#50's waitress

[welcome-to-alice-in-helll]

[scoobysnakz]

1950's greaser Miguel 😭 that's that

a/n: i had something like this in my drafts i was so happy omg 😭 also im so sorry this took so long i ended up falling down several rabbit holes around 50’s culture for no reason whatsoever. idk how to feel abt this it’s rushed and not proof read at all!!! so sorry for any dumb mistakes

warnings: none really except maybe threats of violence and very poorly written angst bc i just cant handle it.

everyone had warned you to watch out for guys like Miguel- the loud, cocky ones that only think with their dick. but you’ve never been one to listen, not to overbearing second cousins and patronising aunts, anyway.

your ignorance to their advice doesn’t do much, though, because as much as you pretend, they’re right. he knows he could have any girl he wants, all he’d have to do is flash her that signature smirk, maybe wrap one of his toned arms around her waist, and they’re putty in his hands.

so why would he give you- the gut-wrenchingly awkward waitress at the diner him and his friends flood after work- the time of day ?

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

It's a peacefully slow day at the diner, booths just as empty as the tip jar and the counter bell unrung.

This would be the perfect opportunity to relax, count the cars passing by and try to work out if you can afford takeout for tea, but you are stuck talking to some random guy.

He's sweet enough, fairly attractive, and a large tipper. Hopefully, things don't get too difficult.

"So then I said to my buddy, Clarence. Y’know Clarence, sweetheart? Comes here twice a week with his wife on Tuesdays and then comes on Saturdays with his… lady friend?"

You internally grimace at his words. Your smile falters slightly but you fight to keep that forced, hospitality smile plastered on your face.

If working at this grimy diner has taught you anything it's that people like him don't want to see a strand of emotion other than flattery at their crude compliments.

"That wasn't a rhetorical question, darling.”

Your gaze snaps back to him, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

“Do. You. Know. Clarence?" he sounds much gruffer now, more stern.

Panicked, you shake your head a quick no.

You do know Clarence and he is even more pushy than this guy, always taking a not-so-conspicuous glance at your chest, 'accidentally' groping your ass.

Somehow, he knows you're lying and his expression hardens. "Don't lie to me, m'kay? I asked you a simple question and all you have to do is answer it for me."

The way his words are so slow to pass through his thin, leathery lips makes your stomach form knots.

You glance around the diner but there's no one else there, the very few people who had been there left the moment he came in.

Is there something you don't know? You've been working here for just over a month and you thought you knew all the inside secrets, the customers to flirt with to get the big tip, who to give extra sugar too because they're too nervous to ask for it themselves, which families will clean up after themselves. Obviously not.

The sticky brown tables are lined with half-eaten meals and a few bills that people left behind before running off.

You can hear the stove humming lowly in the kitchen and the man's heavy breathing accompanying it.

"I don't know who Clarence is, sir." your tone matches his, harsh and unwilling. It's nine forty-five on a Saturday and all you want is five minutes of sleep. "So either order something or leave. It's company policy.” you pick up a creased piece of laminated paper that says pretty much what you did but in a much more formal narrative.

His face contorts into a snarl as he glares at you, lips curling and nostrils flaring in a way that immediately makes you regret your sudden surge of confidence.

"You're lucky I don't hit women," he mutters under his breath.

Those words alone are enough to make your skin crawl. It's a threat, a cleverly disguised one, but a threat all the same.

"I'll ask one more time, sweetie. Do you know Clarence?" his voice is painfully condescending. Under different circumstances you would have chewed his ear off.

Before you get a chance to snap back at him the bell chimes as someone else enters the diner. You thank God, and whoever else is up there with him, that you are no longer alone.

It's a regular- Peter. You flash an uneasy smile, willing him to get the hint.

His mousy brown hair hangs flat on his head, a few strands wrapped around his daughter's pudgy fingers. Lazily, he turns to face you, eyes narrowing as he takes in your nervous expression.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

The man scoffs and rolls his eyes. “We're fine, get your coffee and go.”

It takes him a second, round brown eyes darting between the two of you before he sucks in a sharp breath and nods his head.

Peter knows he isn't intimidating, painfully the opposite. It’s almost impossible for him to come across as anything other than naïvely friendly… perhaps a little agitating, though. There's never a moment where a charismatic grin isn't etched into his thin, rosy lips or an awkward joke said to ease the tension. According to him, it’s his Achilles heel.

Hurriedly, he excuses himself and Mayday and pushes his chair away from the counter before stumbling out the door. Your eye twitches with slight irritation but you push past it; there’s no point staying angry with Peter when he didn't have any obligation to ‘save’ you.

Smirking, the man looks at you. It’s just the two of you now.

You know you shouldn't have begged to take the closing shift alone. You had assumed you’d keep all the tips, get to clean up with whatever music you like playing and have some downtime before trudging through the busy New York streets. And now you know how idiotic it was to think that.

“Hey, bebita.” the shrill sound of the bell doesn't do anything to dampen obnoxiously loud entrance.

You drag your gaze over to the source of the tall shadow that’s blanketing the top of the sticky, wooden counter. It takes you no time at all to recognise that sturdy build and dark heap of slicked-back curls.

Your eyes scrunch as your lips utter a silent thank you to God for freeing you from the burden of this creep and a little less grateful plea to get rid of Miguel as soon as possible.

Don't get it wrong, you couldn't be happier someone has come to rescue you from whoever this balding weirdo is but you might be a little more giddy with glee if it wasn't Miguel. It’s not that he's a bad guy or anything but things can get a little tense between people when one of them stands the other one up.

Miguel slides onto one of the stools next to the man, who is now looking considerably less confident now that there's a 6’9 man sitting next to him.

“Can I get a coffee, please,” he orders with an awkward curve of his lips that doesn't quite form a smile.

“She’s busy right now, might want to go someplace else, lad,” the stranger says with a nod towards the door, almost trying to act pally with Miguel. But he knows better than that- surely.

You can see Miguel’s jaw tensing from the corner of your eye but you brush past it, finding amusement in his irritation.

“You know how I like it, black, no sugar,” he says before turning his attention back to the man.

You make your way down to the other end of the counter where the coffee pot sits, encompassed by splodgy brown rings stained into the wood. You wonder how long you can stay down here, how many excuses you can come up with before one of them grows weary and snaps.

The wash cloth is still damp, you know it is because you wiped everywhere down at least fifty times whilst waiting for your unwanted visitor to leave. You begin to scrub the battered wood again, trying in vain to remove the surplus of coffee stains that you know won’t budge.

It’s not even late and you’re exhausted. Just the thought of getting on the train has your eyes growing heavy and shoulders sagging. And now, you have to deal with two of the most irritating people to exist.

“Hurry up with his coffee, we have things to talk about!”

You whip your head around, eyes narrowed with spite and lips parted to spew whatever crude insult spills out first but Miguel beats you to it.

“What?” he scoffs.

“She’s taking forever, acting like we have all the time in the fucking world!”

Without any hesitation, Miguel is up, towering over the balding reprobate. His expression is calm, surprisingly, but the slight clench of his jaw can't hide from your watchful gaze. You’re tempted to intervene, cautious of the mess Miguel’s infamous outbursts leave behind, but this loathsome man getting put in his place is more than worth it.

“Apologise.”

The man swallows, yellowing eyes widened with panic. On his own, the man is intimidating. He’s taller than you and it’s easy to tell he works out but he's no Miguel. Side by side, he looks like an influenza-ridden Victorian child whilst Miguel continues to stand proud, attracting all attention like a pompous black hole.

His chapped lips move but no intelligible words come out, just a serious of worthless splutters and squeaks.

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Apologise to the lady. Now.”

Only silence follows. Silence so soft and crisp you swear you can hear the snowflakes falling on the dirtied pavements outside before they instantly melt away. That’ll be fun walking home in.

“Por dios,” Miguel groans, “You have one last chance, tell her you’re sorry or I’m dragging you out and telling everyone how much of an uneducados, baboso bastardo you are!”

“I-i only understood bastardo,” the man stammers and you just about manage to muffle the chuckle that bubbles in your chest.

“Getting kicked out it is,” Miguel sighs.

