder the LCC is so frustrated with this conversation.

“By this one Darkfriend you spoke of, Child Byar?” He could not keep an edge out of his own voice. A year’s planning lay in ruins amid the corpses of a thousand of the Children, and Byar wanted to talk only of this one man. “This young blacksmith you’ve only seen twice, this Perrin from the Two Rivers?”

Dude is so Perrin-obsessed that I feel that Perrin's ta'veren must be working against them both under these circumstances. Just like how Rand's causes both good and bad things to happen at random, so too does Perrin attract allies and enemies.

Perhaps these wars meant nothing in themselves—men fought wars—but they usually came one at a time. And aside from the false Dragon somewhere on Almoth Plain, another tore at Saldaea, and a third plagued Tear. Three at once.

Consider how different from Europe the setting of this story is, that wars come "one at a time". They don't have the population to sustain Renaissance war rates, even if they do still have the technology.

The Atha’an Miere, the Sea Folk, were said to be ignoring trade to seek signs and portents—of what, exactly, they did not say—sailing with ships half full or even empty.

I believe this is the first mention of them acting weird, so... that's an additional complication to look forward to.

But Tar Valon had apparently sent other Aes Sedai to support the other false Dragon at Falme. Nothing else fit the facts.

Props to Niall here for coming to a somewhat correct conclusion from a variety of incorrect data.

Carridin was tall, well into his middle years, with a touch of gray in his hair, yet fit and hard. His dark, deep-set eyes had a knowing look about them, as always. And he did not blink under the silent study of the Lord Captain Commander. Few men had consciences so clear or nerves so steady.

It's pretty easy to have a clear conscience when you don't have any conscience at all. Shame Niall's not a good enough judge of character to see that.

To serve the Light. Not to serve the Children of the Light. All the Children served the Light, but Pedron Niall often wondered if the Questioners really considered themselves part of the Children at all.

Maybe instead of setting up plans to conquer the continent you could have dealt with the Questioners, Niall? No? Just gonna let that shit heap fester in the sun? Great choice. Absolutely no knives in the back are coming your way... His eyes really aren't seeing anything in this chapter.

The Shadow’s plots are murky, and often seem mad to those who walk in the Light.

Sad thing is, Carridan is probably perfectly accurate in this particular sentence. The Dark spends a lot of its time acting in ways to maximize the paranoia of the common folk, to keep the Light too divided to properly purge it before the end of the Age.

Few ships have tried to cross the Aryth Ocean, and most never returned. Those that did, turned back before they ran out of food and water. Even the Sea Folk will not cross the Aryth, and they sail wherever there is trade, even to the lands beyond the Aiel Waste. My Lord Captain Commander, if there are any lands across the ocean, they are too far to reach, the ocean too wide. To carry an army across it would be as impossible as flying.

1. The Seanchan also do fly, naturally.

2. As Niall points out, this isn't a proof, it's only a (logical) guess.

3. The Sea Folk actually have made it across a few times, though they refer to the far end as the Isles of the Dead or something similar. Carridin probably isn't pointing this out either because he doesn't know or if he does because he doesn't want to make reaching the Seanchan continent seem plausible.

“Most people think Trollocs are only travelers’ tales and lies, and most of the rest think they were all killed in the Trolloc Wars. What other name would they put to a Trolloc but monster?”

This... also isn't proof. Shame the Whitecloaks don't like logic as much as the White Aes Sedai do.

“Even a false Dragon,” Niall said dryly, “is not enough to make them forget four hundred years of squabbling over possession of Almoth Plain. As if either of them ever had the strength to hold it.”

Even the real Dragon only manages to unite them through his second-order unification, as they lie across the Seanchan/West divide otherwise.

“At first they were only rumors, my Lord Captain Commander. Rumors so wild, no one could believe. By the time I learned the truth, Bornhald had joined battle. He was dead, and the Darkfriends scattered. Besides, my task was to bring the Light to Almoth Plain. I could not disobey my orders to chase after rumors.”

Bro doesn't even have a good excuse. If Niall wasn't busy scheming for his own agenda, he could have ended Carridan here and now and saved everyone a lot of trouble.

He would never put forward one of his own, but I doubt he’d quibble if I named you. A few days under the question, and you would confess to anything. Name yourself Darkfriend, even. You would go under the headsman’s axe inside a week.

Actually perhaps I'm overoptimistic here. Perhaps the High Inquisitor - or just the Darkfriends amid the Whitecloaks - would ferry Carridin away or arrange for an early demise before he could give away any information at all. Replace him with the next dude, same as the first.

Loose a lion—a rabid lion—in the streets. And when panic grips the people, once it has turned their bowels to water, calmly tell them you will deal with it. Then you kill it, and order them to hang the carcass up where everyone can see. Before they have time to think, you give another order, and it will be obeyed. And if you continue to give orders, they will continue to obey, for you will be the one who saved them, and who better to lead?

Niall of course foreshadows Perrin's rise to power, though the boy does it kicking and screaming.

Niall rubbed his hands together. He felt cold. The dice were spinning, with no way of telling what pips would show when they stopped.

In a way, Niall inadvertently views himself as a dark mirror to all three ta'veren. Perrin, by means of creating an enemy to unite people; Mat, as a Great General with a focus on gambling, and Rand...

But he, Pedron Niall, would unite humankind behind the banners of the Children of the Light. There would be new legends, to tell how Pedron Niall had fought Tarmon Gai’don, and won.

Rand like this.

A month before, in the dead of winter, the gangly little man had arrived in Amadicia, ragged and half-frozen, and somehow managed to talk his way through all the layers of guards to Pedron Niall himself. He seemed to know things about events on Toman Head that were not in Carridin’s voluminous if obscure reports, or in Byar’s tale, or in any other report or rumor that had come to Niall. His name was a lie, of course. In the Old Tongue, Ordeith meant “wormwood.”

"Wormwood" is a Book of Revelation reference: "The third angel blew his trumpet, and a great star fell from heaven, blazing like a torch, and it fell on a third of the rivers and on the springs of water. The name of the star is Wormwood. A third of the waters became wormwood, and many died from the water, because it was made bitter."

But also, poor, poor Niall. He sees himself as a man of cold logic (steel, cuendillar, etc.) but with Ordeith around whatever virtues he had are assuredly doomed.

The Two Rivers,” Niall mused. “Someone else mentioned another Darkfriend from there, another youth. Strange to think of Darkfriends coming from a place like that. But truly they are everywhere.”

Niall is almost, ALMOST clever enough to realize how stupid this claim is... But Ordeith's a fast talker.

Much of the drawing was only a smudge, and a rip ran across the young man’s breast, but miraculously the face was untouched.

Fain can tear Rand up physically, as can most of the Shadow, but despite everything, the boy remains.

“Perhaps I must make plans for the Two Rivers. When the snows clear. Perhaps.” “As the Great Lord wishes,” Ordeith said blandly.

And so we set up... next book's plot. Seems a little premature for this book's prologue but sure! Also note that Ordeith calls Niall the same thing all the Darkfriends call the Dark One. You'd think a real servant of the light would notice and object...

It was a man in form, no larger than most, but there the resemblance ended. Dead black clothes and cloak, hardly seeming to stir as it moved, made its maggot-white skin appear ever paler. And it had no eyes. That eyeless gaze filled Carridin with fear, as it had filled thousands before.

Oddly, the wiki says that this is the first appearance of Shaidar Haran and that it was only described as a "very tall Myrddraal" at this stage but as you can see, this Myrddraal is actually... a little short for a storm trooper. I'm going to make the executive decision that no, this Fade is not even an early SH variant and that if Jordan wanted me to think so he should have put it in the text where it belonged instead of interviews after the fact.

The Halfman’s bloodless lips quirked in a smile. “Where there is shadow, there may I go.”

There really must be some other limit to the Myrddraal's shadow-stepping technique because otherwise one of them should have just stepped in Rand's shadow and killed him if they wanted him dead so bad.

The Myrddraal grated, “Your Lord Captain Commander’s words are dung! You were commanded to find the human called Rand al’Thor and kill him. That before all else. Above all else! Why are you not obeying?”

And so we see the trap that Carridin is in, an interesting trap indeed considering that in later books Rand will be off the kill list. It's a good thing Ba'alsy is mad enough for the inconsistency to just seem to be his illness and nothing more. Though perhaps this Fade works for one of the other Forsaken (Sammael? Rahvin?) It certainly isn't the DO deciding this (another thing that makes it hard to believe it's SH), because his orders are even clearer: let the Lord of Chaos rule.

“Hear me, human. You will find this youth and kill him as quickly as possible. Do not think you can dissemble. There are others of your children who will tell me if you turn aside in your purpose. But I will give you this to encourage you. If this Rand al’Thor is not dead in a month, I will take one of your blood. A son, a daughter, a sister, an uncle. You will not know who until the chosen has died screaming. If he lives another month, I will take another. And then another, and another. And when there is no one of your blood living except yourself, if he still lives, I will take you to Shayol Ghul itself.”

Frankly Mr. not-Haran, I don't think that's a great threat for Carridin until you invoked his suffering. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who cares about his family at all...

With his good hand Carridin struck the basket from Sharbon’s hands, sending withered winter apples rolling across the carpets, and backhanded the man across the face.

The hierarchy of evil is so pathetic, isn't it? Ah well.

So ends the third book's prologue. The first book's prologue was an Age before the main story and sets up the conflict of the book and the series clearly. The second book's prologue was at least a little before the chapters of the second book and set up the conflict of the book and the series clearly. This prologue doesn't bother with that and instead sets the tone for the vast majority of the prologues to come: checking in on the plot threads that aren't doing anything this book. Probably one of my least favorite structural choices in these books, but it's a minor quibble.

Next time: Rampant abuse of innocent corvids.

#let's read #wheel of time #wot #robert jordan #wheel of time spoilers #wot spoilers #pedron niall #jaret byar #jaichim carridin #padan fain #not shaidar haran i don't care what jordan said or the origins book or the wiki

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