You watch through amused eyes as Miguel grabs him by his tattered collar and drags him towards the door. The man continues to protest this, blabbering about how he's more than happy to apologise and that he has friends in high-up places who won't be pleased to hear about this, but Miguel doesn't care.

He chucks him out into the street and you don't even have to see his face to know he’s smirking as the idiot lands flat on his ass because you are too.

The bell chimes his entrance once again, a proud grin on his face as he saunters towards you.

“So?” he questions expectantly.

Pushing past your amusement, you shrug your shoulders.

“I just kicked out some dick head for you and you’re not gonna say anything?”

“He didn't get a chance to pay, so you’re gonna have to cover it.” you flash him a sarcastic smile before picking up the tip jar and pushing it towards him, “and tip.”

His eyes narrow before he pulls out his wallet and behind to leaf through a series of wrinkled tens and twenties before pulling out a fifty. “Treat yourself.”

Again, you offer a forced smile before taking the jar away and opening the register to change the fifty for five tens. Your ears perk at the sound of his exasperated sigh, the corner of your mouth twitching into a grin at his irritation.

“You are so petty you know that, hermosa?”

You slam the register shut, mettle blooming in your chest at the dumbfounded expression on Miguel’s face.

You remain unblinking as you glare at him, not a slither of emotion is present on your face other than pure unbridled spite. You’ve never been able to wrap your head around his confidence. Sure, he's conventionally attractive and can tell you how the reason you never see stars at night isn't because of all the light pollution but because they know they’ll never compare to the grace of your smile or the dazzling beauty of your eyes all in Spanish. But is he really that amazing?

He pulls out a small metal tube from his pocket and pops it open. “Toothpick?” he offers, sliding one between his lips, “cherry flavoured.”

You keep staring disdainfully at him, expression unmoving.

“I’m starting to understand why he was in such a grump,” he mutters to himself, although his eyes are still carefully trained on you, “with service like this, any man would end up in a funk like that.”

That does it. You slam your fists on the tacky counter with a furious groan. You’re so fucking tired, not one single person in this entire rat-filled city has manners, the last thing you need is some self-obsessed playboy messing with your emotions.

Palms stinging , you look back up at him. His eyes are slightly widened but he stays silent, slightly baffled by whatever just happened.

“Get out, Miguel.”

He scoffs and stays where he is, clearly not oblivious to how infuriating he is.

“I’m not joking. Get out.”

His expression falters slightly but again, he simply refuses to move.

“I am so tired of people walking all over me, not an ounce of courtesy or anything. I'm not letting you, of all people, treat me the same.”

Slowly, he stands up, pushing his toothpick holder into his inside pocket.

“Please,” your voice cracks as tears sting the corners of your eyes, “just get out.”

You don't wait to hear the door close before allowing yourself to crumple, head falling onto your folded arms on the counter while unwanted tears trail down your cheeks.

You can’t believe you just broke down that, completely unprovoked. Miguel didn't help but whatever just happened was… it was more than unnecessary it was just plain childishness. How could you have allowed yourself to get so worked up? Normally you’re so collected, and always know how to act, yet the second that cocky idiot is around your emotions run havoc.

Then, your nose breathes in that familiar cedar and menthol smell. Internally, you groan.

“Look, I’m sorry that was out of order,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes. It's all well and good being able to apologize for being a dick one time but when you're continuously being a douche the effect tends to wear off.

“How did you even get behind here?” you mumble into your arms.

Ignoring your question, he slowly wraps an arm around your waist. You jump, at first, but allow yourself to relax. It’s nice being held, even if it's awkwardly and by someone you detest.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

What a gentleman.

Sniffling, you lift your head and turn to face him. “I don't have a car, Miguel!” you croak out.

What could pass as either a pout or a thoughtful frown forms on his lips as he stares at you. Whatever it is, it reeks of sympathy that you didn't ask for.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’ve said that.”

“No. I’m sorry about before.”

You scoff. It’s like he refuses to listen to you on purpose.

He runs his fingers through his hair, a sigh pushing past his lips. “I’m sorry about not showing up.”

It takes a second or two before you get what he means. You raise your brow, taken aback by his sudden ability to take just enough responsibility to apologize but not enough to actually say what he did. It’s funny, in a way, that it took you having to yell at him and break down crying before it even clicked that he should apologize.

“It’s fine, you were a dick and I got over it.” you lie.

He scowls, clearly unimpressed by the lack of enthusiasm his apology earned him. He steps a little closer, fingers grazing against your middle. Instinctively, your stomach clenches at the contact but you don't move away.

“That’s… that’s fair.”

You hum in agreement but remain silent.

“Forgot how to speak?” his voice is smooth like velvet but you don't take the bait. You’ve been in this position before, Miguel holding you close, a sudden softness to his demeanour whilst he comforts you. And last time it ended with you crying into your pillow until you fell asleep.

His hand turns your face towards him, thumb tracing the outline of your lower lip. “Que niña tan linda,” he utters.

Your upper lip curls up in disgust and you push him away. You might be exhausted and emotionally distraught but that doesn't mean you don't have common sense.

Something, you’re not quite sure what, flickers across his expression as he bites down on his bottom lip.

Defensively, he holds his hands up and takes a dramatic step away. “Misread the room.”

You laugh. Again, it's not even a proper apology, just something to clear his conscious until he does something equally as idiotic. It would take a miracle for him to give a heartfelt, meaningful apology and you sincerely doubt any miracles are coming his way.

Another awkward silence fills the room. It's not like the one before, though, there’s no fear of death or ill-mannered slobs taking up all thinking space. Just you and Miguel, stood dangerously close while you cumbersomely sniffle away your tears.

You can feel it, Miguel’s intense gaze burning holes into the side of your face. He doesn't look away, just keeps staring at you, unblinking and unmoving.

“Bebita.” you allow yourself to look at him. The harsh, flickering yellow lights hang close to his head and burn the corners of your eyes. “I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“If you thought so, I wouldn't have been left standing outside the movies for an hour in the rain waiting for you,” you mutter snidely.

Ditching his previous tactics for forgiveness, he groans. “I told you already, I was busy.”

Everyone had warned you to watch out for guys like Miguel- the loud, cocky ones that only think with their dick. But you’ve never been one to listen, not to overbearing second cousins and patronising aunts, anyway.

Your ignorance of their advice hadn’t done much, though, because as much as you’d pretended, they were right. He knows he could have any girl he wants, all he’d have to do is flash her that signature smirk, maybe wrap one of his toned arms around her waist, and they’re putty in his hands.

And you'd fallen for his flirtatious trap once before. Hook, line and sinker.

You force your gaze away, deciding eye contact with him isn't worth the optical damage that will surely present itself sooner or later.

“You have a house phone, could have called me or the diner, hell- Peter would have been happy to be your little messenger pigeon!” it all comes out at once, a toxic blur of anger and regret that has been burning in your chest since the moment he walked in tumbling out your mouth before you could get a chance to stop yourself. “You are the scum of the earth, Miguel. I hope you know that.”

He lets your words settle in the air, arm slowly retracting from your waist and coming to rest on the countertop. His lips are pursed into a tight line that hides all emotion but the remnants of a frown tug his brown eyes downwards.

“Peter had come out, before, telling me that some creep was in there bothering you.” he glances back down at you, waiting for something other than fury to be represented on your face only to realise his optimism was all in vain and continuing on. “And I thought… maybe if I sort this out for her, she’ll forgive me.”

“You trying to be a good person now doesn't make standing me up okay.” you pause, angling yourself to face him, a sudden wave of sympathy crashing over you at the sight of his shiny eyes. “I forgive you, for now.”

This time, he doesn't even try to hide the pleased smirk on his face. His obnoxiously sharp canines poke proudly over his bottom lip and that ridiculous cocky twinkle is back in his eyes. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging to no end.

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

You scrunch your nose and shake your head. “I can't be friends with someone who tips with a fifty, it’s too ironic and tacky.”

He clutches his chest in feigned offence before a low chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest.

You aren't too sure what you are, in all honesty. The two of you had started off as acquaintances, which led to a strange friendship which had snowballed into him kissing you in the kitchen after closing hours before he stood you up on your first proper date. And now you’re both here, laughing even though you’re certain you wanted him dead almost a minute ago.

“Can I try again, then? I want to get it right.”

You shrug, you only live once.

[youngmetameta]

[namnumsart]

commission for @cyb0rgsunset

[cannonbaboon]

Cindy the robot waitress

( Come get you burgers at ROB BOB's™ ! )

[oculusxcaro]

DNA. What was your muses home life like? (Before Prometheus)

“DAMN.” Questions for Muses. (also sent by @arkhmlcst and @enigmavis)

It wasn't much but Khare was happy. Born in Hull, she lived there for the majority of her years in a small family home, a few years after her older sister and quite some years before her youngest and only brother. Her parents were cordial enough for the most part but had the sense to seperate when it was clear they weren't getting along, unintentionally leaving Khare by the wayside what with being the middle child of the family.

Fortunately seperation went smoothly for the most part. Her sister was old enough to move out by the time it happened and Khare stayed with her mother for a while, bouncing in-between both homes while her brother stayed with her father. Things were as normal as you could get for a family living in one of the more deprived areas of Britain, living their lives in a rundown seaside town that had seen better days. She got everything she needed, rarely going without but never being as 'special' as her siblings left their mark as it wasn't long before she too moved out to find a place of her own. Despite not being as close with her family as she'd have liked, Khare retained a positive relationship as best she could, especially with her younger brother who'd always been on the small side for his age. She wasn't afraid to get physical with the local yobs if they tried it and did get into a couple of scraps but overall she wasn't much of a troublemaker, just not very academic. She had a goth phase to which she still looks back on with great embarassment.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja? 

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You. 

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order. 

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee. 

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife. 

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives. 

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment. 

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all. 

— Your coffee, master. 

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask. 

— Do you have a boyfriend? 

Oh. 

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening. 

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it. 

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly. 

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for. 

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful? 

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are. 

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment. 

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket. 

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible. 

— But I can make an exception! 

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day. 

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business. 

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long. 

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately. 

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say. 

God, this is hopeless. 

— Can I get my special offer now? 

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you. 

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you. 

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this. 

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already. 

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass. 

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him. 

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here. 

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return. 

And he does have your number with him. 

— Are you happy with the pictures, master? 

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much. 

God, he can’t wait to make you his. 

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house. 

[rustygem]

hi do you take requests?

if you dont, feel free to ignore, but if you do..

imagine dr ratio having a wife/husband(reader), or lover whatever. they've been married for a long whike now on a really healthy relationship. reader is a opposite to ratio, a calm collected individual who doesn't lash out

but what happens when ratio became so stubborn the reader snaps and calls dr ratio by his full name? especially in front of people?

kinda want to know your perspective and jow you write this

(i love ut writing :3 its still okay to ignore though)

彡prompt: you love dr. ratio, you do. but sometimes he can irritate the shit out of you.

彡warning(s): swearing. sorta angsty, but it’s somehow fluff. probably ooc! ratio?

彡notes: dividers by cafekitsune.

Y’know, usually date nights with a loving partner are supposed to go well. And yours with Veritas did, but only until you two started having a back and forth on paying the tip.

“Veritas, please. It’s only 100 credits.” You pinched your temple. Seriously, the waitress was nice! She wasn’t too pushy, there wasn’t any attitude. One small tip wouldn’t hurt.

“What is there to tip the woman for? For doing her job right?” He crossed his legs. “Darling, you must understand that a waitress who isn’t unbearably contemptible isn’t one deserving of a tip.”

“For fucks sake…she’s gonna come over here in less than five minutes. If you don’t want to pay her, I will.” As soon as you took out your wallet, Veritas just shook his head.

You were endearing and your emotional intelligence was admirable. But for goodness sakes, you seemed just a little too insistent on spending extra credits for somebody just doing their job.

As if it was right on cue, you gave the waitress the bill, along with a 100 credit tip with a smile.

It wasn’t until you stopped the waitress from leaving to give her another 50 credits that Veritas just huffed and snatched the money out of your hands.

“Okay, that’s enough. She doesn’t need anymore money than you gave her.” He put your credits in his wallet, glaring at you. “Don’t be so careless with your credits.”

The nervous waitress looked at him, then at you. Her nerves only increased as she saw your eye twitch.

You raised your voice. “Veritas Ratio, quit being prudish and give her the credits!”

It wasn’t the yelling that made him recoil, it was the anger in your tone and voice. Frustration wasn’t new, but you were actually mad at him.

Noticing the eyes on you, your boyfriend, and the poor…poor waitress, your anger subsided.

“Uh…Please. Please give her the credits.” You spoke softly now, mumbling a softer ‘thanks’ as he handed her the money.

However, the waitress took a deep breath, and spoke up. “I can assure you 100 credits is more than enough for me. But thank you.” The waitress smiled at you and walked off with the check.

You picked at your nails, lip quivering as you thought about what you should say to your boyfriend—who was several steps ahead of you.

Noticing this, he looked at you as he continued walking. “If you feel guilt–ridden because you think you’ve hurt my feelings, then banish the thought immediately.”

You rushed next to him, looking at him with lingering feelings of doubt and regret. “Yeah well, I’m sorry for yelling at you and making a scene.”

God, what’s wrong with me? You thought to yourself.

He frowned, watching tears brim your eyelashes. “It’s not like you weren’t provoked.” He sighed before continuing.

“But, in all honesty sweetheart, I thought you were being too benevolent like always.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you stared at your shoes.

“Though, your attempt at trying to put me in my place made me reconsider something.” He stopped, eyeing you.

“I considered you to be someone who’s too kind for their own good. That was one of the things I wanted you to work on.”

And you swear you saw him smile for a second. “But, you’re still capable of standing your ground, so perhaps I misjudged. Apologies.”

Embarrassed, you scratched your cheek. “That’s sweet of you, Ver–ow!”

He pinched your cheek with his fingertips. “Though, the next time you want to raise your voice at me, I’d prefer you do it in a more private setting.”

[takami-takami]

Like Idiots.

includes— hawks x reader. fluff. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. pining like idiots. keigo is a pain in the ass. the reader is worse. i had fun with this. <3

There is zero need for Keigo to make a confession when it comes to his crush. It would be entirely redundant to confess. 

Your sigh at the thought is palpable. It really is quite a shame.

Part of you yearns for that passionate drama of an ending, where in some novela-inspired twist of fate, your adoring knight is forced to spill his love at your feet. In your daydreams— the ones dreadfully reminiscent of some lovelorn teenager's— a faceless villain from fuck-all-nowhere nearly ends the life of his beloved hero partner.

And the words spill from his throat like his lovesick sobs, clutching you close to his chest while you do your best to pretend you're not biting back a smile at the attention. 

"I love you! I've always loved you," he'd cry. 

Or something like that. 

And you'd kiss, and sparks would fly, or whatever. 

End scene. 

You're not getting that confession, though. 

It figures your love life would turn out to be a comedy. Par for the course of your life, you suppose. 

Instead of a scrawled letter sealed with wax or a poem whispered under the imposing moonlight, your confession is written all over Keigo's face— well, not all over, exactly. Every centimeter of his face conceals his emotions meticulously, flawlessly.

Every portion of his face is perfectly practiced and impeccably controlled; except for two measly little points. 

You prod at your food again with your fork in hand, all frowns as you sit across from your work partner in a booth at the diner he likes to drag you to on your lunch breaks. 

And you stare uncomfortably into the most cartoonishly blown pupils you've ever seen.

"Um. Hawks?" 

"Yeah? What's up, chickadee," he asks sincerely before chomping down messily on a battered chicken drum, moaning and letting his eyes fall shut as he does with every meal— typically an obstacle for your focus, this accidentally whorish display is actually a welcome reprieve from your racing thoughts.

When his eyes flutter open once more, you're faced once again with black saucers and the sound of reckless chewing. His pupils are still dilated like a cat tripping balls on the dealer's finest catnip.

"Hawks, I really think I should tell you that—"

Your intervention is rudely interrupted by a waitress in a 50's style apron and folded paper hat combo, likely rushing over notepad in hand to get first dibs on serving a celebrity. 

You would prefer to be unfair. It'd be easier to displace your frustration for your lot in life onto this poor woman, to tell her that her hat looks stupid and pink isn't her color, that she should really just stop trying. 

You decide to be an adult. 

Keigo, on the other hand, does not. Like a child given free reign to order for himself at a restaurant for the first time, he explains that she should really heap on the sugar for his coffee.

"No, no, no. More than that. Like syrup. I want it to taste like it's gonna put me in an early grave and— wait, where are you going?"

The debacle brings to attention another phenomenon that you've grown accustomed to seeing:

The second his gaze meets her's, Keigo's pupils shrink to points once more, constricting to tight dots before bouncing back to their natural size. And predictably, once again, they expand like blown glass when you catch his attention.

"Hawks!"

"Yeah, what?"

His chewing ceases obnoxiously, chicken drum in his right hand and half-chewed remains in his left cheek.

You might as well rip it off like a bandaid. You let out a puff of air.

"Your eyes," you attempt to gently point out. 

"Mm?" Keigo's head tilts to the side, pondering your observation for a moment.

"My eyes? Ohh," he drags his words as if in realization, treating himself to another chomp into the drumstick. "You gettin' lost in them, huh? Happens, dove. You can stare, I don't mind."

"No!" You squeak out your denial before smoothing down your shirt and tipping your chin high. 

You have the upper hand here. Remember that.

"I mean," you correct your course, staring down and poking at your plate while a smile creeps up your lips. "It's kinda hard not to when your pupils look like they're gonna swallow your goddamn irises."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"Kei'?" You flick your gaze up toward him, worried now.

Under normal circumstances, it's an established habit for Keigo to slot one palm over his mouth when called out. 

But this time, that hand bypasses his lips, crawling upward to reach his visor and wordlessly drag it down over the source of his shame.

A stronger person than you would hold back their laughter. They would take pity on the flush rising over his cheeks and neck like sunsets. Perhaps they would coo praises to soothe him, or even take it all back to ease the shame and discomfort that makes him feel utterly naked. 

They would take pity on the man who, under the fluorescent high beams bolted to the diner's ceiling, looks just like a clown tripping on stage with the spotlight shined on his face.

You are not a strong person. 

In your hysterics, you reach over to pry the barrier off his eyes, climbing into his lap and over him like tussling teenagers. 

"Keigo, I didn't say it was a bad thing—"

"You're laughing," he laments like a kicked puppy, prying your face an arm's length from his with a single palm. 

It's over. This is it for him. His life is over, he's going to have to change his identity. 

He can start fresh with a new hero name, one not centered around red-tailed hawks— he'll need to rebrand as another bird, most likely. Preferably one with the same signature red feathers so as not to make a fuss for the merch department.

Maybe a parrot. 

Winged-Hero Parrots.

"You're laughing at me!" 

"I'm not laughing at—" another uncontrollable wheeze. His wings flap in indignance once, slamming against the cushions of the pink diner seat before drooping down like a dog's tail between its legs. You pluck the visor and raise it above your head out of arm's reach, one hand planted against his chest for stability.

"Not laughing at you! Baby, I promise—" 

"Baby?" He repeats.

The silence is worse the second time around— but luckily for you, Keigo is a stronger person than you are. No laughter erupts from his chest, no smirk settles on his face. 

If anything, your slip up seems to elevate his heart rate more than yours.

"We really should—"

"I think we need to—"

Both sentences collide in the small space between you, his lips completely still and mere inches away from yours. 

You're reminded of the feeling of your fingertips about to touch metal after being charged with static, the skin crackling with the air's tension as you contemplate whether to just get it over with and touch.

And slowly, as if suddenly cognizant of your bodies and environment, you both crawl off each other and scoot toward the furthest edges of the booth seat.

Your knees make their way toward your chest for comfort, while Keigo's wings drape over his shoulders like a cocoon. 

"We should talk."

[sketchmenot-art]

Jessabell - Dirt Nap Diner

Drew @goat13’s character Jessabell McSmith wearing a cute 50s diner waitress uniform! 🖤🍔🕑

This is part of a big art trade project with my very good friend @goat13! We each drew each other’s characters, my character (Mizore) along with three of his characters (Jessabell, Sinthia, and Gwen) as waitresses! I went with a vintage 50s diner aesthetic, while he went with a western-inspired surf and turf kinda look!

I was inspired by the song Los Angered by Trailer Trash Tracys while working on this piece.

Trailer Trash Tracys - Los Angered

Done with Clip Studio Paint EX May 2024

[writerjuliannaf]

Wolverine Headcanons

after a VERY long hiatus from Tumblr… I’m happy to say that I’m officially back!!

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Has a chunky pet squirrel named Bruce

He likes to eat Logan’s sandwiches, runs around the mansion and knows to stay indoors, and he has a black cowl/stripe shape on his face —which instantly reminded Logan of Batman, sparking his pet’s name

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Frequently visits a local diner and orders the same thing every time: waffles drenched in maple syrup, with a large plate of bacon on the side

The waitress who always serves him is a sweet, older, southern lady —either named Althea or Ida— and she knows his order by heart, often calling him “sugar” or “baby” in her thick accent

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Is secretly VERY clingy when he gets attached and loves to cuddle

When I tell you this man loves physical touch of any kind (I’m talking in a non-spicy way) HE REALLY loves it… cuddling, spooning, holding hands, having you sit in his lap while you both eat… it’s non stop with Logan (but I’m not complaining, lol)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ He also loves when his hair and beard are softly scratched

Logan may seem like a no-nonsense baddie… but at the end of the day, he is a huge softie, loving his hair, beard, and back scratched. Who doesn’t? But Logan… he craves it

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Loves texting his girl, and often sends her too many gifs and emojis

I think when Logan finds the girl of his dreams (NOT JEAN) he surprises everyone at the mansion when they see him texting and smirking at his phone. Gifs, emojis, encouraging quotes from Pinterest, you name it… and he’ll send it to her. Because it not only makes her smile… but man, it makes him smile too

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Collects either shot glasses or pins every time he travels, especially when he’s on missions

I like to think this started when Logan officially moved into the X-Mansion, sooooo many years ago. He finally had a place to stay and somewhere to store his new belongings that he’d eventually buy/collect. And at first, he probably saw a pin/shot glass with a funny quote on it and decided to swipe it. But then, on each mission, it just became a habit

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Enjoys the musical 7 Brides for 7 Brothers because it’s very nostalgic for Logan and reminds him of the traditional lifestyle in the 1800’s

So this is not really that surprising, since he was born in the 1800’s (In 1832, right?) and I believe the movie was just randomly playing on the tv one day, and he instantly fell in love. It warmed something inside him to see, once again, how his life in the frontiere looked —since he probably lived in a Canadian small town that resembled the town in the movie

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Loves when you wear his shirts

Wanna make Logan extremely happy? Wear something of his. His shirts, sweat pants, jackets. And OMG… his cowboy hats!! This man is FERAL and he just LOVES when his scent mixes with yours. You could even wear his SOCKS, and I can bet you, you’ll immediately see hearts in his eyes

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ REALLY loves when you read to him, especially before bed

Okay… this gives beauty and the beast vibes. And I’m telling you, every time I see that movie (one of my favorite Disney movies, btw) I just imagine Logan just adoringly gazing at you like the Beast looked at Belle as she read. And Logan WILL beg you to read to him (in a casual way though, cause he still has that gruff reputation to maintain) more so before bed. Maybe his mom, or even Victor, read to him when he was sick? Who knows… but just know, it soothes him

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ ᥫ᭡ Most definitely hums and sings in the shower

He has a great singing voice, but no one knows that except you. And when you’re chilling in his room while he showers, just be prepared for him to belt out some 80’s rock songs or even some old country tunes. He also likes a lot of songs from the 50’s too, which would definitely give him that bad boy, biker/greaser vibe

⋆˙⟡ Comment, like, reblog & follow for more ⟡⋆˙

Thank you for reading!! And if you have any requests, lemme know ♡

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨ ⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙ ୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

[dreamingofep]

Forbidden Love💔❣️

Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Reuniting with Elvis was supposed to be the highlight of your summer, but with unresolved tensions between you two, things aren’t what they seem. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, TENSION!!!

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Hello everyone! Welcome to my new fic! Very excited to share this with you all. 1969 was quite a year for Elvis and just needed to write what he was doing that summer🤭 Enjoy!

If you'd like to read any of my other fics, start here or Ao3! Hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

June 15, 1969

You grumble sitting here, trying to figure out if you both would get by this month. It’s always been a little tough, that’s just how it’s been lately. But the last few months have been exceptionally rough. You were waitressing at the local diner seven days a week. Before that, you’d usually be out auditioning for any film or TV show. You practically lived on a movie set since you were so busy with different projects. It was your dream you’ve chased your whole life and felt you had what it took to be in Hollywood. 

You moved here when you were twenty-four, hoping to get attention for a new movie in the works. It was a lot of hard work, but you did get roles. You got a few lead roles or even things like background work.

Things changed when you married John. He was once so loving and supportive about your dreams, but drastically changed once you two married and moved in together. He was much more distant and borderline cold when he talked to you. You were always so excited when you got a new audition or had a really good day on set. Your mood would instantly get deflated when he talked about how he thought a certain movie was silly or how he thought you could spend your time doing more useful things. 

It always felt like a punch in the gut when he said those kinds of things to you. You pushed yourself to ignore such negative thoughts though. Nothing was going to stop you. 

You met John because he was friends with Elvis in the 50’s. You and Elvis were friends before John ever came around. But things changed between you and Elvis and you didn’t know exactly what happened that caused such a riff.

You were surprised being in Hollywood at the same time Elvis was, you never ran into each other. There was a part of you that missed your old friend. He was always so much fun to hang out with and you were sure he was the same way as he was years ago. There was always this hope when you booked something on the MGM lot that you would run into Elvis and you would catch up like no time has gone by. But your naive way of thinking only made you more disappointed as the years went on.

When you saw articles about Elvis in the paper or saw his picture in a magazine, it made you miss him more than anything. It would be nice to have a friend when times get tough but he never reached out. 

Your family knew the Presleys and had a similar upbringing in Memphis. You would have dinners together sometimes and got along with Elvis since you were the same age. He was exceptionally handsome and all the girls loved him. You saw he had beauty inside and out though. He was more than just a pretty face. You didn’t pursue anything romantic with him. It was easier to just be friends. You thought of him fondly and wanted the best for him, that’s all you could do. 

As the years have gone on, you found yourself unhappier than ever. With the financial strain looming over your head, you weren’t going out for as many auditions as you used to and your life felt so empty without art. John was out all day searching for new jobs lately, straining your relationship further. But you understood he was trying to make more money and pick up any job he could find. You tried to take as many shifts at the diner to help him out and not make him feel like the financial responsibility was all on him.

It was time to do something about the current situation you’re in, you just weren’t exactly sure what to do. You go to turn on the radio, trying to drown out the incessant worried voices that were ringing in your head. You turn the volume knob up and one of Elvis’ songs came on. That voice always put you in a good mood and the idea popped into your head; maybe Elvis could help him find a new job or hire him personally?

“When was the last time you talked to Elvis?” You ask over the music. 

“A few weeks ago, why?” 

“You should call him, see if he has any recommendations for jobs for you,” you say nonchalantly. 

“I don’t know… I don’t want to overstep,” John says shortly. 

“You’re one of his oldest friends, I don’t think he’d be upset,” you try to reassure. John sighs and goes into the other room to make the phone call, closing the door behind him. 

It was true, they had known each other since they were teenagers and kept in touch quite often. It made you a little sad he never asked about you or made an effort to talk to you. So many things changed when he got drafted. You lost contact with him and when he came back to the States, he was trying to be a big Hollywood star. He didn’t have time for you anymore. It stung, but you knew he’d be just fine without you. 

John came back into the room quietly, looking uncomfortable. 

“He said yes,” he says surprised. 

You look at him a little shocked, “he said yes to what?” You ask. 

“He said I could go and work for him,” he says a bit relieved. 

“Oh my gosh, that’s great!” You say. 

“I start tomorrow. He wants us there at his Hillcrest house in the afternoon,” he explains. You were so happy this was happening. 

You were relieved Elvis was doing this for him! This could change so much! Depending on what Elvis could pay him, your lives might be much different! Maybe you both wouldn’t have to struggle and worry so much about finances. Perhaps you can start acting again… there were so many possibilities with this new turn of events. Your life might get a lot better because of all of this. 

*

You couldn’t pinpoint why you were so nervous to see Elvis again but you were. A part of you felt like you did something wrong and that’s why he stopped talking to you. You knew that was all in your head but you couldn’t shake the feeling. You must have changed your dress a dozen times thinking the color didn’t suit you or it wasn’t the right thing to wear, but you were running late and had to settle for this dress you were wearing. It was a simple, black and white sundress with cherry blossoms scattered on the lower half. John was waiting in the car for you, impatient as always.

You lived about twenty minutes away from Elvis’ Hillcrest home. You had never been to this house before but heard it’s really beautiful. It was up in the hills and was in a relatively quiet neighborhood, perfect for a rock and roll singer to be left alone.

You pull up to the iron gates with a red brick driveway and wait for someone to open the gate for you both. The car stops and you pop out of the car quickly. You felt like a child with this unwavering curiosity. The front had a beautiful entrance and so much lush greenery and flowers surrounding the long driveway. You felt like you could be in the countryside rather than in the heart of Los Angeles with all this vegetation. The smell of jasmine and pine filled your nose the longer you stood out here and never knew more of a heavenly scent. The house was pretty modern and very clean from the outside. 

“Do you wanna come inside or are you just going to stand there?” John says. 

You snap out of it and cordially smile at him even though his tone ticked you off. You walk quickly to the front door with him and John opens the door, letting you step in first. 

The foyer was spacious with gold picture frames of Elvis and his parents in black and white. You missed them, they were always so sweet to you. The white marble floors shone brightly and the sound of your clicking heels echoed through the front entrance. The dining room was on the left with a large black table with matching chairs around it. 

You peek around the corner and see suede-white couches in the living room with a large mirror above them. This place felt warm and inviting, like a home. It reminded you of Graceland in a way, how the second you walked through the door, you felt 

safe and cared for. 

“Hey EP,” John says gleefully. 

You quickly turn around and see Elvis walking into the dining room. You have to hold your breath as he walks in because you barely recognize him. Or you forgot how good-looking he was. 

He walks in confidently wearing a yellow, silk button-up that was unbuttoned to the middle of his tan chest and black slacks. A black leather belt was fastened at his waist and his leather boots echoed in the halls. He let his hair grow out longer than you’ve ever seen and it looked quite nice on him.  Elvis reaches his hand out to shake John’s hand and smiles as he greets him. 

You stand there frozen, unable to move any closer to him. They start to exchange words and hug each other. As Elvis pulls John in for a hug, he makes eye contact with you. His gleeful grin turns into a wide-eyed stare in your direction and his smile fades. Your heart thumps wildly, not sure what to do or say after an expression like that. Elvis pats John’s back and continues to look at you with a blank expression. 

“Hey y/n,” Elvis says low. 

Jesus that voice, it did something incomprehensible to you. It was so sultry without even trying. 

“H-hi Elvis,” you say timidly. 

The longer you stare at him, the more you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen him last. He no longer has that baby face but he somehow still has that boyish innocence strewed across his face when he looks at you. He looks so much taller now even though you’re sure he hasn’t grown that much taller over the last ten years. Elvis had this newfound confidence in him that you had never seen before. It was like he glowed from the inside out. There was a magnetism to him that you’ve never encountered by just looking at a man. His entire presence was overwhelming and had you awestruck. 

Elvis turns back to John and puts the smile back on his face before facing him. 

“It’s so great to have you here man. You should have called sooner. Why don’t you go outside and meet the rest of the guys? I don’t think you’ve met everyone yet. They’ll explain more of what to do, I’ll be there in a sec,” he says positively. 

John makes his way back to the front door and nods his head at you. The door closes gently and you slowly turn your attention back to Elvis. He still has that same look on his face. He walks cautiously over to you, inspecting you carefully. The closer he gets to you, the more details you can see on his face. His eyes looked so blue and mesmerizing. His gaze was so intense you had to look away or you might find yourself blushing. He stops a few feet away from you, keeping a comfortable distance between you two. 

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” He asks you. You meet his eyes and haven’t been this close to him in ages. You feel like you’re eighteen again and completely tongue-tied. You smile sweetly at him. 

“It has. Over ten years since I’ve seen you,” you say.  You can’t help but sound a bit sour when you say that. Puts into perspective how much has changed over the years. 

He hums softly to himself, his eyebrows furrowing, “you’re right… I haven’t seen you since that night,” he says a bit smugly. 

You freeze, you hated how he put so much emphasis on that sentence. You brush that off and try not to show that his words got to you. 

“Yeah, at your going away party. That was the last night I saw you before you went off to Germany,” you throw back. “And I somehow haven’t seen you since.”

He stared blankly at you, clearly affected by your calloused words. You turn away from him, walking over to the living room to look at the different decorations but to also hide the smug smile that formed on your face. 

“I’ve been busy,” he mumbles behind you. 

"Mhmm," you hum.

You look at the side tables that had a couple of different pictures of Elvis with friends and family. There was a particular one that caught your eye. It was one with Elvis and a girl who had her arms around his neck. She was pretty with big eyes and long blonde hair. 

You suddenly get this weird shiver down your spine. You remember you only feel that way when Elvis is behind you. His presence was suffocating and everyone knew when he walked into a room. Call it a blessing or a curse, but he just had this indescribable thing about him. You had to be in the same room as him to understand. 

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s behind you when you talk, “Who’s this?” You ask pointing to the picture frame. 

“Uhh, that’s uhh- that’s Dianne,” he says a bit shyly. 

“Mmm… your girlfriend I assume?” You say smartly. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” he says flatly. 

You finally turn around to face him, confused by his tone. 

“What do you mean ‘you guess’?”

You can tell he’s slightly agitated by the question. He stares at the picture for a moment and looks back at you. 

“We have… an agreement of sorts. We go out together any time we know there’s going to be cameras. It helps my image you know?” He says shortly. 

“No, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about. I thought you either have a girlfriend or you don’t,” you say a bit smartly. 

“Well, when you’re me, and you’re thirty-four, it’s not a great look to be a bachelor anymore. At least it looks like I’m happy to the public and with a woman I could possibly marry in the future.” He says it like he rehearsed it a thousand times. 

“Oh. I didn’t know… I’m sorry you have to force something like that,” you say gently. “Do you like her though?” 

He shrugs his shoulders, “I can enjoy her company sometimes. But deep down, I couldn’t care less if she’s here,” he admits. 

You were taken aback by his comments. You once thought of him as a romantic but it seems something deep inside him changed…

You don’t know what else to say about that and as you look into his eyes, you see the hurt that resides there. There’s some voice telling you in the back of your head to comfort him. To just reach out your hand and place it on his chest. He was your friend after all. You hated to see anyone hurt especially one that was Elvis. But you turn to sit on the couch and to get some space from him, knowing you might be here for a while with John doing whatever he’s doing outside. 

“And how’s married life for you?” He asks a bit sarcastically. 

You look up at him almost shocked at his tone. You were married to one of his closest friends after all. 

“It’s fine,” you say shortly. 

“Just fine?” He asks. “You’re not living your fairytale life?” He quips. You didn’t like anyone poking fun at you and especially your personal life. 

“Why do you care Elvis? Things are fine and that’s all you need to know,” you snap. 

“I was just curious since he called me in a panic,” he says nonchalantly, leaning back onto the couch with his arms stretched out along the back of it. He stretches out his long legs and your eyes trail up and down them. Jesus, he was so distracting....

“And he said things were rocky between you two,” he tells you. 

You were shocked at this admission! What do you mean things were rocky? Well, you understood how it might be seen like that. You both were the most distant you’ve ever been since getting married. You just blamed it on working so much that you didn’t make time for each other and the overall financial strain. 

“That’s really none of your business! What happens between me and my husband is none of your concern. We’re doing our best,” you say with your voice wavering slightly. 

He nods his head as he looks at you with a softness in his eyes. 

“Then tell me, how are you really? Are you okay?” He asks. 

The way he looked at you was so tender, so sweet, but you didn’t like how he talked about your relationship. His words got under your skin so easily. It was like he was waiting to laugh at John and everything your life had turned out to be. You couldn’t let it go, it bugged you too much, and knew you were fighting fire with fire if you kept going. 

“You’d know how I was doing if you picked up your damn phone or read the letters I wrote to you. Did you even receive them?” You snap. 

He stares at you like he wants to snap too but he holds it together. 

“Yeah… I got them…” he says coldly. 

Your heart sinks a bit, hurt that your suspicions were right all along. He received all the letters you wrote to him while he was off in Germany, worried about how lonely he’d be by himself there. Even after he came back to the States, you continued to write to him but with no avail, you never got a letter back. John got his phone number when he was back at Graceland and you tried to call him to see if he’d at least talk to you but he would never take your call. He was always ‘busy’ or wasn’t there at the house. After a while, you gave up. You got the message he didn’t want to talk to you. And now, the message is extremely clear. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. 

“You got them and you didn’t bother to write me back?! Even just one phone call telling me you don’t have time to talk would have been better than hearing radio silence from you all these years!” You say agrivated, raising your voice slightly. He stays silent, looking at you with a straight face and a heated gaze. 

You stand up quickly, anger taking over your better judgment. “Are you going to answer me?! Or are you just going to sit there and not respond like you always have?” You spat. He continues to not say a word. The silence was deafening in here and you wanted to leave as quickly as possible. You don’t have any more patience for him. 

You start to walk out of the living room and can’t help but have the last word. 

“You know I was dumb enough to want to be in a movie with you? I was this close to being in one with you a few years ago. It was between me and this other girl. The producers loved me. They said I had it. Then last minute, I was told they were going in a different direction. I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have to deal with your piss poor attitude,” you tell him. 

His expression stayed stark and his gaze didn’t waiver. “Yes, I know about that. I’m glad something was done about it. It would have been an unenjoyable experience for both of us,” he snarls back. 

You were taken aback by these hideous words. You couldn’t believe he said such things to you. It was mean and uncalled for. How did he even know you were up for a movie with him? Who told him?

There was no time to ask these questions because your patience had run dry with him. 

“You’re unbelievable. I can’t believe I thought I missed you after all these years,” you say as you start to walk away. 

You only make it a few steps before you feel him grab your wrist and still you. You grunt in surprise and quickly turn back to face him. He was so close to you. Being this close and looking up into those luring eyes was intoxicating. You could feel your breathing hitch in your throat as you stood there unable to speak. 

“What,” you squeak out weakly. 

“What could you possibly miss about me hmm?”

You can’t speak, he’s looking at you like he could devour you. 

“What parts of me do you miss?” He says low. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks and the heat coming off of him makes you feel lightheaded. You can’t breathe the way he keeps looking at you. 

This was low for him. How dare he bring up such things. Especially things that were so far in the past. 

“Fuck you. How dare you-,” You seethe in his face but he cuts you off, taking another step closer. 

“Tell me. What do you miss? My lips? My hands?” He challenges. He gently lifts his other hand and uses the back of it to caress your face. He barely touches your skin but when he does, it’s like an electric shock running through you. It’s the most calming and electrifying feeling. You can’t help but lean into his touch. 

“Elvis,” you warn, looking defiantly into his eyes. 

He takes another step closer, chests almost touching. He turns to the side of your face, his lips inches away from your ear. 

“You probably still think of my hands when you touch yourself, don’t you,” he breathed. 

You feel your mouth go dry and your heart shudders in your chest. You have nothing to say, nothing to refute that with. You slowly pull your head away from his and look into his eyes again. They were serious and commanding. They made you want to crumble right there at his feet. 

You don’t notice it right away, but both of your chests are heaving slightly as you’re standing there. You didn’t realize your hand was squeezing his bicep tightly. His arm felt toned underneath his shirt and you inadvertently squeezed it tighter. 

Nope. You can’t do this. That ship has sailed a long time ago. 

His bedroom eyes drift down to your parted lips. Neither of you move, it’s too tense to say anything but you can feel the way he wants to keep you in this moment with him for as long as possible. He bites his lip sensually and you hear his breathing hitch. He was so distracting, how he was drawing attention to his plump lips. You remember all too well how those lips felt when they crashed into yours…

“Hey EP where are ya?” A man’s voice belts from the front door. 

You quickly take a step back from Elvis, desperately needing space from him. You heave for breath and brush your hair off of your face. You can’t believe you got so flustered by him. It was cruel what he did. 

Looking back at Elvis, he had a smug smile on his face. Oh, it made you so angry. Was this all a game to him? You hadn’t been here for more than ten minutes and he was trying to dig his way under your skin. 

“I’m comin’ hold on,” Elvis yells out. He smirks at you as he lets go of your arm. His eyes trail over your body once more and sighs softly.

"I'll see you around, honey," he murmurs.

You hold your breath once more. That word he just used made you feel weak and indefensible.

Honey...

Lord, he hadn't called you that name since...oh... yeah, you remember the last time he called you that. That night seemed like a lifetime ago but now that Elvis brought it up, it was in the forefront of your mind. You remember everything so clearly and catch yourself thinking about his hands...his lips... uh oh.

This isn't good.

*

*

*

Tagging:

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything. @ohjustpeachy_

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rimartin11@that-hotdog.

@louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

[thescribblesofreverie]

WIP Excerpt - Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

I thought I would share just a little snippet of a project I'm working on. It's a series about Aaron meeting a teenager on a case who ends up being involved, and there's just something so familiar about her...

Reader does use she/her pronouns.

Everyone had that one touchy subject that seemed to bring back memories of events and cases past. Everyone knew that J.J. was the one who was affected by cases involving children. 

But this time it was Hotch who felt his chest restrict with each new fact presented. With every body found the pressure of solving this case felt ten times heavier on his shoulders.

On his nightstand, the alarm clock’s neon blue numbers read 3:22 A.M. He was pacing around the hotel room, mind racing a mile a minute. The facts and theories of the case were incredibly confusing. Everytime the team got close, something drastic changed and they were at square one.

Four young, innocent girls were dead, and a fifth was going to be soon if they didn’t shape up.

Hotch glanced out the window of the third story room to see a small diner in the plaza across the street. On its left there was a tobacco store with big yellow block lettering covering the window pains with advertisements promoting vapes and discounted cartons of Mavericks. To its right there was a laundromat, with a few letters of the sign tilted from rusted out nails crumbling away instead of holding it fast. The glowing blue and pink sign on the diner read “open 24 hours”, though it flickered out every few seconds. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighed.

Nothing was getting done in this small room, and the diner would have coffee. He had heard before the coffee from 24 hour diners was always better. He doubted that to be true, but at least it would be caffeinated. 

He grabbed the coat off of the chair in the corner of the room, and quietly left, locking the door behind him.

It was a short walk across the street. He pushed open the door, and a bell jingled.

Soft sounds of 70’s music filled his ears. His eyes found a pastel yellow and mint green jukebox in the corner. It was your typical retro themed diner. Checkerboard flooring, blue and pink booths and tables, milkshake decals on the wall, and a long bar that a waitress was cleaning with a rag. With the typical 50’s decorations and colors, but 70’s music playing and newspapers from the 80’s on the wall, the establishment seemed to lack a general knowledge on what decade it was supposed to be emulating. Nonetheless, there was a pot of coffee sitting behind the counter, and it wasn’t like this was the strangest 3 A.m. experience he had ever had. 

Hotch looked away and sat at the counter, waiting patiently for the waitress to meander her way over to him. She finished wiping down the section of counter she had been working on and dropped the rag in a basket beneath the counter. Finally, she looked over at him.

20-24 year old girl, medium build, round face, brown eyes, umber skin, and dark black waves of hair. She shouldn’t be working alone at night, he thought. Not with a killer on the loose.

“What can I get for you?” She asked, all but rolling her eyes. Her name tag said “Marisa”. 

“Just a coffee please.” He said quietly.

“Black?”

He nodded.

As she went across the room to fill up a mug, he took a moment to revel in the peace he rarely got to feel while on a case.

The soft lighting and low music was almost comforting, in an odd way. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Marisa set the mug of steaming coffee in front of him. “Just brewed a new pot, so you’re lucky.”

“Thanks-”

The jingling of the door interrupted him. 

“Marisa, darling!” A feminine voice cooed. 

The waitress had a look of annoyance flash across her face before she quickly covered and plastered on a smile.

“Julie, welcome in. Go ahead and take your usual booth. I’ll get you a coffee and… I’m so sorry sweetheart, what’s your name again?”

“Y/N. I’ll have orange juice, please.” 

At the mention of her name Hotch looked over his shoulder. Y/N was dressed in a pair of plaid pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. Her shoulders were hunched and as she sat down in the both, she immediately curled into the corner, like it was supporting her. Dark circles hung under her eyes and as he watched, she put a hand up to her mouth to hide a yawn.

It was early Thursday morning. And unless there was something going on that he didn’t know about, she had school in four hours. What was she doing up?

[ctrlhope]

📂 CTRLHOPE : The best files found while searching through others PC’s! They have all the love in the world to them!

✰ last updated : 3/06/24 ! ™ ☻

➜ ┊: kim seokjin ᵎ ✰

Golden Boy (m) » @kpopfanfictrash

✰ pornstar!seokjin

✰ synopsis: The golden boy of the porn industry, prettier than half his female co-stars. Will sue if you pull his hair. Always bothering his neighbors with pizza delivery.

╭♡ The Obsidian Pearl (m) (tw dc) » @angelicyoongie

✰ merman au, yandere!seokjin

✰ synopsis: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

➜ ┊: min yoongi ᵎ ✰

The Mark of Yun-Ki (m) » @ladyartemesia

✰ royal au, hybrid!yoongi

✰ synopsis: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

╭♡ Beloved (m) » @bang-tan-bitches

✰ yandere, royal au, so good

✰ synopsis: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win.

Late Bloomer (m) » @tayegi

✰ a/b/o, heat cycles

✰ synopsis: You were, what they called, a late bloomer. You didn't get your period until you were nearly seventeen-years-old and when all of your classmates were talking about boys and smoking weed after school, you were playing neopets in the back of the classroom. When your first heat suddenly hits in the middle of a ski trip, you’re forced to seek out the only other wolf in a 50 mile radius: your brothers best friend, Min Yoongi.

╭♡ Dig Deep (m) » @johobi

✰ alien au, yoongi has tentacles

✰ synopsis: The night before your wedding to a man you couldn’t find any more repugnant, you seek out the mercantile aid of an unscrupulous space pirate. 

Fawn (m) (tw dc) » @silv3rswirls

✰ yandere au, corruption, age-gap, coercion

✰ synopsis: wide eyed, bushy tailed. the perfect little church girl parents can brag about. that is until you’re dragged into the waiting hands of min yoongi.

➜ ┊: jung hoseok ᵎ ✰

╭♡ Hot Rod (m) » @kinktae

✰ 1950s au, greaser!hoseok

✰ synopsis: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the cute new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

Run Little Rabbit (m) » @readyplayerhobi

✰ hybrid au, college au, a/b/o

✰ synopsis: Jung Hoseok - the Alpha wolf of his pack and far out of your league. As a rabbit shifter who still jumps around predators, you fantasise about your dangerous crush from a safe distance, particularly as he doesn’t like you. But what happens when he goes into heat and you’re the only one he’ll accept?

╭♡ Locks and Barriers (m) » @lemonjoonah

✰ post apocalyptic au, language barrier, hoseok is such a sweetheart

✰ synopsis: One of the most amazing experiences in your life soon descends into chaos. Your trip to Seoul becoming overshadowed by a cataclysmic event leaving you alone in a city that is not your own. Your only hope? To find the man who has sent out one last broadcast to the city in search of any survivors, but you’ll have to overcome more than distance if you wish to become closer to him.

➜ ┊: kim namjoon ᵎ ✰

➜ ┊: park jimin ᵎ ✰

╭♡ Otherworldly (m) (tw dc) » @sinning-on-a-sunday

✰ coralline au, yandere!jimin, dc

✰ synopsis: when you discover a tiny door in your home that leads to a much better version of your own life, it seems too good to be true. little do you know, the man posing as your boyfriend may be a lot more dangerous than you care to admit. and he is not intent on letting you leave.

Labour of Love (tw dc) » @yandere-society

✰ yandere!jimin, unhealthy relationships, dc

✰ synopsis: A love so sweet tastes just as sour. Jimin is unable to live without you.

Power Play (m) » @dovechim

✰ pornstar!jimin

✰ synopsis: You know him as the A lister of all porn stars; a man who sits pretty in his place at the top of the food chain. But you also know him as the Park Jimin who single handedly humiliated you and ruined your own career as a rookie just starting out, the epitome of the biggest dick in the entire industry… and you’re not talking about his assets. But when Park Jimin comes to you, saying he’s in a slump that only you can get him out of and begs you to sign an exclusive contract with him; things get messy… in more ways than one.  

➜ ┊: kim taehyung ᵎ ✰

Chism (m) » @kpopfanfictrash

✰ fantasy au, god!taehyung, rings

✰ synopsis: The entirety of your life, you have never fit in. A woman soldier. A passive power, wielded in the land of the bold. Despite this, you have followed your father’s advice and striven to blend into the crowd. You feel you have succeeded, until your Queen calls you before her with an arduous task. Guard the darkest cell in the lowest dungeon. Do not listen to what the prisoner has to say and above all else, keep your head. The old gods may be dead, but the humans are living.

Planning Ahead (m) » @dovechim

✰ established relationship

✰ synopsis: technology has reached its peak when taehyung gets notified of your ovulation dates through his phone. baby making sex is so much easier when all he has to do is convince you to let him put in just the tip, and rely on your hormones to do the rest. you call him a sly fox. taehyung thinks it’s just planning ahead. 

Falling, Falling, Gone » @johobi

✰ college au, soccer player!taehyung

✰ synopsis: Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection. So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

You Should See Me in a Crown (m) » @sinning-on-a-sunday

✰ royal au, yandere!prince!taehyung, dc

✰ synopsis: you’ve been a servant to the Kim family for years, but when Taehyung becomes king, he starts to show an interest in you, and it doesn’t take long for him to claim you as his. 

╭♡ Isn’t That What Brothers Do? (m) » @aris-ink

✰ step brother au, just the tip, top 5 ffs of all time

✰ synopsis: Taehyung helps you clean up after a party just like brothers should do.

Instinct (m) (tw dc) » @deepdarkdelights

✰ hybrid au, yandere!taehyung, beautiful take on hybrids

✰ synopsis: He was huddled in the middle of the road, his arms wrapped around himself as he remained crouched on the wet pavement. But you knew he was looking at you. His golden eyes were glowing back at you, like a predator glaring at you from the depths of the jungle. There was something inside you that knew that he was dangerous, an echo of intuition from thousands of years before you. But you were a modern human, you were good at ignoring your instincts.

➜ ┊: jeon jungkook ᵎ ✰

Liars and Fire (m) » @kpopfanfictrash

✰ ex husband!jungkook

✰ synopsis: It’s been nearly a year since your divorce was finalized. Why, then, do you still find yourself falling into bed with your ex?

Over the Edge (m) » @kpopfanfictrash

✰ hockey player!jungkook

✰ synopsis: so, you’re dating. everything is dandy, the sex is knocking your socks off, but what happens when you get in the First Real Fight? 

Quarter Quell » @laughing-with-god

✰ hunger games au, yandere!jungkook

✰ synopsis: Every 25 years there is a Quarter Quell edition of the Hunger Games. Quells mark the anniversaries of the districts' defeat by the Capitol, and include special celebrations. The Games involves some sort of twist that makes them even more disastrous or difficult to compete in, or watch.

╭♡ Close (m) (tw dc) » @aft3rhrs

✰ step-brother au, yandere!jungkook, so. so good.

✰ synopsis: You and your step-brother have always been so close.

╭♡ The Crimson Shell (m) (tw dc) » @angelicyoongie

✰ merman au, yandere!jungkook, oviposition

✰ synopsis: you had always found comfort in being at the beach, often spending hours just watching the waves lap against the shore. but unbeknowst to you – something had been watching you back.

➜ ┊: poly ᵎ ✰

Fortuna (m) » @readyplayerhobi

✰ pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Hoseok x Reader, Jimin x Reader

✰ future au, breeding kink

✰ synopsis: 300 years ago, half the world’s population died when the experimental Fortuna virus escaped. The remaining male population has been rendered infertile with one loophole that has meant polyamorous relationships have become the norm.

╭♡ Between Two Sinners (m) (tw dc) » loquaciouslo

✰ pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jimin x Reader, eventual Taehyung x Reader

✰ church au, priests son!yoongi, very dark content

✰ synopsis: In which you find yourself praying against your growing desires for the pastor's son - and his best friend - only to find it in the most faithless of places. When devils are sweet and their faces come in sets of two, what are you supposed to do? Will you resist? Or succumb to temptation?

Entangled (m) » @caelesjjk

✰ pairing: Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

✰ superhero!au, spiderman!jungkook, venom!taehyung

✰ synopsis: is it possible for your heart to belong to two different people with two different secrets that you need to keep?

Sleeping (m) (tw dc) » @aris-ink

✰ pairing: maknae line x reader

✰ somnophilia, sharing is caring <3

✰ synopsis: the maknae line has been using you while you sleep.

╭♡ Animal Farm (m) (tw dc) » @joonberriess

✰ pairing: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

✰ post apocalyptic au, dark au, my comfort fic fr <\3

✰ synopsis: the world as you once knew it is in shambles, society is gone and those who remain fight for survival in the remaining days. you end up caught in the fire, targeted by two depraved hunters who believe you’d make a good pet. “is it a farm or is it society?”

➜ ┊: Other ᵎ ✰

Jeju Shore (m) » @here2bbtstrash @gimmethatagustd @sailoryooons

✰ one-shot pairings: Jimin x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x Reader

✰ jersey shore au, 2009 au, smut, a real good time

✰ synopsis: This season on Jeju Shore, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook fist-pump their way through Labor Day Weekend. 2009 is their fucking year and they are ready to tear up the clubs. Hide your vodka redbulls, your baby oil, and your pink Sony digital camera - the maknaes are in town.

Bouquet (m) (tw dc) » @deepdarkdelights

✰ ot7 (not poly) one shot series

✰ yandere au, such a fun world to dive into, hoseoks part is beautiful

✰ synopsis: Seven men are dying to give you love, will you accept their affections? Be warned, it’s quite easy for these affections to develop into a deep, dark, twisted affair.

© all rights reserved to the original creators of these works ; do not plagiarise, copy, or steal

[cunningweiner]

50’s AU!! Howard is a greaser that recently moved from East Speezleton and Randy is the cute Carhop at PJ’s :3 bonus Heidi and the other waitresses

[testrella]

01:43 ━━━━●───── 03:50 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılı

NOW PLAYING… JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

G. SATORU

ʚɞ | SERIES

crazy rich asians…! - [ gojo satoru, the heir to everything, finds himself in a difficult position as he fell for somebody who his famoly would never approve.] [modern au ]

ʚɞ | DRABBLES

american wedding - [ you and satoru fall in love so young but it falls apart so quickly. ]

bottle services - [ in which satoru finds himself requesting the same waitress for bottle service. his eyes are on you and only you. ] [ modern au ]

S. GETO

ʚɞ | DRABBLES

you’re my religion part one - [ priest! geto x reader ] [ modern au ]

you’re my religion part two - [ priest! geto x reader ] [ modern au ]

ʚɞ | HEADCANONS

geto as a drug dealer part one - [ college dropout geto starts selling to you, a straight A but stressed out college student ]